From My Notebooks In 1976: The Last Leg To Perth

Here’s a picture of Gurney’s hole in the ground that I wrote about last week – where he had his orchard.

Thursday, April 8th

To Norseman. Exchanged thoughts while riding. Carol was on a “bummer” about something she’d written home and wished she hadn’t.

I was figuring out distillation plants from sea water using solar energy or burning slash from the bush. Much attracted by idea of a coastline as desolate as this must be, yet potentially so fertile. Lovely salmon gums in salmon-pink earth.

[The road to Norseman runs along the east and, as usual, I spent the time wondering how to make it habitable, and wondering what kind of life one could live here. Then suddenly, in late afternoon, I felt tremors through the handlebars and stopped just in time. All but two of the spokes on the left side of the rear wheel had gone, and the wheel was about to collapse. Fortunately, I had recently acquired new spokes and I set about rebuilding the wheel, a job I had never done before. As soon as we stopped moving swarms of mosquitoes attacked us.]

Horrible hour and a half battling with flies and mosquitoes.

[But I got the job done, and we arrived at Norseman.]

Friday, April 9th

One last remaining building from the gold rush days of Coolgardie

Bill leaves us for Perth. Off to Kalgoorlie, Coolgardie, and as far as Merredin. Carol burned out and hysterical but comes round. Lightening skies. Amazing smoky red sky behind rain clouds and streamers. Stopped at a pub and watch a party of lads talking and drinking. Two wore the same black t-shirts – one was very muscular and male model-y, with his quizzical smiles and profiles. The other a blonde buck-toothed boy with sweet feminine smile. Lots of touching. He was the only one who didn’t have aboriginal blood. One guy, absolutely plastered, wandered around with a jug of beer.

[I can only hope that I was more sympathetic to Carol than my notes seem to suggest.]

Saturday, April 10th

Into Perth. Straight through suburbs to Mosman Park, where found Bill tinkering with his bikes. We went off to a fine pub lunch, and then my first game of Australian Rules, which seemed an exciting enough game, but too formless after soccer. The goal referee with his ridiculous movements of the fingers ¬– and the flags – wears a white trilby and coat.

Gerry Rafferty and Bruce stoning themselves in the kitchen. He’s the drummer. Astrid, the daughter, Leslie and Paul are Rhodesian expatriates working for Zimbabwe, but Perth is so far from anywhere.

Terrible winds and rain lash the house at night and during the day.

The city seems as tho’ it might be a good one to live in – but can’t see that it compares for interest with Melbourne, or for tranquility with Adelaide. But then I saw very little.

Arrived with the engine once again in chaos, the cylinder sleeves scored and an exhaust valve burned out, once again it seems from dirty air, though this time the fractured manifold may have caused overheating as well.

[It astonishes me still that nowhere did any of the mechanics who helped me throughout my journey suggest doing something about air filters, when the one I had was so obviously inadequate.]

Norman Bennett (the Lucas man) was in hospital after a car crash, as well as having his mouth sewn up for a skin graft. Mervyn Whitehead helps me through to Matlock’s and I have the good fortune to meet Dave Waldren there (from Hornsey – ex-copper) who came over with wife Jan on a Suzuki 125 two years ago and worked his way up to being service manager. He does everything to get hold of parts and helps rebuild the bike in a frantic burst to beat the loading time for the ship.

After this we sailed for Singapore on the less-than-good ship Kota Bali – so that was Australia.

I’m off to the Adventure Bike Rally in the UK next week and I’m giving myself a little holiday from my usual holiday, so you might not hear from me for a week or two.

‘Till then, Cheers

Ted