Lions Road & Northern NSW

Day 6: Tenterfield to Pomona

Friday 15 August 2014

Click on the image for a detailed map

How long does it take to poach an egg? I reckon I can get it done and tidied up in about 15 minutes at home. Not at the Henry Parkes Motor Hotel. Even though I arrived at breakfast a moment or so after 7.00 am, I was still there at 7.40. I'd woken early and decided to get going. It was cold and a bit miserable and the sun had yet to make an appearance so I decided to eat at the motel rather than gear up and then have to stop a few minutes later when I found a café.

So I was grumpy and there were signs of rain. I left my wet weathers off, crossed my fingers and headed back to the Bruxner Highway for the trip down the hill. I'd decided to go this way rather than the quicker New England Highway because it would be warmer off the range; the Bruxner had been fun on the way up; I wanted to ride the Mount Lindsay Road again; and the alternative route from Stanthorpe to Woodenbong had been described as a death trap. I was also not prepared to ride the Woodenbong Road again, so I was taking the longer route via Casino.

About 15 or 20 minutes out of Tenterfield the fog and rain appeared so I stopped and put on the wet weather kit I'd persuaded myself I wasn't going to need. I needed it all the way down the really twisty bits of the Bruxner, which I took pretty carefully as there had been very little rain for a long time. But, by the time I got to Casino, the rain had stopped and I packed the wet weathers away when I filled up.

I think I've talked about these roads before. Suffice it to say they're good quality and flat, travelling through northern NSW farm land. I passed through Kyogle where I'd met Pterodactyl, passed the turn off to the Lions Road and headed towards Mt Chinghee.

Here's a couple more photos of the Mt Lindsay Road, which was just as good the other way.

What else is there to say? The road home was mostly highway and uneventful. I was glad to get there. Other than taking photos and refuelling at Casino and Brown's Plains, I didn't stop on the way.

It was another great ride over some great roads reminding how much I like the northern NSW countryside. It was also excellent to catch up with both Pterodactyl and Enzo.

Even after adding another 2,438 kms by the speedo, I'm still loving the CB1100.

Actually, I did take a wee detour and stop once more on the way home. That was to pick up oil, a filter and a crush washer from the dealer. It was mid Friday afternoon and the young sales assistant was not sure what oil to give me. I spied the head mechanic, who happened to be in the Parts Department.

"What oil I should put in my 1100?" I asked.

"That's the CB1100, isn't it?"

I nodded.

He handed me 4 litres of 15W-50, "This. And it's your lucky day. It's on special."

"But Honda says I should only put 10W-30 or 10W-40 in it," I said.

"Not in this climate, mate. This will be fine."

And on that possibly discordant note, dear reader, I'll end my tale.

Lions Road & Northern NSW

Day 5: Wauchope to Tenterfield

Thursday 14 August 2014

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Pterodactyl was in striking distance of Sydney and I spent bits of the night when I was awake wondering whether I would make the 700 km trip home as I wasn't altogether sure I wanted to head up onto the New England Plateau again. Pterodactyl counselled me to take a bit longer to get home. I was not persuaded and decided to leave it open. No matter what, I intended to ride a back road from Coff's Harbour to Grafton where I'd have to make the decision about what to do.

We checked out and rode down the road to get breakfast on a chilly and gloomy morning. After eggs and coffee we said farewell.

He's a great riding companion is Pterodactyl. We have plenty of laughs. The next get together will be for the Lions TT in early October; almost immediately after that we plan to make the trek to Phillip Island for the Australian leg of the MotoGP. It's good to have things to look forward to.

Having decided there was no way I was going to ride north along the back road to Pembroke again, I decided to head straight out to the Pacific Highway (Australia's often uninspiring main highway). I expected to follow Pterodactyl, with whom I'd been riding for the past three days, but he suddenly turned right and vanished.

The first part of the ride took me up the main road to Coff's Harbour. The last bit of the road was quite good — an improvement I think from when I was last there — with dual carriageway allowing me to make good time. I was still undecided about whether to ride home; we had been later starting than I'd planned, but it was do-able. No matter what, I wanted to ride from Coff's Harbour to Grafton via Nana Glen, up a road a mate of Pterodactyl's had recommended to him.

I duly turned off on to the Coramba Road. It was pleasant indeed. A good surface and any number of corners to keep a motorcyclist happy. Just before Coramba I turned right on to East Bank Road which, while well sealed, was narrower and without a centre line. Still, the visibility was good and there was next to no traffic, so I had a lovely ride along it to Nana Glen.

East Bank Road

The Idle In Café in Nana Glen was motorcycle friendly.

It must have been about 1.30pm by the time I got to Grafton and had to make a decision about another night on the road or the big run home. I opted for another night and so turned left onto the Gwydir Highway which would take me back up the range to Glen Innes and then Tenterfield. And the cold. Still, I'd wanted to squeeze the Gwydir into the trip somewhere; Pterodactyl and I had made other choices and so had missed it. Near Grafton it was relatively flat and quick and I made good time.

Looking west towards the Great Dividing Range

The Lollback Rest Area and Mann River Bridge

The Gwydir runs along the river for a bit before offering 10 kms of really good twisties

Of the four roads up or down the range that we'd ridden this was the prettiest. The Oxley is a better riding road, but there was a special quality to the bush on the Gwydir. It was very lovely. There are some walks and some National Park it would be well worth exploring some time.

Like Jackson Browne, I'm looking east

I refuelled both the bike and me in Glen Innes, a town against which I've always had an irrational prejudice. It was bloody cold, but perfectly pleasant that afternoon. I thought I might find some serious winter riding gloves there, but didn't. I then set out along the New England Highway for Tenterfield, about which I wrote in an early part of this report. This photo of the New England Highway shows not only how dry it was, but the sort of terrain one rides through on the plateau. Of course, road conditions vary a bit.

I was a bit unnerved by this letter box. I'm not completely sure it didn't take a shot at me.

This is the spectacular Bluff Rock south of Tenterfield.

I stopped for the night at the Henry Parkes Motor Inn. It was a mistake. Not because it was bad or uncomfortable; it was just more expensive than the usual accommodation I look for.

As usual, getting to sleep was not a huge problem.

Lions Road & Northern NSW

Day 4: South West Rocks to Wauchope

Wednesday 13 August 2014

Click on the image for a detailed map

Wednesday dawned clear, sunny and cold. Pterodactyl exhibited a decided reluctance to get out of bed. I wondered whether he had slightly over-reached himself in his assault on my memory cells.

This was to be our final day together and we intended ride the Oxley Highway, said to have more corners than the Dragon and almost certainly one of the best riding roads in Australia. I'd ridden it once before, but only downwards (from west to east) and the idea of having a go at it the 'right' way was very appealing. We planned to leave from Wauchope in the east and head about 100 kms up the road before turning back to spend the night in Wauchope. The reason? After about 100kms the Oxley straightens out and turns into another straight Australian alpine road. Neither of us really wanted to spend another night in the cold of the New England Plateau and Wauchope offered an altogether better point to start our respective journeys home.

The day's map is here.

Breakfast in a local café allowed the sun to do its work and restored us a bit.

Well travelled bikes.

Pterodactyl under way

We then rode around Trial Bay to inspect Arakoon and the old Trial Bay Gaol.

We then headed off to ride through Crescent Head before turning south to Wauchope. This picture was taken beside the Macleay River, one of a number of beautiful rivers in northern NSW.

At Crescent Head we stopped to ingest water and watch the surfers.

I finally managed to capture this common occurrence

He spent about 5 minutes walking around the bikes looking at them.

Mental preparation for the road ahead

We spent a bit of time on the Pacific Highway to get to a place called Pembroke, where we turned off to Wauchope. Never again. It would be a good ride but the surface is awful and we were very pleased to get off the road. The clouds were closing in; by the time we got to the petrol station in Wauchope rain was looking imminent. We weren't enthusiastic, but the locals were over the moon at the prospect of rain and we realised we might have to take one for the team. And we did.

Wet weathers on, we headed for the hills. Almost as soon as we hit the outskirts of Wauchope the rain stopped and we had a clear run across Long Flat and into the foothills of the Great Dividing Range.

It's a fabulous road: well marked, good surface, endless corners and glorious Australian Bush. There's not much time to ponder the achievements of our ancestors here; your concentration has to be intense. But it's worth it.

After about 83 kms we arrived at the Ginger's Creek Café, the only stop on the way to Walcha. My plan had been to go to the end point of the ride then head back to Ginger's Creek, but Pterodactyl was in the lead and decided to stop. There were a couple of other bikes there, one of which was a Honda CB500X owned by a man who lived locally and boasted quietly about the wonderful circuits he gets to ride regularly. He was pulling on layer after layer of gear for the final climb onto the plateau.

By the time we'd had a coffee and a bite to eat, the rain had arrived and was falling steadily so we decided to skip the final 20 kms and head back down the hill. It rained much of the way, but it wasn't such a bad ride. We had the road largely to ourselves and went along at our own pace.

When we pulled into the Wauchope Motel, I realised the top nut on my steering was loose again, so I decided to head to a motorcycle shop I'd seen on the way to see whether there was a mechanic who could tell me what to do about it. I arrived as the shop was closing and the bloke who appeared to be the owner was wheeling the last of the bikes inside. He told me what I needed to do, then almost insisted on fixing it for me. Fifteen minutes later he'd taken the bars out of the risers and applied a proper wrench to the nut. Fixed. I thanked him profusely, gave him $20 (all he would take) and went on my way. Yet again I'm grateful for the great brotherhood of motorcyclists.

We had an OK dinner and another bottle of red in the bistro at the Wauchope Hotel and a relatively early night.

Lions Road & Northern NSW

Day 3: Guyra to South West Rocks

Tuesday 12 August 2014

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When I was a kid, an enterprising electrical manufacturing company called itself Linda. It had a big hit with its electric blanket, which it sold with the slogan "Sleep wonderfully warm with Linda". It was bloody cold when I woke; Linda was nowhere to be seen, but there was an electric blanket of indeterminate heritage. I was very glad of it.

By 9.30 am were 80 kms away in Ebor. My weather app showed this happy sight.

A promised maximum of 9°C; a current temperature of 5.6°C which was said to feel like 0.3°C. We stopped for very ordinary bacon and eggs and acceptable coffee.

We were in Ebor because our plan for the day was to ride the Armidale-Kempsey Road which would take us from the highlands back to the (warmer) coast. Said to be very beautiful, this bit of the trip was contingent on reasonable weather as 90 plus kms of the road is unsealed and the idea of that much downhill dirt in the wet held no appeal; indeed, it would have required the formulation of another plan.

The day had dawned fine, but cloudy. There was no tea to be had at the Guyra Hotel and we figured it would be a good plan to make the 80 km trip to Ebor, near the top of the Armidale-Kempsey Road where we could breakfast and refuel to make sure we had enough for the planned route. It was a good, fast road, although we saw more than the odd kangaroo. Charming for tourists, perhaps; unpredictable and potentially lethal for motorcyclists. There was occasional fog and even more occasional patches of sun, so by the time we got to Ebor and Fusspots Café the ends of my middle fingers were again very cold.

Finishing a mouthful, Pterodactyl said, "Did you see the barman's face when we ordered red wine last night?"

"No." For some reason, when I'm travelling with Pterodactyl, my memory is not what it should be, particularly early in the morning.

He looked at me pityingly.

"You know. We said we'd have the Shiraz and he just looked at us. Then he went and got three bottles of red, plonked them on the bar and said, 'Which one of those?' The whole bar went quiet and everyone looked at us as if we were from another planet."

Gradually my memory returned. All eyes in the bar had swivelled towards us as if to curiosities in the zoo. Was that the faint twang of banjo in the background?

I was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of a large and noisy Honda VTX1800 pulling up outside. The rider and his partner were heading to Brisbane via Armidale. It was a long haul, about 550 kms along the top of the Great Dividing Range; they were going to be horribly cold; and they didn't look to me like they were truly prepared for it.

By the time we'd eaten and refuelled, the riders of the VTX1800 had finished eating and were geared up. They fell in behind as we rode out of town but were more enthusiastic about ignoring the posted speed limit than me and quickly shot past. Pterodactyl didn't set off after them, so I assume he agreed. They were well ahead of us by the time we reached the junction of the Armidale-Kempsey Road.

It's another pretty road, but then I'm partial to Australian bush, particularly as it occurs on the sides of mountains. I can lose myself in long day dreams about the fellows who first forged the roads through here and how damnably tough it must have been. My partiality increases as the sun makes increasingly frequent appearances and I contemplate mercury rising in the thermometer.

We were almost immediately off downhill and it wasn't long before we were into the dirt. Luckily the steepest kilometre or so of it was covered with bitumen. Otherwise it was a good surface and dry, except for occasional patches of thick, powdery bull dust. It wasn't long before the bikes were covered in it.

The main risk was some galah in a 4WD bowling around a blind corner too quickly. As it happened we met only one, and we were far enough away from the corner for it not to be a threat.

After a while we stopped. I don't remember why; maybe just because we could.

It was time for some action photography.

We pressed on, down through the dry Australian Eucalypt forest.

Occasionally we'd stop for a photo opportunity

Galahs in 4WDs was one problem; the other was the prevalence of livestock wandering about on the road. Often they looked like they didn't appreciate being interrupted.

We forged on, eventually coming to the valley along the upper reaches of the Macleay River.

I thought wistfully of stopping, producing a thermos and having a cup of tea while contemplating the river. Another dream: I wasn't carrying a thermos.

Pterodactyl was in front of me and I startled a young cow which then insisted on running along the road in front of me. I probably could have chased it all the way to Bellbrook and established its top speed, but I kept stopping in the hope it would move far enough off the road that I could pass it without startling it. It obviously felt like being chased and ran along happily in front of me for quite a way before finally leaving the road.

By then the Pterodactyl was a long way ahead, although I didn't know it. I spent the next 20 or so kilometres wondering whether he'd pulled off the road and I hadn't seen him or would be waiting for me down the track. I decided to keep going and not long afterwards returned to the sealed road and allowed myself to ride hard onto the small town of Bellbrook. There, waiting for me in front of the local pub was Pterodactyl.

I'm not sure why, but he looked happier than me about it.

As we rested briefly, I admired the dust collected on Pterodactyl's oil cooler

A car full of locals stopped, climbed out and admired the bikes. I realised with some alarm that they were all clutching 'travellers' — Australian for beers carried in the car to quench the thirst between watering holes. Amusing, at least until you realise the likelihood that these blokes are working on 'travellers' for much of the day, bringing about a gradual but certain reduction in driving capacity. Wouldn't want to meet them later in the day.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful except for two things. The first was the really excellent road from Bellbrook to Kempsey which, after carefully negotiating 90 plus kilometres of dirt down the hill, was truly a delight. We both indulged ourselves with some quick riding.

The second thing was my enjoyment of this road being very slightly marred by the rear wheel starting to slide out from under me on a right-hand corner. I think I hit a rock because the tyres gripped again immediately. But it caused me to slow down for a bit and contemplate how I managed right-hand corners in particular. This concern was to stay with me most of the way home.

With the benefit of hindsight, I wonder whether my subsequent insistence that I must have hit a rock or gravel or something didn't plant the seeds of this splendid rant in Pterodactyl's mind to germinate and bloom at Lemming corner on the way home.

In any event, it was my responsibility entirely.

We spent the evening in South West Rocks, a lovely spot and a favourite haunt of Pterodactyl's. I thought the fish and chips ordinary—there was no gravy on the chips this time, Ferret — and my comrade worked assiduously on his sustained assault on my memory capacity.

Sleep again came easily.

Lions Road & Northern NSW

Day 2: Kyogle to Guyra

Monday 11 August 2014

Click on the image for a detailed map

Our overall plan from Kyogle was threefold:

1. To ride the Lions Road, as Pterodactyl had been unable to make the earlier ride for the founders of the Lions TT.
2. To ride some other interesting roads in mid-north NSW.
3. To continue a shared enjoyment of riding, beer, food and red wine.

Our immediate plan for the morning was:

1. To ride the Lions Road.
2. To have the first ever gathering of three Australian CB1100 Forum members and their bikes.

Knowing, as I do, the importance of photos on tour, I had been careful the evening before to stick the camera on the charger. It would be important to have it working well on this first day because three of us would be getting together and it would be neat to stage a shot of the three of us together.

In the interests of weight and space, I had recently bought a nifty wall plug with two USB outlets, one of which I plugged the camera into. Trouble is, neither of the outlets will charge the damned thing. Note to self: when the camera's plugged in and the wee green light on the back flashes quickly, it isn't charging. Irritatingly, this discovery awaited me.

After a cup of tea, we were ready to load the bikes, grab a bite to eat then hit the road. First, though, I needed a 30 mm spanner to tighten the top nut on my steering which had shaken itself loose somehow. Of course the only bike shop in Kyogle was closed so I bought a large shifting spanner and did the best I could with the nut. In this endeavour, I was ably assisted by a couple of local gents Pterodactyl had found beside the road. One had a bike with "P" plate (for provisional licence) attached, although he looked like he'd been around for a bit. And indeed he had. It transpired he'd been off on holiday at Her Majesty's pleasure and was in the process of regaining his license. He was amazed by the CB and such devices as smart phones with GPS and noise cancelling headphones. But he was very helpful doing the nut up so it didn't seem to want to shift.

By this time we were cutting it a bit fine for our meeting with Enzo, so breakfastless, we set off in the chilly but glorious morning to tackle the Lions Road.

It's very pretty, but Pterodactyl, who is more experienced and wiser than me about things motorcycling (and maybe other things as well) pointed out a number of its shortcomings — poor surface, blind corners, no centreline, wrong cambers here and there, difficult entry to wooden bridges and so on. We agreed that it would be OK for a time trial if the Kyogle Council agreed to block off the road for the event which, subject to approval from the NSW Police, has now happened. Whoopee!

Pterodactyl admires the bikes when we stopped at the scenic lookout.

At this point I made the discovery that my night's camera charging had been to no avail. The camera informed me briefly The battery is exhausted, and that was that.

We pressed on into Queensland and to Rathdowney for our meeting with Enzo.

It was Enzo who first took me to Rathdowney, so it was fitting he should meet us there. He's in the middle of organising a move, so it was great he could take the time to catch up.

Enzo and Pterodactyl discuss some of the finer points of the CB1100

Some time about here, a bloke with a north American accent wandered up, said the bikes looked great then told us the coffee at the only café in town was, in his words, "crap". Enzo, who knows a bit about this stuff, had been totally unimpressed by the food when we had eaten here before (he was right), but Pterodactyl and I were peckish at this point and needed fuel pretty much no matter what.

So we braved the eggs (which were edible but ordinary) and the coffee (which was drinkable) and chatted away happily about things CB owners chat about. Enzo ate nothing and drank only something that had been packaged off site.

Then it was time to get moving: Pterodactyl and I wanted to be a bit along the road by nightfall. We tried to persuade Enzo to come with us for part of the way, but he was insisting on going home. Suddenly his resolve weakened and he agreed to ride with us over the border to Woodenbong. Excellent. Three CBs together on the road. In Australia. Bloody marvellous!

Refuelled, the lads prepare to head out. You get a sense of the lovely blue of Enzo's bike in this shot

The Mt Lindsay Highway, which took us back over the border to NSW and the wonderfully named Woodenbong, and which I had not ridden before, turned out to be a gem. Although the surface on the Queensland side of the border left a great deal to be desired, it's a stunningly pretty road, winding its way between mountains and through Australian eucalypt forest. You can catch a glimpse of one of the mountains behind the trees.

In Woodenbong we stopped to say farewell to Enzo and get fuel for the onward trip.

"Put that bloody phone away, Cormanus"

I can't remember whether it was before or after Enzo left us that a couple of bikes turned up at the petrol station we had parked outside. One of them was a Triumph Rocket.

The owner was a giant of a man; a knockabout sort of bloke who told us the standard 2.3L engine wasn't big enough for him so he'd had to bore it out to 2.8L. It made an almighty racket and I was pleased not to have to ride in its company. Yes, I know loud pipes are alleged to save lives, but they can be very wearing too.

Pterodactyl and I refuelled and set off along what promised to be an interesting road. It has a variety of names, depending where you are on it; but, at the southern end it is called the Woodenbong Road. It runs south from Woodenbong to the Bruxner Highway. It's a very pretty drive with the first part winding through old eucalypt forest. It could be a great road but isn't. It's narrow, poorly marked and was the roughest road I've ridden on. Imagine a child flipping a finger backwards and forwards across its lips to make a sort of b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b sound and you'll have some idea of the bone rattling we got.

We endured this for just over 70 km before we reached the Bruxner Highway and turned westward to make an ascent of the Great Dividing Range. After about 30 kms we came to the town of Drake. Pterodactyl was in the lead when we drove past the local motel and café which promised a bike display and coffee. He took one look at the name of the place and stopped. I suppose he must have decided it could be my spiritual home.

Inside we found not one, but two of these Honda CB1100Rs

There was also a couple of Harleys, and an interesting and eclectic display of memorabilia and photographs. We took coffee and had a bit of a chat with the proprietors. They have varying sorts of accommodation ranging from motel rooms through cabins to camping sites. Pterodactyl noted it as a place for a summer stop when he's packing a tent.

We then took to the road again for the 50 km ride to Tenterfield. The early part of the Bruxner from Drake was a great ride: a good surface with excellent corners on an upward trajectory to the top of Australia's Great Dividing Range. Once you reach the top, the run into Tenterfield is flatter, but with enough up and down and corners to keep you awake and interested.

Some of you may recall the Australian musician Peter Allen who lived and worked in the US for much of his life. He was brought up in Tenterfield by his grandfather and wrote a lovely song about him called the Tenterfield Saddler. It also sells itself as the birthplace of the Australian federation on the basis that Sir Henry Parkes, one of our founding fathers, delivered a speech there in 1889 which, it is said, reignited the debate that eventually led to federation.

We stopped briefly in Tenterfield to fill the tanks, noting that we were now just under 2,800 ft above sea level and it was getting decidedly cool. By the time we reached Guyra, 150 kms south, it was getting dark and I was frozen to the pips. My wife, who grew up not too far south of Guyra, said in a text "That's the coldest spot on the New England Highway!!" The bar of the Guyra Hotel was agreeably warm as we checked in.

After a couple of ales and a shower, the Pterodactyl and I found our way downstairs and searched an uninspiring menu for something to eat. Going for comfort food, we both ordered that Australian pub-grub standard the Chicken Parmigiana.

As you can see, it came with chips. The more I look at the photograph, the more I wonder how I ate it.

Sometime during the course of the evening, Pterodactyl and I were discussing our earlier adventure. Amidst great hilarity it became clear that, as we left our respective homes to meet for the first time, there was a degree of spousal concern. It transpired they both asked the same question, "What if this bloke's an axe murderer?"

So far so good; although I still wonder why Pterodactyl packs a whet stone.