The Cormanus Chronicles: October 2016

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Days 16 & 17

Day 16: Carlton and Hobart


27 October 2016

It was a cold day with occasional showers; a car needed to be transported; and its heater was very welcome.


Day 17: Carlton to Hobart via Tasmania Peninsula


28 October 2016

Click on the image for a detailed map

We were staying with my mate Graham and his wife. Graham is a long-term rider. When I last wrote of him, he had bought a Ducati Monster 695 which he was enjoying. His pleasure did not last all that long. A dealer at the other end of the island, repeated problems, and a neat procrastination until the warranty period was over lead to him selling it and replacing it with a Honda CB500X. Not as glamorous perhaps, but dependable.

Graham’s son recently had a nasty off and was still in hospital. He may not ever completely recover from the damage done to his pelvic region. Not unreasonably, Graham was pretty shaken by this and hadn’t spent much time on his bike. I made no suggestion of it, but he suggested a morning ride to blow out some cobwebs. We would ride a loop around the Tasman Peninsular and then meet his mate for a coffee.

It was a glorious day, so off we went.

The road out to the highway from Carlton is pretty good, and the highway’s not bad either. Indeed, except for the difficulty finding places to overtake legally, the road to Eaglehawk Neck is excellent. It all seems so much shorter than it did when I was a child.

On the way to Eaglehawk Neck

On the way we passed through the small town of Dunalley which was devastated by bush fires in January 2013. Dunalley is also the home of a canal which allows smaller vessels to cut off a good deal of sailing time between Hobart and Tasmania’s east coast. There’s swing bridge which is opened on request and you motor through it either with or against a very strong current. At the other end, the exit to the Mercury Passage can be exciting.

Eaglehawk Neck — Pirates Bay to the left and, in the centre of the picture on the right you can see Eaglehawk Bay

I’ve included this map as, aside from riding across the neck, we visited Tasman Arch and the cubed espresso bar

Eaglehawk Neck, seen in the picture above, is the isthmus attaching the Tasman Peninsula to the mainland. It was a deciding factor for the British to establish a penal colony at Port Arthur as it was easy to guard. Authorities discouraged swimming Eaglehawk Bay by peddling the rumour that it was shark infested and a line of half-starved dogs across the neck made sure there was no escape that was. I thought I had a photograph of the statue of the dog on the neck, but, if I do, I can no longer find it.

There used to be a community hall on the neck. As a teenager, I remember they used to back a projection truck up to it in the summer months and show films to holiday makers. I saw John Wayne in The Sons of Katie Elder there. I have no recollection of it.

We stopped at the Blue Seal Café which is set up in the old Post Office. The woman was very kind and helpful, but the coffee was not worth going back for.

We rode on in an anticlockwise direction around the peninsula, enjoying the glorious day and the scenery. As I think I mentioned, I don’t recall seeing Tasmania so green and well watered as it was on this trip.

We stopped at Nubeena because you do after coffee and because we could. It was an opportunity to admire the scenery and the machinery.

We then made our way back across the peninsula turning north at Port Arthur which is now a national park and Tasmania’s major tourist attraction.

In its heyday as a prison, between 1833 and 1877, Port Arthur was the home to Britain’s worst prisoners; criminals who had reoffended after being transported to Australia. And yet, it was, in its day, a model prison.

In 1996, it was the scene of an appalling massacre when a young man ran amok killing 35 people and wounding another 25.

In spite of its troubled history, it’s a lovely place, set in a very picturesque surroundings and with a well-protected harbour. It’s a favourite stopping off point for sailors cruising around Tasman Peninsula.

Returning to Eaglehawk Neck, we turned right and rode around Pirates Bay, stopping at a food van at Tasman Arch. My friend Graham, although thin, seems to need to eat a good deal. We had, as I recall, a pleasant sit in the sun and a scallop pie.

Pirates Bay

There’s a blowhole at Pirates bay, but it was very quiet

After inspecting the blowhole, we remounted and rode a few minutes up the hill to cubed espresso bar, which plies its trade in the warmer months. A young couple make excellent coffee and little cakes and pastries for which it is well-worth stopping.

Part of the attraction of stopping on a good day is the spectacular view down the south-east coast of Tasmania.

After barely enough time to take a photograph, we were joined by Graham’s mate who has recently made a return to riding. He and his partner had been doing a jet boat ride along the coast you can see in the picture above.

On the riding front, he’s doing it tough.

We sat in the sun, talked some talk and then headed off towards home. Graham’s mate and his partner left us just before Dunalley to have a late lunch, while we rode home.

Having arrived, I packed my bag, collected Mrs Cormanus and we set off for the suburbs of Hobart to stay with my brother.

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Day 15

Devonport to Carlton


26 October 2016

Click on the image for a detailed map

Tasmania holds a special place in my heart. It was where I grew up, went to school, learned to ride motorbikes and lived for 40 years. My children were born there and one still lives in Hobart. I left for various reasons, but not because I’d come to dislike it. Even though the weather is much less conducive to riding bikes than where I now live in Queensland, it is still possible to ride all year round if you’re prepared to deal with the cold.

It’s an island, rugged in parts. Stand on the beach near Strahan on the west coast looking west and there’s nothing between you and South America. Only South America, the South Island of New Zealand are nearer Antarctica.

There’s plenty more to say. Tasmania is home to the second oldest white settlement in Australia. It’s the home of the Tasmanian Devil, immortalised by Bugs Bunny. Poor thing is endangered now by a cancer that eats away at its face.

Tasmania is home to the Sarah Island and Port Arthur, both penal settlements remembered for their harshness. Port Arthur is also infamous for Australia’s worst mass shooting in April 1996 when an idiot ran amok killing 35 people and wounding another 25.

More cheerfully, it is now a producer of some of Australia’s best cold-climate wines. Great cheese and meat are produced and Cape Grim on Tasmania’s north-west tip is said to have the world’s cleanest recorded air. There’s fabulous walking and sailing to be had as well as some wonderful motorcycling.

Hobart, the capital, hosts the finish of one of the world’s great ocean yacht races, the Sydney-Hobart which is sailed from Boxing Day each year and attracts international competition. The record for the 630 nautical mile classic was smashed this year with Perpetual Loyal completing the race in 1 day 13 hours 31 minutes 20 seconds. The American ketch Kialoa III held the line honours record of 3 days 12 hours 46 minutes 21 seconds for 21 years from 1975. As I recall that’s the longest period the record stood.

However, like the UK’s Fastnet race, the weather can be very ugly, particularly across Bass Strait. In 1998, a storm sank 5 yachts and 6 people died. Only 44 of 115 starters finished the race.

The Spirit of Tasmania arrives in port early from its Bass Strait crossing. Luckily it had been a quiet night. The crew has you starting to disembark by 0630. When we were awoken by an announcement at 0545, my wife asked me where we were and was disappointed to discover that we were already alongside. She’d hoped to be able to watch our arrival and was disappointed to be driven out of bed and off the ship with such unseemly haste.

We both agreed a couple of days at sea would have been pleasant.

Loading the bike. The orange anchor points on the floor are for tying down bikes and cars. They have a simple system of straps which attach to the handle bars. You leave the bike in first gear on the side stand and they crank a bit of weight onto the straps and it isn’t going anywhere. Well, it hasn’t yet.

Early morning in rural Tasmania

It was cold and there was evidence of rain during the night, but the forecast was reasonable, so we eschewed wet weather gear and set off along the north coast of Tasmania before turning south. Of course, trusting to the power of my memory (cue laughter) I didn’t use the GPS and turned too early. We had a brief early morning taste of dirt riding, but the surface was OK and the road was very pretty.

We searched in every town for a café, but found nothing until we got to Longford. Tasmania’s small towns, always quiet, have been rendered even quieter by the construction of a new main highway. After a cup of coffee and something to eat, I set off to show Mrs Cormanus a farm where I used to stay and be put to work in the September school holidays.

The farmhouse is just along the road to the right. The mountains in the background are the Western Tiers. They’re to the west from where I’m looking, but at the eastern end of the island’s central plateau.

I mention this diversion as an excuse to tell a story. I don’t remember the date on which I bought my first motorcycle, but I was 16 and still at school. The bike was a Honda CB175. It must have been before the September school holidays as I decided to ride it to the farm from my home in the south of the island. Google Maps tells me it’s all of 180 kms and about 2 hours 15 minutes riding. I recall it took me at least half a day and maybe more. In my defence, the CB175 did not cruise with the ease of the CB1100, the main road was a great deal windier and narrower so the trip was probably longer, and it was very cold. It made me realise touring on a large capacity motorcycle is a heck of a lot easier than on a small one.

Just down the road from where we looked at the farmhouse we had to make a decision about whether to head up the Tiers or keep heading east. On the basis that it was cold, we decided to stay lower down.

The road just south of the farm. It was the same as this when I rode it on the CB175 45 years ago.

The Lake Leake Road, running from the middle of the island to the east coast is a good ride on the bike with some good, fast sweeping corners. For the first time in my life, I turned off it and went into have a look at Lake Leake. Other than another couple enjoying the sun, the place was deserted.

Reaching the east coast, we turned south on an always enjoyable road.

A pretty section of the east coast road. I’ve never seen this part of Tasmania as green as it was this trip. The east coast, particularly, gets very little rain and is usually mostly brown in colour

At Swansea we stopped for lunch and were infuriated to be told we could only have bottled water (which we had to pay for) in the café. We learned later there was a problem with the local water supply and cafés were not allowed to supply tap water. We wished they’d told us: we would have felt better about the lunch.

From Swansea, there’s a lovely view to the Freycinet Peninsula and the mountains known as the Hazards. Once, on a work team-building exercise, I climbed one of them at 0630 having not gone to bed until 0430. To this day, I’ve no idea how I made it.

A magnificent eucalypt in the main street of Swansea

Freycinet Peninsula and the Hazards

At Orford, a mere 55 kms down the road we had a comfort stop and admired Maria Island. The photo of Maria Island below was taken from what used to be the Raspins Beach camp ground where young motorcyclists would camp after a bit of a ride. Orford was a favourite spot for a weekend ride, partly because of the excellent ride to get there. It’s more fun on a bike that doesn’t know what a hill is.

I got to ride that road yet again and enjoyed as much or more.

An hour or so later we arrived at Carlton Beach where we were to stay with friends. We’d ridden much of the length of the island touching the main highway only once and for less than a kilometre. And lots of it on great roads for a couple on a motorbike.

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Day 14

Around Melbourne then to sea


25 October 2016

Click on the image for a detailed map

The morning was given over to repacking gear so there was room for me, Mrs Cormanus and the gear on the CB. The one, slight, technical problem was that Mrs Cormanus was to fly home from Hobart which meant we had to take her bag as well as mine rather than packing into one bag. We also had to address the problem of waterproofing and the back pack which Mrs Cormanus would not be able to wear while the bags were on the back.

So we came up with this inelegant, but practical solution.

And who said a CB1100 can’t carry a back pack with style?

After we’d sorted all this out and stashed my camping gear, the beer cool … er, top box and other things in the shed at my niece’s house, we decided to take a ride around Port Phillip Bay to see what we could see.

Not much as it turned out—for most of the way to Frankston the GPS led us a merry inland dance past houses and through endless traffic. However, we partook of an agreeable lunch at Waves on the Beach at Frankston before a leisurely ride back to the Station Street Pier where we were to catch the Spirit of Tasmania for the overnight trip to Tasmania.

Waiting to board.

Since I last caught the boat to Tasmania in 2014, it has undergone significant renovations and offers a more agreeable experience. The seating areas are more spacious and comfortable and there seem to be more of them somehow so one doesn’t feel quite so crowded.

We both like being at sea, so we passed an agreeable evening and, in due course, wandered off to the four-berth cabin we had to ourselves.

Click on the image for a detailed map

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Day 13

Day 13: Phillip Island to Melbourne


24 October 2016

Click on the image for a detailed map

It was a gloomy sort of morning—cloudy, cool and a bit unappealing. But at least it was dry as we packed up our camp and made ready to go our separate ways. Noroomtomove who, by my reckoning, had done a sterling job not to flee to the comforts of a mud-free hot shower and a comfy bed the evening before, was first to roll out. Pterodactyl and I left a bit later and made our way to San Remo for a cup of coffee.

After that we separated; him to return to Sydney; me to head to Melbourne to jettison some gear and collect Mrs Cormanus from the airport. To my considerable delight she had agreed to join me for the next leg of the trip which would take us across Bass Strait on the ferry to Tasmania. While most of our attention would be on catching up with family and friends, I planned we’d cover a bit of ground together on the bike.

I was a bit nervous about how it would go. Mrs Cormanus comes with me on the bike occasionally and enjoys it very much, but she is given to getting restless when she has to sit still for too long. Frequent stops are necessary, so she would not enjoy my usual touring schedule. So I wasn’t sure how she’d go spending too much time perched on the back. Still, I was delighted she was coming with me and that it would be in Tasmania which we both love.

The ride to Melbourne was uneventful. Straight roads, freeways, police officers, motorcyclists heading back from a weekend on the island, increasing traffic. Same old, same old. The Tom Tom app on my phone took me where I wanted to go without fuss and I took all my gear off the bike before heading to the airport to meet my wife.

We were staying with my niece and her husband who had kindly agreed to store gear for us while we were in Tasmania, so we made our way there. They took us for a walk through Footscray past the Flemington Race course where Australia’s major horse race, the Melbourne Cup is held on the first Tuesday of every year. The entire country stops to stuff itself with chicken and champagne and watch it on the television.

A great, authentic and inexpensive Vietnamese meal and a comfortable bed capped off the day.

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Day 12

Camp CB, Phillip Island to Inverloch and return


23 October 2016

Click on the image for a detailed map

In the welcome sunshine of the morning of The Race we rugged up against the wind and cold and set out through the slippery, greasy obstacle course the camp had become. People aren’t supposed to have cars inside the motorcycle camping area, but they can bring them in to unload their fridges and other 'necessities'. Many of them never get taken out and the rule is not strictly enforced. Of course these clowns nearly always park them on the few bits of gravel or seal in the camping area making the life of motorcyclists even more difficult. I marvel sometimes at the thoughtlessness and selfishness of humans.

We were off for a mind-clearing blast on the Cape Paterson Road. It was cold and windy, but the sun was shining and it was good to be on the road for a while.

Bacon and eggs and coffee in Inverloch helped fortify me against the rest of the day.

The foreshore road at Inverloch

The boys hatch a plan while I sneak in the photo I’d made such a mess of at Camp Confined Space

Even when covered in mud and road grime, they’re fine looking bikes

Back we went to PI to brave "… the mud 'n' the crud and the beer …". A few bikes had arrived while we were away.

If you’re going to do something stupid like falling off playing at Moto Cross, it’s almost certainly going to happen when there’s an audience, so I was pleased to get back to the relative safety of the tent without having lost the CB in the mud.

Shortly after we got back we began the process of trying to find AussieFlyer—he of the splendid modded café CB. It involved a certain confusion about where exactly he was and a bit more walking than any of us really wanted, but eventually we tracked him down on the bank bang in the middle of turns 11 and 12 with a pretty good view. We made the acquaintance of his cousin before settling down to a beer and a conversation when we could get in a word over the howl of motorcycle engines.

AussieFlyer is a decent bloke, although he’d wimped out on bringing the CB to the races. I thought it was so he could enjoy a beer, but he confessed that the extensive mods he’d made to his bike need a little bit of refinement. It’s not for me to say more about that, but I hope the work is done in time for the 2017 Australian CB1100 Rally!

Anyway, we stood on the hill, had a beer or two and watched the races. I took a couple of photos and Marc Marquez completed the double for me — falling off for the second time I’ve been at PI. Cal Crutchlow held Valentino Rossi at bay for a magnificent win.

And the winner is …

The circus packed its tents and machines and got ready to move on to Malaysia. We adjourned to our pavilion on the hill and enjoyed dinner and a glass of red or two before retiring to our tents.

2016 MotoGP & Tasmania — Day 11

Camp CB, Phillip Island


22 October 2016

Day 11 dawned slightly more cheerful than its predecessor, although for a while we were diving in and out of our tents to get out of the showers. It was also still blowing hard. I felt a little better, so I joined the others wondering around the track, visiting the merchandise tent …

… eating, dodging squalls and watching chaps using motorbikes to dry the water from the track …

It was slow and painstaking, but you can see it worked eventually

Late in the day we found a shelter from the wind where we could set up our camp stoves and cook dinner, engage in spirited conversation and ponder the fate of the world.

Things looked OK at bed time.