Sydney to Cooma
14 October 2014
Master Map
Six days had passed since I left home. I'd had a great ride to Sydney and a great weekend spending time with my son and catching up with an old friend. I had the pleasure of meeting Pterodactyl's wife. Finally, on the evening of the sixth day, I got to enjoy one of Sydney's spectacular storms. We get them at home too, but they've been scarce of late and it was good to be reminded of how much water can fall from the sky in a very short period. My son and I only just got in the door of the local pizza shop before the skies opened.
In the morning, the remnants of the storm were hanging about. There was no rain, but it was overcast and the forecast for later in the day was bloody awful.
Pterodactyl and I met at a service station near to both of us, refuelled and launched ourselves into Sydney's commuter traffic. Cleverly we were going away from the traffic along a route Pterodactyl had devised. It would be all new riding to me.
Southward bound
A 30 kilometre ride had us at the Loftus Oval next to the entrance to the Royal National Park. Here we stopped to meet Pterodactyl's mate, Jalalski who was to be our companion. Jalalski had made the pilgrimage south with Pterodactyl in 2013 and had decided he needed to upgrade from his GS500F to something larger. He'd done an amazing deal on a Triumph Sprint, a worthy companion for the CB1100s, and was looking forward to putting it through its paces.
From left: Jalalski, Pterodactyl, Cormanus. Thanks to the kind stranger who took the picture for us
The ride through the Royal National Park is amazing, although many would say too heavily speed limited. The road is narrow with the bush often coming very close to both sides of the road and it twists and turns away enough to make a motorcyclist drool. There was not much traffic and we made good time.
Royal National Park
At the southern exit from the Royal National Park looking south to Wollongong and the Sea Cliff Bridge
We didn't ride the Sea Cliff Bridge as Pterodactyl had other plans for us. We took to the Princes Highway to skirt Wollongong, turning right when we reached Albion Park to head up the Macquarie Pass towards Robertson and its eponymous Pie Shop.
Princes Highway
Heading inland towards Macquarie Pass
One of the early corners on the way up the Macquarie Pass
The road narrows
Another great road. The climb up the pass is well worth the effort, although it is easy to get stuck behind a car for long periods.
By the time we got to the Robertson Pie Shop, it was considerably cooler, the sky was looking more forbidding and I thought we deserved the cup of coffee and Portuguese tarts. Both were good.
Our tour guide then took us back down the mountain to Kiama through the very pretty Jamberoo Road. Although the ride from Albion Park to Kiama was effectively a 56 km detour, it was a damned sight prettier and more fun than the 17 km dash down the highway. That's the joy of riding motorcycles: it's often more fun to take the long way.
Jamberoo Valley (courtesy Jalalski)
We travelled on down the Princes Highway stopping for fuel at Berry before turning right at Nowra to begin the climb to the highlands. The sky looked increasingly ominous and it wasn't long before Pterodactyl pulled over, climbed off and started to haul on his wet weather gear. Jalalski and I followed suit. Not a moment too soon. Even before we were back on the bikes the rain started to fall. Hard.
I'd like to report it was just a shower and we were quickly through it. It wasn't, and it was to keep going for the rest of the day delivering, to me at least, an object lesson in the inadequacy of nearly all motorcycle wet weather gear in really wet conditions. I confess it was a bit of a shock to realise that my hitherto waterproof boots were slowly filling up with water; that the seam in the crotch of my trousers was failing and parts of my jacket just weren't doing their job. I suspect a set of ocean racing wet weathers may well be the only thing really up to keeping the water out.
We stopped in Braidwood for something to eat and a coffee and decided not to take the planned route as it involved a reasonable stretch of dirt with one low-lying creek on the way through that may cause a problem. We detoured via Queanbeyan, just over the border from Canberra, Australia's capital, and then punched into a strong southerly wind for the 100 or so kilometers to Cooma.
It was approaching dark when we finally arrived at the Swiss Motel. We were relieved to find an old fashioned oil-filled heater which did sterling work drying all our wet gear.
Dinner at the Alpine Hotel was welcome and acceptable, if unmemorable.
