There were stunning beaches to visit, caves to explore and rugged camp-spots with sensational views.
On a Friday afternoon I rolled into the small town of Port Kenny. It had been a scorching day and I was eager to take shelter in the shade. After exploring the town with an ice-cream in hand, I had taken note of a good place to camp not too far from the pub.
As I entered the pub I saw my good friend Kel chatting with the locals over a few beers. After ordering a beer I copped no less then ten minutes of abuse from an old, washed-up lady, with regards to the stupidity of my trip. She made endless assumptions about my life and ranted on and on about what a cop-out my ride is and what a "stupid idiot" I am. Finally the bar-tender butted in to tell her gruffly that enough is enough. He apologised informing me that she picks fights very often. I was still a little stunned at the sudden barrage.
I joined Kel for a few beers and a good yarn. We had been crossing each others paths very frequently along the road. He was towing a caravan, so had the time to stay and enjoy the attractions along the way. However I was slowly plugging along each day staying for shorter periods of time. He would always pull-over to offer me a cold drink when passing on the road.
After Kel left, the pub began to fill up, and it wasn't long before I was engaged in conversation with a group of local farmers. They were buying me beer after beer and I was thoroughly enjoying the company. I was offered a free room for the night upstairs at the pub by the owner who was drinking with us. But old farmer Tom said that I would be going to stay at his place where I could shower and have a decent feed.
When I awoke a little startled the next morning at farmer Tom's house, he had breakfast ready on the table.
I had left all my gear and bike inside the pub after close, and so I told Tom that I needed to get back there somehow to retrieve it. He informed me that the pub was quite a drive, so it would be faster if we just flew in his small, Cessna plane. FLY IN HIS PLANE??
As we climbed into the cockpit he turned to me and said rubbing his eyes wearily, "Jeez I think I'm still pissed!" Not exactly what I wanted to hear.
None-the-less the flight was breath-taking. Seeing the peninsula from the sky on such a clear day was unforgettable. The rugged coastline, sparkling water and arid soils were perfect. I really was a lucky boy. He could see my enjoyment, and allowed me to take control for a while, which was the thrill of a life-time. He showed me a few loop-de-loops but had to stop as he was worried the whiskey he was drinking the night before might reappear.
It was only a short 60km ride into Streaky bay that afternoon where I met Kel to stay in his caravan. We had a few beers, cooked some delicious steaks and I had a relaxing sleep - free of my tent and my deflated mattress. Life was good.
Top: .....Didn't quite make the jump......
Bottom: Preparing to get wet!
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