I took the direct route to the Sorrento-Queenscliff ferry terminal and set about waiting for the ferry to arrive. As usual, after a big race weekend at P.I., the staging lanes were full of bikes waiting to get a ride on the ferry.

There were a few WA number plates amongst the bikes, including a number of older BMW’s and a Triumph Sprint ST. The guy with the ST recognized me from the WA Natural Terrain Motocross Championship where he had also been racing a DR - in his case a DR350, my slightly blunt weapon in that particular event being a DR650.

He was telling me how he had to get his radiator replaced under warranty in Adelaide, now his new one was also up the shit.  How the manufacturer was again replacing it in Geelong - a bad batch of radiators for Triumph I guess. A dodgy radiator would not a comfortable Nullarbor crossing make.

We all boarded the ferry without incident and grabbed something to eat from the onboard snack bar.

On reaching Queenscliff all riders readied themselves for the Le Mans start off the ferry.

Of course most of the riders were heading for the Great Ocean Road, like myself.

At the start of the GOR I upped the pace somewhat and set about having some fun along this lovely stretch.

The tight corners are great fun and I did myself a bit of a back strain from yanking the front wheel in the air on the exit of most of the corners. The muscle strain was not enough to take the smile off my face though!

I really do love this stretch of road - slow bits, fast bits and picturesque bits make for a great day’s riding. After passing through Torquay, Anglesea, Lorne, Apollo Bay, Port Campbell, Warrnambool & Portland I headed to Mount Gambier.

From lessons I have learnt during my previous travels -  I kept to the speed limits through town. This was to prove fortuitous indeed.

As I left the town limits and passed the 110 sign I started winding the throttle on a bit. I then checked my mirrors and saw a Commodore keeping a steady distance some 6-800 metres behind - too far to tell whether it was a cop car or not. I stopped winding the throttle on at this point and kept an eye on said Commodore.

After another kilometre I swivelled on the seat to look directly at the Commodore, and was greeted with a flash of the lights.

I pulled over to a side street; carefully turning the bike around so my gaffa-taped number plate was not visible to the long arm of the law, and quickly removed the tape. The Commodore pulled in and the friendly looking officer got out.

"How are you doing today Sir?" said the officer.

"Err, not quite as good as I was 5 minutes ago" I replied.

"Don’t worry, you’re not doing too bad. I watched you coming through town and you were well behaved. But I saw that look about you that said when you get out of town you are really going to give it to it!"

"Well I have learnt from experience that the best way to piss off a country copper is to speed through his town".

"Come from the races have you mate?"

"Yep, caught the ferry across, done the GOR and now I am heading up to Adelaide."

"I got you at 130 before you noticed me behind, but I won’t do you this time, just do me a favour and keep the speed down as I do not want to scrape another motorcyclist up."

"Have there been some people go down this weekend?" I enquired.

"No, but I have gone down a few times myself and I don’t want to see you do it so keep it under control please."

"Thanks officer!"

Then we parted ways with me shaking his hand in gratitude for not doing me.

I kept a fairly sane pace for the run through to Adelaide as per the lenient officer’s request, via Penola, Naracoorte & Keith.

About halfway from Mount Gambier to Adelaide I came across an ageing, broken-down Ducati Pantah. A 4WD had already stopped for him, but I stopped after passing them, turned round and mono’d back towards them for my amusement. Checked everything was all right - which it was - and received a request that I tell his mate who was further on, and riding a Harley, what his plight was. He seemed to think the Ducati had a bit of an air-leak somewhere so he could still make it to the next garage without causing any damage.

I left them there, on the back wheel of course - a lovely 4-gear effort it was too !

I saw his mate at a service station about 60 kilometres up the road and told him the situation. Fuelled, then headed on towards Adelaide. Had some fun coming down the hills into Adelaide, then stopped in Adelaide for a snack.

After a quick bite I set out for Port Wakefield. I had forgotten what a desolate run it is out to Port Wakefield and was running very low on fuel, as I had not filled in Adelaide.

I stopped at Dublin to see that the servo’ was closed. So I went into the pub and asked if anyone had some fuel that I could buy off them. A kindly lady offered me some fuel out of her tank and the publican supplied the hose and can.

I couldn’t get the bloody fuel to run after sucking on the pipe but another patron seemed to have the required suction to get the job done, so we got about 4 litres out of the tank then went inside to wash our mouths out.

I bought them a beer and myself a coke (I am silly enough without drinking & driving).

I got to talking to one of the other patrons who was interested in my travels aboard the bike. His other half then told me that he was once an Australian Solo Speedway Champion. So bikes then became the topic of conversation. I bought a carton of beer and we headed back to their place for a roast dinner and a few beers.

The next morning saw me crawl out of bed a bit late, around 0930 in fact. I had a quick shower (they were on rainwater only), packed my bags and donned leathers ready for my departure after an exchange of phone numbers and usual pleasantries. Thank You Glenys and Brenton.

I headed out through Port Wakefield and stopped once again in Port Augusta for another magnificent Hungry Jacks meal. After inhaling a Whopper I set out for the local bike shop to change my oil/filter.

Minor lube service done I set out through, Iron Knob, Kimba, Wudinna, Minnipa, Poochera, Wirrulla & Ceduna before parking up at the Penong Pub.

I was recognized instantly as I had only stayed there a week before. I got myself a room, had some dinner and indulged in a few ales.

The next morning I set out around 0800 and was thinking about doing the whole 2000 odd kilometres to Perth in the day.

I then took the normal route through to Norseman, just reverse the order of the trip in Leg 1 for the details. This part of the trip was as boring as normal apart from coming across a bus versus truck crash on the first bend after the 90-mile straight, just before Balladonia. Everything looked to be under control and they waved me on, so I continued.

I stopped for some dinner in Coolgardie and contemplated making Perth in the dark.

The weather forecast looked bleak for the next day so I got underway, using a truck as a roo-bar and made Southern Cross before my nerves were shot. I pulled in here and got a room in the pub for the princely sum of $15.

I headed down to the bar for a few drinks before grabbing a few Stollies to take back to the room. As per most old outback pubs they have a big verandah area on all floors, so I headed out into the fresh air to drink my Stollies and read my book. I contemplated the fact that I had spent my birthday riding over 1700 kilometres, and wondering why I should do something so silly....     again.

The next morning saw some very ominous clouds building up on the western horizon so I set off at quite a clip in order to try and shorten the time I spent in the rain. It started raining as I fuelled in Merredin.

I rode into progressively worsening weather with the aim of making Perth well before lunch. Kellerberrin, Cunderdin, Meckering and Northam saw the weather get bleaker and bleaker.

After Northam the downpour turned torrential and it was bloody cold to boot! I headed up through the hills passing Clackline, Bakers Hill. The rain by this time was absolutely horrific with visibility down to less than 100 metres so I adopted a low speed to suit. As I passed through Mundaring the water was making large pools across the road as the stormwater drains struggled to cope. One pool was so deep I swear it nearly made it up to the ram-air ducts under the headlight on the ZX9R. The force of hitting it took both my feet off the pegs! I am surprised the bike didn’t have an electrical short to be quite honest - it was that deep!

I then turned left at Midland to head back down to my place in Kwinana - the weather brightening for a short period and the rest of the ride home was pretty dry, apart from the road-spray of course.

Just my luck that I enter Perth on the worst day of the year for weather. During that day (and the next) Perth received its whole October average rainfall - good for the dams, not good for riding.