ADVENTURE: SAYING GOODBYE TO AUSTRALIA
Big distances and Billabongs aboard a Suzuki 650 V-strom.
My name is Jeroen and I have been a long distance traveller since I was 20. I am now 34. My trade is/was teaching and when I wasn’t doing that I was travelling: Europe, USA, India, Thailand, Indonesia, Nicaragua (sometimes on a motorcycle, sometimes not). Yet, like so often happens, the years started to drift by and my life, in Belgium, as a teacher became less and less satisfying. So, I quit my job and made paper thin plans to move to the last continent on my to-do list. Australia. This time it wouldn’t be a holiday, this time it would be a new life…
I made a good start in Australia – I had a nice place to live, a well paid job and beautiful motorcycle roads in my backyard of Wamuran. Yet, like many similar stories, the layer of sugar-coated shiny newness began to rub off and I began to reappreciate things from my previous life. I started to hate the repetitive superficial lifestyle, I missed the cozyness we have in Europe. And to be honest, after you have seen five different beaches you’ve kinda seen them all. Which was the cue to sell everything I owned (car, clothes, everything) and strap the last of my belongings to the bike and take in Australia, for the last time…
‘I imagine riding in the Outback is like being a rover on Mars. This place triggers emotions’
My bike is a V-strom 650 and I upgraded to 138 litres of storage space – it’s a travel mule that reliably drags me and my belongings 11,000km. Can there be a greater accolade? Departure day is my birthday, 2018. My new Roadsmart 3s touch down on the M1 Highway towards Brisbane as I leave my life of routine and safety behind and ride south at a brisk pace. Only to run into cyclone Oma. Wind and rain pummel me for the next few days while storm driven eight meter waves keep the Tweed Head (a small town in New South Wales) suffers happy.
Turning inland I make my way towards Warwick. Gone is the densely populated coast with its houses and shops, in comes wide lush landscape with its small communities and solitary farms. The further I ride the browner Australia’s pallet becomes, the absence of humans made up for by suicidal kangaroos.
A few days further down the road and I reach Parkes, best known for its 64m dish antenna used to receive video signals during the Apollo 11 mission in 1969. And it is still supporting several rovers on the surface of Mars. Which explains why, within five minutes of launching my drone, I’m sternly asked to leave by Dish Security.
I imagine riding in the Outback is a lot like being one of those rovers on Mars. This place is real desolation, but this empty barren place also triggers a wide range of emotions while the long cast shadows of grazing kangaroos and running emus introduce feelings of magical unreality. What was it I said about Australia being ‘repetitive’ and ‘superficial’? I think I’ll be reconsidering that for most of the 11,000km journey…
My time in the Outback is regularly punctuated by small deserted communities where sometimes only a few stubborn inhabitants remain. I wonder why people choose to live in such places? I ponder this as I finish my drink in a near empty roadhouse. While I struggle to put on my water cooled vest I make eye contact with one of the regulars who seems to have taken root on his barstool. Without words we instantly know we are from very different worlds, worlds neither of us actually fit in. As I step out of the airconditioned roadhouse 43°C of heat slams me in the face. You don’t get that in Belgium either.
Australia’s Outback temperatures make sleeping in a tent uncomfortable – it is 7am and already hitting 33°. There’s Vegemite-smeared toast for breakfast and a puncture to repair before departure. But it is all worth it because today I am riding the Silo Art Trail – a 200km route consisting of giant grain silos painted with epic murals. It’s Australia’s biggest open air art gallery. A human creation that ranks up there with natural spectaculars, but equally spectacular is the rising temperature. 47°C now. I decide to deviate from my route and flee to the cooler and higher situated Grampians National Park, Victoria. 35°C. Billabongs
Here the roads are winding and twisty, a good workout for the V-strom. At full luggage capacity the game Suzuki requires a bit more input to carve bends, but it has certainly not lost the handling characteristics that encouraged me away from sportsbikes. The Strom’s mediocre brakes feel less spongy here, what with the cooler temperatures, which adds to my confidence. With thinner chicken strips on my rear tyre and a smile on my face I arrive at a campsite run by some friendly Dutch people. Here I fill my days hiking. Tip: if you
go the extra mile and shake off the lazier tourists you have a good chance of finding a Billabong (a cut off section of river) which you’ll only have to share with a few other souls. Temperatures are finally starting to drop and it’s time to head towards Adelaide. The wide flat landscape surrenders to seamlessly connected hills. This is great riding. Adelaide does not have the megalomanic tendencies of Sydney, instead there are hidden charms worth searching out. I consult my Australian Motorcycle Atlas – time is passing faster than expected and I find myself halfway through my journey. In barely a month I will be on a plane so I kick my pace into a higher gear and book a boat to Kangaroo island. Kangaroo Island lies off mainland south Australia, southwest of Adelaide, and if you like your wildlife as much as your motorcycle it’s a place to go. There are sea lions, koalas, and even penguins in Flinders Chase National Park. From Kangaroo Island I take the Great Ocean Road to Melbourne where I check into a hostel, in the centre of town. Turns out I’m sharing a room with 17 other unsavoury souls. Melbourne feels pleasantly European with its many characterful alleys, trendy bars and restaurants. On the harbour there are street artists and musicians, which brings it all vibrantly to life. Perhaps I have misjudged Australia after all.
I plot a course to Canberra, along the southern route of the Murray River which bathes in the late afternoon sun as it
dips behind me. I feel my confidence growing again, my lean angles and speeds increasing accordingly. But this is not about pushing boundaries, it is about having an adventure on a motorcycle. Whatever kind of adventure you want. When I have squeezed all the bends out of this section I briefly consider redoing the last 45km all over again. But there is no time for that! It’s on to Canberra.
I know I am nearing the Blue Mountains because the cold mountain air is creeping into my bones which makes me shiver. There is great riding and hiking here, which I enjoy for two short days before I have to leave for Newcastle. In the parking lot I notice a leaking front fork. Time was this would have had me panicking, but now it is all just part of the deal. Just something else to get the better of and move on. I use a Seal Mate to remove the trapped dirt and get on my way. They surf in Newcastle…
Damn, where’s my surfboard? I panic. After being hit by two consecutive waves I finally get my head above water and stumble ashore. Sunscreen burns my eyes, which makes finding my board all the more challenging. At this point I accept that I’m better on two wheels and leave the ocean and the surfers behind.
Think quintessential surf town and you’ve got Newcastle with is beautiful, sun-drenched beaches and its location just
over two hours north of Sydney. Despite its modest stature Newcastle is a town where you can easily spend several days surfing, drinking beer and Bbq’ing on the beach. Or you could go to the Bogey Hole – a man made swimming spot, at the side of the ocean, hewn from the rock by English convicts for Major James Morisset. Sounds a bit strange, yet it is beautifully surreal. Much like the rest of Australia. History lesson done it’s time to move on – my surrogate Australian father is waiting for me with his Honda Pan European 250km north in Port Macquarie. Which makes it a very fitting final destination.
Panic attack
It’s about now that I get a mild panic attack when I realise I have only 1000km left before my Australian life ends. So I make the last kilometers count. I open the throttle and fire my bike through long sweeping corners – what a good choice it was to buy the comfortable V-strom 650. Despite it having 105,000km on the clock it did not let me down once. The added touring screen adds good wind protection and fuel consumption is between 4.6 and 5.1 litres per 100km (56-61mpg), which makes the range of this bike more than sufficient in Australia. Knowing that the pace of my 64-yearold friend will be a lot slower, it’s full throttle until then.
The last section takes me along beautiful twisty country roads, less technically challenging, but the surroundings with their many wooden bridges, wide green landscapes and long fast curves make up for this. When I enter Port Macquari it feels like a sad goodbye to the V-strom. It also means it is almost time to leave this sunny, crazy, enormous country. Having said all that it is a good thing we are almost home as the relentless heat and rough asphalt have wrought havoc with my tyres. In fact after 11,000 tough kilometres there is almost no tread left at all.
Before I leave for the next phase of my life I have to sell my V-strom. I soon have a deal done with Jim, who will fly in from Sydney to collect and ride it home. As a good seller I want my bike to be in as good a condition as is possible. Which means cleaning off 11,000km of accumulated dirt and grime. I choose to use a high pressure washer to get the job done. This turns out to be not such a good idea. Water finds its way into every nook and cranny and I’m forced to take the V-strom to a dealership in an attempt to get it back to good running order. Without much success. I have no choice but to sell at a much reduced price and get on the plane.
I set off on this journey because I had fallen out of liking Australia, but now I hope this is simply ‘goodbye’ and not ‘farewell’. Travelling will do that…
‘I hope this is simply “goodbye” to Australia and not “farewell”. Travelling will do that…’