Farewell and Away
Day 14: Sydney to Cessnock
26 March 2017
The original plan had been that Pterodactyl and I would deliver Inhouse Bob to the airport and I would then start my ride home. Pterodactyl intended to join me for some of the trip and was still talking about it the previous day while he didn’t sit on his supervisory stool.
Mrs Pterodactyl had a long-standing arrangement to be away for the coming week and, after a stern talking to by their daughter agreed to go. My taking Bob to the airport would not really be feasible, so I decided to leave a day early and get some kilometres under my tyres.
I packed up and went to see Pterodactyl in hospital. He was already chafing at the bit, not sure when he would be operated on. The nature of his admission meant that other surgery would take priority.
We said our farewells. I went and had lunch with my eldest son and his partner, before heading back to Pterodactyl’s house, to load the bike and make my convoluted way back to Inhouse Bob’s hotel to say farewell.
Click on the image for a detailed map
It was a glorious day and, by the time I got to the other side of the harbour, I was already missing my companions. It was odd looking in the mirror and not seeing the other bikes behind me. I was sorry, too, that it may well be a while before I get to ride again with Inhouse Bob. He was an excellent companion both on and off the road. A great bloke, and welcome Down Under any time.
As I say, it was a lovely afternoon and I made my way north on dry roads, past a number of landmarks from our first ride with Inhouse Bob.
It was a bit late for a pie
Bridge over the Hawkesbury
Photo opportunity for someone
Somewhere at the lower left of the flare in the next picture one can discern the sign for Lemming Corner (oft written about by us Australians). Authorities, bored with scraping bikes and bikers off its surface, have spent lots of money ridding of it of the decreasing radius that provided all the fun. It’s still a splendid bit of road, although I prefer the longer, sweeping corners on the top of the hill to its south.
At Wollembi I turned right onto the road for Cessnock which I’d not ridden before. Another excellent ride and worth another visit someday.
Not far north of Wollembi I passed another milestone
Wollembi to Cessnock
I stopped for fuel at Bellbird, essentially a southern suburb of Cessnock, and realised I was tired, so I started looking for a hotel. I chose the Hotel Cessnock for no reason other than it was there. It turned out to be a good choice. The owner gave me a garage to lock the bike in; the room was clean and even had a television; the bed was comfortable; a simple breakfast was included; the beer was cold, and the menu was good. I had duck with poached pear and a glass of wine or two.
I checked in with Pterodactyl’s daughter. He had not been operated on due to the number of other more pressing patients; she hoped he’d be done the following day.
Day 15: Cessnock to Brisbane
27 March 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
It was a good-looking morning. Of course. There was no longer any need to impress overseas visitors. I had a cup of tea and something to eat before making my way downstairs and loading the bike. Although it would be a long ride by my standards, I thought I might have a go at getting home that day, while remaining willing to stop early if I felt too tired.
Things got off to an irritating start: I realised I was riding into the sun; but it quickly got worse when, within about 10 minutes, I hit a section of gravel road, some of which was under repair. It was new base, just being graded and it was, without compare, the worst surface I’d ridden on in a trip that had thrown up a few. It was loose and slippery and I was very relieved indeed to get through it and back on to a firm surface without falling off.
Then, as I closed in on Maitland, the fog settled in. I wasn’t too worried, but after a while I realised it was insidious and slightly worse than the pouring rain of three days ago. Your visor slowly but certainly mists over and can fog up inside. You can’t ride nearly fast enough for the wind to blow the water off, and you get gradually wetter. It’s like putting a frog in cold water and bringing it to the boil.
By the time I reached Wollarobba the fog had blown away and I rode the final section to Dungog warming gradually and enjoying the sun.
I stopped to change my gloves for a pair with a rubber membrane that allows me to wipe my visor and these chaps were curious.
I refuelled and took coffee in Gloucester before pressing on up Thunderbolts Way. It was Monday, there wasn’t much traffic and I made good time to Armidale where I again refuelled.
Leaving Gloucester
Gloucester to Armidale
Evidence of bushfires on the road to Armidale
Grazing country on the plateau of the Great Dividing Range
Another milestone about 6 kms south of Walcha
Walcha
The knocking sound that seemed to be emanating from the chain at low revs was back as I left Armidale. I stopped and pushed and pulled and tested the chain tension and could see nothing wring other than a mountain of dirt, so I kept going on a quick sweep across the plateau, before beginning the 100 km descent to Grafton. I’ve said enough about this road in the past and it was every bit as good this day as it’s ever been.
As I was getting ready to ride on after looking at the chain, three swiftly moving sports bikes went past. I caught glimpses of them occasionally, but they were travelling faster than me. But somewhere on the way down the hill to Grafton, I was following a car around a corner and saw three blokes pushing a sport bike out of a ditch at the apex of a sharp turn. I slowed to see if they needed help, but was quickly waved on.
At Coutts Crossing I stopped to respond to nature’s call. I took this photo of the bike but didn’t notice the sign until days later when I uploaded the picture!
The sport bike boys rode past again—all three of them—so I assume little harm was done.
I refuelled at South Grafton, had a long, lazy cup of tea, took pity on a young man and bought a can of wonder goop for cleaning and waxing the bike without washing it. I also gave the chain a good dose of oil which I didn’t think it needed. Apparently it did. The knocking noise went away.
And then it was onto the highway—it does not rate as a slab for a good 130 kms north. It’s old and pretty enough and, although there’s lots of traffic, it moves well.
I’ve always really liked the northern rivers of New South Wales. They’re wide and slow moving and pretty as they wind their way through sugar cane fields. There are some lovely old bridges too, of the kind that use counterweights to lift a centre span. No doubt the endless reconstruction of the highway will soon render them redundant.
Approaching this second bridge, you get to read a new sort of road sign in Australia. It warns you of an Average Speed Safety Camera.
The gantry (below) is fitted with the dreaded cameras which photograph your number plate as you pass. It is then photographed somewhere further along the road and a computer works out whether your average speed has been within the limit. If not, it’s demerit points and a fine.
From a little south of Ballina to the Queensland border, the highway is now dual lane both ways. This modern-looking tunnel is a feature. Further north are two substantial bridges crossing over the road. They are covered in trees and bushes and were put there for wildlife in an attempt to reduce the amount of road kill. It was dark when I got to them so there are no photos.
Another cup of tea at Chinderah and then it was back on the bike for the final 120 kms home. It had been a long day—about 11 hours and nearly 880 kms. I was pleased to be home. All up I’d ridden just under 5,500 kms in the 15 days I’d been away.
An exchange of texts during the day told me that Inhouse Bob’s departure from Sydney had been delayed by 5 hours — which must have been very frustrating for him. His message said two hours of it had been to change a light bulb! I was home well before he got as far as Dallas. Pterodactyl’s surgery had been delayed again and reports had him very frustrated.
The weather had not been kind, which was a great pity for Inhouse Bob who had come an awful long way to ride around in a rain-proof suit. Notwithstanding the weather, I enjoyed nearly all the riding as well as the chance to ride with friends old and new. I also enjoyed seeing four CBs together in one place. Can’t match the US rally or our Taiwanese friends, but it was OK just the same.
Thanks for coming Inhouse Bob. Thanks to Tezza, noroomtomove and Pterodactyl for the support, advice and assistance leading up to the ride and along the way. And not to forget aussie59 who turned up to say g’day and aussieflyer who was prevented by work from joining us in Omeo.
I know from other posts that noroomtomove, Tezza and Inhouse Bob have been riding again. Me too. Pterodactyl, at the time of writing, is mastering his crutches in good spirits. He’ll not be back on the bike for a number of weeks.
As always, it’s a treat to ride the CB1100. It just keeps on going. And it was a real joy to ride the final 100 or so kilometres in the dark. I’ve always like riding at night when there aren’t things that jump out at you; the glow of the CB’s instruments makes it a real pleasure.
