Day 6: Sydney to Blayney
17 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
When you check every internet forecast and all you can find is ominous threats of solid rain, you have to expect you’re going to get wet. We loaded the bikes, hauled on our wets and headed out. It was dry most of the way north to Colo Heights, although we got caught in a brief shower just before stopping there for fuel. The rain gods continued to regard us with some favour as we made our way north along the Putty Road. We stopped for coffee at the Grey Gum Café before heading off into the famed "10-mile" a magnificent section of road loved by Sydney motorcyclists. For good reason. Mercifully the rain continued to stay away.
As we made our way westward through Jerry’s Plains to the top
of the Bylong Valley things changed. The rain started in with a vengeance and it stayed with us for a good deal of what turned out to be a pretty miserable day.
I’ve ridden the Bylong Way only once, and it was a glorious day then. It’s a great road. It was OK in the wet too, but my Frogg Toggs again turned out to be completely and utterly useless so I was properly soaked and a bit miserable by the time we stopped for a late lunch at Rylstone.
We were gearing up to get under way again, when a bloke came up to us and said, "Do you reckon you could give us a hand?"
We looked at him.
"This sheila fell off her Harley over the weekend and I’ve got to get it into a trailer to get it home."
"Righto," we said and set off down the street.
Cormanus, the fool, forgot to put on his nearly useless wet weather jacket and so got even more ridiculously wet as, of course, the rain really set in while we were slipping around in the mud trying to fit a Harley into a trailer slightly too small for it. We got it in somehow and left the bloke to lash it all together for the trip to wherever he was going.
I should report — happily — that neither the sheila nor the Harley were particularly harmed in the accident.
The rain eased as we made our way south to Bathurst—home of Australia’s best known annual motor car race—and had stopped by the time we got there.
Bravely we pushed on and, of course, the rain started again. By the time we reached Blayney just under 40 kms south, it was pelting down and we pulled into the Exchange Hotel where the nice young man said there was indeed a bed and a fire as well. We showered and spread our wet kit all over the room. I went for a walk and found a kitchen where a very large young man was cooking toast and god knows what else. He certainly looked at me. I think he grunted.
Taking our sodden boots we went downstairs, put them in front of the fire and had a drink.
The following can be said for the Exchange at Blayney: the staff were friendly; the fire was hot; the beer was cold; and the chicken parmigiana recommended by the staff was indeed excellent. And it was dry — the pub not the parmy.
On the other side of the ledger, the place needed a seriously good clean. The bathroom was, can I say, a very long way indeed from being appealing.
Still, did I mention it was dry? And I slept OK.
Protecting my camera from the rain meant I took not a single photograph.
Day 7: Blayney to Walwa
18 October 2016
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The morning dawned cold but glorious. The sun was shining and the forecast, although a bit discouraging for later in the day, wasn’t so bad. I went in search of the kitchen and a cup of tea.
The large gentleman was in exactly the same place as I’d seen him 12 hours before. Still making toast and stuff. Had he been there all night, I wondered?
"Can I make a cup of tea here?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied, "but there’s no tea. They don’t give you anything. You have to have your own."
"Right. Thanks," I said and wondered off to finish packing and take my custom to the bakery across the street.
Things move slowly in Blayney and it took a while to get breakfast and fuel. Normally that would not have been a problem, but we were due to meet noroomtomove at around lunch time in Gundagai. By my reckoning that was around three and a half hours away.
We set off along the main road to Cowra before turning off near Woodstock to ride the Reg Hailstone Way to Lake Wyangala. A pretty ride, but, of course, the road we intended to travel had been blocked off and we were forced to take a detour which cost us more time.
A familiar sight: Pterodactyl steams ahead
I think this is rape seed. Whatever it is, it’s pretty.
We stopped for fuel in Harden; I sent a message to noroomtomove; and we got our skates on for the rapid ride along a great and quiet country road to Jugiong.
It’s a pretty road from Harden to Jugiong. Quick as well.
At Jugiong we joined the Hume Highway: the main artery between Sydney and Melbourne.
This is the major route between Australia’s two biggest capital cities. I guess its modest size reflects the fact that our population is only around 24.5 million
As we charged down the Hume Highway to meet noroomtomove, I was sure I could see wisps of smoke from Pterodactyl’s bike. I got up close behind him and then alongside in the adjoining lane a couple of times and looked hard, but I just could not be sure.
We got to Gundagai and parked alongside a white CB1100 (and one makes three). After a while noroomtomove appeared and I met him for the first time. I also told Pterodactyl about the smoke and he had a good look under his bike.
I’m pretty sure I’ve exhausted most of the jokes about ‘one black one, one white one, but don’t let that deter you. At this point, given the state of Pterodactyl’s undercarriage and rear tyre, it was as near true as it was at any time on the trip.
This was not long after a post on the CB1100 Forum about a leaking K&N oil filter. My bike had been serviced at a new place which had installed a K&N filter. I was telling Pterodactyl about the post only a couple of days before. We had, of course, agreed that we needn’t worry.
You can see it coming, can’t you? Of course Pterodactyl had a K&N oil filter on the bike and of course it was leaking. The smoke was oil on the hot exhaust and the engine block. On inspection, there was a good deal of the stuff on his rear wheel as well. At moments like this you acknowledge the gods of motorcycling and give thanks. Although I have no idea when the leak started, had been under way on the way between Harden and Jugiong where Pterodactyl had the bike leaded over more than on the freeway, this story may have taken a different turn.
We ate and made phone calls. Of course there wasn’t a bike shop in Gundagai, but there is one in Tumut some 40 kms away. When I rang it had a HiFlo oil filter that would fit so I asked them to put it aside for me and set off for what was a pretty, but totally uneventful ride. Not boring. It was an enjoyable road. Armed with two oil filters (I wasn’t risking mine doing the same thing and resolved to change it soon) and a new pair of waterproof trousers, I headed back to Gundagai and found Pterodactyl and noroomtomove in a workshop where a slightly unhelpful chap had been persuaded to lend Pterodactyl an oil filter wrench. We decided not to push our luck by doing a mass oil filter change.
The lads had done a good job of cleaning the tyre. So, with the new filter installed, off we went back towards Tumut intending to ride to Tallangatta for the night.
noroomtomove checks something before leading us out of Gundagai
From Tumut we headed for Tumbarumba.
These two photos are taken near Batlow between Tumut and Tumbarumba. The last one is included mostly because of the accidental capture of the Cormanus mobile photo technique. In the background are the Snowy Mountains, part of the Great Dividing Range
Shortly after these photos were taken our old friend the rain re-joined the ride and kept us company for the rest of the day. The new pants were an improvement on the Frogg Toggs, but not entirely making me wonder whether I should pay a bit more attention to how I dress myself when it’s damp.
At Jingelic we crossed the Murray River and the border into Victoria. Time passed, the rain continued to fall and we made our way through Walwa and along the C547. More time passed and we came to the junction with Guys Forest Road where there was a sign telling us the road ahead was closed.
Pulling our bikes under a large eucalyptus tree, we strategized.
Ten minutes later we’d booked rooms in the Walwa Hotel and, with rain dripping from our gear, were enjoying the first beer of the day. Shower, dry clothes, more beer and some food (I forget quite what now) washed down with a glass or two of red and the day was complete.
Somewhere during the evening, I made the acquaintance of the Schitt family. They were interesting folk and kind enough to pass on a copy of their family tree which is of such interest that I thought I should share it with you.
Day 8: Walwa to Camp Confined Quarters
19 October 2016
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So far on this trip, when there'd been afternoon rain, the next morning was glorious. This day was no exception. We awoke to bright sun and a good forecast. We ate the breakfast left for us by the hotel, packed up and rode across the street to refuel.
The service station was located at the General Store, outside of which sat a Furphy water cart. In Australian slang a furphy is an erroneous or improbable story claimed to be true. It is said — maybe it’s a furphy, I don’t know — that the term comes from these very water carts made by John Furphy & Sons of Shepparton, Victoria. Amongst other things, Furphy water carts carried water to Australian troops in World War 1. Soldiers would gather around them and drink the water, exchanging the sorts of truths that soldiers exchange. The term "furphy" was born. Way before the water cooler.
The road south was closed, so we headed back towards Jingelic where, instead of crossing the Murray River, we stayed on the Victorian side and rode beside the river bank until we were catching glimpses of Lake Hume. It’s a glorious road. Little traffic, pretty, OK surface and not straight. What else could one want? The Murray, and its tributary the Darling River, are the lifeblood of the agriculture of Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria and South Australia. Fortunately for Australians, and indeed the rest of the planet, this system is in the hands of our political masters and no one need have any fear for its future.
Views of the Murray River Road
The Granya Road from south of Bungil until the junction with the Murray Valley Highway was particularly agreeable for people for whom travelling in straight lines is challenging.
Entertaining sections of the Granya Road
From there it’s a fast ride to Mitta Mitta where we refuelled and took coffee and a meat pie in preparation for the Omeo Highway. Sadly for me, the most attractive feature of the Mitta General Store had disappeared since I was last there. Pterodactyl thought it may have found its way to the pub, but I couldn’t bring myself to check.
noroomtomove on the way to Mitta Mitta
In my opinion, the Omeo Highway is simply the best motorcycle road I’ve ridden. It takes nigh on 2 hours to ride the 107 kms from the Mitta Pub to Omeo and it is, as I’ve said before, a little like paddling a canoe as you push the bars first one way and then the other. It’s an exhausting but beautiful and rewarding ride; one on which you have to send Pterodactyl on ahead to contain his disposition to claustrophobia.
Speaking of Pterodactyl, he recorded an excellent video of the Omeo Highway, a link to which can be found here.
The best I can offer is a couple of photos.
As I recall there was a bloke here who wasn’t well and we stopped to make sure he was OK. The place is Anglers Rest.
The Cobungra River opposite Anglers Rest. There’s said to be good camping to be had
It was all I could do to get far enough ahead of these blokes and get off the bike in time to photograph them
The road is straighter and quicker for around 50 kms from Omeo south to near Ensay. It’s an agreeable respite before the final 50 kms to Bruthen which is as much fun as the earlier section. I’m not sure why there are no photos of this part of the day; perhaps it’s because my camera battery is getting old and doesn’t last like it used to. Given it took photos later on the day, it’s more likely that I just wanted to give into the riding.
The bikes were ready for petrol and we were ready for a cup of tea when we made it to Bruthen at about 4:00 pm.
The final leg of the day’s journey took us briefly on the Princes Highway to just west of Bairnsdale and then south and west. It’s the trade off for the pleasures of the earlier part of the day: flat, mostly straight and, for me at least, not very interesting.
Between Bruthen and Camp Confined Spaces
A while later we arrived at what I’ve called Camp Confined Spaces — noroomtomove’s house. I've called it that because of the splendid irony of noroomtomove’s user name on the forum through which I met him. Suffice it to say, there’s room not only to swing the proverbial cat, but also to be able to let it go and not have it leave the park.
Pterodactyl aligning the bikes for a photo that yours truly made then such a balls of taking that he’s not prepared to post it. They’re so piss poor they can’t even be passed as ‘soft focus’ shots
Thanks to noroomtomove and Mrs noroomtomove for accommodating us for the night. Mrs NRTM cooked us a welcome home–cooked dinner and we were asleep early. I was glad of that: the edges of the dreaded lurgy that had plagued me for weeks had returned.
Day 9: Camp Confined Quarters to Phillip Island
20 October 2016
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Day 9 dawned fine and sunny, although the forecast for the next couple of days was ominous. The boys amused themselves with eating, some routine, minor motorcycle maintenance and shoe cleaning. By around 0900 we were under way leaving Camp Confined Spaces in our wake.
This shot is taken very close to noroomtomove’s spread. There’s not a lot of room, as you can see.
The ride to Phillip Island was relatively uneventful. We stopped at Inverloch for lunch and to acquire some provisions for the camp. After that Pterodactyl lead us a merry dance around the scenic and entertaining Cape Paterson Road. I don’t know why, but I’m always happy to see Bass Strait.
From the ride to San Remo
By early afternoon we were far from the wilds of the Omeo Highway and buried in the thick of traffic crossing the bridge from San Remo to Phillip Island.
Soon after we were at the racetrack and hunting for the best place for Camp CB.
The main gate at the Phillip Island MotoGP circuit
This is a small part of the bug collection I accumulated on this ride. Victoria is certainly competitive in bugs per square kilometre!
Event organisers the world over have developed all sorts of clever ways to gouge coin from the pockets of hapless punters. On that front, there are few more vulnerable punters that thirsty Australian motorcyclists. To buy a can of beer at Phillip Island costs around $7. To buy a slab (a box of cans) costs around $54 or a little over $2 per can. Easy you say: buy a slab. Sure, but bikes don’t have fridges and I haven’t yet figured out how to fit an eski in my camping kit. Lazy bastards solve this by taking a support car, laden with tents, generators, eskis, fridges and god knows what else to PI, but not the denizens of Camp CB. We take only what will go on a CB.
But we’re nothing if not creative and with the aid of a bag of ice, the oft-ridiculed top box finally came into its own.
Shortly after this was taken noroomtomove said ‘Givi a beer, willya?’
The usual proceedings preceded sleep.
