G'day all. In my last seat time post, [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=5703]North to Mango Hill, I left you in a parking lot at Mango Hill, South East Queensland, Australia. After meeting and greeting Cormanus, filling his bike with Hubris Omni Grade Motorcycle Oil ("The only oil for the discerning Gentleman Motorcyclist"), we kicked our bikes to life and headed west.
The next two days of riding with Cormanus was a real treat. He took the lead and all I had to do was follow him on some of his favourite roads. Let me tell you, those roads are good. They are very, very good. For me it was all about the ride and nothing but the ride. Let Cormanus worry about the GPS, fuel stops, coffee stops, meal stops, time available, traffic and all the stuff that detracts from the experience. All I had to do was, firstly, not lose him and, secondly, not rear-end him. I had lived in Brisbane and Toowoomba nearly fifty years ago so I wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the area we were riding but, really, that was just background noise as I enjoyed the scenery, the ride and and the perfect weather. I have now ridden many thousands of kilometres in the company of Cormanus so we both have a good understanding of each others riding style. No nasty surprises were expected and there were none received. Easy and very enjoyable work for me. I will let Cormanus describe our journey in his thread [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=5796&pid=88703#pid88703]More Tales from Downunder.
Later that first day we rolled through the small town of Pomona and into Cormanus' drive-way. Before we go any further let me explain. It must have been early June '14, about the 4th from memory, when Cormanus, leaping on his trusty CB, said to his dear wife, "I'm going to meet this Preodactyl bloke in the very isolated town of Narrabri in western New South Wales and we are going to ride many many kilometres together across the vast Hay Plains to the Wintersun Rally in Mildura. Don't worry, its only about 4500kms. See you in ten days or so." I believe her reply was "Well, I hope he is not an axe-murderer!" Since then that scene has repeated itself, with slight variations, on a good number of occasions. However, at last, I was going meet the Mrs. Cormanus. As Cormanus has related elsewhere, her greeting to me included, “It’s nice to finally meet George’s imaginary friend.” Let me say that Mrs. C is a lady of charm, intellect and wit. Definitely Cormanus' "better half". I thoroughly enjoyed the Cormanus' hospitality and, once again, thank them for it.
Pomona is located in the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast, some 30kms inland from Noosa Heads, an upmarket coastal resort of some natural beauty. The hinterland where Pomona lies is in itself a beautiful area. Set in the green rolling hills that merge into the Great Dividing range that separates the coastal strip from the vast plains of western Queensland it is named after Pomona, the Roman Goddess of fruit and orchards. After recent good rain "Pomona" is certainly appropriate. I did take some photos of the Cormanus house but promised Cormanus that I wouldn't post them. It is a typical older Queensland tropical style that the Cormanus' have restored to a beautiful standard. I am afraid I will have to live up to the letter of my promise regarding photographs of the house. But not the spirit!
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Entrance to Castle Cormanus
My lodgings for the night were in a separate small building, formerly a garage by the looks, that has been made into an extremely comfortable "granny flat". After a tasty barbecued meal (thanks guys), a beer and a wine, or two, we moved on to much good natured discussion and speculation on many matters. Lastly, over the traditional Aussie "cleansing ale", we attempted to resolve the problems facing our good country (if not the universe). I slept well.
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My lodgings. Taken from the back veranda of the house.
The next morning, despite an inclination to pull the blankets over my head and remain in the foetal position for at least half a day, I was up early packing Last Blast for the return to Sydney. Over a cup of hot tea and a piece of toast we hatched the plan for the days ride. I needed to be back in Sydney for [url=https://www.awm.gov.au/commemoration/anzac/anzac-tradition/]Anzac Day. I wanted to take it easy and do the ride in about two and a half days, camping on the way. To facilitate this we decided to ride generally southward from Pomona to Gatton, where Cormanus would return to Pomona and I would continue on the road to Sydney. Cormanus describes that ride in his thread. It was good. "It" being both the ride and the thread.
On arriving in Gatton we refuelled, mounted up and as Cormanus began to roll I heard him call, "See you in Atlanta, GA."
Here was The Plan for the rest of my day's ride: [url=https://goo.gl/maps/0QGn8]Gatton to Bald Rock Camp.
The Gatton Clifton Road was indeed worth riding. As the road winds its way up on to the southern Darling Downs, fertile grazing and crop growing country, it supplies plenty of good sections with interesting corners on a largely friendly surface. I was in somewhat of a hurry and have no photos to show for it, unfortunately. Maybe next time. The final section from Stanthorpe to Bald Rock Campground included about 15kms of dirt/gravel road just prior to Bald Rock. No problems apart from a couple of kilometres that were being graded and required some care. As the light faded I was on high alert for kangaroos, seeing a few that, thankfully, didn't seem to want to alarm me by inconsiderately crossing the road. The campground was deserted and I set up camp for the night.
Night fell, the bush became quiet, I ate, sat in front of the fire and, while contemplating the joys of the last few days, worked my way a little further into my EBR supply. As the fire burnt down to coals I slipped into my tent and the warmth of my sleeping bag.
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The glory of the "Dawn Chorus" woke me. Pushing aside the tent flap I saw that it was another perfect day. Cool, but fine. The dew on my tent had dried before I finished my rather basic breakfast of warm oats and tea. I reviewed my [url=https://goo.gl/maps/6wkwq]Plan for the Day. An easy 408kms (254 miles), or five hours in the saddle, with the aim of making a final camp on the banks of the headwaters of the Manning River, just short of the town of Gloucester.
Thirty minutes later I was out of the forest and burning up the kilometres on the New England Highway. Keeping just a slight squeeze on the brakes above the posted speed limit of 100, and sometimes 110kph, I watched the scenery go by. The New England Tableland is the largest elevated area in Australia and is known for the variety of its agriculture. Superfine wool, dairy cattle, stud beef cattle and fruit growing have made the region wealthy. The elevation of the area gives it relatively mild summers and cold winters. In settled and farmed areas the native Eucalyptus forests have largely given way to exotic varieties, often deciduous, that are suited to this climate. It is Autumn in Australia and as I listened to the background hum of the Staintune, and was warmed by the sun on my leathers, Ferrets thread [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=4208&highlight=color]Chasing Color came to mind. There is no way we can compete with the glorious colours of a North American autumn. But we can only, in our own small way, try.
Soon after I left the Highway and, with some anticipation, turned onto Thunderbolts Way. At Walcha I stopped for fuel, both for Last Blast and myself. After leaving Walcha the Way moves into State forest and, descending into the river valley below, the motorcycle fun starts. I stopped to take this photo. I was back in Eucalyptus country. No colour here.
On the downhill run I gave the edges of the RP3s a good workout. I felt good as I reached the flat and as the road ran beside the river I found a suitable spot with access for the bike and set up camp.
Darkness fell, the still of the night was disturbed only by the intermittent call of the night birds and the gentle sound of the river flowing over stones. The stars were clear and brilliant, ablaze in the jet black sky, throwing a shine on to a resting Last Blast. Perfect.
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I packed up and was on the road early. My plan was to ride the Dungog Singleton road and then on to Sydney by the Wollombi Rd. As it turned out and for reasons that will soon become plain, I had to activate [url=https://goo.gl/maps/VaPnX]Plan B. 415kms (258 miles) and about six hours in the saddle.
Just north of Gloucester my mobile came into network coverage and I read with some alarm an SMS from Cormanus, "Careful around Dungog tomorrow if you decide to go that way. It took a real battering. I assume the roads are open, but I don't know. Enjoy the ride". Food for thought indeed. I stopped at Gloucester for a light breakfast and coffee. On making enquires I was told that Dungog had indeed been hit by a severe storm and a flash flood the previous day. Details were sketchy but the road to Dungog was open. I decided to proceed. As I approached Dungog I did notice that some fallen branches had been removed to the verges of the road. More ominously as I travelled along the river flats I saw grass and other debris caught in the fence lines and low hanging branches. The wooden decked bridge on the northern side of the town was damaged, some of the decking was gone but with care was passable. I know Dungog well and as I entered the town my heart sank. Emergency workers were clearing damage and removing mud and debris from the areas around the river. I won't call them "low lying" areas because they are not, being well above the historical flood levels.
Carefully I made my way to the petrol station that I have re-fueled at many times. I know the owner and his wife passably well from conversations that I have had with them in the past, in fact only last week on the way north I had spoken with them. They were in shock. Their business had been inundated, there was no fuel available. I spent close to an hour just listening to them tell me of their neighbour, an elderly lady, who had been swept away trying to save her pets; another two elderly men who had drowned in their beds; the three houses only meters away from their home that had been swept away; their fear as the water first went into their petrol station and car repair business and then to the very floor of their home; their attempts to launch a small fishing boat from their front yard to rescue neighbours clinging to the roofs of houses with no escape in sight. Fortunately for them a State Emergency Service inflatable arrived in the nick of time. All over the world country towns are often close communities and Dungog is no different. Any loss affects all. I was an outsider in a hurry but I couldn't bring myself to leave them. They needed to talk, get it off their chest, and, I guess, be reassured that others cared. I took no photos of Dungog, it wasn't appropriate.
Finally they pointed me in the direction of another small petrol station on the other side of town that I hadn't known existed. Only premium fuel was available and a $20 limit applied to all purchases. I bought enough to get me to Singleton and went on my way.
The Dungog to Singleton Road is one of my favourite roads. Running along mostly open ridge lines it can be narrow but the surface is reasonable and the twists definitely interesting. As the road gained the top of the first ridge I stopped and took stock of what I had just witnessed and sent a short SMS to Cormanus thanking him for his earlier warning. I took some photos.
Later, as I passed Singleton and proceeded towards Broke I thought that I was still making good time and I would be back in Sydney before the Friday afternoon peak traffic. I was wrong. But that's not unusual I guess. At Broke the Wollombi Road was closed due flood damage. Bugger. Plan B now came into play. I would have to go via the Putty Road. Not enough fuel for that so what now? Easy, a short diversion to Bulga for petrol, taking care not to stop at the Cockfighters Creek Tavern for refreshment. It is the [url=https://ssl.panoramio.com/photo_explorer#view=photo&position=692&with_photo_id=90108688&order=date_desc&user=3648]sort of place that could make for a lazy afternoon.
Reluctantly, I turned my back on the tavern and before savouring the delights of the Putty Road stopped and had another look at this.
The Putty Road is a beauty; straights, sweepers and amongst other twisty sections a ten mile stretch of legendary twisties known amongst bikers as "The Ten Mile". After Ten Mile I stopped at the Grey Gum Café for a coffee. Enjoying my coffee in the sunshine and contemplating with some jaundice the upcoming Sydney traffic I looked up and saw this:
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Stars and stripes at the Grey Gum Café
To the proprietor it may have meant "Yankee dollars welcome here". But to me it said, loud and clear, "See you at Robinsville, NC!".
Cheers and thanks for your attention.