Snippets From Darwin

I could smell the rain before It hit, just at the same moment the skies opened up I spied a motorcycle shop to duck into before I was soaked through. Arranging for a new carburetor to be sent up from Suzuki warhorse, meant I would have a few days to kick around in Darwin with a ill motorcycle. After explaining all my mis-adventures to the service department guys, the manager asked if I want a job with them. Turning them down with a smile, I've learnt that the more I know about motorcycles the more I realize the less I know. Now I had 6 days to wait for my new part to arrive. What better to do then settle in and so some sight seeing.

 

I settled down into a camping ground just 10 kilometers from the center of town, knowing the local bus stopped regularly outside the camping ground. Later that day, I was approached by a lady who I had noticed had paid particular interest into my arrival. She also rides bikes back home in Switzerland and loved the fact I was on my own traveling around on my tiny bike. This is why I like staying in camping grounds, you always meet people who share common interests and you.

While I felt uncomfortable using my bike around the city on my way to the bus stop, I was fortunate enough to meet a guy called Trevor that morning. Trevor picked me up off the side of the road when I was walking to the bus stop. He whisk me around Darwin and showed me  the sights and sounds. I was happy to be off the bike and out of the sun and especially not to have to navigate around by myself.

When my new carbie arrived NT Motorcycles allowed me to swap them over outside their front door, to save me labour costs.

Roel, is a overland traveller staying at Zehpyr and Karas house inbetween working. I personally thing, he's filling up that massive box with women!

Tomorrow, I have to load my bike onto the the ship to Dili, East Timor, I just had to take one last final picture with it, just encase the boat sank!

Well thats the end of my Australian adventure, now its time to move onto East Timor.

Thanks to everyone who helped me get to Darwin which allowed me to move onto my next destination.

Good bye Australia!

No Crocodile Trouble in Kakadu... Just Another Kind!

I was starving by the time I had reached Katherine, I left Daly Waters at 8am and hadn't stop to have breakfast or lunch only for fuel. I entered into the cool supermarket, hoping my pants would dry out while I was wondering around. One should never go shopping when they are starving, by the time I walked back out into the humid heat, I had two overloaded bags of groceries. I made a small dent in the bag, while balancing on the kerb next to my bike and gouging on my lunch and studying the Kakadu National Park map. I had decided to spend about four or five days in the park, hoping to see everything at Peter had told me about. After cramming that many days worth of food into my top roll bag, I hit the road once again bound for Kakadu. 

With the sun beating down, I hit the turn off to Gumlum it was going to be a 40 kilometer ride off road, my day couldn't end much better than this. Not long after I hit the dust, the corrugation started combined with my lack of food and water and the extreme heat quickly made me tired and grumpy. Ive never see corrugation this size, no matter what speed I did, i couldn't help feel like i was shaking my bike to pieces. Not to mention my fork seals had been leaking for some time now (Something I needed to fix but wasn't too concerned until I got to Darwin). The camp site is only 40 kilometers surely my bike can handle it, thinking to myself when had i become over sensitive to my motorcycle and started treating it like a fragile baby? 

The camp site was beautiful, there were only five other campers compared to the 300 they had during the peek season. Pitching my MSR tent just in time for me to laid down in it and listen to the monsoon rain hit my tent and roll off the fly. I was proud to discover the tent stands up to the Australian tropical down pour. When it finally eased i made my way out of the tent to see the sun started setting behind the tress. In the dim orange light I cooked my dinner on my MSR petrol cooker. This was the life, simple, quiet and totally real.

Before the sun had time to rise into the sky and heat the land up, I stormed up the steep rough stony track to get a glimpse of the only water hole you can swim at in the whole entire park. I was stunned at the  beauty that surrounded me. The water just looked like it dropped off the edge after tumbling down a series of waterfalls. I meandered around the rocks taking photos feeling like i was becoming more familiar with my camera. I felt the urge to jump into the cool water, but my fear of rivers came back to haunt me as I was the only one stomping around up there and who knew if a crocodile had move in over night! I sure wasn't going to be its breakfast! 

I hit the shitty road heading for my next camp only 100 kilometers up the road. From there I would be able to do a few day trips around the place. I was really looking forward to setting up the tent for a few days and potter around like normal holiday. Only this didn't happen as 30 kilometers back on the tar seal, my bike started to cough and drop speed, thinking it was the fuel I reach down to switch it over to reserve before it died on me. No this didn't work as it stalled and I rolled to a stop on a blind corner with no nice shoulder in the shade.

Here I was, stuck on the side of the road in the heat once again going through what was becoming completely normal - checking my fuel flow, spark, and air filter. All ok and in great condition. I start the bike, it sits there and idols but not smoothly. As soon as I touch the throttle I found the bike would quickly stall. That to me must mean that there is something stuck in my carburetor, I must have been given really dirty fuel at the last stop, but even this didn't make sense. By this time, I had stripped my motorcycle gear off, I was sitting on my jacket pondering on the idea of taking my carburetor apart on that corner or to try and hitch a ride to a camp site or to the service station 40 kilometers away.

Watching a couple of cars passing, a four wheel drive towing a camper trailer passes, giving me the thumbs up. I shrug to say no, but you can not help me. Another small car passes me at speed, then I hear the 4x4 had turned around and coming back towards me! I stood up as he asked if I needed a hand. 'Do you know anything about carburetors?' 'A bit, whats the problem?' I explained the symptoms and showed him, what happens when it starts. Pulling out the throttle, he discovered it would allow enough fuel through the carburetor to allow the bike to travel along and he even gave it a test ride. Simon, offered to help me blow the particle out with his compressor at the next camp site. I agreed to this idea, knowing it was my only chance.

Bend over, one hand holding the choke out and the other on the throttle. I could feel cramp setting in. I needed another way to do this, its only been 10 kilometers and I was traveling at 60 kilometers per hour. This was going to be a long afternoon. That when Simon, who had been following me at my slow pace, past me and pulls over. He leaps out from the front seat. 'I have it!' he said excitedly, we can use two zip ties together to make a collar, that way you do not have to be so bent over' I could almost kiss him! I was back on the road, still traveling 60 km/h but I was sitting normally.

The camp site finally appeared, I was so glad to get there with no other mishaps. I found a nice site, under massive trees giving me plenty of shade for the rest of the afternoon, and a concrete picnic table which will soon be my workbench. trying to let my engine cool down, before I pull my carburetor apart again, I bide my time by setting up my tent. A few minutes later when I couldn't hold out any longer, I stripped my seat and tank from my bike. Disconnected the throttle cables and pulled the trouble-some beast from its home. 

Pulling on the throttle spring, which in turn lifted the slide up, I instantly saw what the problem was. I placed the carburetor down on the table and for a second laid my head down in my hands. I couldn't believe it, the needle had disappeared completely. Wondering over to Simon's camp site, with the carburetor wrapped up in my tool rag. As i handed it to him I said, 'I found the problem!' He takes one look at it, and laughs. We both are bewildered. I replaced that needle in Emerald, that was roughly 2000 kilometers ago. Pulling the carburetor further apart, i found the needle had dropped into the nossle and the clips were still in place. I re-clipped it on its only clip setting that didn't fall off and re-installed everything. I now really had to get to Darwin a lot earlier and order a new carburetor or at least a new slide. 

It was 300 kilometers to Darwin, I could feel my bike surge through the extra rich fuel mixture, my confidence rebuilt and I slowly increased my speed to 80 km/h. Early afternoon, I arrived into Darwin and ducked into a motorcycle shop just as a huge down pour started. I explained my issue and past problems, they quickly offered my a job in the workshop. Flattered, i turned them down and said, the more i know the less I know, I don't think i could work in your shop yet. I could have ordered just a new slide, but I thought to myself that I'm only fixing it with a band aid, I would rather get a new one and know I've done the best I can.

Putting Some Kilometers Behind Me

Longreach was 14 kilometers behind me when the bike just putted out and once again, I was left to hold the clutch in and glide to a stop. There was no where off the road to go. Kicking the side stand down hearing it touch the warming tar seal. Rage was burning inside, as I tried to keep a level head surly, this can not be happening again and only 14 kilometers from my start. I worked through my usual check, fuel - yip it was on. Choke off- Yip... I then thought well i might as well kick it over and give it a try. It burst into life, and I could carry on. I didn't understand, I rode around town last night for more than the 14 kilometers it allowed me. Then I remembered, we added a hose to my fuel tank cap, to stop the petrol from splashing out and we also added a one way valve that would let air in but stop the gas from coming out. I reached down and ripped out the offending item, rapping it around my handle bars to fix up and my next fuel stop. 

Today I was heading for Mt Isa, or close by that was around 600 kilometers away, but I felt if I took my time I would get there late in the afternoon. It felt good to be back on the bike, it felt good underneath me, humming along just like it should do despite my rattly carburettor. 

The kilometers fell away with the tar seal rushing past my spinning wheels. I was amazed to see the green grass fall behind and change to yellow as i moved closer to the desert. I found myself been excited by seeing large lizards and dingos with pups in tow trying to cross the road. Emus in the distance, staying well clear of the unknown mechanical beasts that past them by at 130 kilometers per hour. 

Early afternoon, I saw a shinny motorcycle quickly pulling up behind me. I move over to allow him to pass with ease at the speeds hes doing. As he passes he slows down and matches my speed and takes a good look at me as I stare back, I could help think of the ending in the movie 'easy rider'. With a wave he takes off, there is a small town 10 kilometers up the road and I hope he is stopping to get fuel as I am. 

Pulling up to the fuel pump he walks over to me with the chin of his helmet lid up so i could see most of his face, 'the power is off so there is no fuel', looking down at my tank, i know i have another 40 kilometers left in it. 'How far is the next one?' 'Its 70 kilometers, you should have enough' I shake my head as i know my tank looks large but isn't really. I jump off my bike and fill the tank up with the 4 litres Ive been carrying with me for the past week. 'Well, did you want to have a drink when we get there?' he nods and I take off as I know he travels a lot faster than me. 

Next to the petrol station at the following village, sat the 'Walkabout Creek Hotel'. The very bar that was used in the first two scenes in the Crocodile Dundee movies.  Rai and I sat down at the counter and while we talked about our adventures and miss adventures, we let the ice melt in the bottom of our cups. Rai was back in this part of the woods to finish off a journey he started a year or two ago, when he was involved in an motorcycle accident with a road train. He felt like he should jump back on the same bike and go and say thank you to the people who helped him out then finish the journey. We finished out drinks and left the cool bar for the sticky outdoors. Rai, soon pasted me on the highway, an encounter like many probably never to meet again. 

Mt Isa, was only a few hundred kilometers away, I knew I could make it before dark. This is where I would have to prepare my bike for the long 260 kilometers on no fuel stations. My tank only holds 180 kilometers of fuel before I have to switch onto reserve. I have no idea how long that last me, as the design of the tank only allows me to use half of it. If i was to tip my bike over on its side it might allow me to obtain more fuel, but this was hard in a fully laden bike in the scorching heat. 

I rose early and found the local hardware shop, brought a 5 litre jerry can. I spent the next 30 minutes trying to work out the best way to strap it to my motorcycle. After completing the puzzle to hit the road. With the aim of another long day in the saddle as today I will cross the boarder into the Northern Territory.

I arrived again late in the afternoon to my next destination - Barkly Homestead, where I pitched my tent and topped up with fuel. As I sat down for a cold beer at the bar, I noticed two guys walk in and also get a tent site. Ill have to talk to them when they come back in or i head out to my tent. When they didn't show up, i wondered out to their chosen posy next to the picnic table. The older guy Peter was a tour guide for Kakadu National Park, he had just brought a KLR off Akio, who was traveling with him back to the Sunshine Coast in Queensland.I always find it amazing how owning a bike can bring people together and easily become friends.   

As the sun rose into the sky, I woke in my tent for yet another day on the long straight roads that pierce through central Australia. Peter had told me to stop in at a small pub on the way up to Darwin called Daly Waters. So that's exactly what I did. Pulling into the pub, i dismounted my bike, removed what gear I could easily without getting naked. I was really feeling the heat now and had found myself traveling along with just my amour jacket on. I walked into the pub, dizzy with heat and sweat. I stood behind a family asking every question under the sun, come on people im dieing in my motorcycle gear here!! 

Eventually I was served, and told where to put my tent up. Within seconds of stopping the bike, my boots and my pants were off and I found my body temperature drop as the wind picked up the little droplets of sweat and took them away. I pitched my tent and headed into the shade of the quirky little pub. 

Notice that its near the 'By Any Means Sticker.... 

The Daly Waters Pub was filled memorabilia that lines the walls from Irish football jerseys to bras. Wherever you look there is something interesting to read or ponder its origin. I too couldn't help but add to the eclectic collection with my own Motomonkey Adventures sticker.  

Good Things Happen When Your Down

Arriving into Longreach mid afternoon, Jan offered me a shower before I took my bike down to the bike shop. I walked down to the end of the hall way and found the door to the bathroom had been replaced with a  torn off shower curtain. The pieces laid on the floor waiting to be picked up and put in the trash. As I peeled of my sticky motorcycle gear, i noticed there were old shampoo bottles discarded at the end of the combined shower/bath, a well used dirty towel for the bath mat and an item of clothing dried up in the sink. Stepping into the bath, I was careful not to touch the walls as I'm sure they had more dirt sticking to them than I had on me after a few days riding in the bush.  

 

I emerge from my bathing experience, and Jan hands me the keys to his XR 250. 'You might as well follow me down there, so you can make your own way back later on'

Stunned at the generosity, i grabbed my helmet and truly enjoyed the moment where i just had to push the button to start it. This was my first time on a XR, since selling my one in Moscow exactly 2 years earlier, nostalgic hit me as I remembered starting out on my first trip.

 



It was so hot, the XR foot stand would always break the tar seal everywhere i parked



 

We arrived at Goodmans Motorcycles, a small shed across the road for a flashy main stream shop. I instantly got a great feeling as we unloaded the bike and pushed it through the front shop and out to the workshop. Earlier, I had arranged with Tony to work along side him so I could learn from him and cut my labour bill down. He kindly agreed and here I was late in the afternoon working for the first time on a motorcycle lift!

 

 

 



 

As the sun started setting I peeled off the lid of the engine, where I discovered my rocker arms and cam had been badly worn. One valve sat differently to the others. A sign, that it had snapped off. I slid the head off cringing as I saw what had happened. The valve had snapped off and slammed through the piston, creating a huge hole. My spark plug ends had been hit by the loose valve head and was not longer usable. My heart shrank and I dropped the head back into place. I didn't want to believe it to be true so i walked away. After I had got a grips with my emotions I walked back and revealed the damage to everyone and headed home for a much needed beer.



 

Jan and I wondered over to his mates house for a few drinks and dinner, I was about to drop as i was mentally exhausted and pretty upset by what had happened. We walked home around 11pm, I went to my freshly cleaned room and Jan turned on the stereo and turned the volume on full. Glad, to be on my own for a bit, I pulled out my computer to check my emails. When I turned the computer on, I discovered the screen had broken. What a perfect end to my day.

 

I woke to extremely loud music, Jan must be still up and had turned the volume up again, I looked at the time, it had just gone midnight. I couldn't believe it. I slept for just a few hours, now i was wide awake. Desperate to fall back to sleep, i read for awhile, tossed around for awhile, until i hear foot steps outside at my corner of the house. I was starting to get a bit freaked out, wondering what I had got myself into. I must have feel back to sleep on true exhaustion. Waking early, i needed to use the bathroom. Padding softly through the house I couldn't find one but i did find Jan outside still drinking with almost a carton of discharged cans around him.  As i approached, i could see Jan leap when I said good morning! He had clean forgotten I was here.

 



Heading off to the bike shop on the XR, I stopped to call my uncle and explained what had happened. I was tired with little sleep, emotional about what had happened so early on in the trip. When I had arrived, there was little i could do so i helped Tony, by stacking tires, running errands and doing little odd chores while Tony started calling around getting prices for the parts i required. By the end of the day, we had purchased a complete head from a wreckers in Roma and it will arrive the following day on the over night bus. I was overwhelmed at the quick solution and couldn't wait until tomorrow, I just had to get through the night first. Arriving home that night, Jan had dinner sorted working through his hangover! We spent a quiet night watching tv and chatting. I started to relax as i realised it was just a once off drinking incident.

 

 

Parts have arrived, Tony is unloading the package.

Im happy once again!



Tony Goodman



 

 

Tony and I spent the all of today, putting the bike back together. By the late afternoon, we had the bike going again. But it was running rough and lumpy with the occasional backfires. Sitting down over a cuppa tea, Tony brain storms and decides that due to the carburettor been old and very worn, we needed to drop the needle down a notch in order to make the air / fuel mixture richer. When I arrived the following day, the carburettor was already off the bike and in pieces,  before my eyes it was back on the bike and she sounded better than shes every sounded before. Tony unleashed her from the lift and took her out for a ride into the unpredictable weather. Once he returns he hands me the bike and I too take it for a test run. It was perfect. The engine sounded good, the fuel mixture was perfect, I couldn't be happier.

 

 

Andrew - Tony's son took me for a ride in his 'sandman'

 

I now had to say goodbye to Tony, a guy who put him self out for me and repaired my bike well in advance of the long line of bikes he already had in his shed. Tony had decided to sponsor me and only charge me for the parts. Thank you so much Tony, I am truly in debt to you. and next time I want to head off in a motorcycle Ill be coming to be your appearance for a while!

 

Jan, Thank you so much for picking a stranger up off the street, taking me into your home and leaning me your XR. You were really generous and I can not believe my luck by having you pull over for me on that long lonely stretch of highway.

 

 

Jan and I standing in his really nice garden!

 

A Sad and Sorry Day

My head is slumped in my sweaty hands while I leaning against the dust door of a pick up truck. Peering through the windscreen crusted in months of built up dust. My backside was sticking to the vinyl seats as I was still clothed in my AXO motorcycle pants and boots. In the rear vision mirror, i could see my bike sat securely on the flat deck, but I still wondered how I managed to get in this position. 

 

The day before, I slowly packing up my tent, trying to charge all my electronic gadgets. Trusting the other camp goers by leaving them unattended in the communal kitchen. Over the past few days, I had become good friends with a few of the long termers around the camping ground and had been offered jobs left right and centre. Its funny when you don't want one, they fly in your direction. I dropped my key off at the front desk and said goodbye to my fallow campers.

 

 

 

Driving to the motorcycle shop, i had a strange feeling my parts hadn't arrive. I pulled up out the front of the shop, dressed in my normal pants and AXO boot. I un-zipped my jacket and left them on the seat. Entering the cool air conditioned environment, I say good morning to Rob (the owner) and head over to the parts girl.  She had great news for me, they had arrived!

 

Hayden opened the tall steel gates around the back of the shop, I pushed it inside into the cool dark workshop. Once again, I strip the carburettor off the bike, Hayden dropping off tools when he thought I needed them. I cleaned the carburettor with special cleaner, ensuring i get into all the holes and dried it off with the air gun.

 

The new and the old nossel

The new and old neddle

Installing the new needle and nozzle, i put the carburettor back together setting it all to the book. The bike still ran lumpy, I mention this to Hayden, and he suggested with check the tappets, so off came the tank, seat and tappet covers. They did sit really loose, which I was surprised about as we had set them before I left. Hayden tightened them to the book and sent my on my way. I was still not entirely happy, but the bike ran, no fuel pouring out. I just thought to my self, ill chat to someone else along the way about the rattly engine.

 

I planned to spend the night in the free camp site under the bridge at one end of Emerald. As soon as I rode up and parked under the bridge, I was accosted by a retire on a mission to build a stone henge just out of Emerald. He was inspired after he had read a book about an Australian explorer and visited the stone henge built just north of Wellington in New Zealand. I was relieved when I saw another motorcyclist arrive into the car park and even more so when he headed over in my direction. After much yakking about bikes, set up and favourite countries, Shaun invited me back to a fruit farm where he was staying in a 'donga'. Ive never been in or seen a donga before, so this was an new experience for me.

 

Dongas, are generally made out of Aluminum sandwich panels which consist of a two pieces of aluminum sandwich a piece of polyurethane  in the middle as the insulation. They generally only have one window and one door. Shaun's Donga contained a bunk bed, a wardrobe and a desk, simple but nice. The kitchen was another matter. It was laid out in a haphazard way with a car in the centre. Cobwebs filled every corner, spiders emerging from them. The stove top was an old BBQ, we dragged out to cook our dinner on top of. 

 

 

I needed to install a new seal in the clutch release

 

In the morning, I packed my bags back up and walked back to the kitchen to have breakfast. As soon as I turned I heard a thump, and I looked back to find my bike on its side. Shaun, laughing his head of at me, came over to give me a hand as i was feeling week so early in the morning, thinking to myself that this is not a good start to the day! Soon after breakfast, I took off as I wanted to get back on track to make the last ferry of October with a goal to arrived into Longreach by the end of that day.

 

 

 

My bike wasn't feeling right, I wasn't really happy as it was really sluggish at the top end. I really need to talk to someone in Longreach and get it sorted out once and for all. So I kept on pushing it along at a slower ambling speed, that's when a black and white bird flew up from my front when and slammed into my chest. I was not having a good day. 150km out of Emerald and only 10km short of my first fuel stop, the bike made a funny noise and instantly turned off. My left hand leaped onto the clutch and I glided off the road. Jumping off the bike, I looked down at the engine wondering what went wrong. I was flabbergasted at the sight of oil that had manage to sprayed out of every bolt bolt hole. This can not be good. I tried to attempt to push the piston through, but it was holding the kick leaver hard. My bike was serious sick. It had to get shipped out.

 

I heard the rumble of a car coming and waved out to them. The driver in the red hilux, waved back with a huge smile. The guy in the pick up truck behind him, slammed on his breaks and pulled off in to the dirt shoulder, just in front of my broken bike. He puts his hand through the window and opens the car door from the outside. As he got out the door, I was faced with a guy with long curly hair cut in a mullet fashion. He wore glasses, but one lens was covered up by a swirl of red stars. 'Have you broken down' he asks, ' yeah - i think I've blown it up - I'm just wondering what to do, i could either head back to Emerald or go to the bike shops in Longreach' 'Well I'm heading to Longreach and there are three bike shops there' That's one more than Emerald I thought to myself. 'Can my bike and catch a ride with you to Longreach?' 'Yeah if we can get it on the back'.

 

A sad and sorry sight!

 

Limping into Emerald with Fuel Pouring Out

This was to be my first day on the rode alone – I wasn’t entirely sure how, I was feeling about that. Excited, nervous again, sad but extremely happy too. Not because of Maciek leaving, just because now, I’ll be heading directly north to Darwin and I guess this is where I see my adventure really kicking off.

When we first arrived the night before an old writer, ambled over in his short shorts, hiking boots with socks poking above and a wooden stick in one hand. He headed straight for Maciek’s bike and asked him all about it. Feeling slightly left out, but use to the lack of attention my small bike gets, I sat back and enjoyed my beer. One thing he did let spill was an old forgotten path down to three swimming holes.

Once the tents were down and everything packed up, we ride down to the waterfalls car park. Stomping down the narrow track in my motorcycle boots and pants, behind Maciek, I am sweltering. This is what you get when you bury my pants and shoes deep into my panniers.

We find the overgrown path around the log and follow it down to the waterholes. I couldn’t wait to take my motorcycle gear off and jump in. Stripping down to my underwear, I dive into the largest water hole, while Maciek runs around with his camera snapping photos.

Moving up to the middle pool, I steer into the deep blue water, wondering what down there and how deep it is. Maciek strips down and asked me to test the depth. Sitting on the edge of the pool, I shake my head nervously. ‘oh come on, I want to jump in’. I have never like rivers, especially when I cannot see the bottom. After much convincing, I gingerly slipped in, sinking further down trying to touch the bottom. With my arms stretched up, I could neither feel the bottom or the top. I rise and shake my head moving off to the side. Without a second thought Maciek leaps off the rocks and lands exactly where I tested.

After a nice long soak, I clamber up to where I left my clothes. Only putting on my tee-shirt and my motorcycle socks and boots, I’m ready to head back up the hill. There was no way I was walking back up there in my thick motorcycle pants! With my wet bra soaking through my tee-shirt Maciek laughs and pulls out the camera.

On the way out of the park, we stop at the main look out. This is where we will say our goodbyes before heading down the hill to the main road. Sitting on the park bench we look out over the amazing red and white cliffs down the plains below. We share our final meal together, a block of chocolate Maciek has been saving since Brisbane and a bottle of water. After a photo and a quick hug, we ride back down the hill to the turn off.

It has been really nice to have Maciek come along for the first few days of my trip. He was a real sweetie, cooking me dinner when he saw my pitiful supplies. Making sure we had enough beer and wine, taking most of the photos you have seen to date and of course changing my tail light system over so I would be safer on the road.

Thanks Maciek, I hope your South America adventures kick off on the right foot just as mine had.

Arriving at the intersection where we grab hands, and say goodbye. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?’ ‘You can come if you want’. But I know he’s got his own dreams to follow. This might have been my first test run, but it was his last before he packed up the bike for his South American trip in 6 weeks’ time.

With Maciek turning right, I turn left heading back to Blackwater and onwards to Emerald and the unknown. Just as I hit a small township called Buff, my bike started spluttering, thinking I must have hit reserve. I leaned over and switched the tank over. The bike still spluttering, I looked over and noticed fuel gushing out all over my engine. Then it stops. Rolling to the side of the road, with my clutch pulled in. I park my bike and leaped off to inspect the problem. Turning the fuel on, I see it gushing out the drain hole at the bottom of the carbie. Hot and slightly shitty, but glad to have this happen in this tiny town. It didn’t dawn on me what the fault was, that was clearly there in plain sight. I just leaped to conclusion that the floats must be stuck.

A guy in high vision gear ambles over and asked me if I’m ok. I tell him my problem and that I’m trying to find some shade where I can pull my carburettor apart. He points out a spot outside a school on the side of the road and asked me if I need any water. ‘not much’ knowing I’ve got some, but not much and I didn’t know how long this was going to take. He walked back to the offices in the train station.

A few minutes later, another guy returns with the water, explaining he rides Harleys and uses to have a couple of dirt bikes, he sits down beside me to have a look at my carburettor with me. Telling him what happened, he agrees with my conclusion. Carefully, I pulled the bottom bowl off without removing it completely from the motorcycle. We find the float in perfect condition. We think over the problem again, and then he notices the missing screw I had previously glanced over. Pulling out my spare bolts, nuts and screw bags, I find nothing that fitted.

Pulling out my roll of gaffer tape, we plugged up the inside and taped up the outside with the tape. Pulling it all back together, it leaked a bit, but it was not going to be a big problem. He told me there is a bike shop in Emerald, 90 kilometres away. Relieved, that’s all I had to go, I set out for Blackwater, for fuel. When refuelling it, I could see it was leaking faster. So I pulled off into the shade and retaped inside and out once again. Riding onwards to Comet, fingers crossed the whole time. Arriving into the two building town, I pulled over to find the gaffer tape had once again, let go. Retaping it for the third time and final time to put it all back together, only to discover for some reason not as good as the pervious. I bit my tongue for the next 40 kilometre stretch.

Counting down each kilometre, sweating not only from the heat but the stress I arrived into Emerald. Hoping that the motorcycle shop will be easy to find, I rode down the main road. Sure enough the Suzuki sigh glowed with a massive hallow around it. Rocking up the front door, the owner was standing outside, as said ‘You must be hot’ ‘I am!, I really wish I could ride down the road without my pants on at the moment!’ Another old fulla, replied ‘Don’t do that or there will be lots of accidents!’ ‘get inside quick, the girls can help you out’ added the owner.

Entering the cool air-conditioned building I breathed in and relaxed, Help was at hand. Explaining my dilemma, the girl got the Hayden from out the back. He took one look at my taped up carbie and laughed ‘I’ve never seen that before!’  We then headed out the back and searched through the large box of discarded carburettors. Finding a few different types of screws, we headed back out into the heat. One fitted in perfectly.

Sensing that this was a good motorcycle shop, I explained my other issue. I thought I was burning too much fuel and there was black smoke / silt showing up on my rear mud guard. Hayden talked his boss into letting my take my own carburettor apart out the back, saving myself some dollars. After pulling it out and breaking it down, Hayden pointed out the needle. Where the washer sits, is nearly worn right through!

I headed back inside and asked if they had any on the shelf. No, it was something that was going to have to be ordered in. Being a Thursday, it wasn’t going to arrive until Monday. Happy, I now do not have petrol pouring out of my carbie, and possibly found the reason for the smoking. I do not mind waiting a few days.


I checked into the local caravan park, and what would you know, there was another Kiwi bloke called Dave, riding a Ducati. Later that evening, two more motorcycle travellers arrived towing specially made trailers. I think I’m going to enjoy my stay here in Emerald.