Wilderness Workshops

Six months on my visa and no return ticket. I was ready for some motorcycle fun on my beloved 500cc

Enfield Bullet but as soon as it joined me in Australia, every blessed thing that could go wrong, went wrong. It was as if an evil spell had been cast during the flight over. Or was it in the stars... Was Mercury in Venus or something?

The benevolent outback gods who’d guarded me when I was travelling in the Northern Territory and Queensland 12 years previously (see my book ‘Hit the Road, Jac!’) seemed to have deserted me on this visit. Last time nothing went wrong with my metal mate. This time, instead of pleasantly curious occurrences leaving me scratching my head in happy disbelief, my Bullet seemed to have been cursed.

The problems started as soon as it arrived at the air-freight depot in Melbourne. They don’t want foreign insects there and to ensure no fruit-loving stink bug set one foot on Australian soil, all freight had to be meticulously checked for dastardly stowaways. My Enfield was not a priority for them.

Gremlins at Work

I’d teamed up with a fellow Enfield rider who, while my bike was in quarantine, chauffeured me around as pillion on his Bullet 500 EFI. A good-hearted contact from the Horizons Unlimited community (not to mention a wonderfully patient long-term host) took us both to Healesville, an outstanding animal sanctuary and then to the MotoGP on Philip Island.

Then the petrol