I set out from Esperance this morning, going to Norseman for my last stop before hitting the long, straight, and did I mention long, stretch of highway across the from West Australia to South Australia. Going between Norseman and Ceduna it covers 1200km (ca. 745miles) and it is literally just a thin string of tarmac in a hostile and merciless environment. This is not the place to run out of petrol or break down.
To add some perspective here is the same route zoomed out.
The 200km trip up to Norseman is easy, weather is mild and road is quiet. As I hit Norseman
I begin to realise just how far away from everything I am, and I haven't even hit the desert yet. Norseman is a mining town housing less than a thousand people and seems to mostly just be a place people go though, to get to somewhere else.
Hitting the Nullarbor on the Eyre highway is a little daunting. After about 200km I come to Balladonia roadhouse, which is where the 90 mile straight begins. This is 146km of the longest straight stretch of road in the world.
I checked, it is quite straight.
But on the bright side its not Sahara type desert where there is nothing but sand, there is actually quite a lot going on, bushes changes constantly and you can count the road kill to pass time. I guess under the circumstances you take what you can get, eh?
To the left is a small video of me showing some straight road, and a phone. The sound is horrible because of the wind, sorry about that.
Just 10km before Caiguna my fuel light goes on. "What is this now" I think to myself, this should not be possible, I should get at least 250km before the light. Well I didn't count in the wind factor. I was basically pushing wind the entire way, driving almost sideways, not considering that this eats up the fuel like there is no tomorrow. I crouch down and hug the bike to lower the wind resistance, slow down, and hope for the best.
I was actually pretty safe. In Caiguna I fill it up the 14 litre tank with almost 12 litres, so still had a few litres to spare, and this was the longest stretch. Still I got me a valuable lesson if physics and it got me a little worried, what if the wind continues and I wont have enough for the next long stretch?
Also it's getting late, I was aiming for Cocklebiddy just 60km further, but it's getting dark. Just as I had finish refuelling, this old dude walks up to me. I recognise him from earlier, he passed me on his huge Harley about 100km ago. "You seem a bit stuck, I got a room here for the night and it has an extra bed."
I don't have to think long about it, I take him up on his offer and drive up to the huts next to the petrol station, they even have a garage :)
We spend a little time talking about bikes, as you do. Turns out he customises Harleys and sells them. The one he is driving now was fairly new, a 1600cc monster of a bike, made custom by himself of course, and he is just taking it for a drive across to Adelaide to meet so biker mates of his. This is his fifth time going across the Nullarbor and for some reason I take that as something completely natural for him to do. Perhaps it is his balled head, wrinkly weather beaten face and long white beard that gives me this impression. His moustache is yellow though, not white like the rest, I wonder why for a few seconds until he quickly rolls another cigarette and start sucking on it like his life depends on it. He has been smoking since forever, he mutters, with 58 years behind him so far he saw no reason to stop now. Fair enough, I'm thinking, I'm not here to judge, I'm just happy I have a bed tonight.
I have a feeling this guy is full of stories, but he is not the talkative type. I do find out that he was in the army for seven years, been driving a truck most of his life, and now sells bikes every now and again. He seems like a nice enough guy, although when a beat up rainbow coloured Volkswagen Type 2 pulls up for gas I do hear him mutter "fucking hippies" under his beard, I had to smile.
We do the formalities over dinner, his name I don't know, but "they call me Blackie" he said. Blackie it is then, and thank you for the room.
He doesn't want any money for the room, even though I tried to offer a few times, "buy us a beer?" he answers, and also he wants to get an early start. I can do early I'm thinking, what are we looking at here, 8? 7 maybe? Nah, set the alarm for 5.30. O_O
There is no way I'm falling asleep early enough to get up atZZZZzzzzz.........
To add some perspective here is the same route zoomed out.
The 200km trip up to Norseman is easy, weather is mild and road is quiet. As I hit Norseman
I begin to realise just how far away from everything I am, and I haven't even hit the desert yet. Norseman is a mining town housing less than a thousand people and seems to mostly just be a place people go though, to get to somewhere else.
I checked, it is quite straight.
But on the bright side its not Sahara type desert where there is nothing but sand, there is actually quite a lot going on, bushes changes constantly and you can count the road kill to pass time. I guess under the circumstances you take what you can get, eh?
Just 10km before Caiguna my fuel light goes on. "What is this now" I think to myself, this should not be possible, I should get at least 250km before the light. Well I didn't count in the wind factor. I was basically pushing wind the entire way, driving almost sideways, not considering that this eats up the fuel like there is no tomorrow. I crouch down and hug the bike to lower the wind resistance, slow down, and hope for the best.
I was actually pretty safe. In Caiguna I fill it up the 14 litre tank with almost 12 litres, so still had a few litres to spare, and this was the longest stretch. Still I got me a valuable lesson if physics and it got me a little worried, what if the wind continues and I wont have enough for the next long stretch?
Also it's getting late, I was aiming for Cocklebiddy just 60km further, but it's getting dark. Just as I had finish refuelling, this old dude walks up to me. I recognise him from earlier, he passed me on his huge Harley about 100km ago. "You seem a bit stuck, I got a room here for the night and it has an extra bed."
I don't have to think long about it, I take him up on his offer and drive up to the huts next to the petrol station, they even have a garage :)We spend a little time talking about bikes, as you do. Turns out he customises Harleys and sells them. The one he is driving now was fairly new, a 1600cc monster of a bike, made custom by himself of course, and he is just taking it for a drive across to Adelaide to meet so biker mates of his. This is his fifth time going across the Nullarbor and for some reason I take that as something completely natural for him to do. Perhaps it is his balled head, wrinkly weather beaten face and long white beard that gives me this impression. His moustache is yellow though, not white like the rest, I wonder why for a few seconds until he quickly rolls another cigarette and start sucking on it like his life depends on it. He has been smoking since forever, he mutters, with 58 years behind him so far he saw no reason to stop now. Fair enough, I'm thinking, I'm not here to judge, I'm just happy I have a bed tonight.
I have a feeling this guy is full of stories, but he is not the talkative type. I do find out that he was in the army for seven years, been driving a truck most of his life, and now sells bikes every now and again. He seems like a nice enough guy, although when a beat up rainbow coloured Volkswagen Type 2 pulls up for gas I do hear him mutter "fucking hippies" under his beard, I had to smile.
We do the formalities over dinner, his name I don't know, but "they call me Blackie" he said. Blackie it is then, and thank you for the room.
He doesn't want any money for the room, even though I tried to offer a few times, "buy us a beer?" he answers, and also he wants to get an early start. I can do early I'm thinking, what are we looking at here, 8? 7 maybe? Nah, set the alarm for 5.30. O_O
There is no way I'm falling asleep early enough to get up atZZZZzzzzz.........
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