Long Ride 2016 - Day 15

April 22, 2016

Laverton, WA to ... somewhere on the Great Central Road

April 22 started like any other day on the Long Ride 2016.  The morning sun was warm and it brought an air of excitement as we prepared for the Great Central Road, a 1200km stretch of desert track that would take us across the Great Victoria Desert to Uluru (Ayers Rock).

 

The day got even better as we packed the bikes, our accommodation, at the Desert Inn Hotel was surprisingly good.  I'd been told that we would be in Donga's, a portable cabin normally used for workers in these parts of the world.  From the outside they weren't anything special, on the inside they were modern, clean and spacious.  It was a pleasant surprise and very cheap at just $50 per room.  As I packed I noticed a small cry coming from the end of the cabin, underneath it.  A small kitten, perhaps a week or so old, was looking for its mother, no doubt a feral.

 

I'm not a cat person, in fact it's probably fair to say that I hate them and the destruction they do to both native flora and fauna but this little fellow was adorable.  We quickly befriended each other.  The day was getting better.

 

The Desert Inn Hotel, a must in Laverton.  They helped play
a major role in getting me home safe.

Once packed and fuelled we headed to the small delicatessen that adjoined the pub.  The food was simple, but fresh and very well cooked.  I had a toasted sandwich and a tub of fruit salad, delicious.  We ate at the front of the pub, in the warming sun, discussing how we would tackle the dirt road across the desert, agreeing that we'd stop every 50 kilometres unless something took our interest, in which we would all stop if in agreance.  Watching the town awaken in the sun, the day was getting better.

 

Bidding farewell to our hosts at the Desert Inn we headed north-east to begin the journey across the desert.  We rode around 2 kilometres on sealed road and then there was the dirt.  A roadtrain, a truck with 4 trailers, was preparing to take the same journey, as was a Toyota Landcruiser and caravan, the occupants dropping their tyre pressures in readiness for the sand and rocks.

 

Despite recent heavy rains, the road was in reasonably good condition.  It was certainly corrugated in places but nothing too drastic.  The riding was good, we slowed at one stage to let another traveller pass, we continued on.

 

Our first stop, Cosmo Newberry, was just 90 kilometres along the Great Central Road, easy going, I was looking forward to getting there and seeing the first of many places we'd see that a lot of others don't.

 

Suddenly one of group stopped, pulling off the road, it was clear that the rider in the lead was unaware and kept going.  The rider that pulled off the track informed us that he needed to use the toilet.  I was flabbergasted, what grown man can only ride for 40 kilometres, perhaps 45 minutes, before needed to take a shit?  Couldn't he wait a little longer? Why didn't he go before we left town?

 

Annoyed, I informed everyone I  would continue on and catch up with the unaware rider.  The riding was still good, the corrugations were a little worse but at a steady pace they were manageable, in fact I was enjoying the riding over the bumps, the constant juddering wasn''t that bad.  I looked forward, the day was getting better ...

 

Shit! Why is there an immense pain down the right side of my body?  Where the hell am I? I hear a vehicle coming, it slows, it passes.  The bike is on top of me ...

 

There's voices, swearing, panicked.  The bike is still on top of me.  There's still pain. The pain in my right shoulder is familiar.  I'll take a little nap ...

 

I'm sitting up, the bike no longer on top of me.  The pain in my shoulder is now intense, it doesn't matter, my chest is beginning to go numb, as is my neck despite a slight underlying ache.  The voices are still present, still slightly panicked yet now more decisive.  They're discussing whether the emergency beacon on the Spot Gen3 should be activated.  Where are we?  How long until we get to Broken Hill?  The emergency beacon is pushed.  I'll close my eyes and have another little sleep ...

 

Angels.  A couple from Taiwan, on an adventure, stopped to
help.  I would  really like to know who they are so that I can
personally thank the.

"Shit, he's bleeding!" Someone's removed my helmet.  Did I ask them to?  Do they know not to remove a helmet unless the rider is having trouble breathing?  Surely they do, most of us have done first aid training.  It doesn''t matter.  Will we be in Broken Hill soon?  Why are the instruments hanging off my bike? Strange.  I'll just close my eyes a little ...

 

Voices talking, away from me.  An Asian accent.  What's happening?  The voice tells me they will be cutting my gloves to remove them, I'm fine with that, just don't cut my jacket.  Oh, it's already been done.  I'm prodded and poked, pulse taken, spoken to about things that seem unimportant.  I'm pretty sure we'll be in Broken Hill soon, but why are the instruments hanging from my bike? It doesn't matter, I'm exhausted.  I'll take another sleep ...

 

"Leigh, Leigh, how are you going? My name is ... ", the voice trails off, there's a four wheel drive with us now.  The police from Laverton have arrived.  Have I done something wrong?  Aren't they a long way from home, we are on our way to Broken Hill.  I'm glad they're here, they might be able to help with the pain.  I feel ill.  Vomit can't be too far away.  If I close my eyes it will pass ...

 

"G'day mate!  How are you feeling?  My name is Eleanor, you can call me Elle.  Do you know your name?"  This voice is comforting.  An ambulance is here.  A light is being shone in my eyes.  My left arm is being constricted, my blood pressure taken.  I'm conversing with the voices, not really taking anything in. The pain is still intense, I inhale through a tube, it tastes "like arse".  The pain is easing.  Oh wow, I have to take another sleep, this day is very tiring ...

 

"Leigh! Leigh! Mate, don't close your eyes.  Stay awake," it's Eleanor.  In a soothing way she's being quite forceful.  The voices seen muffled, I'm no longer on the ground, in the dirt.  I'm lying down, on a bed, in an ambulance.  Wow! This must be serious.  I have tubes from my arm.  There's wires attached to my chest.  The pain is almost non-existent, I guess we are on our way to Broken Hill.  I wonder if someone will put the instruments back on my bike.  It doesn't matter, I'll have a little sleep ...

 

"OK Leigh, time to wake up mate," why do these people keep waking me up?  "We're back in town."

 

Strangely I feel underwhelmed, there were no bells and whistles.  In fact it was quite a slow ride into town, I'm strapped to some sort of inflated bed, I can't move. 

 

I'm pushed through a small waiting room, an aboriginal lady looks at me from above, she smiles but looks concerned.  I'm pushed into a room, a pretty doctor smiles and asks how I am.  The paramedics start talking with the hospital staff.  There's talk about a motorcycle accident.  I hope the poor bugger is OK.  They shave my right arm and insert a needle, tubes are now pumping fluid into my left arm and two tubes are attached to my right arm, something is being injected into it.

 

The people in the room are talking about a broken clavicle, I know what that's like.  They also speak in hushed tones about fractures to the ribs and neck, and possible paralysis.  Wait!  They are talking about me.  I must looked worried, the pretty doctor smiles again and tells me not to worry, they will call the Royal Flying Doctor Service to take me to Perth so that tests and scans can be done.  This is serious.  Suddenly I'm jolted back to reality, the pain is intense, I feel sick ... I'm scared.

 

As the doctor explains that she needs to put a cafeter in my penis, it starts to dawn on me how serious this is.  I have indeed had another accident, much worse than the one 18 months earlier.  So serious that I don't seem to care what has happened to the bike.  Bits and pieces start to make some sense.  It's all very tiring, and for the first time the medical professionals let me have some sleep.

 

I'm woken some time later, being told that the aircraft has landed.  The RFDS are here to take me to Perth.  I'm wheeled out to the ambulance then driven the short distance to where the aeroplane is waiting for me.  It's a horrible feeling having all this happen while you lay flat on your back, you know you are moving but have no idea where you are going.  I'm greeted by three ladies, the pilot, a doctor and a nurse.  They reassure me that everything will be alright.  I'm desperately trying to get a look at the aircraft, terrified that it will be one of the GAF Nomads that I worked on as a young apprentice - they were the aircraft of choice for the RFDS not that long ago.

 

Aboard the plane, my initial carers wish me well, I mumble something about seeing them again.  The pilot explains something about the flight, it's a direct flight and should take around 90 minutes, the weather is good but there could be some rough stuff.  The doctor tells me she will give me more morphine, it should make me sleep for most of the flight.  I'm thankful.  We take off, I close my eyes, and drift away ...

 

I'm woken and we land in the Western Australia capital city.  The RFDS crew wish me well as I am loaded aboard ambulance for a 20 minute ride to Royal Perth Hospital.  I'm in pain, lots of pain, I feel pain in my feet and hands, I'm thankful. 

 

I'm wheeled into RPH, a rush of faces and names, it's overwhelming.  I'm exhausted, every time I close my eyes, someone asks if I am with them.  Come on, please, let me sleep.  More fluids are pumped into both my arms, the pain is no longer there, I feel nauseous.  I'm xrayed laying down, on my back and on my side.  The staff seem satisfied, I'm wheeled into a room.  I'm left alone. 

 

I have a serious urge to pee. 

 

I fall asleep ...

Long Ride 2016 - Day 14

April 21, 2016

Lake Ballard, WA to Laverton, WA - 273km (5,591km)

Day 14's blog is a little delayed due to an incident on Day 15, leaving me to type with just a left hand, and anyone who knows me knows that's not a pretty sight.  More of that later.

 

The day started perfectly, up before dawn to watch the sunrise magnificently over the Lake Ballard sculptures.  The fire from the night before had kept going fending off some of the dawn chill.

 

Dawn at Lake Ballard

As the black of night slowly gave way to the warm oranges and reds as the sun rose the brilliance of the Australian desert became apparent.  I sat on my own taking it all in, animals foraging for food, birds calling to each other from the undergrowth.  It was a truly magical moment.



With the sun breaking above the horizon the still beings on the lake seemed to take on life as their shadows stretched then moved across the salt flat.  I sat in awe watching it all take place.

 

As the others clambered from their tents it looked as though it would be a great day, our last day of bitumen for a while.

 

We started breakfast and laughed about what a great ride it had been so far, one of our group strolled off on to the lake to enjoy the beauty as those remaining packed up our gear.

 

Upon return, the rider who went walking, came back with a new attitude and tore into all of us for no apparent reason.  It was shocking and embarrassing, the tension that boiled up left a nasty stain on the morning.

 

We continued packing and returned to the road that would lead us back to Menzies.  It was a comfortable ride however, the tension was still present.

 

The remoteness of Lake Ballard keeps the tourist hoards away
... for now!

Early in the morning, the small town of Menzies was amazing.  We refuelled at a former roadhouse which, was now just a self serve station, fully automated.  The external walls were adorned with registration plates from all over the world.  In its own way it was quite spectacular.  Once the bikes were full we went down the road to a cafe that would look more at home in a Melbourne laneway.  The coffee was as good as any in Melbourne, a great surprise when you consider we were almost 1,500km from the nearest major city. 

 

Menzies' unique self serve servo

Over the coffee we decided we would leave the main road on the way to Laverton and head towards Kookynie, a former mining town now billed as a living ghost town.

 

The road in was quite good, obviously constructed to cater for the slightly more adventurous tourists.  The gravel laid in places was a little thick and caused the bikes to squirm but was nothing too bad.

 

Kookynie once boasted a population of over 3,500 but now has less than 10.  In its hey day the town had 11 hotels and ts own

brewery, and 4 trains per day from Kalgoorlie.  Although a ghost town many of the original buildings are still intact, a greater reminder of the past.

 

A highlight of the town is the only operating pub left, the Grand Hotel.  From the front it doesn't look any different from outback pubs, on the inside it's pretty much a museum, with a great collection from the past.

 

It was a great way to take a refreshing drink before heading back off into the desert, the

The ghost town of Kookynie, well worth visiting

day was starting to get quite hot, probably the hottest experienced so far and perhaps a prelude of what was to come.  The Grand Hotel truly was grand, in its own way, an oasis in the desert.

 

We continued on and soon hit dirt.  The road was good but obviously a trucking route, it was badly corrugated in places and quite rough.  A comfortable pace was around 70kph, a little slow but it felt safe. It took us just under an hour to reach the bitumen and while it was good to be back on the black stuff (although its very rarely black out here),

the dirt felt right.

 

We soon pulled over and took over final break of the day before the last 100km to Laverton.  I trudged off into the scrub to go to the toilet, two things struck me, how green and wet it was and the size of the bullants.  They seemed harmless enough, perhaps having enough to feed on after the recent rains.  In recent weeks Laverton had received over 100mm of rain, almost half of the annual amount.

 

We continued on to Laverton, with a population of around 400 (around 1/3 are aboriginal) it marks the western end of 'civilisation' before taking on the deserts of central Australia.

 

It was amazing too see such a dry arid landscape with so many full creeks and rivers, the green of the plants was astounding.

 

We'd been warned about Laverton and how rough it could be, what we actually found was a hard working community where the locals took a great pride in 'their' community.

 

The local information centre has a fantastic interpretive museum that's well worth visiting.  Staff at the local supermarket were extremely helpful as were those at the local pub, our accommodation for the night.  Day 15 would give some indication to just how great this town and its people really are.