1 week to go...(subtitled..The Comedy of Errors)

I thought the ground was sound enough yet the front wheel was acting like it was in a quagmire so with the old saying running in my head, if in doubt give it throttle...it wasn't long before 200kg of bike and I hit the ground. The grey nomads looked up from their cuppa with raised eyebrows. Damn.

The idea was to do the first fully loaded test with an overnight camping trip.  The rain clouds on the horizon couldn't make me postpone as it was now or never ...I leave in 7 days.  Putting an extra 24kg on the bike felt like I'd attached a bull  big, ugly and unwieldy...but as I gained confidence I turned of the main highway to explore the smaller back roads...getting a little lost but generally heading in the direction I wanted to go.  This test was to be a simulation of how I would travel overseas. No prepared meals or GPS, just maps and a little bit of money.

This is all new to me..I haven't ridden bikes on a daily basis, I haven't ridden anywhere as a journey without other people and a support truck!  The plan was to have a big lunch along the way and buy some stuff for dinner / breakfast. I made it to the small town outside of the national park I would be camping in and found a cafe for lunch (got to get some bread for breakfast..got to get some bread). Now to park the bike...I was paranoid it would fall over so spent 10 minutes just making sure everything was alright. The bike was very heavy and if it was to go down, I would need help to pick it back up. I had a quick bite to eat and worrying about the bike I forgot the bread...but picked up some two minute noodles and canned peaches at a servo. I should be able to start a fire to boil some water...I mean, I'd watched Bear Grills!

The road to the park was dirt and the rain had made it a little slippery and dotted with big potholes filled with muddy water of unknown depth. Because I was going slowly my glasses were fogging up and I peered over the top of them to find the road (got to get used to the riding in the rain bit - Toowoomba having been in drought for so long). Finally after a couple of creek crossings and a few games of chicken with err...cows...I made it to the camping ground where 6 Grey Nomad vans stood sentry to the best camping spots. (For those of you not Australian a Grey Nomad is a retired couple that's travelling around the country side in campervans).

I find a flat piece of ground right near a fireplace. Managed to park the bike without it falling over and set up the tent in the intermittent rays of sunshine peaking through the grey clouds. Testing out the new tent it occurred to me how much like a coffin it was with my head and feet almost touching the roof, there was just room to sit up in the middle. Must not be thinking of coffins...let's call it a cocoon...a place where life altering changes occur and brilliant things will emerge!

A brisk walk in the rain around a park track brought me back to an attempt at 'cooking' dinner. With my keenly focused Bear Grills skills...foraging for firewood and kindling and then using half a box of matches to try to light the stuff (I should be called Wombat Simmered) I don't quite live up to the Bear name just yet. Enter a Grey Nomad with a fire starter. I have a fire and water is on the boil to cook my nutritious 2 minute noodles...all in time for the next down pour which promptly put the fire out.  Hmmm.....delicious.....half cooked warmish 2 minute noodles in the coffin ...err... cocoon.

What emerged the next morning from the cocoon was sleep deprived and hungry. Small marsupials had decided to hold a party under the shelter and as my head was soooooo very close to the walls and roof, I had visions of being trod on in the night...no amount of 'get lost.....pssst.....arrrggggg' could move the party, but it did evoke comical raised eyebrows from the grey nomads who saw me stumble out into the sunshine muttering how "I had better not find the little blighters in my riding boots".

Another quick walk around a track (beautiful) and wolfing down the tinned peaches, I thought I had better head for home. Pack-up time - a thrilling 55 minutes of "now that fit there yesterday"...”where did this go again?”...have to do something about that. And as I donned my helmet and gloves, making sure the track to the dirt road was going to pose no problems I started the engine, she sprang to life and purred contently - ready for the trip home. Taking off was smooth...then it happened, the front tyre seemed to be stuck and pulling on the throttle only saw me launch the bike quickly to the ground.

With my leg stuck underneath I looked over the bike to the Grey Nomad section, morning cups of coffee had stopped halfway to lips and a call of "Are you right there love" rang out - probably much louder than it had to be. "Could do with a hand to lift the bike"...I said struggling out from underneath it - thank god for motocross boots!  Mr Firestarter and his mate then came over, still in their pyjama's and dressing gowns and under mumblings of "I don't know what happened" ...."the ground seemed ok"...."it's soooo very heavy"...we righted the bike.

"Perhaps you should have taken your bike lock off love". Damn.

I had brought the lock just a week ago and this was the first time I used it. It was now wrapped around the front wheel hub in a twisted angry ball that sheared off the speed cable and housing in one bite. I remember I was supposed to come up with a little 'ditty' to make sure I remembered everything, but I forgot. Damn.  After pointless attempts to get the cable free, Grey Nomad No2 retired to his caravan and returned with some heavy duty bolt cutters "we use these to steal motorbikes all the time" - and with some quick snips the cable was lying in pieces. Some work on my behalf saw the speedo cable put back in place and strapped down for the return journey. Nervous tests revealed that there was no damage to the wheel itself which made me feel somewhat better - being hauled home on the back of a ute was not my idea of a good ending to my test.

With my two Grey Nomad rescuers watching me ride off into the fog (it was now raining again)  I gingerly road the potholes, streams and dirt back to the tar, checking every 30km or so to make sure everything was ok.

There were a lot of things that went wrong, but if they do have to go wrong, it's better that they are little things rather than big things. My test run was a comedy of errors and although I sometimes doubt myself, I have to push my worry aside. All morning prior to leaving I was so concerned about dropping the bike it was, of course, what I did. What you think has so much to do with your reality.

So I have my morning ditty....PREP, LOCK, EARS, SPOT....(check luggage, lights and tyres, take the bloody lock of the bike, put my ear plugs in - I keep forgetting them (what was that you said?????) and turn on the SPOT so people know I am actually moving and not waiting for my next Grey Nomad rescue) and I’m in the market for another lock J


Kilometres travelled on my journey: none
Times I dropped the bike: 1
Rescues by Grey Nomads: 2
Pack up time: something ridiculous
Lessons learnt: 53 (and counting)
Ditty made up: 1
Song for this week: None other than Incubis