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

[emptysea]

Seems like this tale is getting a bit..... TYREsome.

[Glackie_imp]

Looks like a great trip boys. Thanks for sharing it with us.

Paul

[redbirds_imp]

Great stuff George as always. Splendid ride.

[Cormanus]

Day 5—On which the Rumblers head off, Cormanus goes for a ride and Pterodactyl ponders

[url=https://www.google.com/maps/d/viewer?mid=1yjh_ZjlXRmT4W6Xy8HJXmoO-lUg]The route planned for the rest of the Rumblers’ ride. D=end of day 1; E=end of day 2; and H=end of day 3, a total of 2,067 kms

The Rumblers had a big day ahead. They were heading for Home Hill, point D on the map above, 618 kms and about 6 and a half hours riding time. So they wanted to be off early.

For completeness, they were then heading to Winton (813 kms, 8 and a half hours riding the following day) and then on to Augathella (636 kms, 7 and a half hours riding) on the final day. That's a lazy 2,000 kms in three days.

At the conclusion of the previous day’s ride Pterodactyl had arrived at the conclusion that his rear tyre could not be trusted any further. So we waved bye-bye to the Rumblers.

I’m not sure why he was pushing it. Maybe he needed the exercise?



Peter and Janine: head honchos of the Rumblers






















The rumble faded into the distance. I made a cup of tea. Pterodactyl settled to the business of finding a tyre. He lucked out and not only found a tyre that would fit, but the Pirelli he wanted. He’s told this tale, but I’ll repeat it here anyway.

This is a long story told short. Undoubtedly in the fullness of time, all the facts will emerge. But for now lets make do with this.

The place, [url=https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capella,_Queensland]Capella, in the Central Highlands of Queensland, Australia.

My rear tyre, a Pirelli Angel GT, looking rather the worse for wear.




Capella is not overflowing with road bike tyres. Tractor tyres, no problem. ATV tyres, no problem. Truck tyres, no problem. 4x4 tyres, no problem. Farm bike tyres, not a big problem. But a road bike tyre, especially an 18 size? Just let me say that, in Capella, or its surrounds, there is a better chance of finding piles of rocking-horse pooh.

After some time on the blower it appeared that the nearest Pirelli, or Michelin, or anything, was in Townsville, a mere 560kms to the north, or Brisbane, a little further away at 928kms to the south. Estimated delivery time ranged from 5 days to well over a week. Fedex has never heard of Capella. Things were not looking good. That evening, around the fire, while consoling myself over a quiet beer it was suggested that there was a bike shop in Mackay, on the coast 331kms to the east, that might be worth try.



So next morning I called them. Jackpot! A Pirelli Angel GT, and a bargain at only AUD309. Delivery time, four days. Cormanus, without hesitation, said, “No worries, I will ride down to Mackay and get it.” That would have to be a two day ride as riding at night is just not on. Road Trains and big rigs can average up to fifty, yes I said fifty, kangaroo hits a night on roads in that part of the world. And that is disregarding the odd wombat, raptor feasting on road kill, emu or wild bull! Some of those roads are a true charnel house. Think, think and more phone calls. A courier company runs a service daily from Mackay to Moranbah, a mining town a paltry 158 kms to the north of Capella, departing Mackay mid-morning and arriving at Moranbah “about” 2:30 in the afternoon. Once again, “No worries, I will be at Moranbah at 2 and back in Capella by before 5.” Saying that, Cormanus rode with me to a rural tyre service where I left Last Blast, pillioned me back to our camp site, stripped the top box off his CB, gathered a handful of straps, cords and a water bottle and blasted off towards Moranbah.

So, how to fill in the rest of the day in Capella? It is well over 30deg C during the day in Capella at this time of the year, so I decided to ponder this question over a cold beer at the Hotel Capella. I pondered this question for a considerable period of time. After some time, almost sated with pondering and a meat pie for lunch, it occurred to me that neither heat nor flies, nor the beasts of the road, nor the loneliness of the Aussie bush, nor yet the big rigs that degrade the tarmac of our roads, would deter Cormanus from his appointed task. It should be apparent to you, dear reader, that I was truly pondered.

Cormanus arrived back in Capella, having ridden from Moranbah with an Angel GT strapped to the back of his CB, before five o’clock. With some above and beyond the call of duty from Anthony at Lacey’s Tyres, Rural & Industrial, Capella, Last Blast was re-shod and ready to go at 7:30 next morning.

I never did get a photo of Cormanus’ CB with that tyre strapped to it but I live in hope that one may, eventually, turn up.

Cheers, and thanks again mate.

Gentle reader, forgive me if I me digress a moment. I enjoy writing these little tales of rides a good deal; indeed, occasionally when I’m in the zone and riding along through the countryside, I amuse myself composing them. I should have a voice-activated dictaphone that I can talk to so the contemporaneous record is fresher.

I spent a fair bit of time on the rest of this ride composing this post. It would have an extended focus on the curious coincidence the Ferret pointed out [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=8570&pid=134097#pid134097]here.

Yes, that’s right: two rides; two shot rear tyres. The other occasion was after the 2015 CB1100 rally, when Pterodactyl and I found ourselves all on our own in the US (see [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=6327&pid=98322#pid98322]here for that story). It was a great deal easier to get a new tyre in Robbinsville than Capella!

Pterodactyl’s earlier post quoted above provoked a flurry of correspondence which rather pre-empted a tall tale at this juncture. Maybe I could have had some fun claiming Pterodactyl is cavalier in his approach to checking important kit like tyres. Perhaps I could have waxed lyrical about the burnouts, wheelies and hair raising riding. It is simply not true. He’s meticulous. Far more careful than me—well, not about burnouts and wheelies. It is also true, as noted elsewhere on the forum (see [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=4541&pid=136541#pid136541]this thread from this point on), that the rear tyre went from being nearly worn to utterly useless far more quickly than either Pterodactyl or I expected. His view when we met in Bingara was that it would get him to north Queensland and then back to Sydney—probably around 5,000 kms. I’m no expert, but at the time it looked to me as if it would make it. As it turned out, it didn’t last more than a couple of days and 1,300 kms.

I guess the moral of this tale, taken alongside the earlier event and the experience of other members of the forum, is that, as a tyre comes to the end of its life, the rate of wear will increase more rapidly with each kilometre travelled.

At this point, though, such speculation was academic. No matter why, the tyre was unusable. Luckily Pterodactyl had located another; the bike was at the tyre shop; and the new tyre was winging its way to a 2 pm arrival in Moranbah, two hours up the road from Capella. There was time for a cup of coffee before I took to the road to collect it. So, after dropping Last Blast at the tyre shop, we stopped at the local café where we discovered not just coffee.

So, how much does a breast cost elsewhere in the world? This seemed a reasonable price for such a delicacy.

After coffee, I dropped Pterodactyl at the camp, took off my top box, borrowed a cargo net, webbing straps and a backpack. I packed a couple of Rok straps and my wets then hit the road. We figured that, if I could be in Moranbah by 2 pm, I’d be back in time to get the tyre to Anthony at the tyre shop before it closed.

For the record, I think Pterodactyl was very brave indeed to get on the back of the bike with me. But he did and he survived. He was also to discover why my wife insists on the top box if she’s riding with me—the pillion seat feels a great deal more secure.

I started and finished at point D on this map and went anti-clockwise

More flat country. More straight road. More mines and man-made mountains. More dry grass. A couple of quite attractive dry gullies. One very large truck. Roadworks. That about sums up the ride to Moranbah via Tiari and Dysart.

Dry grass


Flat country. Straight road


More straight road. A mine looming into sight. Much to my surprise there was a give way sign and a right angled turn at the mine.


Man-made mountain


Queensland country truck


More straight road and dry grass. Pretty sky.

[url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moranbah]Moranbah is a successful mining town in central Queensland. Although relatively young it has quickly become a major town on the back of a coal boom. I rode in past an airport which is busy dealing with mine workers flying in and out. The town itself looked prosperous and busy; but, being the eternal pessimist, I wondered how long it will be before mining tapers off and the town is abandoned. Capella, for example, from where I had started and would finish, has derelict hotels and camp grounds financed by mining companies which have moved on and left them for dead.

I reached the service station just after 1.30 pm, refuelled, bought a sandwich and a bottle of water and went in search of the courier’s depot. It turned out to be his house. I was a bit early, so I wandered around in the sun eating my sandwich and drinking my water. I could see the tyre with my name on it sitting on a pile of other deliveries in the car port and contemplated taking off with it. I knocked on the door, but the place was clearly deserted and the neighbour told me the guy was probably out on a delivery.

Luckily, I had his phone number. I called and he told me to take the tyre and nothing else. So I did.



I took no chances tying the tyre on. I had a Rok strap around either side, webbing straps front to rear and a cargo net over the top. Pterodactyl’s back pack holding my wet weather gear fitted neatly inside the tyre.
The way back to Capella was through similar terrain, but somehow prettier. There was one neat mountain. It was also a more agreeable ride. I’d been a bit buffeted by wind on the way north and was spared it on the way back.

A man-made mountain of mining waste outside Moranbah




I enjoyed the long approach to this mountain




A curve, a curve, my kingdom for a curve (sorry Bill)


Another man-made mountain at the junction with the road to Clermont


Naturally occurring mountains in the distance on the northern approach to Capella

I was back in Capella before 5 pm and dropped the tyre to Anthony at Lacey’s Tyres, Rural & Industrial in Capella. By the time I’d tidied up the straps and cargo net, Anthony had the new tyre on the rim. He promised me he’d have the wheel back on the bike first thing.

I found Pterodactyl at the caravan park and he guided me to the hostelry where he’d done so much pondering during the afternoon. He generously bought me a beer and I came to understand why the environment was conducive to pondering.

I’m not quite sure who had the better day of it. Sure, Pterodactyl had pondered happily, but we’d both missed riding on with the Rumblers. Meanwhile, I’d ridden a lazy 370 kms through country I’d not seen before and may not see again, picked up a tyre to help out a mate and been rewarded with a beer, food, red wine and some philosophical conversation.

I slept well.

[Rocky_imp]

What a great adventure! I'm loving every word and picture

[redbirds_imp]

A lovely story well told. Thanks George.

[Cormanus]

Day 6—On which Pterodactyl returns the favour and in so doing easily outwits Cormanus



The morning dawned clear, dry, but overcast. We were up reasonably early and began the business of dismantling the camp. At about 7.20 am Pterodactyl’s phone rang. Andrew had reinstalled the wheel which meant he’d either worked back the night before or been up pretty early that morning.

I gave Pterodactyl a lift to the tyre shop and then we headed back to the caravan park to finish the clean up, sort ourselves out and get on our way.

At some moment while I was tidying up I realised I’d left the ignition switched on when I got back from the tyre shop. I pressed the starter. G-r-r-r-r, g-r-r-r-r, g-r-r-r-r, g-r-r-r-r, click.

Other than a slight incline to the entrance to the caravan park the place was as flat as a billiard table. I figured that if I pushed the bike up the hill with Pterodactyl on it, we might just get it started. I thought it only fair: Pterodactyl is older than me. He accepted the offer to do the starting without demur. By the time I got part way up the incline, I was puffing and blowing like an ancient steam train.

‘Mate, I might be a bit fitter than you. Why don’t you get on the bike and I’ll push it?’ Pterodactyl said nonchalantly.

‘OK,’ I wheezed.

He pushed me effortlessly, the bike started on the second attempt and that debacle was behind me.


After I’d recovered enough breath to pick up a camera

Of course, when I got my breath back, I realised he’d had me push uphill while he pushed downhill. Clever bloke, Pterodactyl. But he is fitter than me, nonetheless.

The death of the tyre had proved a blessing in disguise. Pterodactyl had to be back in Sydney by Saturday night—preferably earlier. The plan was for him to leave his bike with me in Brisbane and fly back to Sydney. Had we rumbled on, the ride from Augathella to Brisbane would have been a pretty mighty day and Pterodactyl would have been very late indeed back to Sydney. The decision to pull out meant we could more easily stage our detour and arrive in Brisbane at a civilized time on Saturday morning.

We set out south for Emerald where we would turn east for a time before turning south. We planned to spend the night at or near Monto. Pterodactyl’s where-should-we-camp app had thrown up a pub just out of Monto that offered rooms or a place to pitch a tent which sounded OK.

The road east along the Tropic of Capricorn is unmemorable. Straight and reasonably flat, it carries a good deal more traffic than we had seen for much of the ride to date. It does, though, have a reasonable speed limit and we were able to make pretty good time over the 200 or so kilometers to Duaringa. We passed though Dingo. In a country that calls a town Banana after a cow, I guess Dingo is an okay name for a town.

We also spent a fair bit of time riding alongside the railway line that carries the output of central Queensland’s mines to port.


There are plenty of very long trains running parallel to the road


A rare curve looms in the distance

Just before Duaringa, the clouds that had been vaguely menacing all morning gave us a brief shower. It was a good time to stop for fuel and something to eat. As we walked out to our bikes, it started to pour down so we moved them under the cover of the service station’s awning while Pterodactyl dug his wets out of the depths of the bag he’d packed them in. We also tried to find a way to mount his GoPro on my bike so we could get some action shots of Pterodactyl. That was a miserable failure too!

By the time we’d done all that, the rain had passed and we set out again. I recall another couple of very brief showers during the afternoon, but. Itching to get excited about.

I'm afraid it was more of the same country until a little after Biloela (where we refuelled again). Then quite suddenly, it seemed, the road became more undulating, slightly less straight and the vegetation changed. There were more and larger trees. It was country much more to my taste.



Back in a more agreeable landscape

We passed the turn off to Cania Gorge, which had looked like a good place to camp, but kept going through Monto to Mungungo where we found the Waratah Hotel. Mine host pointed us to some level ground to put our tents and invited us to use the hotel’s facilities provided we took a drink in the bar.

We obliged, taking more than a drink. We also took a meal, home cooked and tasty. We had the place pretty much to ourselves and passed the evening chatting to the owner and his wife before retiring to our tents. Curiously, even though the sky was crystal clear, we failed to spot a single satellite.

[the Ferret]

Cormanus.. I own several books by those who make a living, travelling by and writing of their travels by motorcycle. Helge Pederson, and Clement Salvadori to name a couple off the top of my head. I say this with all sincerity, I would much rather read your writings than either of theirs. You have a gift.

[Rocky_imp]

Cormanus.. I own several books by those who make a living, travelling by and writing of their travels by motorcycle. Helge Pederson, and Clement Salvadori to name a couple off the top of my head. I say this with all sincerity, I would much rather read your writings than either of theirs. You have a gift.

I agree! I thoroughly enjoy these ride reports.

[emptysea]

Great stuff...as always.