The Longest Friday

It felt awkward calling a stranger on the phone and asking him if he’d care to meet up for a coffee.  I scored Fred’s number off the pub owner in Hopetoun. While I might be a stranger to him, he’s no stranger to the Australian riding community.  In short,…that route that knocked me out in the first day,…the CSR,..well Fred and his brother pioneered this route in 1983…. as the first unsupported bikers to run its full 2,000 kms.

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=547675&highlight=canning+stock+route

Since the,n Fred and his brother have taken a number of other record rides…pushing big BMWs deep into the desert where few if any bikes have gone before.  The ensuing phone chat flowed well and as my route to Perth took me directly through his town,..I ecstatic to be invited to meet Fred at his farm in Jerimungup.

I let myself in through the farm gate, then continued a few kilometers through fleeing flocks of sheep to the farm house.  Fred and one of his buddies were waiting for me, geared up and itch’n to ride.  It was hand shakes all around and I found myself among folks I’d be happy to call riding partners.  I was informed that we were going bush bashing, and a DR 650 was thrust upon me.

Here’s an embarrassing secret I’ll share.  I’ve never ridden a full on dirt bike.  I was more than a little apprehensive at first….yearning for the secure lumbering  feeling of the big GS.  It took me about 20 minutes of trail riding with Fred to gain an enourmas appreciation for proper rigged dirt bikes.  (some would argue with me on this…but compared to what I normaly ride….the DR is a proper dirt bike.)   It was forest creeks, pasture land, dunes, and fast rips along white sand beaches.

At several points, Fred let me lead so I’d get first glimpse of various wild life.

I can’t begin to explain the bizarre nature of the Emus.  You never know what direction they are going to shoot for.  At first they bolted away at an incredible pace,. then they ran back ….then they did the fence trick.  I’d heard of this,..but seeing it was really something.   When Emus are bolting in panic…and they see a 3 strand wire fence,…they lower their heads….pick up momentum…and go for it.  The little head slips effortlessly between the top and second strand…and then the enourmas emu body (think ostrich size) tries to get through the same spot the head went through.  Its not pretty, but it actually works,….there is an enormous explosion of feathers…and the ostrich lands on the other side…usually on his head or back,…then pops up with a sort of “lets see you try that” look….and bolts off again.  I’ve never seen anything like it.

Fred’s an older fellow,…but you wouldn’t know it…whether it’s on two feet or two wheels he’s hard to keep up with.

Quick to smile, shake hands, and offer a story. Fortunately he’s a patient man, because I had about a million questions concerning his extensive achievements in motor biking. It was dark by the time we’d arrived back on the farm and I ended up having dinner with Fred and his mother and then crashing out on the living room floor… as you do.

The following day I returned to Bremer bay to explore more of the area.

I was curios to feel the difference between the DR650 and my R1150 GS Adventure.  I’m always pushing my bike and myself to see what we are capable of (that’s why my bike is a cosmetic disaster).  It was as you’d expect, the DR was way more fun in the soft sand and tight spots in the woods, but I’d take the GS for almost anything else.  That  said,…I had a really really good time riding the beach and sand dunes on the DR… there is definitely going to be room in my future garage for a full on offroad machine.  I can also understand now the value of training on a smaller bike.

Finding great riding where you don’t expect it is always a pleasure.  The street ride from Walpole to Bremerton is easily my favorite street ride in Australia.  Massive trees join together overhead to form a ceiling..shading the immaculately clean and gently twisting belt of swooping tarmac.  Its an easy,..fast and incredibly beautiful ride.  Until this point I’d completely forgotten the how much fun there is to be had on the street.

That said there was fun to be had off the tarmac also,…I put about 20km on a dirt “shortcut”.

It wasn’t, a short cut, but it did put me onto a good campsite by dusk.

I picked up my speed on the way out in the morning…thinking I knew the road from the day before.  I guess I didn’t know well enough, cus I barreled around a corner and came into a deep mud patch.  I stayed off the brakes to maintain directional control(important with big tree trunks around).  A sort of mud sunami rose out of the track and devoured my bike.  I kept her upright, slopped her through, and then took a minute to admire this newly acheived level of filth(it’s a guy thing!)

600km later I had a look at the airfilter.  Wow…the KN filter paid off.

I honestly think the stock bmw dry filter would have had theTed.

One thing Australia is not short on is coast line….obviously since it’s a continent size island!   The significance of this never dawned on me until I got to Western Australia….where pristine white sand beaches and wilderness coast line stretch for thousands of miles.

The nutrient poor soils, lack of water, and harsh weather kept the human population density low, consequently preserving epic tracks of wild land for me to ride through.  That being said, human impact on Australia has had its affect with the extinction of giant kangaroos and 2.5 ton wombats (combination of aboriginal hunting and climate change),..or the more recent loss of the Tasmanian tiger. (some say the tiger still exists in the impenetrable forests of Tasmania..rumor has it that there’s a massive cash reward for anyone who proves it exists)

With a mix of all types of interesting dirt roads,..Fitzgerald National Park has got a lot to offer for anyone appreciating the outdoors.  The roads were closed for the wet season…but coveted track information flowed freely over cold beers at the local pub.  Armed with local knowledge of gate bypasses and backwoods farm tracks…it was a VIP dirt ride entrance into the park.

After a reconnaissance of the area,..I knew I needed my glider.  My wing was over in Albany being repaired…so it was a 600km return trip…I just couldnt wait 3 days for the post.  Well, the weather switched as soon as I arrived back at the park with the glider after a long days ride.  High winds and various high pressure systems were moving through for the next week.  I was super dismayed….the joke was on me for wasting petrol and time just cus I didn’t check the weather report.  I went up the mountain anyway…hoping to get a window as the sun set…no luck….but its good to test your own maturity once in a while…to know you can judge bad weather and resist the temptation to fly it anyway.

And even if you cant fly,…you’re still out there feasting your eyes and soul on an epic view.

But I’m not a kid short on toys and the R1150 is always game…..and all weather is good GS weather.  And there was lots of riding to be had.

One afternoon…contrary to the weather report,..the wind died and the sun peaked through.  I couldn’t believe it,..the predicted storm had just slipped around us by a kilometer and was now setting conditions for a beautiful calm evening.  It was go time!  By now I knew the tracks,…so it was a mad dash in to make the summit before it got dark.

There’s such an exhilaration of arriving on a launch and realizing its really going to happen.  A lot has to come together..and it did!  Wind direction, wind speed, good launch site…everything was perfect for stepping into the sky.  In these circumstances you feel extremely lucky…as you should!

I was expecting a steady descent down to the beach…hoping to scratch a few scraps of lift here and there in route.  However…searching along the north face I scored a nice stable lift band that took me above launch.

I cant begin to describe how good it feels to soar with the vastness of the Australian coast line spreading out below you…. Its so personal…only you and the sky,…. It’s a VIP club reserved for angels and free flight pilots.

I worked the lift band for while, feeling out the north side of the mountain,..then I got ambitious and tried to trace the mountain back to its highest point..in hopes of topping out over the summit.  It wasn’t long before I got caught up in sink and lost the lift band and had to break away from the mountain.

Its never incognito once you pull a 10 meter orange sail out of a bag and step into the sky.  Everyone can see.   There were no tourist in the park at this time year,..however, I had watched a few road workers off in the distance gather to observe from below….and then I saw a pickup top out over a hill way down below…yep..the ranger is here!   I didn’t know exactly what his reaction was going to be…but I had an idea.  One thing about park rangers is that they know their environment…you cant out run em,..especially in a big orange glider.  No matter where I landed I’d be having a chat with him,..so I figured I’d go down say hello.  I touched down a few feet from his truck, unhooked and stepped over to introduce myself.

He was a pretty cool dude just doing his job.  But, apparently I was in a bit of trouble. The ranger said they were protecting a certain sacred scrub up on the mountain…he said if pilots started flying there it would destroy the vegetation. I didn’t ask this,…but I was thinking- right…you put a trail to the top and allow several thousand people to climb to the top each year. If he legalized free flight,…3 people out of 3,000 would be pilots…suggesting to me that we pilots have extremely low impact on the environment in comparison to the rest of the mob dancing all over the top…and we don’t walk down..thats half the impact J!  To his credit though,…I cant argue much, as you can see in the picture I did fly down with a twig caught up in my wing from the launch area.

He also questioned me on bypassing closed tracks and one beach campfire…. As one of the extreme few folks in the park…its easy to recognize my motorbike tracks. Guilty, guilty guilty,..I’d been having quite a ball out there without realizing I was stiring up some trouble.  Its like I was the elusive prey he’d been tracking for days…and now was his triumphant moment as he made the killing shot with a ferocious gaze of disapproval and a lethal dose of finger shaking.

I had one thing going for me,…aside from apologizing profusely to the ranger,..I’d been a low impact camper,..no sign of trash,..all I left was my tread tracks,..and the cold buried coals from a campfire (I accidentally got my sleeping bag wet that night and woke up extremely cold at 4am….so I built a raging bonfire on the beach to warm up).  As the ranger had taken some time in checking out my campsites (digging up the buried coals), he recognized that there was no trash and I’d been doing my best to be a low impact camper.

I almost wish he had been an ass..it would make for a more interesting story,..but the fact is that he was professional and was just putting me in my place, which I technically deserved.  He took my name and address….and didn’t mention any fines..so I think as long as I stay out of any further trouble…I wont get any heat.   Ignorance of the law is not an excuse(except maybe when it involves airspace I might tread into a grey area with paragliding, but for the most part I do my best to respect local laws and customs as a guest in a host country.  So I rode 10 miles beyond the park boundary…found a great campsite and made a massive bonfire, and sipped on a cold beer to celebrate my first and last flight of East Mt Barren.

And, all of you will be able to sleep peacefully tonight knowing that the wonder scrub on East Mt Barren is forever safe from the notorious yank pilot and his flying flower killing apparatus.

Stepping back to where I left off on my last ride report-,..took my time getting back to Halls Creek…enjoying the sunset,.. taking to time to reflect..ect ect…which resulted in an hour of night riding on the Tanimi.  Night riding…is no big deal as long as the track isn’t technically difficult,..the only threat is the occasional marsupial bounding across the road.  I mitigate this by slowing down to 35 mph.. even so it was a real close call as a roo bounded out the darkness,..turning away from me at the last second..close enough to make my stomach lurch.   And just to add to the day’s drama,  that cloud I’d seen way off in the distance earlier that day….it was no dropping buckets from the sky.

I pulled into the gas station at Halls Creek,….soaked to the bone, …, hungry, tired, but relieved to be back.  I saw no sense in setting up camp at the caravan park during a flash flood, so I stepped into the service station and asked the attendant if he’d mind if I hung out inside for a bit and wait out the rain.  “No worries mate”, he’d said, “hang out as long as you like”.  When I handed him some cash for a steamy cuppacino,..he just tossed it back and smiled.   After all I’d been through that day,..then coming into service station during a flash flood,..and experiencing this sort of kindness towards a muddy biker from a gas station attendant,… I just sort of stammered a bit and said thanks…it may just be a coffee,…but to me it was a big deal…to be reminded that with all the trouble in the world,…there’s a lot of really good folks out there.

It took a day to try and sort bike issues in Halls Creek.  I pulled the oil cooler off to try to fix the leaking patch I’d already put in. I couldn’t figure out where to put more steel puddy, as the busted end of the radiator was already choke full.  My next move was to visit the local mechanic for advise and possible repairs on the oil cooler.  The guy laughed a bit then advised me it would be about two weeks before he could look at it.  It was time for plan B.  Stalking up on oil…and running for Broome.

Usually riding a motorcycle is a blast….but there are times when its extremely unpleasant..this was one of those.  Oil was flowing out of the oil cooler,..then catching lift on the wind and blowing over everything,..to include my face.  My windshield on my helmet became redesignated as an oil screen.

Stopping regularly to wipe off the oil and top off, gave me a chance to see some cool sites along the way.

I’d heard about Mary’s pool, so I stopped in to have a look.  Apparently the trick is to only approach water that is clear …and you can see the bottom.  The murky water is not recommended for skinny dipping…..with crocs,,..theres the very real possibility of exiting the water without all your appendages.

I don’t know what kinda trees these are..but reckon every kid deserves to have on in their backyard.

Australia is weird…strange trees, marsupials, giant lizards…and termites..ect

Termites and Camels will likely occupy this land far longer than mankind’s tenuous grasp…..unless we find a way to derive energy from pindam and spinifex….then we’ll be in good hands.

Speaking of spinifex,..just pulled some out of my hip last night,..a souvenir from the vicinity well 50 on the CSR.  Gotta get those spikes out before it causes infection.

There’s two places for a feed between Halls Creek and Broome. For three week old rancid fried chicken…I’d recommend Fitzroys crossing..first service station on west side of town….but for  a proper feed I’d thoroughly recommend Willare,…great burgers,.. sumptuous fries made fresh….and nice people.  Its right on a river where you can pull in some big barramundi if you’ve got a fish’n pole and can score some tips on the best pools from the local aboriginals.   Barrimundi I must add, can rival your high mountain trout in flavor….might just be my new favorite freshwater fish.

Broome didn’t appeal to me much at first,…maybe cus I was sweating it out in a parking lot, dismantling the bike in front of a radiator shop.

My plan was A- repair the radiator, B- bypass the oil cooler, C-strap a car oil cooler on the front of the bike

The radiator tech in town said  the oil cooler was not repairable, so I dashed off to the auto shop for some clamps, connectors and radiator tubing.  This was a bit of ordeal,…running around looking for the right size hose.  (your asking why I just didn’t connect the hose I had…..the only brass  connectors I could get my hands on had different size ports on each size.. necessitating an additional hose.)  I ultimately had tube running around the front the instrument panel…bypassing the oil cooler.

Its common knowledge that you can bypass an oil cooler,…but I was hard pressed to get any intel from someone who had done it on a GS,….how long could I do this for?..how fast could I ride? could I ride during the heat of the day?,…basicly,..how critical was the oil cooler to operating the bike..and what exactly would happen if I bypassed it?  So I roared off fully absorbed with my latest science project.

Nothing is ever easy.  The brass connectors where leaking like sieves.  Yeah!….oil in my face…back to step one as I pulled off on the side of the road,..brushed away the sweat and flies and begin adjusting the experiment.  The leak appeared to be coming out of the threads on the connector.  This didn’t make any sense to me as the connectors were designed to be air tight.  I was about to go crazy with self amalgamating tape,..when a massive truck pulled up and a bearded man leaned out the window, “you gonna be all right”, he yelled.  I gave a thumbs up and said I was good, mentioning that I was just sorting out a minor oil leak.   I didn’t ask for help, but I’m sure glad he took the initiative.  Within a second he was out of the truck introducing himself as Jack, ( known locally as Jack Sparrow).  While hovering over my connectors he murmured,  “Ahh…its your threads…you gotta throw on some thread tape mate!”  Just about everyone in Australia seems to know more about mechanics than I do…I had never even heard of the thread tape. Maybe it’s the vast distances of WA..and lack of available services…folks out here seem to know how to either fix or gehto rig anything enough to keep it going.  Now his buddy(Brenden) was out of the truck also…offering advice and encouragement while sipping on a beer.

Jack rummaged through his tool boxes, and returned with thread tape and two cresent wrentches.  A minute or two later,..I had a non leaking bypass tube,..and a roll of thread lock tape to add to my kit.  These guys were already top notch in my book,..but the subsequent invitation to a barbecue elevated the duo to saint status.

Its so typical of Adventure motorcycle touring to go from lows to highs(or vice versus) in a blink of an eye….this was no exception.  Scooped up from the hot dusty roadside and delivered into the  cool shade of a veranda overlooking Indian ocean…..with cold beer,..American style ribs(done right)..followed by massive T bones……like I was saying…saint status!  As the sun was setting we rode the old bushbasher a few hundred meters through the scrub and onto the beach….

(Jack, Brendan, and “the doctor”)

It was an epic evening hanging out with Jack Sparrow the diesel fitter and Brendan the pearl diver and “the Doctor”.  Thanks to these guys, Broome now rides well in  my memories.

If you get bored  riding long distance…go ahead and put a hole in your oil cooler line….get a good solid stream flying in your face….than after 600 kms,..tape up the hole and ride with out the facial oil spill,…riding will be an absolute pleasure!  And that’s how I felt riding out of Broome….oil free,..loving the open road again.

Due to the previous days adventures…it was a late start leaving Broome… I only made it a hundred miles before the sun’s light was giving way to shadows along the road.  There is a risk associated with animal activity at this time,..but the beauty of the suns last rays spilling a golden hue over the country side is inspirational.  The temperature drops and the winds die down….it even seems to smells different…it’s a transitional period in time and space that spills in through your helmet,..allowing you,..if only for a moment to become part of something more vivid and beautiful than anything in your imagination, and this is why you step beyond the steril environment within your house or car,…..to ride a motorcycle.

Bush camping was good that night,…I was mourning a bit over my lost pot and the luxury of hot water as I choked down the dry noodles, followed by cold cocao(which was actually pretty tasty..like a starbucks frapaccino…minus the whip cream,…and minus the embarrassment of being caught drinking a starbucks frappacino by your buddies,…..uh er…”I was just picking this up for the misus”..as you brush the cream off our upper lip)

Sitting astride my bike,..munching way, I observed as a bit of dried noodle dropped from my lips and fell into the red pindam dust.  Two or three ants spontaneously appeared out of nowhere racing for the trophy. The biggest ant would procure the dried noodle and march off, holding the comparatively massive noodle proudly over his head like a warrior returning successfully from the hunt.  I was impressed to find that any morsel of food that dropped on the ground was gone in a matter of seconds…swept away by the opportunistic insects.  Fortunatley I have a bugproff(mostly) seamless tent,..so I don’t have to worry about being carrried off in the middle of the night and waking up in a termite mound

The stars were abound and as I switched on my headlamp…so were the scorpions..prompting me to transfer back into my motocross boots.   It was the tiny little brown ones.  I’m still hoping to catch site of a big black one.

After a few hundred miles of riding in the midday heat,..I proclaimed the oil cooler bypass experiment a success.   I had no overheating issues.  I’m still not confidant this would work in summer heat, or hard dirt or sand riding.  It was a temporary fix that would get to me to Newman where I could base camp with a garage to sort everything out.

Newman,..has become a sort of  western desert safe haven for me thanks to Kelvin’s hospitality.  I was first scooped up by Kelvin a few months ago while broke down in the Newman caravan park. Often times, breakdowns or any sort of situational lows offer opportunities to meet interesting people and make new friends.  Aside from having a place to stay and a garage to work out of,..Kelvin’s knowledge in motorbikes, riding and the associated dark arts of manipulating metal ,…is an epic opportunity for a biker limping in off the CSR.

Note..as previously stated above…..that the radiator tech in Broome said my oil cooler was not repairable.   Kelvin fixed the oil cooler.

Giving it a few tries and massive amounts of arlydyte glue,  Kelvin found and secured the leak.  Leave it to a tool maker to prove everyone wrong.  Meanwhile, I dismantled the instrument collection.

and patched up all the broken bits with a chaotic array of rivots, aluminum sheet, foam and glue.  It took me a few days,..but the front panel carrier and associated bits were holding together again.

Just as I was wrapping up repairs, I realized I had an issue with my handle bars striking against the windscreen.  This is interesting(at least to me).  I’m surprised I hadn’t realized the significance of this issue a long time ago.  If I turned the handle bars hard one way or another, they would smack the edges of the windshield.  This is not an issue when you’re riding, cus obviously you lean more than turn a bike…and only need a hard turn for paddling around a parking lot.   What I hadn’t realized when I left Brisbane last March.is that when the bike was dropped…the handle bars would be turned hard and rammed against screen, causing major trauma to the front panal carrier (which supports the windscreen).   So the big get off with the termite mount slammed the handle bars into the front panel carrier,..breaking the panel carrier..which in turn broke the oil cooler.

I assumed it was because my handle bars were bent(which they are).  Then I figured it was the distorted front panel carrier (which is still twisted a bit).  But Kelvin found the true source of the problem…which was a bit embarrassing.  My steering limiters gone!   The steering limitters under the triple clamp must have been bashed off during the accident with the bull dozer almost a year ago.   It takes a massive force to break this,..but a collision powerful enough to lift biker and bike into the air on a freeway…would likely do the trick.

Kelvin….drilled some holes,..set new threads,..and installed a much more effective system.

We also noticed that my steering head bearing was grabbing…but I’m putting this off for the moment.

Another exquisite meal in the shop.

There were a few more surprises and ensuing solutions but after a week in Kelvins shop I had the bike repaired well enough to continue touring in confidence.  It was now time to roll South.  I’ve done a lot of big miles out here,..cant really say there is any method to the madness.  With the exception of the tyre and fuel fees,…it’s all good fun.

check out these loads,..I’ve seen extra wide loads before…but these actualy took up the ENTIRE road.

So …no shit there I was…. riding down the road at 70mph…. when  I smacked into an eagle.

Eagles in Australia are HUGE…. Especially the ones near Cooper Peddy, fortunately for me this was just a young one…probably hadn’t learned yet that it wasn’t the top of the food chain.    It was just like that vulture I hit in Peru…same scenario…a few birds having a good feed on a carcass,…me arriving on the scene….all but one fly to the side of the road…and the one creative bird goes his own way….my way.

Instead of rolling off my helmet like the Peruvian vulture,I felt the impact as the eagle struck somewhere on the front of the bike.  About 100 meters down the road I had slowed down and was pulling a uturn to see what kind of carnage I had caused.  I was looking up the road trying to spot an injured bird,..when an explosion of brown feathers rolled over windscreen, giving a me serious surprise to the point where I almost dropped the bike.  I had assumed the bird had struck my headlights then rolled off,..but it had actually lodged itself on the air scoop and oil cooler,… as big as it was, I just hadn’t realized it was riding with me until it came to life.  The bird was now on the ground on the side of the road and I dismounted to have a closer look.

I don’t consider myself a big softie, but this was a gorgeous animal,..a big proud looking creature..and I felt like a huge ass for damaging  an eagle.  It was alive and active, but clearly couldn’t fly.  My best guess was that its  wing was broken. I wanted to carry it back into the nearest town to see if some one could help, but this was no finch…it was  raptor.  The only way I could carry it would be to try to fit it in my jacket…zipped halfway up.  Even if it did fit,..its very active beak would be inches from my jugular…so I canned that idea.

I grabbed a discarded coke can and placed it on the road as a marker…then drove back to the nearest town (Mount Magnet).  I wasn’t sure if the townsfolk would just laugh at me,..or if they’d actually help.  Everything seems to revolve around the pubs in these small towns,..so I stepped in and approached the bar.

Much to my surprise, I found myself in an awkward reunion with two bar maids I’d met in Perth over a month ago.  I rushed the usual acquaintances, then I burst out with my eagle story.  The gals made a phone call and within a few minutes the town coppers arrived.  The Police were very cool about it all and were interested in helping out. Although mount Magnet didn’t have an animal rescue, the next town to the north (Meekathara) did.  So the idea was to retrieve the bird and then hold it in Mount Magnet until the meekathara group could make the drive down to pick up the eagle.

I guided the police out of Mt Magnet and back to where the bird lay.  I was sure glad I’d emplaced that coke bottle marker, because in the fading light it took me a while to locate the bird… would have been embarrassing to bring the police out for nothing…I already felt a little weird about involving the police in the first place.  I retrieved a towel from my bike, and the police gently wrapped up the bird and returned to MT Magnet.

I returned to town as well, to grab a brew in the pub and catch up with the old friends.  It was good to warm up, and swap some stories.  As I was sipping on an Emu bitter (which is about as savory as it sounds), the police came into the pub and let me know that they’d found someone to take care of the eagle for the night, and that animal rescue folks would be in the following day.  Doesn’t really rectify smashing up an eagle,..but I felt like things were as right as I could make them.

I pushed on that night for another 50 miles on a cattle station road, until I was suitably “out there” for good bush camping.  It was another great night under the stars.

The dirt road from Challa Station to Bullfinch is about 200 miles of good outback riding.

It passes from desert scrub, along vast lake beds and into full on forests.  Much of the dirt was immaculately graded offering opportunities for highway speeds minus the highway boredom factor.

I cant explain this….but it was worth a picture..above

The route,..Kelvin’s recommendation, was one of the few dirt shortcuts that actually was faster than taking a freeway- good call Kelvin!

I don’t know what it is with me and animals these days,..but I found myself stopping again to try to right things.  Fortunately I didn’t hit the sheep.  It was caught up in a fence along side the road.  I noticed it doing the funky chicken,..bouncing around in fright as I drove by.  I pulled a uturn…and had a closer look.  Some how it had got its head wrapped up on the wire and was melded in with the fence.  The ever handy leatherman(Thanks Kerry) came to the rescue as I cut the wire from around the sheeps neck and sent it on its way.  Probably didn’t really save it,…as a station hand would eventually have come along and freed it,..but I’d like to think that I’d save it the further embarrassment of having its head stuck in the fence.

I pushed on a little further through the night to make it to the coast.  I found that my brights light was way out of adjustment,…. It was quite funny,…the focal point of the beam…was aimed forward and pointing up to the sky….it was like traveling with a spot light floating above and in front  of me…  if I had any sense of humor at all, I’d have taken the time to cut out the shape of a bat and glue it to the headlight.