The Cormanus Chronicles

[Blockhead_imp]

Great stuff Cormanus...you've outdone yourself and that's quite a feat!

[curlyjoe_imp]

Great rides, pics and storytelling Cormanus!

[hb9400_imp]

Wow, looking forward to when I'll have enough free time to take more than a weekend ride here in the states.....

[Cormanus]

Days 18 – 22: 29 October – 2 November 2016
A day’s sailing, being entertained lots and some bad weather kept us off the bike, although I went for a quick trip to the city, where I saw this pretty Suzuki GR650. I used to have crash bars like that on my CB175.


Somewhere in here I took a deep breath and changed the K&N oil filter so I would not be tormented by a leak in the middle of nowhere on the way home.

Day 23: 3 November 2016
Rosny to Mount Wellington (56 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1yARCzWwBJ2S7TSd3lNoqLA6cXpw&usp=sharing]Day 23: Link to Map

Mr Cormanus and I went to Salamanca Place to do some chores. I was also to have lunch with an old colleague.

Afterwards we decided that, even thought it was blowing a gale, we should do something. The rain looked like holding off and we decide to ride to the top of Mt Wellington which provides a 1,271 metre backdrop to the city of Hobart. The road to the summit was built during the great depression and is narrow and winding. The surface is not wonderful.

Mount Wellington from the Derwent River

However, when we got there, the gales of previous days and the cold made the views truly spectacular. My mother used to tell me that, on a good day, one could see Ben Lomond—a mountain at the other end of the island. I had never seen it, but we did this day. We could see clearly across to the east coast where we had ridden on our way down.

A great diversion, but not without a minor calamity.

In order to take a photograph, I put my helmet on top of a guide post. Or at least I thought I did. I was obviously not careful enough as a gust of wind blew it off and smashed the vent mechanism on top. That was the final straw for that helmet which had taken more than one smack in its life—due to rider neglect rather than falling off, I should add. It once rolled all the way to the bottom of a gully when I left it sitting on the seat of the CB to help a bloke on a Ducati whose rear brake kept locking. Help, of course, is too strong a word in my case. Providing moral support is a more appropriate statement.



Views from Mt Wellington
Day 24: 4 November 2016
Rosny to Dover (145 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1BCbVUBTDtNu52C7N9uejrVLE0aY&usp=sharing]Day 24: Link to Map

First item on the agenda: buy a new helmet and leave the old broken one in the shop.

It was a lovely day and we set off for a leisurely ride. First stop was at the house of the friends with whom we had had dinner the previous evening. They’ve just bought a new house and it was in the throes of being renovated.

From there it was to Kettering where my parents are buried. It was warm in the sun and, after the dinner the previous night, we were weary and grabbed a rest.


Then it was on to Pepperberries Garden Café—discovered with the help of Google—where we stopped for a light lunch. The highlight for me was watching the chef wander out into the garden to pick fresh leaves for our salad. It was a beautiful setting with a view north-east up the D’Entrecasteaux Channel to Mount Wellington and the Derwent River.



Pepperberries Café

We met this chap during a gentle stroll in the garden after lunch.


Proceeding south, we followed the Channel and then turned north west to run alongside the Huon River. I’ve sailed a lot in these waters but seldom driven, and I’ve never ridden a motorbike along this road. It was really pleasant and would make an excellent morning or afternoon run for a Hobart-based biker.



The D’Entrecasteaux Chanel at the mouth of the Huon River. The tallest peak in the distance in the centre of the picture was to have a good smattering of snow the following morning

At Huonville we turned south and made our way along the western bank of the river for the pretty ride to Dover where we were to stay with our friends Jeremy and Penny. They took us across the road to the local yacht club for Friday drinks. We were made very welcome and introduced to some locally-brewed hooch, some of which was very good and put us in the mood for pizza. We had two; one was good (and I forget now what I was) and the second—a scallop pizza—was truly excellent. Washed down with some red wine, it led to some exuberant debate before we all retired.

Day 25: 5 November 2016
Dover to Rosny (85 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1I-x6kFE60UMwYKdv5h8GLlb6qgQ&usp=sharing]Day 25: Link to Map

Saturday dawned cold and blustery with yet another front blowing in from the west. There were showers and, when the cloud cleared, we could see snow on the mountains. In no hurry, we walked along the beach in our waterproofs and enjoyed the view of Port Esperance and its islands.

Jeremy and Penny have sailed their yacht around the world, and Jeremy is a keen student of the weather. He has an expensive weather gadget which, combined with data easily available on the Internet and years of local knowledge, makes him something of a local guru. He kept an eagle eye on developments and suddenly told us that, when the next squall passed, we’d have a half-hour window to get out without getting too wet. We packed, put on our wets and, when the rain cleared headed for home.

Dover sits in a slightly different weather zone so there was a reasonable possibility that the chance of rain would lessen as we made our way north. As it turned out, Jeremy was right and other than a brief sprinkle, we weren’t troubled by rain.

We stopped in Huonville for petrol and took a photo (I apologise for the quality) of the Sleeping Beauty, a mountain in the Wellington Range. It holds a special place in Mrs Cormanus’ heart as she lived in its shadow for some years and her children were born there. As you can see, the morning had delivered a smattering of snow.


The weather meant we took the most direct route from Huonville. I’d have preferred to ride around the old road along the flank of Mount Wellington.

Day 26: 6 November 2016

We’d undertaken to cook dinner for our hosts who had also been away for the weekend, so we spent the day at home, shopping, resting and preparing food.

Day 26: 7 November 2016
Rosny to Carlton and return via Brighton (169 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=19qmUvTeKFfk6n-uzKll0XA50O6o&usp=sharing]Day 27: Link to Map

Mrs Cormanus was to catch a plane the following day and I was to start my return journey. She was keen to spend her final evening with her oldest friend (my mate Graham’s wife), so we packed her gear and rode to Carlton. Our friends would take Mrs Cormanus to the airport.

The normal route would take us across the causeways at Midway Point, but the endless winds that had plagued us during this visit persisted and we took a slightly longer and probably more attractive route through Richmond.

After lunch I was heading back to stay in the town and have a final dinner with my youngest son. Graham announced he needed another ride and suggested he take me on a circuit he likes.

Hence the squiggles on the day’s map.

I said farewell to Mrs Cormanus, who I wouldn’t see for another week or so, and off we went.

Starting off the same way we had ridden to Port Arthur the previous week, because we could and because it’s a nice bit of road, we retraced my steps to Penna before heading further along the east coast road and turning towards Campania, Tea Tree and Brighton. It was a pretty country road with little to no traffic.

From Brighton we headed back past the Baskerville race track to Old Beach. Sadly the gates of the racecourse were closed and firmly locked against CB wannabes. At Old Beach, the rusting hulks of three ships lie on the shore. One of them was the last ship commanded by the Polish-English author Joseph Conrad.

A brief ride from Old Beach put us on the Grasstree Hill road which is heavily speed limited but an excellent ride. Indeed, it was so good that, when I said good bye to Graham near Richmond, I turned around and rode it again.

For some reason I forgot my camera, so there are no photos.

[Cormanus]

Day 28: 8 November 2016
Hobart to Deloraine (502 kms)

Day 28: Link to Map

In all my planning for this ride, I had intended to ride back to the ferry via the rugged west coast of Tasmania. I had a similar plan when I last made the trip in 2014. The road to Queenstown is beautiful and challenging and, although I’ve driven it any number of times, I’m yet to ride it on a motorcycle.

But the weather stymied me again. There was a forecast of rain; it was cold and I did not want to have to deal with the faint possibility of snow or ice on the section of the road between Lake St Clair and Queenstown. So I decided to have a look at the north-east of Tasmania and, if I could manage it and the weather was OK, visit Cradle Mountain and bits of the north west coast before catching the ferry the following day.

I was underway reasonably early and made good time to Orford via Richmond. I kept going to Swansea and then on to Bicheno where I had coffee and decided to visit the Bicheno Motorcycle Museum.



I’ve always enjoyed the final stretch of road which runs alongside the Prosser River into Orford. There’s a sharp turn at the top of the hill ahead in this picture, but otherwise it’s a gentle weave that can be taken quickly.


Pretty cottage at Lizdillon south of Swansea


South of Swansea

As for this place, the photos can tell the story.













































Such an unassuming wee shed it was too.
Back on the bike, I refuelled and continued my journey north to Elephant Pass a winding stretch of road that strikes dread into the hearts of Tasmanian motorists and joy to those motorcyclists with an abhorrence of straight roads. One does, however, have to be on the lookout for caravans and log trucks.

Up the pass I went and, having enjoyed myself all the way, arrived in St Marys looking forward to the ride down St Mary’s Pass.





Elephant Pass

St Marys Pass was closed for repairs and while, when I was young, that would have derailed my plan as it was pretty much the only way to St Helens from the south, there has for many years been a road along the coast.

So, not altogether unhappily, I retraced my steps down the hill and turned north at the bottom.

The old Scamander Bridge

Other than stopping for a quick photo in Scamander, I kept going until I reached St Helens where I stopped for a quick lunch.

It’s been many a year since I’ve driven from St Helens to Scottsdale, and I’ve never done it on a bike, but I have memories of it being the sort of road a biker would enjoy. It winds its way up hills and through lush Tasmanian forest and farmland through Derby to Scottsdale. I refuelled at a tiny service station in Derby.









Between St Helens and Scottsdale. For no reason I can recall, I decided to play with the panorama function of my phone camera on this corner. What a brilliant piece of software trickery that is!

From Scottsdale, the road to Launceston—Tasmania’s second largest city—takes one through the Sidling, also known as being treacherous to motorists. Like the Elephant Pass, it’s a great deal of fun for a bloke out for a ride on a CB1100.

A lookout on the Sidling. I’m looking towards the north east

Once through the Sidling, it’s a pleasant run to Launceston through a relatively quiet and good-quality road. On Day 23, Mrs Cormanus and I rode to the top of Mt Wellington in Hobart and could see all the way to Ben Lomond near Launceston. On this day, I rode behind the range containing Ben Lomond. My camera battery ran out at Derby so there are not many photos as I didn’t want to stop to take them with my phone.


I had thought to stay in Launceston for the evening, but it was a pleasant enough afternoon and, being so far south, the twilights are long, so I decided to press on to Deloraine to put me nearer where I wanted to go in the morning. Anyway, it’s prettier than Launceston and it would be easier to find the sort of accommodation I wanted.

For one of the few times while I was in Tasmania, I took to the main highway and rode quickly to Deloraine where I settled for the night at the very comfortable Empire Hotel.
Day 29—9 November 2016
Deloraine to Devonport


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1soa90rUMEDxSStCio6wOdo4VJFs&usp=sharing]Day 29: Link to map

Ever since my parents first took me to Cradle Mountain in 1964 or 1965, it has held a strange fascination for me, even though I have seldom been back. I wanted to go there on the CB for three reasons: one because I could; secondly, because there’s some wonderful riding to be had on the way in and out; and finally because it would allow me to ride one of the routes I’d hoped to had I been able to get to the west coast. The only possible downside was the weather: Cradle Mountain is often hidden by low cloud.

And it was a way to spend the day. Deloraine to Devonport via the highway would take a little over half an hour, and I didn’t have to be there until 1700.

So early on a glorious sunny morning, I rode out of Deloraine headed for Mole Creek where there are caves and an interesting wildlife park—well, it was interesting when I was there 20 years ago!

The view south to the Western Tiers between Deloraine and Mole Creek


A busy morning in the main street of Mole Creek

It was an easy and pretty ride to Mole Creek where I refuelled before pushing west towards Cradle Mountain. It’s a lovey ride through farmland, bush and around the base of Mt Roland.



Through the hills to Paradise

At some moment you reach a sign that tells you Paradise is 5 km down the road. Maybe 5 or 6 km later you reach another sign telling you Paradise is 3 km behind you. There was nothing but farmland. Pretty, I grant, but I think I’d hoped for something a little more.

I’m pretty sure Paradise, if indeed it exists, is somewhere around here. That’s Mt Roland in the background.


This is where you discover it’s possible you missed Paradise. My chances of gaining entry are pretty slim, so I didn’t go back to look.

After the sign letting you know you’ve missed Paradise, the road winds its way through a very pretty gorge at Cethana. Climbing up the western side you are on to the Cradle Mountain Road and quite soon into the more lightly vegetated, austere, highland country. The level of cloud cover was increasing and it was cool on the bike.



Mt Roland


The alpine country in Tasmania, although not at all high by world standards, is different to the lower country

I stopped at the entrance to the National Park for coffee and to pay my entrance fee. Only a limited number of vehicles are allowed in the car park at Dove Lake (where the road ends) and the rangers encourage you to take the shuttle. Bugger that! If it were to be one of the days on which Cradle Mountain was visible, I wanted a photo of the CB in front of it.

So, clutching my ticket, I set off and found the boom gate firmly closed against me. I pulled off to the side of the road near the gate, turned off the engine and waited.

I wasn’t there long before a shuttle bus lumbered down the road toward me triggering the exit boom. Somewhat to my surprise it also triggered the entrance boom and in seconds I’d fired up the bike and shot through to enjoy the ride through pretty alpine bush to Dove Lake.





The road into Cradle Mountain


The sun was shining and all of us tourists had a great view of the mountain.

Somehow the photos fail to do it justice. Maybe it’s me, but I find it a grand thing. It’s just under 5,100 ft but only 2,000 ft above the Dove Lake car park. I had a lovely time wandering about in the sun and taking photos.

As I left, there was little traffic, so I parked the CB illegally and leapt off to take a photo of it in front of the mountain. A bus driver strolled over and asked me would I like him to take a photo of me with the bike. I would and he did. And, of course, he’d ridden bikes and maybe even had a Honda 4 back in the day. We had a lovely chat and, with some reluctance I headed off.



This sign was beside Dove Lake. I suppose the park authorities are worried about them crashing into the lake.

Because I was in no great hurry to leave the National Park, I made my way slowly back, taking in a couple of side roads. I rode past the sign for the start of the Overland Track, described by the Parks and Wildliofe Service as “[url= [url=http://www.parks.tas.gov.au/index.aspx?base=7771]http://www.parks.tas.gov.au/index.aspx?base=7771 ]Australia’s premier alpine walk”. Although I’ve promised myself I’d make the effort and do it someday, I never have. It’s said to be lovely and you finish to the south beside Lake St Clair.



The beginning of the Overland track with Cradle Mountain in the background

There has been discussion about the wombat on this forum. One of Australia’s marsupials, and not overly large it is still not a creature you want to hit on a motorcycle. I’m not sure I can better Pterodactyl’s description of one:


I mention this because one of the other curious things about wombats is the almost cubical nature of their scat. I found a particularly fine example at Cradle Mountain.


I also saw a fine specimen just outside the park boundary, but by the time I could fiddle my camera into life to take a photo of it, the wretched thing had vanished leaving me with an excellent shot of strands of barbed wire.

From seeing the wombat, I made my way west through the Vale of Belvoir, from which you get a final view of Cradle Mountain.

Final view of Cradle Mountain. The cloud covered peak to the right is Barn Bluff

Shortly after this the road descends and you find yourself on the main road linking the west and north west coasts.

The view west from the Cradle Mountain Road

I guess it’s obliging of authorities to build splendid new roads that make life easier for cars and trucks, particularly when they’re kind enough to maintain the older ones. The Cradle Mountain Road is relatively new and makes it much easier to get from the west to the north. When I was a child, the main artery was the A10 which winds through the Hellyer Gorge. On a cold, wet, snowy winter’s night, it’s not much fun. But on a sunny, if cool, day on a CB1100 it’s well worth having a look at.

So at the end of the Cradle Mountain Road, I turned north towards the Hellyer Gorge.

Bushland on the A10


The remains of bushland on the West Coast. It does seem to me a pity that mankind finds it necessary to clear-fell forests

Soon you’re in the winding roads of the Hellyer Gorge.


I stopped at the bottom and had a walk around.





On a camper van at the Hellyer River crossing. Seemed good advice to me.

Lanyard cam was all out of batteries by then, so there are very few more photos. I rode north a way and stopped at Yolla for fuel and something to eat. It was only 1230 or thereabouts and I still had four and a half hours before I had to be on the ferry. I ate lunch and rode to the top of the hill in Yolla where I could get a mobile signal and studied the map.

There was nothing for it really, but to head out to the coast, hit the main road and then head back inland in a sort of ‘U’-shape. The bonus was another trip through the gorge at Cethana, with a brief digression to look at the man-made lake.


I also managed to ride down a very winding road to look at Lake Barrington, home of Tasmania’s rowing events, before making my way to Devonport and the ferry.

I had booked a shared cabin as a way of keeping the cost down. By the time I’d got aboard, showered and sorted myself out, we were pretty much under way and I thought I was going to luck out and have the place to myself. When I got back after dinner, I found I had a cabin mate, a very nice bloke with some interest in restoring motorcycles. More interestingly perhaps he lived in Paradise, although he was not all that keen to be precise about where it is!

[Rocky_imp]

Wow, a fantastic road trip story! Loved all the pictures

[redbirds_imp]

Excellent George, thanks.

[CA200_imp]

Just Great!

[Elipten_imp]

Again a super trip and report. I want to go and it appears just as good as I always imagined.

But dang it, lets buy the man a couple of spare batteries for his camera!


Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

[Cormanus]

Day 30: 10 November 2016
Melbourne to Mt Beauty (483 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1NMu4okbQsNO1C4VMLitpe-U0amg&usp=sharing]Day 30: Link to map

The ship arrived at its usual ungodly hour and I was quickly below to get on the bike and ashore. There were no dramas and I was soon at my niece’s house to collect the gear I’d abandoned when Mrs Cormanus joined me. My niece and I had breakfast at a local café; she went off to work; I repacked my gear and went on my way.

Leaving Melbourne, I headed north-east through the suburbs and soon arrived at Healsville. I went there because it was in the direction I wanted to go and because I keep reading references to it on the Australian motorcycle forum I watch.

North east from Healsville, there’s a lovely ride through bushland. It was particularly pleasant on a day becoming warmer.

The road north-east from Healsville

The road was pretty enough, but not inspirational, but, hey, you can’t always have that when you’re touring, can you? Indeed, touring is often enduring the roads that get you to the corners you want to turn.

The route took me past a place called Bonnie Doon, famous for a scene in the quirky Australian comedy The Castle.





The road north of Bonnie Doon

I stopped for an unmemorable lunch at a place called Whitfield. I didn’t think there was too much to see, really: a café, a signpost and a pub. However, after lunch I rode on and found a slightly more substantial town.

In so far as I had a plan it was to ride to Bright and then maybe over the Bogong High Plains Road to spend the night at Anglers Rest on the Omeo Highway. So I pushed on northwards to Oxley where I turned to head slightly south east towards Myrtleford. It really was a glorious day for a ride with clear blue skies and a pleasant temperature. It was an agreeable respite from much of the cold I’d ridden in since leaving Sydney on Day 6.

At Myrtleford I realised that the quicker of the alternative routes to Mt Beauty (where the Bogong High Plains Road starts) would not take me to Bright. Just after leaving town, I turned left and had a lovely ride east along Happy Valley Road which turned into Running Creek Road and led to the Kiewa Valley Highway. Looking at the map, I suspect it may be less inspiring than the Tawonga Gap Road. Next time.



Between Myrtleford and Mt Beauty. You can see the road winding into the hills.


Pretty hills and road between Myrtleford and Mt Beauty.

It was around 3 pm when I filled up at Tawonga and set out for Falls Creek, the Bogong High Plains and Anglers Rest and I had a good two hours ride in front of me.

Approaching Mt Beauty. I’m not totally sure of the name of the mountain slightly to the left of centre, but it had patches of snow on it

Falls Creek is a ski resort and there was nothing at all happening there when I arrived. I suspect because there wasn’t really any snow. It was a great ride to get there round corner after corner of mountain road. The line markings soon changed colour from white to yellow to indicate where the snow line is.







Arriving at Falls Creek

I cruised through Falls Creek and quickly came to a sign telling me that the rest of the road was closed. So I got off in the very chilly alpine air, took a photo, turned around and headed back.




Somewhere down the hill I pulled over to take a photo. A white Subaru station wagon went past me going at a good lick. I pretty much caught him by the bottom of the hill, but he clearly knew the road extremely well and I had to work hard for it.

I felt like I’d earned my glass of beer and dinner at the Settlers Tavern.
Day 31: 11 November 2016
Mt Beauty to Jindabyne (447 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1gWDKVNXWTpcRpUpJWW2JogeSMX0&usp=sharing]Day 30: Link to Map

It was a glorious morning in Mt Beauty. I loaded the bike and headed north to the Murray Valley Highway (B400) and then west to Corryong, where I refuelled, and Khancoban, where I went for a look.





Heading north towards the Murray Valley Highway on a glorious morning


The sign ahead points to the Omeo Valley Highway and so I had completed some sort of a circle since being here on Day 8


Murray Valley Highway views. First glimpse of the Snowies in the top right


I’m not going that high!


Photo opportunity at Khancoban

I think I went to Khancoban because I thought it was Australia’s highest town. It isn’t. That honour falls to Cabramurra which I was to ride past in blissful ignorance later that day. Anyway, it was pretty on the outskirts of Khancoban, so I stopped to take a photo before retracing my steps for about 5 kilometres and turning right onto Swampy Plains Creek Road which Pterodactyl had suggested I ride.

It was a great new find for the trip. I rode through bush, high plains with beautiful but dead gum trees, past dams and lakes, through cuttings, around plenty of corners, up hills, down the other side until finally I came to the Snowy Mountains Highway (B72).









These last three are of Tooma Dam







Snow gums

Many Australian eucalypts thrive on being burned occasionally. Indeed they need it to regenerate. There was clear evidence of fire along much of this road. One is greeted with the sight of blackened eucalypts still producing new growth. There are also a great many of the dead snow gums that can be seen in the above picture. Apparently they will regenerate, but from below the ground, so eventually, presumably, this beautiful dead growth will disappear and be replaced by new trees.

Just past noon I came to the Tumut Pond Reservoir. It’s a beautiful setting: isolated, quiet and buried deep in a valley. The dam walls are amazing, but the dam itself looks awful as there is relatively little water in it. I learned later that it is actually a holding dam. When the spot price of electricity is high, the authority generates power from a dam higher in the system. The water flows into the Tumut Pond. Then, at a time when the spot price of electricity is low, the company buys the cheaper power and pumps the water back up again so they can do it all again.

Winding down the hill to the Tumut Pond Reservoir







The road runs along the top of the dam wall


Looking down the dam wall


Looking back at the reservoir from the other side


I still can't work out why this sign has a point on the right hand side. As far as I can figure, I was on the Great Dividing Range at this point and I was at about 1,500 metres too!

I had a late lunch at Adaminiby.

I should digress here to talk briefly about Australia’s obsession with big things. Bill Bryson commented on them in his book about Australia. There’s even an [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australia's_big_things]article about it in Wikipedia. ‘Big Things’ are enormous statues or sculptures of relatively ordinary things and are used to celebrate the connection of the thing with the place they are located. There’s the big lobster, the big sheep, the big pineapple, the big banana, the big motorbike, the big this, the big that. The most recent example of this curious phenomenon I’ve read about is in Tamworth New South Wales (which already boasts the Big Guitar) which recently unveiled the Big Big Mac to mark the connection of this agricultural area to the so-called food churned out by Macdonalds.

The Big Big Mac. Why? I ask you?

Adaminiby, a pretty enough town, but a place barely big enough to sustain one let alone two horses, boasts the big trout. I sat across the road and admired it while I ate my sandwich and drank my coffee.


About an hour later, as I headed towards Jindabyne, I had this great view of the Snowy Mountains.


I was staying with friends at their property just south of Jindabyne, but decided to take a quick detour up the Alpine Way out of Jindabyne. It was good road and worth the ride, although I didn’t get quite as far as I wanted before I needed to turn back.

Lake Jindabyne


On the Alpine Way. The sign says it’s the highest land for sale in Australia. It looked appealing this day.

I stopped in Jindabyne to acquire some wine to take to my hosts and then found my way south along the Barry Way to 8 kms of dirt at the end of which was my friends’ magnificent home and property.