2014 MotoGP: Day 27

Uralla-Pomona 747 kms

Determined to get home, I was on the road reasonably early, passing a milestone just before 0730.

I’d decided the night before that, good though it is, I didn’t really want to ride the Nymboida road from Armidale to Grafton again, so I pushed north up the New England Highway to Glen Innes where I had breakfast before heading down the beautiful Gwydir Highway to Grafton. It was every bit as good as I remembered it, and just as pretty. There aren’t any photographs. It was cold; I can’t work the camera with thick gloves; and I wanted to reduce the number of stops I made.

Leaving Grafton the jacarandas were magnificent

The road to Kyogle is quick with not many cars. I’d decided to complete the trifecta and see the only son I’d not seen on this trip. That meant calling into Brisbane. Probably because I’d ridden both the Lions Rd and the Mt Lindesay Highway a couple of times recently, and to save some time, at Kyogle, and because it’s a fantastic ride I turned right for Murwillumbah. What a great road it is.

I stopped to take this photo for RandyB to give him comfort in his view about the upside down nature of this part of the world.

Just before Murwillumbah, the rain set in again so I donned the wet weathers for the final time. I stopped for petrol and a bite to eat before making what for me was a curious discovery. I’d only ever arrived and left Murwillumbah from relatively isolated inland routes, so I had a view it was an isolated sort of place. Leaving this time, I immediately found myself on a substantial road which had me back to a major built up area in only a few minutes. A quick look at a map later showed me it was almost a dormitory suburb for a major coastal hub.

The rest of the ride home was on the freeway and not worth describing. I stopped in Brisbane for a cup of tea with my son before heading north again to Pomona.

On the morning of 8 October 2014 when I left home

On the evening of 3 November 2014. Home again.

I’d travelled 7,560 kms according to the odometer, visited four Australian States, melted in the heat and ridden in cold, rain and snow. I went to a MotoGP. I fulfilled a dream and rode a motorcycle from my home to Tasmania. I got to see all three of my children. And I had a fantastic time. The CB performed brilliantly in all the conditions it faced. It really is a fantastic general purpose bike.

Thanks to Pterodactyl and Jalalski for being such excellent riding companions. For the bits we did together, I had a great time. I’m sorry you weren’t with me for the rest. More thanks to Pterodactyl for his advice and tips on great NSW roads to ride. There are some really good ones.

2014 MotoGP Day 26

Sydney-Uralla 558 kms

With more than a little sense of déjà vu, I met Pterodactyl at the service station from which we’d started out southern adventure. It was chilly, but a very much better day: clear sky, bright sun. His bike sparkled beside mine which, in spite of having a bit of a wash in Hobart, was showing all the signs of having been on the road for a while. For no reason I can recall, we checked my oil and discovered it could not be seen in the sight glass. So we headed further into Randwick, having to stop to be breath tested on the way. Getting them early the morning after is now a favourite police sport.

I bought a litre of 30W/800 snake oil from Supercheap Auto and topped the bike up. Mindful of previous episodes with liquids in my top box, I wrapped the oil bottle very carefully in a plastic bag.

Re-oiled and ready to go

Pterodactyl led us north through Sydney along a couple of motorways and, reasonably quickly, we were out of the worst of the built up area.

Inner Sydney. The lovely purple flower on the left is a jacaranda, imported into Australia from South America (I think) and ubiquitous north of Sydney at this time of the year. Adolescents in Queensland associate the flowering of the jacaranda with exams.

About to enter the tunnel under Sydney Harbour. It doesn't seem that long ago that going over water was a big deal. Now we travel under the floor of the sea.

The pretty road to Wiseman's Ferry

There were lots of bikes at Wiseman’s Ferry, including a magnificent CBX that I missed getting a photo of. I was surprised: I thought nearly every bike in NSW and Victoria was south in the Snowy Mountains.

After a cup of coffee it was onto the punt for the trip across the Hawkesbury River.

Once on the north shore of the Hawkesbury, it’s a pretty trip alongside the river until you turn north towards Wollombi.

I really wanted to ride this road so I could say I'd been to Lemming Corner.

It’s a beauty, although our enjoyment of it was slightly marred by meeting a police car half way around it. There’s no photo; I was hanging on too tight.

Along with the remainder of the bikes that weren’t in the Snowy Mountains, we stopped for a lunch of burgers at the Wollombi pub. Pterodactyl decided he would continue north from Singleton (where I’d expected him to turn back) and ride to Dungog. At that point we’d go our separate ways.

Singleton. A new photo technique: random shot over the shoulder.

Of course there wasn’t any petrol to be had at Dungog on a Sunday, so we rode south a bit to Stroud, got fuel and said our farewells. It’s always good riding with Pterodactyl and this day had been no exception.

I headed north through Gloucester. After a while, I thought the road unfamiliar and switched on Karen (the GPS, named after the voice it uses). Sure enough—given I was wanting to make the best possible time—I’d missed the turn to Thunderbolt’s Way and was on the wrong road altogether.

Back I went. On the road down into the bottom of the gorge on Thunderbolts Way, I was passed by a diesel utility going like a bat out of hell. I let him go. On the way up the hill and the twisties, I got bored with the ridiculous speed limit and started enjoying myself. I love it that I’ve yet to meet a hill the CB won’t accelerate up. I soon caught the ute and passed him. It took him another 20-30 kms to catch me again and I let him go again, although his lead lasted only until the next hill when once more he proved no match for the CB. I didn’t see him again after that.

At Walcha I refuelled and, although the pub next to the service station had a couple of bikes parked out the front and looked inviting, I decided to risk the last 40 or so kms to Uralla. I say risk as it was getting late and I was a little concerned about dusk and kangaroos. As luck would have it, I had an excellent run and didn’t see a single roo. I arrived at the same time Pterodactyl sent me a text to say he was safe home in Sydney. He’d done well, riding 580 kms to my 560 or so.

A cheap bed at the Uralla hotel, a good steak, beer, red wine, a phone call with my wife who was safe at home, and I crawled into bed.

As I unpacked, I gave thanks for having put the oil in a plastic bag. Sure enough, in spite of the lid being on the bottle as tight as I could get it, it had leaked! I hate engine oil!

2014 MotoGP: Day 25

Queanbeyan-Canberra-Sydney 445 kms

The morning dawned muggy and foreboding. I was almost certainly going to get wet before the day was out.

I rode across the border into the Australian Capital Territory to have breakfast with an old school mate who I hadn’t seen for the best part of 40 years. I met his wife and daughter and we had a jolly enough catch up. His wife kindly took the photo below for me, but sadly didn’t quite get the framing right: You were meant to be able to see Parliament House (our Congress) behind and to my right. If you look closely, you can see the flag over the top of my blue bag.

I set off north, planning to ride some of the route I had taken with Pterodactyl in June.

Gundaroo

Windmills south of Crookwell. People get exercised about them, but I reckon they're quite attractive

I stopped to photograph this echidna after I nearly ran it over

Another milestone

I stopped for lunch in Taralga, a pretty town. It was blowing like stink by now, and I was quite pleased to have some respite from the buffeting.

Taralga

The trip north is reasonably quick along pleasant enough roads. Much of it is on the plateau of the Great Dividing Range so the wind was a bit of an issue.

Not long after I took this photograph I had to get off and put on my wet weather gear as the black clouds I’d been watching to the west got closer.

Since leaving Canberra I’d been pondering what to do about Sydney. I didn’t really want to battle the traffic and go there, but I didn't feel quite right about driving round it without visiting my son. At Oberon, I realised I couldn’t just ride past, so I rang him to see whether he was free that evening. Sadly for him he was, so I turned east.

Not long after I set out again, I got a text from him that said “Jesus a massive storm has just rocked in. I hope you’re OK.” I was. For most of the way into Sydney it was dry, although there was one section crossing the Blue Mountains when it was pretty wet. But I missed the storm that hit Sydney. Pterodactyl was to tell me later he'd been watching it on the weather radar and wondering whether I'd be caught up in it.

In Australia we don’t go in much for the sort of treatment of dignitaries we see on the TV from the US and elsewhere. And that I’ve seen in Asia. You know, where a massive police escort is provided and traffic is cleared to allow the VIP through. Occasionally, if the Queen or the President of the USA comes to call, we make an exception; normally, though, the VIPs have to take their chances on the traffic like the rest of us.

So I was surprised to see the traffic being waved over by a police motorcyclist who then stopped to make sure we all stayed put. I noticed he had a special number plate saying "VIP" and a number. Once the road was clear another motorcycle cop came hurtling past at Marquez-like speed. Was the whole episode an excuse for police to ride far too fast on the motorway, I wondered? But no, it was not long before a couple more motorcycle cops, a black Jaguar and a white van sailed past and we were allowed on our way again. I hope it was practice for the G20 a couple of weeks in the future and not the sign of things to come.

A couple of beers, a glass of red or two and an excellent meal at the Duck Inn, just up the road from my son’s place, rounded out quite a long day.