Day 10: Cowra to Tamworth
6 February 2020
While, like so much of the country I'd seen, my in-laws' farm near Cowra desperately needed rain, it was pouring down at home in Brisbane and the front was forecast to make its way south down the east coast. There was hope for the firefighters to the east of the Great Dividing Range, but farmers to its west were not overly optimistic.
Riding much of the day through really heavy rain was not all that appealing so I changed my plans again and decided to stay a little west of my intended route and make for Tamworth. Sure, I'd get a little wet, but the forecast didn't look too bad and I'd be well placed to make a final run home the following day in what looked like more rain.
It was cool and I soon stopped to put in an extra layer, but I stayed dry until Molong where I refuelled, ate a late breakfast and met a pig. Not long afterwards, the first signs of rain appeared and I stopped and put on my wets.
It's much easier to rack up milestones when you measure distance in kilometres. A milestone in Cowra.
Heading north from Cowra
A porcine apparition in Molong
As long as I can see all right, the majority of the rain stays outside my wets, and it doesn't get too hot, I quite like riding in the rain. It was a good day for it. The rain was gentle, the temperature reasonable and I made good time along the country roads. While none of them was a spectacular riding road, they were pleasant enough and I enjoyed the realisation that there had been sufficient previous rain for the country to be showing healthy signs of green.
I was enjoying myself and making such good time that I was starting to wonder whether I could make Uralla or even Glen Innes for the night.
I refuelled again at Coolah and suddenly discovered, slightly to my surprise, that I was close to the Black Stump. In Australian lore, the Black Stump is that point at which civilisation pretty much ends. In Australia, if you tell folks you've been 'out beyond the black stump' they know you've been out the back of buggery in no man's land. Who'd have thought it, but the Black Stump purports to be a tiny distance from where I refuelled. There's even a pub there. It's strange really: I've been well west of this alleged black stump where there are more signs of civilisation. But who am I to argue with a sign?
It was still raining so I didn't stop for a photo.
Then I turned left onto the Gap Road. I stopped to check the GPS and discovered all was well and proceeded. Six and a half kilometres later, I slowed for a slight dip into a sharp left-hand corner under a railway bridge, turned and the next thing I knew I was losing control of the bike. Time slows. I remember fighting briefly to stay up. Then I went down. As I slid along the road, I wondered how well my abrasion resistant jeans would stand up to this treatment. Quite well, as it turned out.
As I noted, there had been rain this way in the days before my arrival. Good falls apparently. So good they'd washed the lovely dark soil off the Macquarie Plain and into this slight depression in the road. When damp, it's as slippery as a cake of soap, as a mechanic was to tell me next day, and the day's mild rain had made sure it was well moistened.
I leapt to my feet feeling fine, but embarrassed. A bloke in a ute stopped and made sure I was all right then helped me lift the bike up. Another bloke stopped to help and others slowed to make sure I was OK. I was, but the bike's handlebars were bent and the left foot peg had disappeared. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to ride it to Tamworth, but I did manage to make it out of the dip and up the hill slightly to a place where I could pull off the road. The second guy came with me and waited until he was sure a tow truck was coming. He'd offered to load it into his ute and get it and me to Tamworth, but there was no way we were going to get it there without a ramp.
While I'm sure mud packs have their place, they do nothing for a CB1100
While I waited for the tow truck, I rang my wife to give her the good news. I wasn't sure quite what I expected but, having established quickly enough that I was really OK, she was very calm and encouraging. She even apologised for not being able to come and get me. It's a great comfort to get such assurance and support at these tricky moments in life.
Eventually the tow truck arrived and we loaded the bike. I made an ignominious entry to Tamworth. The tow truck left me at the local bike dealer where someone had kindly waited behind so we could get the bike off the road. My wets were trashed and covered in mud, but I was OK and I was pretty sure the bike could be made roadworthy easily enough.
I retreated next door to the motel where the owners were very kind to me. I scraped off the worst of the mud, had a hot shower and dinner and went to bed. Of course I spent a fair chunk of the night reliving the accident and didn't sleep well.
