Bairnsdale to Jindabyne
6 February 2019
The mechanic at the bike shop put the bike on the centre stand—complaining because of the weight of the luggage—had a good look at the chain and interrogated me about lubing the chain. I told him I'd done it the day before with Belray lube.
"That dry stuff?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He grunted in the way of mechanics, wheeled the bike inside onto a hoist, got his offsider to help him oik it onto the centre stand again, had a good look at the chain and then gave it a mighty bath in some other lubricant.
"Should be right now."
I didn't think he liked me very much, but he gave me a friendly wave as I rode off.
The day started cool and overcast and got progressively hotter as it progressed. I had a fabulous ride to Mitta Mitta along some of the roads I'd ridden on the way down and finally up the Alpine Way which takes one over the Snowy Mountains. By then it was quite late and it was cooling down quickly.
Some pictures of the southern end of the Omeo Valley Highway, one of my all time favourite rides.
You know it's going to be fun when you see a sign like this.
After an excellent new road recommended by NoRoomtoMove, I took breakfast at a café in Omeo where I was confronted by the infuriating view below.
The road immediately to the north of Omeo passes through open country for a time. Some farmer had his herd in the 'long paddock'. I tried—I really did—to pass by quietly, but one of the Hereford cows simply did not want to be passed and took off at a gallop up the road. Cows look awkward when they gallop and I feel guilty about making them do it so I proceeded as slowly as I could until I was able to pass it.
Further up the road, above the snow line, in an unprecedented act of generosity, I stopped to clear some debris from the road in the hope that a fellow motorcyclist wouldn't be undone by it.
It really is a glorious ride.
Further up the road, beside the banks of Lake Hume, there's a memorial to Murray Grey. Without stopping, one could be forgiven for thinking Murray Grey was a farmer or dam builder; but, no, it is a breed of cattle.
Even further along, on the Alpine Highway, there is a good view of the Murray No.1 hydro-electric power scheme's water race.
A little further along Scammell's Lookout gives a good view of the western face of the Snowy Mountains. There was no snow, but the cloud gathered ominously warning me of a possible dousing later in the ride.
Sadly, this Siberia is not the area adjacent to the Phillip Island race circuit, but a cold spot near the highest point of the Alpine Way.
A little further along, this sign marks a high point just before Dead Horse Gap …
From where one gets a pleasant view down the valley towards the Threadbo Ski Village.
From here it's an agreeable and quick ride to Jindabyne where I decided to stop for the night. I tried two pubs. The first was full; the second was too expensive. The third turned out to be largely deserted as it was summer and I collected my key from a machine. It was a way to walk to get anything to eat and drink so I decided to ride out and pick up a pizza and a beer or two, but the rain started to fall. Seriously. The pizza place offered delivery, but not this night because the driver hadn't turned up for work.
In the end I made do with some porridge from my camping supplies and copious cups of tea. Not the easiest evening for a man accustomed to a drink.
