I moved north to Kalbarri on the coast and attended a kite surfingf competition. That night I randomly met up with two Dutch dudes who were taking their truck around Oz. We gate crashed the kite surfing party and after-party, then camped out with other travelers and created our own party with pirated booz from the previous parties. We got in trouble with the police. Actually what they said was, 'If there were any police around they might tell you to put your open alcohol away' - this they said from the window of their patrol car. We took this to mean 'drink what you've got open and don't open any more'.

Hungover, I drove north through the endless outback and hit a town called Carnavon, which was a bit of a dump and not much to report from there. I met several other travelers, mostly Asian, who were doing berry picking on farms for a few months. They mostly did it for some 'experience', whatever that means, but there were a few guys who just ran out of money in Oz and didn't have much of a choice but to settle down and pick berries for pennies.

Through the ride up to Kalbarri and Carnavon, temperatures hit at about 117 degrees for most of the day. I know this because I stopped off at every gas station and asked the clerk. I stopped at every single one because they were several hundred kilometers apart and I needed fuel, water, and a bit of air conditioning. Driving through 117 degree heat in full motorcycle uniform isn't fun. It's actually hell. Also, along the way, I kept getting asked 'Oh, are you the American the two Canadians were looking for?' Bob and Wayne had stopped at every gas station as well a day before and told the clerks to keep an eye out for me and told them to tell me where they were headed. I don't know why they always thought Bob was Canadian as well.

Anyways, after Carnavon I kept north and hit the Fortesque River, middle of nowhere. It was just about that time of day where I start to look for a place to camp and up ahead it looked as though I might hit a storm if I kept going.

I parked under the only tree I've seen in days and setup the tent, and right then it started raining, hard. I stuffed my entire luggage inside the one-man tent and sat there a while, quite cramped, and smoked. The first lightning strike didn't scare me, but the next one did as it landed about a few hundred meters away. I thought, 'Here I am, under the only tree in 1000 kilometers with a very large metal motorcycle just beside me. Good planning'.

Actually I was scared shitless. The rain stopped within 5 minutes so I got out of my tent to view the storms progress. I could still see it raining about a kilometer away and the lightning was going crazy striking everywhere. It was moving from east to west and I was just on the southern edge of it. I watched it move along well into the night and saw one of the best and scariest light show ever.

I remember that night quite well even after the storm because the ground was too hot to sleep on. I was sweating beads inside my tent lying on top of the sleeping bag, which quickly became soaked. Not pleasant. I finally moved my sleeping bag on my motorcycle and slept on the seat. Not comfortable, but still able to sleep.

I finally met Bob and Wayne, randomly, at some random stop off - The Sandfire Roadhouse, as is listed on the map. So random, there wasn't even a town name associated with this area. I had meant to just stop for gas and head a couple more hours north. I saw them standing there ordering some cheeseburgers. The rest of the day we sat in the hotel trying to get the air conditioning to work not daring open the door to the outside for fear of the intense heat and the infuriating hoard of flies. I was supposed to meet them in Perth but our paths got crossed somewhere. It was good to see them again.

The next day, riding with the two guys, we finally hit green grass and beautiful scenery. It was such a fast and drastic change to the brown bushes that we all three just stopped and stared at the green. As Wayne put it 'What the hell, now all the sudden we're in Canada?' Bob was the only one who didn't like the foliage; he prefers desert, being from Arizona and all. Wayne and I loved it. Later we hit Fitzroy Crossing and stopped there for the night. I don't remember much about this place except for the Aboriginals singing along to fifties and sixties American classic songs at a bar. The three of us were the only white guys in the place.

Sadly, the Australian stereotype about A