Time just seems to fly by….

Half way through March and I am still supposedly working on back issues for the blog from 2024! Well belated Happy New Year and all the best for the remainder 2025. Why has it taken so long? Who knows, the time just seems to fly by and I must admit to being very slack,  but I do apologise for my tardiness.

Locally, normal transmission has been resumed for us after the Christmas break; alternate weekends in Cairns for me. I write this as I, Anthony, descend into Cairns airport yet again to join Anne. This idyllic lifestyle, from my perspective, is drawing to a close.  

In less than three weeks, Anne’s work in Cairns will finish and we have to start moving everything back to Brisbane which includes two motorcycles.  Anne has managed to secure enough time off from work to enable us to ride back to Brisbane leaving tomorrow morning. The rest of today will be spent packing. Having had the motorcycles in Cairns since May 24 has allowed us to discover the area and enjoy the scenic rides both along the coast and into the hinterland, all to be documented in those phantom 2024 blogs.

Before we get a chance to catch a breath we are off to Europe. The trip will be a welcome break for Anne, a chance to catch up with family and friends then on the road again for a short road trip in Europe.

Yes Streak and Storm will be involved. Both have had a major service, new tyres, sprockets and chains plus more importantly passed their MOTs.  Roadworthy for another 12 months! 

We have a general route in mind but we have nothing finalised yet. But as a teaser, there could be as many as seven ferry crossings, the first is booked and we will depart on May 1st  from the UK assuming we get everything packed successfully back in Brisbane and nothing falls apart.

– Anthony

Now showing in Theatre 11 : Anthony stars in “Radical Robotic Prostatectomy”

A pause in my journey through the labyrinth of hospital corridors that lead to the operating theatre. I am lying on a trolly in an alcove outside “Operating Theatre 11” in the Wesley Hospital waiting to wheeled in for surgery. The surgery will, I believe, on my scale of experience, be about halfway between a quadruple heart bypass and a detached retina. As a stare at the blue curtain pulled around me listening to the quiet murmur of voices as people pass by to one of over 20 operating theatres in the hospital I am somewhat morbidly reminded of the MS Windows “Blue Screen of Death”. Great thought! Stop thinking! Perhaps a light green colour alternative? So how did I get here you may well ask?

As a gentleman of now somewhat more mature years, chronologically speaking of course, annual PSA tests for Prostate Cancer are de-rigueur. Earlier this year I seem to have crossed some threshold that led to a visit to a specialist who asked an interesting question “Do you want to know?” Given, from what I have read, Prostate Cancer is a slow developing cancer, then not unreasonable question if you think your life expectancy will be under 10 years. Whatever gave him that idea? Maybe doing nothing is an interesting approach, but I would like a little longer than 10 years, well quite a lot longer really, so here I am. Cancer has been identified in the prostate and I have decided, after a extensive research, to take the path of complete prostate removal. The decision process is interesting as one weighs up the various options. I think each of us in this situation has to go though that journey and come to our own conclusions. I have been lucky that I have met helpful people, both specialists and lay persons that enabled me to come to this decision. This will be a first for me in having robotic surgery. Will I be assimilated into the collective? Time will tell.

Seems like I alternate between long motorcycle adventures and surgery each year. A habit I must break going forward. While we have taken The Bird and The Bee to Cairns for the winter and been riding in Far North Queensland (FNQ) at weekends, that obviously does not count. So in 2025 we need a longer motorcycle trip to keep me out of the clutches of well meaning surgeons. Having tried cardiac, orthopaedic, ophthalmic and now urology surgeons I really should work on a new hobby, well more on that later.

All happy before the big event.

A quick chat with the anaesthetist and I get the free catheter with every visit I am told. The surgeon arrives and I am patient number 2. Always good to have a warm up act on a Monday morning to get those surgeons fingers working on the keyboard. Hopefully we will not have any Control, ALT, DEL issues during the operation. Wheeled in, strange to see the surgeons sitting at a console some distance from the operating table, a few moments of lucidity then I am in recovery. One night in hospital and I am home. Probably safer away from all the bugs in hospital. No long stays anymore.

I had not undergone a biopsy to determine the levels of cancer as a biopsy pre prostate removal can impact my surgeons ability to undertake nerve sparing during the operation. I had a PSMA PET scan which confirmed cancer with over 95% certainty pre operation, but this test can only detect objects in excess of 4mm is my understanding. The surgeon advised that the cancer had already started to spread beyond the prostate but all cancer was removed. Impeccable timing. The prostate was the size of his fist. A post operative biopsy confirmed Gleason score of 7 with 4/3 mix with some additional 5’s on the Gleason scale in there somewhere.

Of course I was able to secure a couple of great photos from the helpful team operating on me but Anne has asked that I place a warning here. So “NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH” below.

Robotic surgery in action
Just a little to the left…..
Thats what you call a big one, three times normal size.
In recovery, not quite as chipper now.

Ok the bad stuff is over…..

An interesting couple of asides. Firstly while recovering at home and paying the various medical bills that seemed to arrive daily I roughly calculated that of the total cost of the operation we paid a little over 40%, the private health insurance paid a similar amount and the government through Medicare picked up around 15%. The choice of timing and surgeon though is worth the cost in my view. It is also interesting how much of what I considered part of the hospital such as pharmacy and imaging is separate and therefore not part of your hospital cover package. Worth reading the fine print of your policy.

Secondly I have also noticed that my post operative google searches on prostate removal seem to give higher percentage of negative outcomes on side effects than all the pre operation searches I did. Is AI already at work, in this case in the employ of medical profession to skew the search results in favour of their preferred options?

Just one night in hospital and I am out heading home, bag strapped to my leg to enter a long and slow recuperation. No motorcycling for 12 weeks – what will I do with my time?

Somehow amongst all this, I have acquired a “Ride On” 7 1/4 inch miniature steam locomotive weighing around 100kg / 220 lb! Seems one should not be left alone at home making decisions prior to surgery. Anne said when the message popped up on her phone “I have brought a steam locomotive” she just burst out laughing. I had always said that if I was ever to buy a locomotive to run at the miniature railway, it would be a battery operated one as I know next to nothing about steam locomotives. Well now I am going to be occupied during my recuperation.

Keeping me occupied during recovery.

– Anthony

Time out in Brisbane

I am always amazed at how much one can pack into a small amount of time, especially as I can while away the hours doing next to nothing, especially if the TV is on. Saturday is Anne’s relaxing day when she is in Brisbane and Anne wanted to see the “little doors” near South Bank. “Little Doors” you ask, so did I. It seems that the little people have been moving to Brisbane and setting up home, or front doors at least. We head for Fish Lane and lo and behold there they are. Only three so far but I am sure more will move in to this vibrant location. While looking at the first door, not easy to find, we explained to a passerby what they were. When we ran into him later and told him about the location of the second door he had to go and view it. I hope we have not created an addict!

No we did not disturb the occupants
Located just minutes from the city centre
Classy columns frame this door
Do you need a smaller record or CD player?

I would love to have seen inside but it would be rude to knock on a complete stranger’s front door just to sticky beak.

West End has many fine eateries that we have tried over the decades and we settled on “Chu the Phat” on Melbourne Street. We enjoyed a couple of fine dishes which if I thought I would have photographed before devouring – oh well, next time.

A short walk from the restaurant and we are at the Queensland Art Galley of Modern Art (QAGOMA). Anne wanted to check why her membership renewal had not been processed before a walk along the riverside. Anne had been planning to see the Iris van Herpen exhibition called “Sculpting the Senses” which had been developed and shown in Paris by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. No time like the present and although not my idea of an afternoon’s entertainment. However as Anne says “when was the last time you did something for the first time?”

Iris Van Herpen is a fashion designer originally from the Netherlands who is credited with being the first fashion designer to create a garment using the 3D printing process.

People who have worn Iris Van Herpen’s creations include Lady Gaga,, Tilda Swinton, Björk, Rihanna and Beyoncé.

I will let the photos showcase her talent but apart from being amazed at what Iris Van Herpen has created, I am in awe of the brain that has taken natural geometric patterns as an inspiration and used 3D printing to produce art. My mid 20th century brain could only take this in small doses and having no fashion/art/design background, I am sure I am missing so much and my words do not do her creativity justice. The exhibition is open until the 7th of October 2024.

Along the Brisbane river to the French enclave #ALLEZAUS that has been setup for the Olympics viewing at night with its own Eiffel Tower, abeit a little shorter. I gather it took 600 hours to build and will probably been seen again, or will it stay like the original? French food and snacks abound but as a Coeliac I must pass, although really I am full from lunch.

Anne feels at home here

A small slice of Brisbane in an afternoon, there is always something new.

– Anthony

Mr Bird

Recently, the chief, head lawman and medicine man of the community of Mulga Bore who ”adopted” me 21 years ago and gave me a “skin name” and therefore a whole new family through the Anmatyere Aboriginal kin family structure, passed away aged 89. Mr Bird was my son in law. (For cultural reasons his first name may never be used again). One of his daughters, my skin sister Rosie, immediately called me to let me know of his passing.  

Mr Bird

I flew to Alice Springs as soon as I could to pay my respects. Part of “sorry business”, grieving, involves cutting one’s hair as a symbolic act of mourning and paying respect to the deceased. The younger generation now just cut some of their hair only. It is part of letting go. They get rid of all their possessions too – pass them on to another family, which they might not normally mix with for cultural/tribal reasons, to make peace. So I got my head shaved by another of Mr Bird’s daughters. My hair was collected and placed in a bag for Mavis, Mr Bird’s wife, so that whenever she feels sad, she can see my hair and know that I grieve with her.   That evening we ate barbecued kangaroo tail and baked potatoes – thank goodness for the potatoes😂.   

Being shaved by Karen

With Mavis

Time for kangaroo tail with the family

Grateful for the potatoes!

My wonderful Bird family

With my sister Rosie

Here are a few photos of my week end. 4 weeks later, I went to Mulga Bore for the actual funeral and I was told I was allowed to wear Mr Bird’s sacred purple colour like his daughters for the funeral, because the family always treated me as family, ever since they gave me a skin name and family back in 2003. Mr Bird was a highly respected elder, a lawman, a strong family man who wanted his family and community to thrive.  He taught me so much, slowly slowly, as he felt I was ready to learn more. I will always remember my time with him and his family with fondness and gratitude. We could spend hours communicating in silence.  Or laughter. Like the day I was sitting on the porch with the whole family when a white ute (pickup truck) comes up and stops a little way away from the house. The whitefellow stays in his ute – respectfully waiting for me to come up to him. I know he’s after me.  I tell my family I need to go over as I am sure this whitefellow wants to see my permit. I am supposed to request a permit to be travelling on this Aboriginal land. I gave up trying ages ago after calling the land council responsible for such permits and leaving endless messages.   The family all tell me I don’t need a permit but I explain I’d better go over and speak to him.  As I walk towards the car, that’s when Mr Bird shouts out “she’s my mother-in-law” and the rest of the family follow suit, “she’s my mother”, “she’s my sister”, “she’s my aunty”.   The poor whitefella was speechless for a while.   He did tell me I should make sure I get a permit next time. 

With Mr Bird

After picking up a 4×4 from Alice Airport, I do a big shop for the family for dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow and finally head out to Mulga Bore. The radio works for a short while and learn of the CrowdStrike software bug that took down global IT infrastructure world wide and that had affected thousand of businesses and flights this afternoon. I am lucky to have escaped any delay. The shopping took a little longer than I expected and I am now heading at a time I usually avoid driving due to kangaroos on the road. Again, the universe is on my side and I get to Mulga Bore without incident as the sun is setting. I am greeted by the most glorious sunset and the most gut wrenching wailing of Mavis and family.   I sit with Mavis, both embracing each other for a while, sobbing. For a long long while. I eventually leave and join the rest of the family at the shed Mr Bird had spent a huge effort getting a grant to build for his community. This is where tonight’s bbq, singing and dancing is being held, and the funeral service tomorrow morning. Two contrasting gatherings. It will turn out to be a memorable couple of days. 

I slept in my hire car for the night under a full moon and clear sky – a stunning but freezing winter’s night. 

Sun setting on Mulga Bore

Sun setting on Mulga Bore

Sun setting on Mulga Bore

Mr Bird’s shed

Music and song the night before the funeral

Slide show in the shed

Poor Mavis never stopped wailing. We all stood in the shed for hours. Eventually, Mr Bird’s coffin is carried out and loaded onto a ute which took him to his final resting place, a sacred site only men are allowed to go to.   An old school teacher, a white fellow, was invited to join them. He kindly sent me photos of Mr Bird making sure I could not determine where the location is. 

Waiting for the coffin to be taken away

Waiting for the coffin

Mr Bird leaving on his final journey to his sacred place

Mr Bird will be missed and I will forever be grateful to him, his family and my man Kenny whom I visited a few times on these recent trips.  Sending Kenny my love and thoughts as he battles health issues – I am sorry I cannot visit right now but you too are forever in my thoughts and heart. 

With Kenny in 2022

With Kenny in 2024

Central desert flowers

Central desert flowers

Central desert flowers

Bye bye Mulga Bore

Thank you Rosie for staying in touch. Love you always.

– Anne

Ten Years After

When I went to France and first met Anne in 1974 I first heard of an English band called “Tanyazafteeer” as I spent time explaining “English Band Lyrics” to her friends next door where I was staying. It seems an appropriate title for this blog entry as it now ten years since two very inexperienced motorcycle travellers set off from the UK with an idea to ride across Europe and Asia back to Australia. I recall being in the Eurotunnel shuttle on day one surrounded by leather clad sportsbike riders heading for a MotoGP event in Germany. We did not even mention our plans which would have probably seemed ludicrous given the shiny new bikes and mountains of kit loaded on board. We did not even update our travel map on the blog until we had left Poland as it would have been, in our view, just an insignificant blip on the world map.

Day 1 – all our kit loaded and ready to depart

So here we still are a decade later, which seems to be time to reflect on the last 10 years. I certainly did not expect the blog still to be running after all this time. When we headed off to travel down Africa overland with our backpacks in 1982 on our first aborted RTW trip, we had no thought that one day we would circumnavigate the world on motorcycles, twice!

We started a hand-written diary, no ipads then, back in 1982 on our first long term trip down Africa,. The scribing lasted about a month and confirmed on re-reading 40 years later that I had no literary skills which would have cemented my teachers’ assessment when I left school. I am glad we persevered this time otherwise we would not have this record to supplement our memories.

Naive explorers departing for Africa 30 September 1982

Our timing in 2014 was impeccable. Russia, Iran and Burma/Myanmar would all be closed to us today. Even our crossing of Columbia was during a two week ceasefire between the Government and FARC in 2015 was fortuitous. Each of those countries was not only a key link to our overland route but enabled us to meet the local people and form our own views about both the country and the people.

Outside Baikanur, they each wanted our photo so Anne took one too – the one 2nd from the left gave us a whole watermelon which we couldn’t refuse!!!
Our Uzbek friends after our amazing lunch stop in Uchqorghan – Abduvohid on my right and Mohamid on my left
This girl came over and offered me some chips/crisps as we stopped for refreshments in Iran
Nung, the brilliant mechanic, loves selfies!
Selfie!! With Ian and Stephanie in Lima Peru
Laziza, Jamkur and Aziza in Samerkand
Unn, Jørgin, Rannvá and Rani in the Faroes
With Kristján and Asdis in Iceland
Michael, Nuch and us in an Orchid Garden Thailand

It is somewhat surprising, given the use we put it to, is that the majority of our our motorcycle equipment is still in use today. There is however a caveat, after 10 years of use, most is worn out, leaky or works intermittently. Any major motorcycle trip, or minor one for that matter, will need to see all clothing, boots, intercom and other key items replaced. We have wrung the maximum out of the products and would likely source products from the same companies again given the sterling service they have provided.

When looking back over the last 10 years, two RTW motorcycle trips, 4WD in Southern Africa, motorcycle trips to Iceland, Ireland, the UK, Spain and France plus an enforced COVID break have kept us busy and I would not change anything. We saw amazing sights, had fantastic experiences, created lasting memories and made new friends around the world. For us it comes back to people.

Connections with people is what we remember first and cherish.

What will the next 10 years hold for us? We shall see……..

Anne & Anthony