(G)Rumblin’ through Queensland—or (P)Terodactyl’s Terrible Trip

[Cormanus]

Day 1—On which Cormanus heads south-west



[url=https://www.google.com.au/maps/@-26.1936066,148.1928126,6.5z/data=!4m2!6m1!1sz5L5SB6CRw2M.kBqZs40j1Ncc?hl=en]The Map of the entire trip can be found here.

Saturday 23 April was a glorious autumn morning. I was on the CB1100 headed for Texas and it was much more agreeable riding weather than the [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=8001]previous trip.


Heading off

This time, Texas was but a filling station on my way to Bingara in northern New South Wales where I’d meet up with Pterodactyl for a week’s adventuring in bits of Queensland I’ve not been before.

Since escaping the Solomon Islands in February, I’d been looking forward to a ride with Pterodactyl. I’d rung him to propose a date and he confessed to just having signed on for the [url=http://www.rumblersanzacride.com]Rumblers Anzac Ride through bits of central Queensland. He was keen as it would take him back to some places he hadn’t visited for many a year. And he’d laid out $50 for the pleasure. What could I do? I sighed of course, then signed on, paid my $50 and agreed to meet Pterodactyl a day early so we could ride to Taroom for the start of the ride.


It was a glorious morning as I hit the Centenary Highway

There’s nothing much new to describe in this part of the trip. I took to the highways to get myself south reasonably quickly. It’s pretty enough, but mostly straight and there are a few cars. But soon the Border ranges loom in the distance.



And then you’re through Aratula, climbing towards Cunningham’s Gap and looking at the range that gives the Scenic Rim its name.





Even though the Gap is at a modest 2,500 feet, it was surprisingly cool as I went through the pass and I was glad to get off the bike for fuel and coffee at Warwick. I didn’t quite need fuel, but I wanted to make it to Texas.

My original plan had been to repeat the ride to Stanthorpe and then across to Texas. I’d enjoyed the road and I was keen to ride it again. However, as I drank my coffee I decided it’s always a good idea to look at alternatives and decided on a different route that would see me turning off the Cunningham Highway just west of Oman Ama.

In an attempt to maintain some level of neuronic activity as I age, I try not to rely on a GPS when riding, particularly in rural areas where it usually isn’t too hard to find turn offs. This day was no different and the GPS wasn't running. So, of course, I missed the turn off and ended up in Inglewood a little further along the road.


At a comfort stop (for the rider) between Warwick and Inglewood

No problems, I thought, there’s a good road from Inglewood to Texas.

It’s an excellent road. Great surface, good visibility, but straight as a die and as boring as batsh*t as you can see in the next picture.



‘Get used to it Cormanus,’ I thought, ‘many of the roads you’ll ride on this trip will have that many curves!’

Fifty or so kilometres later I had refuelled and was eating lunch in Texas.


Parked at the lunch stop at Texas. For younger readers, the curious object behind the pole is a telephone box: an artefact of civilisation now largely redundant. In the days before the ubiquitous mobile phone it was a critical centre of communication.


Shortly after leaving Texas, I was over the Dumresq River and into New South Wales.

During long weekends in Australia (and this was one, of which I’ll have more to say later) local State Emergency Service (SES) volunteers provide ‘driver revivers’ designed to reduce road accidents brought about by fatigue. The volunteers set up somewhere with an urn full of boiling water, a jar of instant coffee, a box of tea bags, milk, sugar, polystyrene cups and biscuits. The then stick up clumsily drawn but charming signs to invite you to stop. Drivers who do stop are rewarded with a free drink and biscuit and are invited to make a donation to help the work of the SES.

The SES is an amalgam of state government employees and a much larger number of volunteers who turn out during periods of crisis and havoc to provide welcome community assistance. If, for example, there’s an appalling hailstorm and roofs are damaged, it’s the SES that’ll turn out to patch them and provide emergency assistance. It’s an important organisation and well worth chucking a few bob at.

Arriving in Warialda, south and west of Texas, I needed a comfort stop. I stopped at the local driver reviver. Three or four middle-aged women were sitting around in a deserted shelter shooting the breeze and one of them got up to make me a cup of tea. Another appeared to clean up while I drank my tea and we talked about important stuff like the weather and how dry it was and where I’d come from and was going.

Then we talked about their pet gecko, who did not seem to me to be in peak condition. We picked it off the bench and tried to feed it some water and a biscuit crumb. I’m not sure it was destined to be with us for too much longer.


The Warialda gecko

I wandered off to finish my tea and another bike pulled in. John, a middle-aged bloke on a Kawasaki Ninja 300, had recently got his driver’s licence and was out and about improving his skills. We chatted for a bit and I admired his bike before he headed off, slightly erratically I thought, pleased he was improving his skills in a small country town.

Half an hour or so later I was rumbling across the bridge over the Gwydir River and into Bingara where I was to meet Pterodactyl.



I poked about for somewhere to camp before making my way into town for a coffee and a brief wait until Pterodactyl arrived.





After refuelling for an easy getaway in the morning, we explored camping options in consultation with some clever app on Pterodactyl’s phone and a conversation with a local oracle before deciding on the local caravan park.


It was a short walk to the local hostelry where the barmaid was amiable, the beer cool and the food acceptable. Even better, there was a half-decent red to be found and we enjoyed a chat about this, that and motorcycles before Pterodactyl unburdened himself about the first two elements of his terrible trip.

The first was that he’d been caught in terrible, terrible rain the day before to the point that he could not pitch his tent and had to camp in someone’s shed he found by the way.

The second was that his much-loved Bose noise-cancelling headphones had developed a ghastly squeal that was beginning to make wearing them an ordeal as they screamed at his left ear every time he hit a bump or a large truck passed by.

I consoled him with another red before we took a gentle stroll back to our camp. We tested out portable chairs over a glass of [url=https://www.stonesoriginal.com.au/our-products/stone-s-mac]Stones Mac—a concoction Pterodactyl carries in case of emergency—before retiring.