The Cormanus Chronicles

[Cormanus]

Day 10: 21 October 2016
Camp CB, Phillip Island

The dreaded lurgy had me by a part of the anatomy that shall remain un-named. It was pouring with rain; the wind was strong enough to blow the tonic out of your gin; and it was warm and comfortable in my tent. I could hear the banshee like howl of motorcycle engines outside, so I could rest easy in the knowledge that the world was getting on with its business.

I stayed put and took no part in the day’s proceedings.


Day 11: 22 October 2016
Camp CB, Phillip Island

Day 11 dawned slightly more cheerful than its predecessor, although for a while we were diving in and out of our tents to get out of the showers. It was also still blowing hard. I felt a little better, so I joined the others wondering around the track, visiting the merchandise tent …




… eating, dodging squalls and watching chaps using motorbikes to dry the water from the track …



It was slow and painstaking, but you can see it worked eventually

Late in the day we found a shelter from the wind where we could set up our camp stoves and cook dinner, engage in spirited conversation and ponder the fate of the world.

Things looked OK at bed time.
Day 12: 23 October 2016
Camp CB, Phillip Island to Inverloch and return (119.6 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=17s9f3U1X8O7Hko7lE2LiwjLY8Hk&usp=sharing]Day 12: Link to Map

In the welcome sunshine of the morning of The Race we rugged up against the wind and cold and set out through the slippery, greasy obstacle course the camp had become. People aren’t supposed to have cars inside the motorcycle camping area, but they can bring them in to unload their fridges and other necessities. Of course many of them never get taken out and it’s not strictly enforced. Of course, these clowns also always park them on the few bits of gravel or seal in the camping area making the life of motorcyclists even more difficult. I marvel sometimes at the thoughtlessness and selfishness of humans.

We were off for a mind-clearing blast on the Cape Paterson Road. It was cold and windy, but the sun was shining and it was good to be on the road for a while.

Bacon and eggs and coffee in Inverloch helped fortify me against the rest of the day.

The foreshore road at Inverloch

The boys hatch a plan while I sneak in the photo I’d made such a mess of at Camp Confined Space




Even when covered in mud and road grime, they’re fine looking bikes

Back we went to PI to brave “… the mud the crud and the beer …. A few bikes had arrived while we were away.


If you’re going to do something stupid like falling off playing at Moto Cross, it’s almost certainly going to happen when there’s an audience, so I was pleased to get back to the relative safety of the tent without having lost the CB in the mud.

Shortly after we got back we began the process of trying to find AussieFlyer—he of the splendid modded café CB. It involved a certain confusion about where exactly he was and a bit more walking than any of us really wanted, but eventually we tracked him down on the bank bang in the middle of turns 11 and 12 with a pretty good view. We made the acquaintance of his cousin before settling down to a beer and a conversation when we could get in a word over the howl of motorcycle engines.
AussieFlyer is a good bloke, although he’d wimped out on bringing the CB to the races. I thought it was so he could enjoy a beer, but he confessed that the extensive mods he’d made to his bike need a little bit of refinement. It’s not for me to say more about that, but I hope the work is done in time for the 2017 Australian CB Rally!

Anyway, we stood on the hill, had a beer or two and watched the races. I took a couple of photos and Marc Marquez completed the double for me—falling off for the second time I’ve been at PI. Cal Crutchlow held Valentino Rossi at bay for a magnificent win.



















And the winner is …

The circus packed its tents and machines and got ready to move on to Malaysia. We adjourned to our pavilion on the hill and enjoyed dinner and a glass of red or two before retiring to our unpacked tents.