The Cormanus Chronicles: 2017

The Dolt Report

Chapter 4: Melbourne to Brisbane

Day 16: Melbourne to Mt Beauty

31 October 2017

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Pterodactyl:

That evening we boarded the Spirit at Devonport and next morning arrived in Melbourne. The weather had turned to wet and cool, cold in the mountains. We rode northward from Melbourne over some interesting roads in the Healesville to Marysville area. Mind you, in the dry they would have been a whole lot more interesting. The area itself is heavily forested so wet bark and leaf litter made for a cautious but enjoyable ride. Reaching Marysville we then skirted the Snowy Mountains region and rode to Mt Beauty for the night. Once again, we did some serious pondering regarding the next day’s ride. Marysville Tavern (Victoria), Rhododendrons, CBs and Cormanus

Pterodactyl, CBs and Mt Beauty

There’s two other things to say: first, thanks, AussieFlyer, for the recommendation about the Reefton Spur road. It was spectacular, although rain and leaf and tree litter necessitated careful progress. Perversely, that was a bonus as hurtling through there would have meant missing the scenery.

Secondly, I do not recall an earlier night on the trip.

Day 17: Mt Beauty to Boorowa

1 November 2017

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Pterodactyl:

Leaving Bright¹ we headed north west to Ebden on the banks of the Hume Reservoir, formed in 1936 by the damming of the mighty Murray River. After some good seasons (thanks Bob, you helped) it was brimming and surrounded by lush green countryside. After breakfast at Ebden and a short stop at the dam itself, we rode the delightful Murray River Road², well described by Cormanus in previous Seat Time threads. Hume Dam, Victoria

Our initial plan was to ride to Corryong then, due to the uncertain weather, skirt the Snowy Mountains and head north towards Sydney. While having lunch in Corryong both Cormanus and I kept casting glances to the east towards the Snowy Mountains and tried to convince ourselves that the weather over the mountains was improving. Surely it was. Wasn't it? Surely that cloud looks as though it is lifting. Doesn't it? Well, to quote young Oscar, "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.” So we did. Thirty minutes later we were blasting up Swampy Plains Road climbing into the Jagungal Wilderness. The clouds had indeed parted and the road surface was dry. Talk about Twist and Shout. This was serious fun. Concentrating on the road ahead took the mind away from the cold and we were elated when we stopped at Cabramurra, Australia's highest town, for a self serve refuel and a little sight seeing from a nearby lookout. Another hour on we had descended to Gundagai and were headed for the Boorowa Hotel where Mike, the Kiwi Irish publican, helped us wash the dust from our throats. Several times. Later we played darts with Mick and a couple of friendly locals. The rules of the game I never did comprehend but apparently everyone has a chance until the last few throws, I think. I slept well. Boorowa - from the hotel verandah

¹ It was actually Mt Beauty. But who cares?
² Nope. I’ve only ever ridden a bit of it before. But, again, who cares?

There are days when the riding is special. This was one of them. It just got better and better and better. And the stretch of fast sweeping corners from Jugiong to Harden was sublime.

En route to Ebden

Lake Hume at Ebden

Bridge across the Murray River leading to that road

Murray River Road

That’s the snowy mountains to the left of Pterodactyl. If you blow up the picture, you can see touches of snow

Approaching Boorowa

This last photo is for Inhouse Bob. We took him to Boorowa. On this section of the road you could barely see the headlight bucket in front of you it was raining so hard. This is what it should have looked like, Bob.

Day 18: Boorowa to Denman

2 November 2017

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Pterodactyl:

Well, good readers, if you have stuck with me to here I thank you. But all good things must come to an end. We rode out of Boorowa through Crookwell and the Abercrombie Gorge, all good riding, to the Tarana Hotel. After a killer burger for lunch, it was time for Cormanus and I to go our separate ways. For Cormanus another 1000kms to Brisbane and home; for me a mere 180kms to home for a total of about 5150kms for the ride. It is always a privilege to ride with Cormanus and I have to thank this forum for introducing us. We have ridden many tens of thousands of kilometres together since June 2014 and I do hope that we have a few more rides left in us. Just in case you think I am being too kind to him, remember he was the dolt who accidentally deleted my Milestone thread and then replaced it with his own. I have therefore, by Pterodactylian decree, declared his Milestone thread unauthorised, even provocative. I have taken offence and thus sought a safe space in the General Discussion section for my Milestone post.

That just might be the end of a once beautiful friendship. We’ll see. ‘Dolt’ indeed!

From Tarago I rode north through Bathurst and Sofala and found my way on to the Bylong Valley Road. Last time I rode it was north-south with Pterodactyl a year or so ago and it pelted with rain all the way down. This was the other way and the weather was glorious and hot.

Some Bylong Valley scenes

I spent the night at the Denman pub which is nothing to get excited about, in spite of the good-looking beer and the sunset in the photograph below. I booked a room and headed upstairs to find a room with no windows (what do you want when it’s cheap) facing onto a foyer with a TV set and tea and coffee making facilities. I had a welcome shower and went downstairs for dinner.

The beer and the sunset may well have been the best thing about the Denman pub

I really didn’t need the chips with this very average lasagne

Eventually I decided to retire upstairs, only to find four or five blokes watching the television. A couple of them were slightly dull of eye and I wondered how long I’d have to endure the television before they went to bed. Noise cancelling ear buds helped until they eventually turned it off and went to bed.

I was asleep when the fire alarm went off. It was one of those old, mechanical things about 6-8 inches in diameter with a clapper that beats the stuffing out of the bell itself. Of course it was mounted high on the wall above my door.

Eventually the fire people turned up: huge young men fully suited and quite daunting in appearance. One of them knocked on my door. When I opened it, he mumbled something about checking detectors and then wandered off again to talk to the fellow in the room opposite who had, it appeared, brilliantly set off the alarm in the first place. After a couple of minutes I got sick of standing at the door and asked the firemen whether there was anything else they needed. ‘Nah, mate, yer right,’ they said so it was back to bed.

Day 19: Denman to Armidale

3 November 2017

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My uninspiring companions from the night before were up and away incredibly early and, of course, woke me in the process. That was OK because I got an early start and was soon on my way to Singleton and the lovely road between there and Dungog.

Passing through Singleton

On a ridge between Singleton and Dungog. The surface isn’t always great, but it’s a fantastic ride.

I stopped at Dungog for a cup of coffee and a brief meditation about whether I was really up for some gravel riding. My step daughter and her family had driven down for a wedding to be held in the Barrington Tops National Park. In the end I decided it was worth a look and, if the gravel were too alarming, I’d come back.

It was a glorious ride up. Reasonable gravel, pretty forest and farm land and my granddaughter was very surprised to see me turn up there. I had a cup of tea and a chat, looked about and then confronted the less-appealing gravel on the different route out. I didn’t fall off and I was soon back on to Thunderbolts Way on my way north.

Some pretty scenes from my gravelly detour

I’ve now ridden on Thunderbolt’s Way a number of times and I’ve always promised myself I’d take a detour into the town of Nowendoc just to see what was there. I can’t now think why I bothered except that I got some petrol and a cool drink. The grandly named Maxims of Nowendoc turned out to be a grease shop with bowser.

So I pushed on and decided to ride down the Port Stephens Cutting to Tamworth because I’ve done it only once before, it was a pretty ride and the stretch of the New England Highway from Tamworth to Uralla is agreeable.

Port Stephens Cutting

Pretty eucalypts beside the New England Highway

I spent the night in Armidale at a motel. I know I bought petrol and walked over the road for dinner where I sat in rather splendid isolation in a large dining room with not many other people. I can’t remember what I ate.

Day 20: Armidale to Brisbane

4 November 2017

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I was again under way early on my way down the oft-reported but ever lovely run to Grafton. It was cold and there are no photos until I got to Grafton where I stopped for a late breakfast.

I rode past this on the relatively quiet road from Armidale to Grafton and then realised I should have stopped to make sure no one was left inside. I went back and of course there wasn’t. Trying to take a sharp left-hander way too fast, the driver had lost it

Not long after this I came across a large carpet python lying most of the way across the road. I pulled over to try to take a photo, but I was pointing downhill, a car came along which I persuaded to drive around it, and it all got too hard. I suspect the poor thing was there because it had been run over.

A milestone reached in Grafton

Grafton is famous for its jacarandas. Students hate them as their flowering says it’s time for exams

From Grafton it’s a straight, reasonably flat and not vey interesting ride to Kyogle where I turned off along the road to Murwillumbah, also written of often in these chronicles. It’s now excessively speed limited but a lovely ride nevertheless.

First view of the border ranges and Mt Warning

It’s such an unassuming border marker on this quiet back road much loved by motorcycle riders

First sight of Brisbane from the slab

Then I was home. There were another 7,647 kilometres on the odometer, memories of some more great times with Pterodactyl, noroomtomove, AussieFlyer and other folk met along the way.

The Dolt Report

Chapter 3: Tasmania

Day 9: Devonport to Strahan

24 October 2017

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Pterodactyl:

Next morning, leaving the Spirit, we started our Tasmania ride. On day one we explored Cradle Mountain, rode to Burnie on the north coast and then down the west coast to Strahan. The west coast is exposed to the frequent low pressure systems that march unhindered from the Antarctic across and up from the Southern Ocean. West coast weather conditions can often and for long periods be very motorcycle unfriendly. Heavy rain, snow and ice are common all year round. Average rainfall is about 80ins a year, producing a wilderness area noted for its isolation, rainforests, wild rivers and lakes. But we struck it lucky. The weather was cool and generally fine making great riding conditions to match some really good roads.

Cradle Mountain, summer but still with some snow and ice

Cormanus atop the same

Strahan at dusk

A couple of things about Day 9. This is the third time I’ve ridden the CB1100 to Tasmania and each time I’ve intended to ride the west coast but the weather has always been appalling. This time, although we had a couple of showers to contend with, it was mostly fine and beautiful. It’s a great place to ride.

Secondly, for those following the map, after leaving Cradle Mountain, we visited Waratah and then rode anti-clockwise (or counter-clockwise in American) around the loop to the north. That was purely for the benefit of riding south through the Hellyer Gorge.

Wildflower at Dove Lake, Cradle Mountain

Australians seem to have a fascination with ‘big things’. I’ve talked about this before. This blow-up treasure is the Big Thylacine on the awning of the Waratah Roadhouse. It differs from other big things by not being made of fibreglass or concrete or something more enduring. The thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger is almost certainly extinct. The last one died in the Hobart zoo in 1936 or thereabouts, but there are those who keep searching for it and those who swear black and blue that it still lurks in the forests of the west coast of Tasmania. But then so does the Yeti.

The Waratah Roadhouse also sported this sign on the door of the loo. I include it because I liked it and because it seems to me to pose one of those mildly philosophical questions that amuse members of this forum in the winter months. I look forward to views on the question in due course.

Roads on the west coast contain a fair bit of quartz

Day 10: Strahan to Hobart

25 October 2017

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Pterodactyl:

After a night at Strahan (pronounced "Strawn") we rode on to Hobart. On the way we passed Derwent Bridge where, thirty years ago, I introduced Darling to the joys of bushwalking in the Tasmanian wilderness. We had three glorious days of trekking, trout fishing and camping around Lake Petrach. Steep terrain, flats covered with difficult to traverse button grass, constant rain, some sleet, mud and midges with the odd snake sighting. Oh, I nearly forgot the leeches. I loved it. Since then Darling has held fast to: "Spending the night under the stars is fine. It just has to be five stars". Hasn't stopped me though.

What a glorious day it was for a ride across a road that can be wet, snow covered, slippery and in every way treacherous. My camera seized up shortly after leaving Queenstown so there are no photos of the prettiest section of road between there and Lake St Clair.

Another Big Thing: Tuts the Wooden Kangaroo at Strahan

The road up the hill out of the old mining town of Queenstown is known locally as ‘the thousand bends’. It’s good fun, but requires you to keep your wits about you as there’s no telling at all what will be around the next corner

At a look out on the thousand bends

Having reached the top of the thousand bends, the road takes you down through the largely abandoned town of Gormanston and on to a fast road around the side of Lake Burbury. After that, it’s a feast of winding Tasmanian road and spectacular scenery until you reach Lake St Clair

Lake St Clair

Days 11-13: Hobart and environs

26-28 October 2017

Pterodactyl:

There followed three days of great day rides out from Hobart. A day with Cormanus and his mate Richard and wife (on a very nice BMW) to Port Arthur; a day by myself (Cormanus doing family duty) riding to the top of Mt Wellington and then to the south west of Hobart and, finally, a day ride with Cormanus where he showed me a couple of very scenic and motorcycle challenging roads that I had missed the previous day. All very, very, good stuff.

Cormanus and BMW K1200 riding friends

Hobart from Mt Wellington

Day 11: Hobart to Tasman Peninsula and return

26 October 2017

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When I was in my late teens my father, who was not a rich man, used a modest inheritance to buy a 36 foot Huon Pine motor-sailer. The family had some fantastic times on this boat. In 1974 I recall going away with my father, a mate of his and a mate of mine. After dinner we were chewing the fat and my father and his mate were talking about the nascent Tasmanian wine industry and predicting great things for it. Broadly speaking, 40 years later those things have come to pass. My father, an enthusiastic consumer of Scotch whiskey, was also fond of saying that very good whiskey could be made in Tasmania, largely due to the quality of the water. As it turns out, that has also come to pass and, in around 2014, a Tasmanian whiskey won a prestigious award for the world’s best single malt.

On the ferry between the mainland and Tasmania, Pterodactyl and I met a man called William McHenry who went to Tasmania not so long ago to join the whiskey producers. He continues to work at that. However, realising that good whiskey takes a good few years to mature, he decided to dabble in gin as a way of earning a quid while the whiskey developed and is now producing some very fine gin in Tasmania, including one for Australia’s Parliament House in Canberra. Pterodactyl and I sampled a couple on the ferry, both of which were excellent. Later I was to try a McHenry’s sloe gin which was also very good.

I tell you all this because Mr McHenry’s distillery is on the Tasman Peninsula and it turned out he is also a motorcyclist. He told us we should reverse the way I planned to ride around the peninsula from anti-clockwise to clockwise so as to be stunned by the magnificent view back to Hobart as we descended the hill into Premaydena. He was right. And we rode past his distillery.

One of the treats of riding to the Tasman Peninsula in warmer weather is that the Cubed Coffee Caravan is open for business. Offering really good coffee and exquisite sweet things, there is also a spectacular view of Pirates Bay and the eastern side of the peninsula.

Everywhere we went in Tasmania we saw old Triumph sports cars

McHenry’s Marvellous Medicine

Day 12: Pterodactyl’s solo ride

27 October 2017

I sat this one out. The persistent noise in my chain was a worry and I’d rung the Honda dealer in Hobart to order a new chain and sprockets in the event that was the problem. It was and they were replaced in the morning. I spent the rest of the day attending to some family business while Pterodactyl went riding. I’m pretty sure the map below represents his route.

Click on the image for a detailed map

We met up late in the afternoon and decided to take a walk to Hobart’s historic Salamanca Place where, amongst the Friday evening after-work revellers, we found a beer or two and something passable to eat. Blowed if I can remember where or what we ate now.

On the walk home we passed an interesting looking bar and stepped inside to take a look. It specialised in spirits, particularly Tasmanian produced spirits. Liquor, I think it would be called in North America. Anyway, after meeting William McHenry we felt we should sample one or two. This was where I drank the McHenry Sloe Gin as well as the Sullivan’s Cove Single Malt that won the world prize. It was very good indeed.

There may have been a cleansing ale consumed at the hotel before bed.

Day 13: Pterodactyl’s solo ride with variations

28 October 2017

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Given the dilapidated state of the two pathetic old men who sat beside Sandy Bay Road eating greasy food late on Saturday morning, it is slightly surprising this ride occurred at all.

We went anti-clockwise around the route to point G, then E, F and then Back over the mountain giving spectacular views south. Then back to Hobart via Cygnet.

We might even have made it back to the pub to see some of the final qualifying races for the Sepang MotoGP on the TV.

The nineteenth century shot tower at Taroona, still one of Tasmania’s tallest buildings. It’s a hideous climb to the top.

Posting this photo made me look to the history of this building. See here for detail. I was interested to learn that the details of the process were a Big Secret. So this excerpt from the web page was of interest:

Moir’s process was probably as follows:

Lead was prepared in a furnace at the south-eastern corner of the property. Moir added 900g of arsenic (to decrease surface tension) and 6.35kg of antimony (to harden the shot) to every 45.35 kg of lead.

The resultant ‘poisoned lead’ was cast into 7.7 kg ingots, conveyed to the factory, then remelted in cauldrons on the upper level of the factory for small shot and the top of the tower for larger shot. Firewood had to be winched to the upper cauldron. The molten lead was then poured through colanders, forming droplets which became spherical as they dropped. They fell into a tub of water at the base of the tower. The size of the shot depended on the amount of arsenic, the size of the holes in the colander and the height of the fall. Watts’ patent stipulated that large sized shot required a fall of 45.75m (150 feet), hence the height of Moir’s shot tower at 48m with the colander 46.36m above the base.

The lead cooled partly while falling, then completely in the water. The antinomy hardener ensured that it maintained shape under the impact of the water.

The cooled shot, green in colour, was winched to the factory’s upper floor where it was dried and run over inclined glass planes to separate out defective shot (which did not roll true). Imperfect shot was remelted and the process repeated.

The shot was polished in a revolving drum (likened to a farmer’s barrel churn) using plumbago (graphite) then lowered through a trapdoor to the ground floor where it passed through ten sieves for grading into sizes ranging from fine birdshot to large balls. The graded shot was bagged into 12.7kg (28lb) handsewn linen bags stencilled with the manufacturer’s name and sent to market. At its peak the factory produced 100 tons of shot per annum.

Looking south from the top of the hill between Woodbridge and Cygnet

On the road around Mt Wellington

Day 14: Hobart to St Helens

29 October 2017

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Pterodactyl:

Leaving Hobart we rode up the east coast. Most of the moisture pushed onto Tasmania's west coast remains there making the east coast a different country. Scenic but dryer and more akin to the east coast of the mainland. We had a good run up to St Helens for the night. Highlight of the ride was some "spirited" riding amongst a group of bikes on the Lake Leake Rd up to Campbelltown (some twisties and brilliant sweepers). While in Hobart, Cormanus had a dealer change his CB's chain and sprockets and the chain needed some adjustment by St Helens, probably from piling on the torque on the Lake Leake Rd.

I can’t remember why, but I took not a single photo this day.

We arrived in St Helens in time to check into our room, buy a 6-pack of beer and watch the Sepang MotoGP live on the TV. I forget what happened now, but it was exciting and we drank all the beer.

Day 15: St Helens to Devonport

30 October 2017

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Pterodactyl:

Next morning we did find a motorcycle workshop on the outskirts of St Helens, East Coast Motorcycles. As we rolled into the driveway I couldn't help but be reminded of Billy Bob Thornton's workshop in the movie U Turn, a 1997 neo-western neo-noir crime thriller film directed by Oliver Stone. But, in fact, the truth couldn't have been further from that. This bloke knew as much about motorcycles, and maybe more, as anyone I've known. Racing bikes to home made rat bikes, all there. And all showed the signs of someone who knew what they were doing. Cormanus' chain was adjusted very smartly and in the true Aussie tradition of helping out a bloke on the road, no charge, with the laconic "She'll be right, mate". Highly Recommended.

There were showers in the morning so I left the camera packed away for the day, although I managed a couple of shots with the phone camera.

Pterodactyl in Beaconsfield getting ready for the final leg to the ferry

The bikes were a bit grotty from days of riding and a few wet roads. However, they were completely messed up by some roadworks just before as we got to Devonport. They were filthy beyond belief; even ride4now’s wildest fantasy couldn’t approach the level of grot on these bikes. The surface being repaired was wet and slippery and we were lucky to have ridden through it without falling off. To say made a complete mess of the bikes is an understatement. I mean … even I thought they were dirty!

In light of a recent thread about dirty bikes, my failure to get pictures of the bikes before the wash is a fail of epic proportions.

We had time to spare before boarding the ferry and a Google search threw up a car wash place around the corner. Turned out the bloke was a detailer who gave the bikes a quick going over with anonymous bottles of wonder gunge. My rims have not been that clean since I bought the bike! They still look OK.

Clean bikes