It was time for another ride with Graham. We’d tried and missed over a couple of recent weekends. The weather and diaries looked good for Sunday 23 July, so we met reasonably early on a beautiful but cool morning.
It’s more than a scenic diversion from the main road between Samford and Dayboro: it’s a better ride.
At Daybro we stopped for fuel and reasons of comfort. Our steeds rested quietly. The young woman at the service station came outside, waved and grumbled. I asked why. She said she’d waved to a motorcycle police person riding past who’d looked the other way.
“Break a girl up it would,” she said.
I’d already been approached by a bloke in a motorcycle jacket who came over to me and said, “Are you riding over Mt Mee?”
“Yes.”
“There are coppers everywhere. About 5 on bikes, a couple of unmarked cars, a gold Colorado lining you up in the 60 zone and a marked patrol car as well.”
“Thanks,” I said, “We’ll make sure to be very obedient.”
Off we went and, indeed, a goodly number of police persons were evident. Some would say they were spoiling people’s fun; others would stay they were collecting revenue for Her Majesty’s impoverished State of Queensland; yet others would say they were doing what the taxpayer funds them to do; yet others would argue that a glorious Sunday on a favourite motorcycle road is a jolly time and place for a police outing. I have no idea.
Most of the Mt Mee road is good enough fun at the posted speed limit for the need for vigilance not to be a problem and I, for one, had a lovely ride. We saw a couple of motorcycle police persons and half way down the northern side of the mountain, the red car in front of us, which had not been speeding, was pulled over by a trio of officers. We wondered why, but there was really no knowing.
We passed through Woodford, ran along the flat of the Kilcoy-Beerwah Road and up the hill before turning onto the Maleny-Stanley River Road, an old favourite.
After the best bit of that road, I took GrahamT on to the Postmans Track—a steep, narrow road that winds down the hill and turns into Aherns Road. He was a bit rude about it when we stopped soon afterwards. Fair enough too. I dislike the Postmans Track. It’s too steep going down and dips that have been constructed to slow people frustrate an even-paced ascent. However, it’s a short inconvenience for the joy of Aherns Road which tracks through quiet countryside along the Upper Mary River. It’s not at all popular which makes it even better.
It re-joins the Maleny-Kennilworth Road not too far short of the ascent to Maleny which is also a good ride. The route we took was an agreeable diversion on the way to Maleny where we stopped to partake of coffee, tea and, for me, a frittata accompanied by a lovely tomato relish.
Fortified, we sallied forth and found our way down the main road to Bald Knob Road. For some reason, the turn off always comes upon me unexpectedly. GrahamT did well to stop in time to turn with me.
The road offers great views south over the Glasshouse Mountains and the plain to the city.
It also has some pretty bushland to ride through.
We stopped for a yak. GrahamT must have been receiving instructions from somewhere—see the flash in the mirror and the hand to the ear? It was very secret. I never learned what it was about.
I had a rest.
Then it was back through Woodford and on to the Mt Mee road where an observed roadside conversation between a motorcyclist and an officer of the law served as a useful reminder as did the gesticulations of some other riders.
We climbed the lovely bends of the northern ascent to Mt Mee and, as we rounded the corner at Birches Restaurant (see here), a police officer waved us into the car park.
We were invited to submit to a random breath test—an old favourite request—and our licenses were inspected and looked up on their new mobile systems. It explained why the red car had been randomly pulled over earlier in the day. We obliged with breath and licences and then enjoyed an agreeable chat with the officers before proceeding on our way. One asked me whether I found my lanyard camera a nuisance.
“No,” I said, “It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t bang around on your chest?” he asked.
“No. Just sits there.”
“Not even at 180?” The maximum speed allowed in Queensland is 110 kph and only on major highways.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” I said, “I don’t even know if the bike can go above the speed limit.”
“Best not find out,” he said grinning.
As you come off the ridge and into the first of the corners on the way down the southern side of Mt Mee, the speed limit falls from 80kph to 60kph. Just into the lower zone was a gold ute with a canopy. As I rode past I could see the speed camera pointing back up the road, carefully covered with a dark material. Apparently, it had been there all day. I remembered seeing it as we made our way northwards.
There are some lovely corners on the way down.
Then to Daybro, outside of which two more motorcycle police officers were enjoying an animated conversation by the side of the road; Samford where we refuelled; and home.
A lovely way to spend a Sunday.
