Sydney - Uralla
2 November 2014
Master Map
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.
Reoiled 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 pass under Sydney Harbour. It doesn't seem that long ago that going over water was a big deal. Now we can go 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'd 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!
