Around Australia on a Bolwell Scooter

After feasting on locally grown, delectable fruits for a few days - and in between times sightseeing, including the awesome 'inland sea' of Lake Argyle - I headed off again. The road through Warmun and Turkey Creek to Halls Creek was quite well trafficked. Not too many road-trains passed, which was a pleasant surprise. The traffic was mostly caravanners and people in campervans. A few days previous a fellow traveler had observed how the locals, mostly pulling caravans, always waved when passing and how few of the people in what were obviously rented campervans (company logos emblazoned on the sides), seldom did so.

I made a point of noticing and got to contemplating on how insular life in Europe must be - no spontaneous gestures of friendship with strangers, seldom making eye contact - and once again I realized what a generally contented, open and easy-going people we are.

It's 314kms from Kununurra to Halls Creek, where I arrived about half-an-hour before sunset. I'd stopped often along the road to stretch my legs and to absorb the starkness of the countryside. An anticipated 'brief' stop at Turkey Creek for a petrol fill-up and lunch became rather extended as conversation flowed. That night I experienced the noisiest, most disturbed sleep of my journey - local inhabitants, not fellow travelers - and I was up and away at dawn. Another long day - the run from Halls Creek to Fitzroy Crossing is the longest stretch between petrol stations I encountered on the journey - 295kms. A full tank and a further 8 litres in jerry cans ensured I arrived at Fitzroy Crossing without mishap. I stopped along the way at Mary Creek Crossing rest-area for a coffee break and petrol top-up, where I was inspected by a large herd of rather scrawny-looking beef cattle, while an extremely noisy band of about three dozen white cockatoos kept me entertained from nearby trees.

The Fitzroy River is very impressive but I forbore closer inspection for fear of crocs.
As I rode further west I saw many boab trees, lots of termite hills, a few birds but for the most part the area seemed dry and barren. At one rest area, set around a very large boab, there was a picnic table, a bench - and an office chair! I amused myself for the next hour's ride by imagining why and who!

In Derby, I watched the tide come in one evening - an awesome sight. Tides rise and fall in King Sound up to 11 meters. It was as if someone had opened a floodgate - the sea rushed in and in no time at all the mudflats had disappeared and the pylons supporting the jetty were almost completely submerged. I went grocery shopping in Derby and when I came out my little mascot - a colourful cloth lizard given to me by my younger daughter, Keli, to keep me company on the road - had disappeared from my scooter.

For thousands of kilometers he had sat securely on top of Gypsy and I had taken to stroking his head in greeting each morning before setting out. I was very upset and hoped that whoever had stolen him really had a great need for a rather dirty and dusty little cloth lizard. After a very relaxing week in Broome I started on the 'home run'. Still nearly 2000kms to go but I was aware that I only had about three weeks of living a nomadic existence left. I resolved there and then that I would do it again - after all, there was so very much I had not seen. I'd have to look into a suitable conveyance, something that would enable me to explore 'off the beaten track' but still have the
economy and the 'freedom' of a scooter.

The long stretches of empty road down the coast of Western Australia, broken only by the occasional town or roadhouse, made me realize the enormousness of the state in which I live.

In Exmouth I joined a whale watching tour. Years earlier I had gone on a boat trip from Fremantle and was thrilled to see a southern right whale mom and her calf, at a distance. On this trip we encountered three humpback whales. They came right up to the boat - the skipper cut the engine - and played around and under the vessel for over half-an-hour. It was the most emotionally powerful experience I had ever had with a wild animal - even sitting metres away from mountain gorillas in Zaire four years previous, hadn't evoked such feelings. When the skipper decided it was time to leave and started the engine again, I called out "thank you, you beautiful creatures, thank you and goodbye". One whale lifted his head out the water and, I like to think, looked directly at me. He then slowly dipped his head and sank back under the water. A fellow passenger said, "He was greeting you!"

During the third nights stay at Coral Bay on the Ningaloo Reef I was woken by howling wind and rain. The tent started to leak. I curled up and tried to sleep. At first light I crawled out of a very sodden tent to discover that Gypsy had been blown over during the night. The campground is mostly beach sand, which is soft and unstable at the best of times. I guess the combination of strong wind and heavy rain was just too much and as the stand sank further the scooter toppled. I wandered around the park looking for help and eventually spotted a man sleepily leaving his
tent. He kindly lifted the scooter upright for me. As further inclement weather was forecast I packed the dripping tent and waterlogged sleeping bag into plastic and headed south again. Gypsy seemed not to have been affected by the fall. I was riding into a strong headwind and it was one of those days when I started questioning my sanity.

Ten kilometers north of Carnarvon Gypsy spluttered, shuddered and cut out. No amount of cajoling would bring the engine to life. I changed the sparkplug, even though a new one had been installed not 360kms prior, during a routine service in Exmouth. Cars, trucks, caravans whizzed by. Eventually a car pulling a trailer stopped and the three occupants asked if I needed help. They were gardening contractors heading home. After re-arranging their mowers and other equipment they lifted Gypsy onto the trailer and took us to Westcotts Motorcycles where, later, the mechanic discovered a 'cooked' piston. I phoned Neil Black at Bolwell in Melbourne. He assured me they would send the necessary parts by express post and would pay all costs. Excellent! They had already dispatched a new back tyre, which was waiting for me at Westcotts when I arrived.

That evening at the caravan park I was feeling very down. Why, with less than 1400kms to go, had this happened? I felt I'd let both myself and Bolwell down. Then I rationalized that Gypsy and I had covered over 27,000kms around Australia without mechanical problems and on the original set of tyres. To go around on Highway 1, without side trips or detours, covers approximately 17,000kms. So we had more than proved the worth of Gypsy (and other Bolwell scooters).
Five days later I was on the road again. The headwind was horrific. I wondered how bicyclists manage to keep their spirits up when battling the elements. It wasn't until I got into the relative shelter of Shark Bay - Monkey Mia - that I realized how hard I had been gripping the handles to keep the bike steady.

On my first morning at Monkey Mia, we were all obediently standing calf deep in a line and waiting to admire the three dolphins that had come into the area. They swam up and down the line of people, following the warden. We had been told not to touch or in any way disturb them. As the dolphins approached once again, I said out loud, "Oh, I'd love to touch her". The dolphin, identified by the warden as Nicky, came up to me and nudged me on the leg with her beak! I was later told that it was very unusual for her to behave in that fashion. I felt blessed, being 'kissed' by a dolphin.
I visited Kalbarri to view the wildflowers but unfortunately, due to the drought, they were not as splendid a display as is usual. Riding south along the coast road I again cursed the wind. My home state wasn't being kind to me. About 22kms from Northampton I realized I had a flat tyre! My first flattie! I flagged down a passing motorist and asked her to get the local service station to send someone out to fetch Gypsy and me.

He told me he'd been talking on CB radio to truckies to ascertain I was still waiting. No wonder they were all smiling and waving at me! The young mechanic at the BP Service Station suggested I needed a tube as he was unable to fix the tear in the tyre. As they did not have the necessary size in stock one would have to be obtained from Geraldton, 50kms away. He volunteered to drive there after work to pick it up on my behalf! I spent the night at the nearby caravan park and collected Gypsy mid-morning. No charge was made for the 'special delivery'. I paid only the cost of the tube and labour. Geraldton, Cervantes, Pinnacles, Moora, New Norcia, Gin Gin - and then my last day on the road dawned.

I awoke at 4.30 on my last morning. I wandered over to the toilet block. The air was balmy, calm. The stars were still visible. I felt sad it was all coming to an end. The first thing I noticed when I started loading Gypsy that morning was - a flat tyre! I could not believe my eyes.
27,000kms without any problem and in the final days, the final kilometers, two punctures. I wished I had taken my chances with the almost bald, almost but not quite illegal, original back tyre. The new tyre was jinxed! A helpful caravaner put air in the tyre with his portable pump. We hoped it would get me to a service station. I got as far as the outskirts of Wanneroo - approx. 42kms. Then the sluggish feel of the bike told me it had gone flat again. I started pushing.

A man mowing his lawn came over and offered to blow it up again with his compressor - enough to get to a service station. I got a little way down the road and again the tyre died. A passing motorist stopped and helped me push the scooter to a service station, where he pumped air into the wretched thing and directed me to Wanneroo Motorcycles, a couple of blocks down the road and up a hill. I limped up the hill on a very flat tyre - there was no way I could push the scooter up the incline. The shop was busy and I had to wait and be fitted in as time and customers allowed.
Tom Gellatly, of Wanneroo Motorcycles, very kindly replaced the tube (which he said was the wrong size) at no charge for either tube or labour.

A photographer from the West Australian, who I was supposed to have met at The Scooter Shop in Northbridge an hour and a half earlier, came out to the motorcycle shop to take a picture - he could no longer wait as he had other appointments to meet. At last I was on my way again. After a brief stop at The Scooter Shop to say hello to Frank I exited Northbridge - and promptly lost my way. Instead of heading south I found myself in the western suburbs. New road works, new housing developments had completely befuddled my sense of direction. A further half-hour was wasted as I tried to orient myself. At last I found my way and continued on the final 45kms south to Rockingham. The odometer read 29,280kms. I'd let my daughter, Sharon, know that I was running late. Unbeknown to me, she had invited a few friends around to welcome me home.

I arrived nearly two hours later than anticipated. My hands and clothes grubby from handling the road-stained tyre and the physical exertion of pushing the loaded scooter, my hair plastered to my head by my helmet and the heat, I looked and felt a mess. But the welcome home I received - and the bottle of champagne they shook up and sprayed over me - as well as the bottle of champagne we all drank, soon had me giggling as I related the farce into which my 'triumphant' return had degenerated.

Some stats:

Daily kilometres: 90 to 300. Average per day 160kms.
Average petrol cost: $3.40 per day
Best consumption: 185kms to 5-litre tank, with a tailwind.
Worst consumption: 120kms to 5-litre tank - very strong headwind.
Oil consumption: roughly 2200kms to 1 litre
Spark plugs: used 7
Tyres: Front tyre still good tread after completion of journey. Back tyre replaced at 27,000kms (might have completed journey but didn't want to take chance).
Mechanical problems: None for 27,000kms, then piston damaged perhaps due to scooter falling over in storm and maybe causing oil blockage?
Other problems: blockage in fuel line due to dirty petrol in the Territory. Easily fixed.

Written by Wyn Woods, the intrepid "Around Australia on a Gypsy traveler" (March 2002).

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