Chapter 1 — Brisbane to Phillip Island
Introduction
One of the many reasons I hung around on the CB1100 forum was because some members seemed to appreciate what started out as modest little ride reports. Of course, they became larger and larger and larger, although I hope they retained their essential modesty. Of course it was purely selfish on my part: there was some need in me to write. But, with something to write about, fuelled by positive feedback, there was no stopping me.
Time goes by, though, and, while the enjoyment both of riding and writing continues, life’s circumstances have conspired to leave me with less time for both activities. More than that, though, I’ve found it a bit hard to get motivated to write about roads traversed and described before. And how many lanyard-cam photos of bits of road does a person want to see?
Much of the reporting was by my riding buddy Pterodactyl (see here.) I'll quote the relevant sections on this site.
Which brings me to the title of the report.
Australia, some say, is blessed by the gift of an immigrant reporter, employed by the global empire of the former Australian, now US citizen, Rupert Murdoch. The reporter’s name is Andrew Bolt and he hosts a television program called The Bolt Report. I'm not a Foxtel subscriber; I have no other access to cable TV; and can’t watch The Bolt Report and make no comment on it. I will say only that Bolt is a darling of his political opponents, curiously not because they agree with a word he says, but more because they’d lose another whipping boy if he were silenced. As with all successful agents provocateur, those provoked by Bolt have failed to realise the wisdom of ignoring him.
Anyway, as Pterodactyl was kind enough to refer to me as a ‘dolt’ in the course of his essay, The Dolt Report this shall be.
Day 1: Brisbane to Walcha
16 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
The forecast was for rain until late in the day. It was overcast as I left home and I was ready for a quick stop to put on the wets. After the Ride Down Under, when I spent days with boots full of water, I’d bought some new over-boots. I was faced with one of the motorcyclist’s dilemmas: do I want it to rain so I can see if my new kit works, or would I rather never know? I now don’t remember how long it was before I stopped and put on all my waterproof gear; I do know I was over the border into New South Wales before I got showered on.
That was to be the pattern for the rest of the day: dry patches then showers. I kept my wets on all the way to Walcha where I checked into the local pub for the night.
The waterproof over-boots worked well.
My route for the day took me along the Mt Lindsay Highway over the border; down the Summerland Way to Grafton and then up the glorious Grafton-Armidale Road to the top of the Great Dividing Range. There’s a description here.
Other blokes on their way to the GP and staying at Walcha invited me to join them and we made a reasonable evening of it.
The CB outside Fusspots Tea House at Ebor, a welcome oasis in an otherwise rather bleak and chilly spot
A milestone passed somewhere between Ebor and Armidale
There are no other photos. It was too miserable.
Day 2: Walcha to Sydney
17 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
Although perhaps not in showroom condition, I was up early and on the way. The forecast was better, but it was overcast and I wondered how long it would be before the wets came out again. I recall the mist closing in as I rode down Thunderbolts Way, but I didn’t put them on and from Gloucester on the weather got better and better.
I’ve written often about Thunderbolts Way. There’s one report here.
Just outside Walcha at the start of Day 2
The flat, quick northern part of Thunderbolts Way with slightly ominous weather to the south
Heading into the mist
At Gloucester I stopped for fuel and then found a quiet spot where I could haul the bike on to the centre stand and give the chain a good lube. It had been making an occasional clunking noise during the morning and I hoped it was pretty dry from the rain day before. I say ‘hoped’ because it had actually started clunking on the Ride Down Under—where it got seriously wet and pretty muddy as well—but I’d kept it well lubed and it had been OK in the succeeding months.
I also took the luggage off the bike and put the AirHawk cushion on under my newly acquired sheepskin seat cover which, while a great improvement on the stock seat, was not quite enough for my apparently over-sensitive backside.
After a cup of coffee, it was off to Singleton via Dungog along a road I enjoy more every time I ride it. It’s covered briefly in the report linked to above, including telling of an uncomfortable period following a cattle truck.
Climbing onto the ridge between Gloucester and Singleton
From Singleton, I headed for the Putty Road, a favourite of Sydney motorcyclists. Boring as bat guano when you first join it, it is not too long before you leave the plain and make your way into a long valley. This section—the ‘10 Mile’—towards the northern end is famed for its twisties. The surface is excellent; so too the scenery. Pterodactyl, Tezza and I rode it on the way South to the Ride Down Under — see here.
I stopped for Lunch at the Grey Gum International Café somewhere south of the 10 Mile.
A Grey Gum burger for lunch
A bleat: Australians like their bread and in recent decades more and more speciality bakers have appeared offering tasty and interesting bread. So, why do fast food shops continue to install otherwise excellent burgers with equally excellent trimmings in tasteless rolls (buns) made of unhealthy white flour?
Fortified by the burger, I decided it was such a glorious day that I had time to ride the 10 Mile the other way and then make my way down the Wollombi Road to the Old Pacific Highway. The remaining stretch of the Putty Road is a good ride, but the 10 Mile is better and the stretch of the Wollombi Road from Wollombi to Central Mangrove is quick and really enjoyable.
On the 10 Mile
Leaving the hamlet of Wollombi, the road takes one through a valley and gradually uphill until you come to Lemming Corner, famous as a decreasing-radius corner on which motorcyclists come to grief. Its approaches are set about with dire warnings to slow down. Apparently they’re not very effective as people keep falling off there.
Warnings on the approach to Lemming Corner. It’s a relief to get through it without coming off!
The Old Pacific Highway would be a glorious ride if it were not ridiculously speed limited; even so, it’s much more enjoyable than the slab and there’s a couple of OK cafés where it’s good to stop for a late afternoon cup of tea. This time I stopped at the Old Road Café where I made one of those gender-based assumptions of which modern man should be ashamed. There was a middle-aged bloke in a well-worn leather jacket and an attractive young woman in smart black leathers sitting at a table chatting and drinking tea. A beautiful red Firebird and an older smaller bike were clearly theirs and I made the assumption that the older bloke was taking the younger woman out for some practice. When the woman got on the Firebird, I realised the error of my assumption.
From there I rode a little further before joining the slab for the run into Sydney where I spent an agreeable evening with my son and his fiancée.
Day 3: Sydney to Moss Vale
18 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
After breakfast with my son, I set off across Sydney for a cup of coffee with Pterodactyl. We hatched a plan for the following day and tightened and lubed my chain in the hope that it would cure the noise it was making.
I then set out for the very pretty Royal National Park. For all that it’s heavily speed limited and over trafficked, it’s a great ride and, on a good day, deposits you pretty much on Stanwell Tops.
Views of the Royal National Park. I followed the bloke on the cruiser all the way through as there are very few places to pass and, anyway, there’s little point. I had occasion to reflect, not for the first time, that, from the rear, the riders of that style of bike look more than a little odd.
I stopped at Stanwell Tops for lunch. Last time I was there—on the Ride Down Under with Pterodactyl and Inhouse Bob—it was a hideous day — (see Pterodactyl’s report).
This is part of the view Inhouse Bob would have seen if the weather hadn’t been quite so vile on the day we passed through
I then followed the route Pterodactyl was to take the next day, although my ascent of the Macquarie Pass was completely the opposite of his as there’d been accident.
The approach to Macquarie Pass
But it was a slow ascent
I had time to kill so I treated myself to a sneak preview of Kangaroo Valley
The bridge at Kangaroo Valley
The Great Dividing Range from Kangaroo Valley
I had a hilarious night with my relatives in Moss Vale during which I uncovered this remarkable piece of research.
Day 4: Moss Vale to Braidwood
19 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
Feeling slightly second hand, I left the relatives early-ish in the morning and treated myself to another ride down Kangaroo Valley and then via a lovely road to Berry. It was not in spectacular condition, but, hey, it was lovely.
After a healthy romp back up the escarpment via the Jamberoo road, I met Pterodactyl at the Robertson Pie Shop.
On the road between Kangaroo Valley and Berry
It was a glorious day! On the slab heading north to meet Pterodactyl
Heading up the Jamberoo road to the Robertson Pie Shop
From this point, things get a bit complicated from a narrative point of view as the Pterodactyl scoop covers the ensuing events.
The solution I’ve hit on is to quote the ride report section of Pterodactyl’s earlier post in full, except that I’ll break it into sections so I can insert maps and photos in vaguely relevant places.
Pterodactyl:
Earlier in the year Cormanus and I hatched a plan to ride to the Australian MotoGP and then, after the GP, take the car ferry to Tasmania and spend a week riding the great motorcycle roads the Island State has to offer. Cormanus also had some family business to attend to while there. I won't attempt to describe in detail the trip but I will say, without hesitation, if you ever intend to take a motorcycle tour of Tasmania, and you surely should, then for a guide choose Cormanus. In the week we were there we got around most of Tasmania, rode the best roads and had a great time. Thanks Mate. Recommended.
However, back to the MotoGP ride. I met Cormanus, who had bypassed Sydney on his ride down from Brisbane, at the Robertson Pie Shop, about 100kms to the south-west of Sydney. After a pie and a coffee we rode through Kangaroo Valley to Nowra and then on to the Braidwood Hotel for the night. Over a few refreshing beers, a little red wine, and some good pub grub we pondered the next day ride options and decided we would take a generally coastal route to Phillip Island. We planned to deviate from the coast road to ride a couple of the roads that link the coast to the mountains and plateaus of the Great Dividing Range. All these are lightly trafficked, lightly monitored by the law (not that we would ever break any laws) and very heavily twisted.
Back down Kangaroo Valley for the third time in two days. What could be better?
Approaching Braidwood. Pterodactyl sporting new riding kit and freshly painted side covers
Day 5: Braidwood to Cann River
20 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
Pterodactyl:
We left Braidwood next morning to effect the "plan". The weather was overcast and cool. As we proceeded eastward and came to the downhill run to the coast the overcast lowered. During the next hour we experienced, in my opinion at least, one of those rides that are memorable for their nightmare qualities; up there with thunderstorm rides, heavy rain rides or falling over on dirt kind of rides. The problem? Just fog, that's all. But dense fog, a thick pea soup that reduces visibility to around 30 meters at best and makes everything, including the road, very, very, wet. The kind of, well, let's say, cussed stuff that makes a mat of small beads that cling to the visor like pooh to a blanket and will not be removed except by a glove wipe, and then only for a millisecond. The kind of stuff that produces internal fogging of the visor that needs one to crack the same to clear but also lets cold, moisture laden air into the helmet. All this on a downhill section of twisties that, on a good day, would be motorcycle Nirvana but on this day was replete with hard-driven, tail-gating, windscreen wipered and air-conditioned four wheel drives that seemed intent on terrifying two CB riders relying on engine braking alone to negotiate corners that would give no indication of what, or who, was more than a few meters ahead. Couldn't slow down (who wants to be rear ended), couldn't speed up (poor adhesion and can't see) and with no shoulder to stop and get some respite, forty minutes of this felt like an eternity. At one stage, on a nasty bend, I thought Cormanus was going to over-run me and then he slid back and disappeared from view for the next twenty minutes until I could find a place to safely stop and wait. Later, on comparing notes with Cormanus, I believe that I had it a little better than him as my helmet is equipped with a Pinlock Visor System that gave some measure of relief from internal fogging. Recommended.
Down on the coastal strip the weather cleared and all was good. Our spirits soared and our hearts were filled with joy as we rolled the throttles on. In the nature of motorcyclists our travails were quickly forgotten, at least for the moment. We also managed to howl past those who had given us such a hard time coming down the mountain. Revenge is sweet, even if only imagined.
After the ghastly descent from Braidwood, it turned into a pretty decent sort of day
Day 6: Cann River to Fish Creek (388 kms)
21 October 2017
Click on the image for a detailed map
Pterodactyl:
After spending the night at Cann River, and doing some pondering in a similar manner to the previous night we headed for the Fish Creek Hotel, which at about 60kms from Phillip Island, was to be our base for the weekend (no camping for us this year). This would normally entail riding a particularly boring piece of the Princess Highway between Bairnsdale and Sale, about 100kms of straight, heavily policed road that despite the amount of revenue raised along its length still seems to produce some notable accident statistics. The main cause is almost certainly sheer boredom leading to inattention. However, some years ago, our good friend and forum member, Noroomtomove, had pointed us in the direction of a pleasant country road that bypasses this piece of highway and, in his honour, Cormanus and I now refer to this road as the "Eijnar Highway". Previously Mr and Mrs Noroomtomove had invited us to lunch with them and so around midday we pulled into their property in a rural setting, which, curiously enough, has plenty of room to move. It was good to be welcomed by the Noroomtomoves (and again many thanks to them). After a great lunch of excellent sandwiches and many cups of tea to wash down the chatter we set out for Fish Creek. We were disappointed that due to family commitments Noroomtomove was not able to accompany us to the GP as he has done in the past. His white CB was in the garage and looking good.
The Fish Creek Hotel - sometimes called "The Fishy"
