The End of This Blog

I'm afraid, dear friends, that I no longer have a desire to keep this blog that is stronger than the calls from of other parts of my life. It's been an interesting four and a half years, I've had plenty of adventures, seen a lot of amazing things and met a lot of amazing people. Some I will keep in my heart forever. I've been to parts of the world I never would have dreamed of, met some people who have changed my life and developed a lot as a person.

Now my creative energies are headed elsewhere, I'm not sure where yet, but perhaps if I focus them in the right place they may be of some use.

I will be keeping up with you all more personally from now on.

Pat.

Still Twitching

It’s been a while since I wrote here, I know, and to be honest I did consider pulling this blog down. My adventures all seem a bit ‘same old’ these days, and the adrenaline hits followed through with dopamine rushes and all sorts of creativity seem pretty rare nowadays. I sometimes wonder what relevance it has now, what purpose it serves, but its original reason for being is still valid, so I may as well keep using it, for now. I started it when I discovered it was a practical alternative to sending bulk emails to friends and family, those who cared what I was doing and where I was travelling could look, those who didn’t; didn’t get bulk emails in their inbox. That is still a valid purpose and those who do read it have been asking what’s going on.

There has been a lot going on, including one rather significant series of events, events which were related to me breaking my rule of blogging at least once a month. To be specific, I met a girl. A lovely girl with whom I got along quite well. I didn’t have quite the urge to share my adventures with the world anymore, I wanted to share them with her instead. So between that and the scale and intensity of my adventures dropping back a bit, I stopped blogging.

One of the other purposes this form of communication has come to serve is an outlet for emotions. Most of the time this has been in the form of attempts to share my ‘stoke’ from various outdoor pursuits, or excitement and wonder at visiting new places, through some carefully chosen words arranged as well as I can to convey my exhilaration. Occasionally something more serious would creep in, like work did in my last post back in May, or some navel gazing as per last October when the relationship I was in at the time ended.

This post, I suppose, is a bit more of the same, but I find it something of a relief to write it so you’ll have to bear with me. I’m a bit unsure on what to say since it will be imported to facebook and reach a potentially larger audience, but this isn’t secret, and I can’t think why I would chose not to discuss it with anyone there. The girl, who I met in early May, decided in late July that we could not keep seeing each other. Despite it only being three months I was quite upset by this, as I had become quite attached to her. One month on and it is still an unpleasant thought that she does not want to be with me.

I am moving on though, and unlike the events of last October we are making no attempts to remain in contact. That’s all I’ve got to say about that now.

In other news, I went for a gorgeous motorbike ride on the weekend. Aunty Fra is over in this neck of the woods and was in Margaret River on Saturday. I rode down and met up with her, Cheryl from across the road in Mackay, and Joanna her niece on Bob’s side, who lives in Bunbury. It was a slightly seedy Saturday morning after some heavy drinking the night before and while I had the presence of mind to pack a towel, which I didn’t need, I omitted to pack any warm clothes, which I did need. I almost managed to depart on time at 9am, rolling down the drive (un-breakfasted) at just 9.10am kitted up with one spare set of clothes, a towel, toiletries, wallet and phone, and not much else. It was a beautiful day though and soon I got into the rhythm of the road, taking the South West Highway as a practical and scenic alternative to the coast road down to Bunbury, where I first stopped for fuel.

There I fuelled the bike and myself, both relatively little considering the amount of energy used. The bike had been running at 6.5L/100km, the best economy I’ve ever measured, all thanks to Raymond who is the new answer to all my motorcycle woes. I managed to get down a couple of bits of deep fried grease and MSG from the hot box at the servo, washed down with an energy drink, and was back on the road to meet up at the Busselton Jetty not long after noon.

Once the ladies finished their ice creams I followed them down to Wise winery where we sipped on Shiraz and enjoyed the view. From there it was some exceptionally pleasant riding throughout the South West region to another winery for lunch, then another winery for some more tasting, then a chocolate factory, then another winery, then on to Canal Rocks. The Margaret River region is truly stunning and it was a fantastic day, I found myself really wishing I had someone to share it with. Especially Canal Rocks at the end, it’s a magical spot and I could just imagine being there with a pillion passenger of the soft and cuddly variety who might have enjoyed the day on the bike with the food and wine tasting, followed by the magnificent view, as much as I did. One day it will happen, I’m sure, and when that day comes I’m sure my happiness will know no bounds.

From there it was time to head back to Bunbury as the sun set and the road grew rapidly colder. This was when I discovered that a t-shirt underneath a lightweight enduro jacket does not provide the thermal insulation required in August between Busselton and Bunbury at 110km/h. It was at this pleasant time that my low beam bulb blew and I was forced to ride with the high beam bulb on only, casting a less than optimal light pattern for highway riding. I was glad I wasn’t going all the way to Perth. Instead I stopped with Fra and Cheryl at Joanna’s place in Bunbury, where I accompanied her to a housewarming party of some total strangers once I had thawed out. A pleasant end to a pleasant day, they were a nice bunch of people who I may never see again, but it was fun. All up I covered 520km on the bike on Saturday, and really enjoyed every minute of it. It seems the serious mechanical issues are behind us now, it behaved just as it should, the coolant stayed where it was meant to, the fuel economy was good, the motor was running smoothly; I’m starting to get some confidence back now and am thinking that I might just be able to trust it on a trip across Australia yet.

Sunday morning was a pleasant ride back to Perth in the morning, followed by some tactical sleeping on the couch in front of a DVD. Notwithstanding I still managed a couple of loads of washing and some WAKSA admin work (admittedly only a very small amount).

I'm secretary of the West Australian Kitesurfing Association this year, and it seems as if it may be a big job. I'm giving it a go though, hopefully we will be able to pull the season off without too much drama. It has kept me up late on a couple of occasions though, and between that and the project I finished at work the week before last I was burning a bit of midnight oil. I got to the point where I had a twitch develop in my left eye, a classic sign of being worn out, however the twitching is happening a lot less now.

In other news, I’m doing a fair bit of fitness training at the moment. The bulk of it is for the City to Surf race this coming Sunday, where I’m going to try and run from downtown Perth to Floreat Beach over a course of 12km in less than 70 minutes. That should be fun, and my training seems to have been surprisingly effective so far. It didn’t start with that though, and this is another cool bit of news (which I mentioned back in April), I started cycling to work a couple of weeks before I knew I was going in the City to Surf as a way to get fit and strengthen my legs for going on a snowboarding holiday next Friday. That’s right; Bacon, Soap, The Fat Man and I are going to Queenstown New Zealand next Friday for 7 days of snowboarding mayhem, with all the associated partying and adventure sports on the side. In April it was a bit far off to get excited, but it’s almost upon us, everyone is kitted up and in less than 2 weeks we will be there.

So, my next three weeks should be quite interesting, with the City to Surf this weekend and departing the following one for NZ, to spend the subsequent week there. When I get back the seabreezes should be almost kicking in for the season and then it’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Summer program of kiting until I can barely walk and all sorts of outdoor parties and festivals. Winter was… interesting, but in the words of Paul Kelly, Roll On Summer…

The Hill

So there I was, putting my shoes back on after going through security at Adelaide airport and I looked up to see the words ‘Coopers Alehouse’. Hmm, there’s an idea. So here I am with a sparkling ale, a bit over an hour before boarding and some blogging to catch up on.

The Adelaide hills look a lot like the Perth hills from here, a long ridge running along the back of suburbia all visible across the runway from where I’m sitting. If only Perth airport looked like Adelaide airport. For a town in the fifth year of a mining boom it would be nice to have an airport that wasn’t so pitiful. I remember noticing on my way out on Monday that the seats at the gate lounges were hideously uncomfortable and the carpet had more stains on it than the overalls I wore when I rebuilt my motorbike.

I just flew in over those hills from another hill, the historic mining town of Broken Hill. An interesting project, we are revising the life of mine plan for the mining company there, working out how much they have in reserve to in turn try and work out how much longer they can mine for. The mine has been operating for over 100 years and it’s one of the more interesting places my work has taken me. It has been continuously active since its discovery and it’s quite something to look back through the operating records and see when surveyors and engineers did all their calculations without computers. They have vaults full of records where you can pick up a surveyor’s traverse written by hand in feet and inches eighty years ago and it’s still an active, operational record. A couple of shelves below it are printouts in modern ring binders put there just the last year.



The town is still a mining town, despite its prominence as an outback tourist destination, and once mining finishes it will lose a lot of residents. Some people think it will die, become a ghost town, but I’m not so sure about that. It is something of a regional centre and being as remote as it is, the ‘region’ that it services it is quite large. Not to mention being on the highway between Port Augusta and most of the East coast. If you go via Adelaide you miss it, but if you want to head for Sydney or above and don’t need to go to Adelaide it’s right on the way, so I think it will still have people and fuel there for some time after mining finishes.

Not this trip but last we dined at the Broken Earth restaurant on our last night in town. It is something of an anomaly, a public, classy restaurant on an active mining lease. There would have to have been some special consideration within the mining law for that. It sits on top of the big waste pile in the middle of town that takes the place of the actual hill the town got its name from. That was all dug out many years ago. It’s a nice restaurant, the service was impeccable and the food quite delicious. They have some old mining equipment sitting out around the carpark on display and it was very emotive to sit there drinking wine on top of a mullock heap and consider the importance of mining in our country’s history, present and future, and the part I’m playing in it.

Quite a few people I talk to want to use their time and profits in the mining industry to do something else later in life. An interesting concept, I have thought about it occasionally but can’t see it happening. One thing that looks like fun is running a backpackers somewhere on the beach where there’s plenty of wind and not many people. WA is certainly the place for it. But in all seriousness, I think I was born an engineer and will retire that way. Once I saw mining engineering as a career option at 16 I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I considered other things briefly, like mechanical engineering or geophysics, but none of them ever overtook the appeal of remote locations, big trucks and blowing things up with explosives. I had barely even considered the notion of what a challenge it is to excavate tunnels in solid rock and mine out the metals fuelling the economy, but it now turns me on more than the thought of all the explosives and tonka trucks combined. Combining all of them, however, is a good explanation for why I’ve only ever worked in underground hard rock. Digging a big open pit from the surface to get the metal just seems so boring, despite having even bigger trucks and more explosives to play with. Getting underneath the surface, being in the dark, feeling and hearing the rock all around you, that’s what mining is to me.

I don’t know exactly where my career is taking me right now. I have given it some consideration lately but have no definite path lined up. There are plenty of options available right now, I’m rather spoiled for choice in fact. Whatever I do though, I feel I’m going to have to do it soon or the career might start to stagnate. Something to think about.

Test Ride

Saturday dawned crisp and clear, at least it did outside my head. Friday night was live rugby followed by excessive amounts of alcohol and a bit of foolish dancing. Saturday morning, despite the gorgeous weather, was a mouth that tasted a bit like the bottom of a budgie cage and a mild headache. I managed to extract myself from bed and made it down to Rifo’s for breakfast and quiz, strong lashings of deep fried fat and MSG managing to take the edge off a bit. By the time I got home it was late morning and the clock was ticking. I had to test my repair job once and for all.



I had only got it back together the Sunday before and had been commuting on it that week to make sure there were no critical flaws in my work. It was time to make sure that it worked under heavy load, the condition that brought the symptoms to light in the first place. It was time to work out whether the many hours and thousands of dollars I put into it over the preceding six months was all wasted or I had indeed reached my Zen in the art of motorcycle maintenance.

First of all I wanted to download the last track data from my GPS for analysis so it wouldn’t get overwritten, I hadn’t been able to for some time due to ‘technical difficulties’. While I downloaded and installed some new software I gradually got the rest of my riding gear together, nervousness abounding. I saved the data (turns out I hit 38.51 knots on my last run speed kiting), strapped the GPS to the handlebars and hit the road.

I went via Subiaco to pick up my wallet which I’d left in the office there. The bike ran well, as it had been doing all week, and stalled at the lights occasionally, as it had been doing all week. I had written it off as the new rings being a bit tight, but I figured there was no need to put up with it and turned up the idler screw a bit. Problem solvered. From Subiaco it was into the tunnel and out onto the Great Eastern Highway to Mundaring. I had turned off the right hand fuel tank at Subi to test the new fuel sensor properly, just past Mundaring when the left tank ran low the fuel light came on so all was good.

Now for the big test. I fuelled up at Sawyers Valley and hit the powerline track for some first gear, hard on, hard off, enduro style riding to get the bike working as hard as possible. So many times before it had sprung a leak all over my leg here, this time all was good. I was well impressed.

I continued to cruise through the forestry tracks and made my way to the ‘skid pan’, a wide open bit of dirt with a couple of jumps that is a popular central meeting spot with all the petrol heads who tear through the bush there every weekend. I didn’t hit any jumps but continued to try and work the bike as hard as possible to see if it leaked. A little beyond the skid pan I stopped and concluded that the new head nuts had indeed done the job, my bike’s cooling system was working the way it was intended and all was good in the universe. I stopped for a drink, a couple of photographs and a warm feeling of accomplishment before pushing off. The bike was now officially in the best condition it has ever been, having a factory issued upgrade performed on it and all it’s niggling problems sorted at the same time. At the same time I had just acquired an intimate mechanical knowledge of the bike I had also acquired a bike in perfect operating condition. Very Zen.




I hit a tight bit of singletrack on the way back, the same one I filmed here some months back. After all the time off the bike and being well out of the kite season I am a bit out of condition and my riding skills a bit rusty at the moment. I was just daydreaming about meeting someone coming the other way and wondering what it would be like to be injured out here with no-one knowing where I was and riding alone when the bike went down. I can’t remember ‘exactly’ why, it happened so quick, but the underlying ‘why’ was because I was tired. I could feel it creeping into my consciousness, reaction times were getting slower, the bike was getting heavier. When I picked it up I saw that I had broken an indicator.

A broken indicator? After the top end rebuild, the thousands of dollars of parts and wasted ‘professional’ labour costs, the time not riding and the time before that riding it wrapped in cotton wool, the dealings with the dealers and learning how to drop the engine and reassemble the bike the hard way; I laughed. I laughed until I almost cried. I think I’ll leave it held on with lekky tape for a bit longer just to remind me.

You know, riding alone for this trip possibly wasn’t the safest thing I’ve ever done. I was putting a lot of faith in a major repair job I had done myself without a qualified mechanic even coming near the bike in the course of it. I’ve never done any wrenching even nearly as complicated before and to go alone into the bush with no support could have been very inconvenient if it had broken down.

After I got back to the bitumen I decided to go and have a look at Mundaring weir and put my rear vision mirrors back on while I was down there. I didn’t make it quite that far though, I started getting a bit paranoid being out with the four wheeled machines and decided to pull over and put them on, I got a photo of one of the few twisties we have in WA. The very few twisties. I reckon at least two dozen bikes rode past between when I pulled up there and while I was stopped down at the weir itself.



Speaking of Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I discovered that I had lost the shim I used to make the rear vision mirror sit at the correct angle. I found an old bundy can beside the road and tore a little patch of aluminium out of it, putting it between the rear vision mirror stem and the handlebars where it screwed in. On a highly engineered, very expensive European dual sport motorcycle, I thought it was only fitting. If you haven’t read the book, there is a philosophical train of thought explored by the author based on his friend not wanting to do something similar with his BMW. BMW riders hey? By the way, I took the can and threw the rest of it in the bin after that, my little bit of community service for the day. I couldn't very well spoil such a day by littering, even with a can that was already on the ground.



I was in a very good mood as I parked up and had a look at the weir. Being an engineer, and somewhat versed in the history of the WA goldfields, it was good to finally stop and have a look at the business end of the pipeline. The old stack reminded me of all the old mining gear that ran on steam back in the day and thinking about where we are now with technology and industry it’s nothing short of amazing what they used to do back then.



The sun was starting to get low and the eucalyptus haze framed the stack in a stunning light that I only wish my camera was able to do justice to. I snapped off a few more photos before deciding it was time to head home and wandered back to the bike. I headed back through the twisties, detouring briefly to have a look at another promising looking forestry track, but tiredness was really kicking in and I decided to get back on the road despite its potential. Another day.

I cruised past the Mundaring Hotel where a mate who helped me fix it was drinking, he heard it go past and sent me a congratulatory sms. It was much appreciated, added to the strong feelings of wellbeing that were going on by that stage. I didn't stop though, rather continued down towards Midland, onto the Reid highway for the cruise back to Nollamara and things were pretty good. This was what motorcycling was meant to be like. Then I got to the intersection with the Tonkin Highway.

It’s a T intersection where I have to go right to get home. Traffic was flowing through the cross of the T, traffic was pulled up in the middle of it waiting to turn right onto the Reid highway: where I was waiting at the front of the queue to turn right onto the Tonkin (even though it becomes the Reid again immediately). I knew the light sequence at this traffic light, I would get the next green before the people waiting to turn off the Tonkin, and I did.

The first rule of defensive driving is that everyone else on the road is a moron. When I’m on the bike I tend to work on the assumption that everyone else *is* trying to kill me. So when someone approaches a corner where I am pulling out across their path I don’t ever assume they are going to stop, or make the turn they have indicated they are going to make, until I see them do it. So when I saw the light go green, rather than ride off, I turned my head to watch the car coming towards what would have been a red light to him. I watched him continue to it at speed and only start to decelerate when he was about 10 metres from it. At the speed he was going, the limit is 80 there, 10m was not enough stopping distance. He did decelerate rather rapidly, locking up his wheels and sliding to a stop just past where I would have been had I pulled out on the green light.

I do believe that had I pulled out I would probably have missed the flight to work on Monday. Judging from his speed and where I would have been it probably wouldn’t have been fatal, but a hospital visit would have been likely and at least a few broken bones. Instead I just shook my head at him in disapproval and rode off once he had cleared the intersection.

I pulled into the driveway thoroughly exhausted and grinning from ear to ear. The bike was working perfectly, I had a great ride, I saw some cool stuff and I avoided death and/or dismemberment. All in all: a grand success.

Turning 29

Well it’s that time of year again. The last digit of my age has ticked over, and 30 is in clear view from here, egads. No special activities took place to mark the occasion except knocking off early from work and drinking far too much. I recall being quite offput about being in the Mustang Bar on my birthday, it’s not the nicest pub, but it really suits the characters I was with a bit better than the Subiaco. I daresay none of the guys I was with have even heard of male manicures, quite unlike the rest of the clientele at the Subi. Not that I give my nail clippers much use either mind you, my nails seem to wear off effectively enough on their own.

This time last year I was commenting that I’d gone a whole year without acquiring any new scars. Not so the last twelve months. Just a couple of weeks ago I came off the mountainboard and gouged a decent hole in my elbow. It’s still got a scab on it now but I expect it will scar quite nicely. It’s a relief that I managed to get it, I had started to worry that I might be slowing down in my old age.



Even though you can see I had pads on, I hit the ground hard and fast and managed to slide one around on impact. Nothing has the stopping power of soft fleshy body parts in gravel. I am now the proud owner of full body armour, just waiting until the bruising fades a bit before I go again.

I’m at the airport as I type this, though I daresay I’ll be somewhere else by the time I publish it. In Queensland most likely, that’s where I’m off to for two weeks for some work and Kelli’s wedding. I must say the travel is becoming a bit tiring. I was in Broken Hill, Adelaide, Brisbane and Perth last month. Not much I can do I suppose, it’s part of the job.

Despite this aversion to travel I’ve managed to use my addled decision making powers on my birthday and the morning after to commit to a snowboarding holiday in New Zealand in September. It’s really quite exciting to think about, I haven’t been since I went with Bacon in 2004, back when I started blogging. You can read about it back in the archives if you’re interested.

I’m stepping up a level within the Western Australian Kitesurfing Association this year. Several executive committee members have stepped down and I am taking on the role of secretary. I don’t think it will be much more work, I was putting in heaps last year as a general committee member, there’s just a bit more responsibility now. Between this and becoming a moderator of the kiteboarding forum on www.seabreeze.com.au I think I’m finally starting to put back into the sport something significant, considering all that I’ve gotten out of it.

I’ve got the heads for the 950 back from the shop, and what looks like enough bits and pieces to put it all back together. I just need a bit of gasket sealant, some loctite, a replacement bulb and to have a look at the fuel light sensor. If it’s just a bad contact like what happened to the speedo cable I have the gear to fix it, if the sensor itself is cactus I might just need the whole new assembly. One way or the other, as soon as I get back to WA it’s going to be the biggest mechanical challenge of my life.

That’s all I’ve got to report for the time being. Things really seem pretty quiet right now, possibly because the kiting season is cactus and I haven’t had a good session for ages. There is a moderate westerly on the forecast this week, unfortunately I won’t be in Perth to test it out. I expect big things this winter, with the climate change patterns we’ve been seeing there could be some good strong storm fronts come in. Even though kiting these winds is more difficult and dangerous I enjoy them immensely. Perhaps that’s part of the reason, plus combining those factors with the cold water and overcast skies it really keeps the crowds away.

That’s it, that’s what I need to clear the cobwebs and get out of the quiet times, a good kite session. I just drifted off into my happy place thinking about while typing the paragraph above.

All Uphill From Here

So the bike is as far down as it needs to be now, the heads are away getting fixed and as soon as I get them back I will be able to start putting it back together. It's going to be a big and difficult job but with some patience and careful thought I have faith that I can do it.



Yes, that's the engine block with the blue rags stuffed in it on the ground to the right hand side of the bike. No I haven't used the hacksaw on any part of the bike. Dan, if you're reading this, your ute cover has been off since your friend returned it because it needs a wash. As soon as I can get all the bike parts out of the way I will pull it out and give it one, then put it's pyjamas back on.

Ticket to Ride

I can't say I approve of these sort of antics, but the tune is very catchy...