Forby and Fred
My Australia experience is a completely different since I met Forby and Fred at a petrol station, somewhere in South Western Australia. After a brief chat, the two enduristi took me in between and we headed off. Fred led the group of three with his Husqvarna, behind me drove Forby on his KTM 690 Enduro. As we passed the this-road-is-closed sign, I knew this is going to be adventurous, because this so called road wasn’t more than a track at this point. Now you have to know that this was Fred and Forby land. They are two farmers from this area and they knew exactly, what they were doing. So you can imagine the pace Fred set. I really had to pull all my skills to be able to follow the rear wheel in front of me through the corners, dips and crests of the sandy trails. When I drove too close, I couldn’t see anything than a thick cloud of dust and sand, when I drove too far, I couldn’t see any track at all, only bushes and trees. Somehow I managed to beat my beast, fully loaded with baggage and mounted street tires, just for the records, through this and ended up in the local pub with the two guys. We shared a good laugh when I explained them why I always took pictures of what’s for them just nothing. Is an average farm in this area about 5’000 acres, it must really have been funny for them to hear that in Switzerland an average farm is less than 45 acres (about 17 Ha, as of 2009). What this encounter changed for me is that since then I dare much more. When driving alone I would never cross a closed sign, but I try everything else. Every now and then I just pull over, take a shortcut and follow a narrow track through the bushes and the forests, wondering where I will end up. Taking a break in the middle of a dense forest, listening to countless parrots, observing emus and kangaroos make up the fact that many times, ok, always to be honest, the shortcuts take much longer than driving on the main road. I’m not delivering pizzas though.

Rowena and Dale
Because I, symbolically spoken, bumped in Brian in Thailand, I met two of his best friends, Rowena and Dale around Albany. Dale, who restores vintage motorcycles in his shed, tried to teach me how to read sand, where the surface is soft and where it’s hard. Well I have to improve on this but an EXC makes pretty much up so to say. Unforgettable will be the secret campground they showed me. On a cliff over a lonesome beach that has its own fresh water spring. On this particular day, the moonrise was late sometime in the middle of the night. Means the hours before I lay in the grass, stared to a sky, lit with millions of stars and I listened to the calm rhythm of the waves.

Bram and Martin
Without going to details, there are days I’m glad alcohol prohibition is not all over Australia. And I’m glad that on this particular date in Bunbury I met Martin and Bram. Next day the two travelers who work their way through Australia took me to horse racing. They were working for the organizer a week before so we even could get in for free after a short chat with the lady at the entrance. The atmosphere was wonderful as was observing the people. A friendly clerk introduced us patiently in the wide world of betting on races and so we did madly. Let others run in circles and bet on names like Time Bandit, Bankruptcy or Black Devil was just the perfect thing to do on a day after an extra dry too much.

Fran, Herbie and family
It was the very same petrol station where I met Forby and Fred, just five minutes before, when Herbie approached me, incredulously staring at my number plate. “You are from Zurich?” he asked in bold slang we use to talk where I am from. Herbie left Switzerland more than a decade ago, met an Australian woman who became his wife and mother of two beautiful children. “You need a good meal for sure, it’s so difficult down here to find something good.” Well I couldn’t argue with that so I found myself about ten days later in the living room of their house. Francine, or Fran how she is called, was alone this day. Two little kids, a funeral in the morning, an appointment at a clinic in the afternoon. Organizing to move to another house in three weeks just beside. I helped where I could, played zoo, read the good-night story and fixed the computer. About the dinner I had to laugh, because with ready-made mashed potatoes, beans and tuna from the can it was more or less exactly what I’m cooking for myself the last few weeks. No irony, Fran makes a fantastic job. I admire how she kept consequent and remained friendly with her kids. Despite of everything that was around her, she was a good host to a total strange motorcycle guy and we had very interesting conversations until late in the night.

Jacinta
Jacinta, the Japanese looking Australian woman with Chinese roots and Spanish name gave me a lot of new aspects about the modern Australian society. Her view about the people and their living becomes more general as she speaks with the experience of a psychologist. But I guess I will go through the link list about Australian mass murders just when I leave the continent. I want to sleep in peace, although (or because?) I sometimes have to share a small room with seven other men.

Dunny man
Back in the time when people went outside to download, someone had to clean up the dump station from time to time. This person was called the “Dunny Man”. And because these men wore wife-beaters, wife-beaters are called “dunny-men’s-shirt” down here. So what once was funny to me, as a convinced wife-beater wearer, turns out to become not so funny anymore... Not that I feel flat like a dunny-carterers hat (from transporting the bin full of shit on top of the head), but I’m far away of walking around like a swinging dick.

Related links
ihwpunk.de: Martins Punk combo (free music download of the last album)
bossanation: Jacintas Jazz combo (free music download of some songs)