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It was a pretty last minute decision. I basically grabbed a pair of shorts, a sleeping bag and my skateboard, strapped it all to the bike and left. I didn't really think too hard about it till I was about an hour into the ride and realised all the things that could possibly go wrong. As it was the only bad stuff that happened was one minor crash in Genoa (The front wheel locked up on the gravel and I skidded into a post and I ended up on my back in the middle of the road. Luckily I wasn't going very fast.) and I ran out of petrol once but had just enough in reserve to get me to a service station.
The first place that I stopped was my old primary school. Even though its a bit out of the way I wanted to check it out. I barely recognised it because all the buildings have been replaced.
See that really tall tree behind my bike? I planted that in 1986. I keep meaning to carve my name into it. I actually had a pocket knife with me this time but there was some teacher peering out the window, probably getting all weird about me taking photos of a primary school, so I didn't press my luck.
My next stop was Mum's house in Warragul to steal a torch. Then I rode onto to Sale where I saw this skatepark and decided to have a roll.
The bowl was awesome but, just like every other small country town in the area, it had an appalling metal street course. Look at this quarterpipe that I saw in Cann River. I cant decide if its really good or an insult to the young local kids. 2 and a half feet high with a 2 and a half foot tranny.... I'm pretty sure Maunder would have been all over it.
I rode onto Bairnsdale and called Dad (who was staying in Eden) and he informed me that I wouldn't be able to get fuel after dark, past Bairnsdale. This was a problem because my tank only holds enough petrol to get me about 120kms which definitely wasn't far enough. At first I was going to just sleep under a bridge or a tree or something but it was getting really cold and looking like it might rain.
Eventually I came across this epic old pub in a tiny little town called Bruthen. (Speaking of which there are some brilliant town names in the area - Mossiface, Lucknow, Bumberrah, Boole Poole, Lake Bunga.... the list goes on.)
When I rolled up to this pub it was already dark, there were 5 or 6 really drunk people who, by the look of them, were all over the age of fifty. The oldest, and possibly the drunkest, was an old salt who asked if he could help me, as I approached the door. I told him I wanted a room for the night. He was amazing, he took me inside and looked at his bookings list and said that there was one room available. There was blatantly about 10 rooms available but I think he wanted me to feel lucky. He wrote down my first initial and last name and sent me down the hall way. I couldn't figure out what room he wanted me in so I asked him to show me. He escorted me to one of the rooms, and tried to switch the light on. When he realised the was no globe in it he muttered "Ah fuck some cunt from one of the other rooms has pinched the fucking globe. I'll try to find you another one." I never saw him again. I ended up reading the complimentary bible by torch light till I fell asleep. As a side note, isn't the bible a big pile of shit? Christianity is stupid.... see
I woke up at 6.30am feeling spiritually .... lightened would be more accurate than enlightened. I rode for a while then went scone hunting and came across a town that had a market type thing. Country people still sell tapes apparently.
They also sell booze at their petrol stations.
I eventually made it to Eden which is a rad little fishing village type thing. Even though Dad is only there for 6 weeks a year, he has the whole caravan park lifestyle on lockdown. He has a permanent site with an annex thing that he built around his caravan. And a decking with a shelter, etc, etc. He's even got a shed. He's built a bunch annexes for other people in the caravan park as well. He's creating an empire. And for some reason, everyone who stays there has leather sandle type things with sneaker soles and/or crocs. Dad had both obviously. I didn't get any photos of Dad's set up but I went with him to different caravan park to help him measure up another annex that he's gonna build for some other dude and saw this gnome haven near by. Its a really crappy photo but this guy had gone all out, keep in mind this is in a camping ground.
Some tourist photos
I talked Dad into to taking me fishing. He sucks at it. Next time I'm hoping one his friends will take me out on one of their boats.
By far the best thing in Eden is this mini ramp which is directly behind Dad's caravan. I heard some skate noise and asked Dad and he mentioned that there was a ramp so I went and had a look and my jaw went slack. This thing rules.
It was owned by a dude called Reese who was an absolute ripper and was also nice enough to let me have a roll. I was in a fair bit of pain due some mystery injury to my shoulder that only really bothered my greatly while I was in NSW, but I couldn't not have a quick ride on this thing. I love home made weird shit like this.
After spending a couple of very lazy days sightseeing and sudokuing and reading I started on the ride back which was awesome. The road between Eden and Bairnsdale is all windy and through the bush, so much fun. The only down side was that it was really cold and I'd lost my gloves on the way up. So i stopped at Cann River and bought some woolen gloves at a little general store and sat on a picnic bench to do the crossword. That's when a biker gang called the Fourth Reich rolled into town. There was easily over 100 of them, complete with swastika patches and what not. I decided it was time to get on my little Japanese bike and get out of town.
It started getting unbearably cold after that so I tried to keep my face warm with a Tshirt
By the time I'd gotten to Bairnsdale it had started raining a little so pulled over and called Dad. He was only about an hour behind me so I waited for him and we put the bike onto his trailer and I got a lift back to Drouin with him.
Once we were back at his house I checked the weather report. It said there was zero percent chance of more rain so I decided to head home before it got dark. I sat on the freeway for an hour trying to get home before the on coming clouds emptied on to me. Zero percent chance of rain my arse. With 10 minutes left to ride it pissed down. I had to stop under a bridge. Then I decided I was already so wet that it didn't matter so I just rode home anyway and arrived home vowing never to ride in the rain again. Next morning as i was riding to work it started raining again and I got to wear wet clothes at work all day. Rain can suck it.
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