A bit of a ride: after the race

[Cormanus]

Day 13: Phillip Island-Lavers Hill

433 kms

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Watchers of the race will recall it turned cold in the afternoon causing havoc with the new asymmetrical tyres. The cold was driven by a south-westerly blowing in from the Southern Ocean via Bass Strait. It persisted all night, but at least we had little to no rain.

In the morning we were all up reasonably early and began the business of breaking camp. Sadly, Jalalski was to leave us at this point: work or some such other tedious business called him home. In the end he decided on the quick route up the coast which would have him home within a couple of days. Pterodactyl and I planned to head west along the Great Ocean Road, said to be one of Australia’s best rides, before parting company. He was to return to Sydney via Omeo to collect his watch; I was heading to Tasmania.

Jalalski was first out of the gate, the Sprint loaded to the gunwales. Pterodactyl and I were not far behind. We rode to San Remo, just over the bridge on the mainland where we had breakfast and refuelled. The debate about the merits of a ferry across the mouth of Port Phillip Bay versus the road through Melbourne ended as a no brainer. Even though there was no appreciable time difference, we both thought a ferry ride would have to be an improvement on inner city traffic.

Even so, although not far if you’re a crow, it was a 2-hour ride to Sorrento where we were to catch the ferry. It wasn’t a particularly interesting ride. Pterodactyl followed me and I diligently followed the GPS until I realised he’d turned off behind me. I turned around to go and find him. Apparently he didn’t like the way my GPS wanted to go. Fair enough. We were soon at Sorrento and in a line of bikes all waiting for the ferry. I suspect many of them were heading homeward after the MotoGP.



Bikes on the Ferry—both photos courtesy of Pterodactyl

It was a lovely crossing on a glorious day. We ate a poor example of the Australian meat pie and drank a coffee to set us up for the ride along the Great Ocean Road (GOR) to Port Campbell where we planned to have afternoon tea and decide where to spend the night.

There are no photos of the ride. I can’t remember why, but there probably wasn’t time. Once you get past Airey’s Inlet, there are almost no opportunities to overtake. Well, legally anyway. There are endless signs asking slow vehicles to pull over to let quicker vehicles past and endless areas for them to do so, but almost no-one can be bothered. We ended up—as I suspect you do on the GOR—with a line of cars, caravans, trucks and God knows what else in front of us far, far further than my eye could see. The road is very beautiful. It runs along the edge of the coast, often with quite steep cliffs on the other side of the road. If you like the sea—and I do—it’s a delight, and the traffic gave us an opportunity for the occasional view.

But why have a reasonably powerful motorbike with really excellent torque if you don’t use it? I was leading, as I recall, and I saw an opportunity to pass and took it. One by one and two by two we picked off the cars and trucks and caravans, seizing every opportunity the CBs were capable of taking. There was another rider behind us who immediately joined in. At some point I realised it was really quite a lot of fun and was just a wee bit gloomy when after 50 or 60 vehicles we streaked past the leading car. It was a small, red, 4-cylinder number being driven by an elderly lady who had the steering wheel in a vice-like grip and was staring straight ahead. She was not going to avail herself of the turnouts and carefully avoided looking in the mirror so as not to be reminded that she should. Turn-out that is. At least, that’s the conclusion I came to as we raced past onto clear road.

After that, I lost sight of the view, mostly, because the road required too much concentration.

Just after Apollo Bay, the road turns inland and climbs up the Ottway range. This part of the road is different, but also very beautiful and as good or better for riding as the coastal part.

After Lavers Hill, where we stopped for a quick look at a road house where Pterodactyl stayed on a previous trip, we wound our way back down the range to Princetown. Shortly after that we were again running close to the coast with magnificent views of the ocean. We passed the Twelve Apostles viewing point and pushed on to Port Campbell a very picturesque spot. We had a welcome coffee and stretched our legs while we decided what to do with the evening.



Port Campbell with the Southern Ocean in the background. Next stop Antarctica. But not for us.

We planned to stop at the Twelve Apostles and wander out to the coast to take photos of the amazing rock formations that give the place its name. Actually, I think there are now only 11; a few years ago, one just crumbled into the sea. There’s a photo [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2613]here in an earlier post of Pterodactyl’s. Part of my thinking was that I might ride back the next day and have a look.

We decided not to stop for the lookout. It was getting late and the wind was decidedly chilly. We wanted get back to Lavers Hill to find accommodation. On the basis that there was fuel at Lavers Hill we headed off for the magnificent ride back. Once we reached the climb up to Lavers Hill we had the road pretty much to ourselves and we were able to make excellent time. I found what seemed like a new rhythm in the corners which I really enjoyed.

When we got to Lavers Hill as the dusk was falling, we discovered the petrol station had no fuel. We were both low and neither of us would make the 50 kms to the nearest pump. We were, as they say in the vernacular ... well, let’s just say we were in a spot of bother.

If it isn’t an Australian axiom, it ought to be: when in doubt, go to the pub. You’ll nearly always find what you’re looking for or a way to it. The pub in Lavers Hill is a beauty. It’s bar, roadhouse, petrol station (when the owner can get it) overnight cabins and camp ground. We couldn’t find accommodation or petrol and heard the story of how the distributors can’t be bothered coming, either to the pub or the other service station, because neither carries enough of a supply to make it worthwhile. The landlord, Paul, was splendidly, but humorously, bitter and twisted. In the way of some country Australian characters he produced a jerry can containing about 9 litres of fuel which Pterodactyl and I were able to divide between ourselves.

Phew!

We went to the local motel where we found an overpriced room, but it was comfortable enough and there was undercover parking for the bikes. Luxury.

We walked back to the pub for a meal and discovered that the landlord’s real passion was cooking and wine. We had an excellent meal of lamb rump stuffed with fetta, a good bottle of Shiraz, and a couple of cleansing ales before wandering back to the motel for a sleep.
Day 14: Lavers Hill-Colac-Melbourne

293 kms

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When I was a good deal younger, I had an album by Ian Matthews called Some days you eat the bear and some days the bear eats you. When I got up on a glorious but chilly morning, I had no idea it was (in large measure) going to be one of the latter.

It was a glorious morning. You can see the road into town from the east in the top right of the picture

Breakfast at the motel was a serious mistake: like the room, overpriced and very, very, very ordinary indeed. Neither of us was happy.

Things improved when we got under way. The road north to Colac where we’d decide to go to refuel was really enjoyable on a crisp, sunny morning and we made good time to a petrol station where we refuelled. We’d chosen Colac because it would give Pterodactyl a good launching point for a long and not very interesting trip back across Victoria towards Omeo where he had to stop to collect his watch. My plan was to head back down to the coast somewhere near Port Campbell, check out the Twelve Apostles, take some photos and then ride the Great Ocean Road back to Melbourne where I was going to spend two nights.

An alternative involved a ride north to Ballarat and lunch with some old friends before pushing on to Melbourne. Forgive my explaining the nature of the friendship, but it becomes relevant.

Early in my first marriage, my wife and I had a very good friend who not only introduced my brother to his wife, but also went on to marry my brother’s best mate. My old friend and her husband, with whom I’ve remained in touch, live in Ballarat. He has a neglected old BMW 750 in his garage.

I rang them and left a message. While Pterodactyl and I were having a coffee, my mate rang back and told me today would not be a good day to visit as his wife’s mother had died the previous weekend and they were preparing for the funeral the next day.

At this point, or thereabouts, I said farewell to Pterodactyl. He had a biggish day ahead, much of it not very interesting, but he can tell you about that. It was the end of the fourth good ride in less than 12 months with a bloke from 1,000 kms away who I met by chance on an Internet forum. We’ve yet to have a really bum day.

Now, as it happened, the plan for my second night in Melbourne was to meet up with my brother and his family to hear the great Pat Metheny. They were flying in from Tasmania for the purpose. So I rang my sister-in-law and found she intended now intended flying earlier to attend the funeral in Ballarat. We hatched a plan to borrow my niece’s car, drive to the funeral and then back to Melbourne in time for the concert.

With that sorted; I had one little chore before taking to the road to Port Campbell and the Great Ocean Road.

Wrong.

The chore was to fill a prescription. Should have been simple; but of course it wasn’t. It was a repeat prescription and by law in Australia pharmacists must sight the original prescription before issuing a repeat. Most of them leave it in a little paper folder behind the repeat. Not the a*sehole who’d first issued this script who’d decided he wanted me to go back there to fill all the repeats. So, although the pharmacist in Colac was very apologetic, she declined to fill it. Fair enough, I guess, but I was left wondering why life always dishes up these tidbits of important knowledge in the most irritating of circumstances.

I rang my doctor in the expectation that he’d fax a prescription to the pharmacy, but he was on a rare holiday so there was nothing for it but to take my chances at the local surgery. Everyone was very helpful, but they warned me the doctors were all booked up and I’d have to wait. I took a seat and caught up with reading on the CB1100 forum and elsewhere. Much later, I realised the waiting room had emptied. I asked at the counter to see what was happening.

“Haven’t you been seen yet?” the young lady asked, slightly aghast.

“No.”

Within 30 seconds I was in front of a doctor. Five minutes later I was out the door script in hand, apologies ringing in my ears. But by then it was well and truly time for lunch and my plans were in tatters.

Clutching my prescription, I ate lunch and reformulated my plan. All was not lost. I could ride to the coast at Skene’s Creek and then back along much of the GOR to Melbourne.

It turned out to be way better than expected. This was the bit where I got to gnaw on the bear, as it were. It was a glorious afternoon. The ride to the coast was very like the morning’s ride—a good country road through pretty hilly bush country without much traffic



Gotta love a sign like that







And now, because I feel my reporting duty strongly, here are some photos of the Great Ocean Road after I joined it at Skene’s Creek. As you can see, it was a great day for a ride.









You can see the road ahead

At the end of the GOR it’s life on the freeway to Melbourne. At a stop for fuel and a cup of tea, a text from Jalalski told me he was home in Sydney; a slightly later one from Pterodactyl told me he’d made Bright—a good ride on his part. I was already missing the brotherhood.

In Melbourne I stayed with my niece and her husband in their recently purchased house.

Day 15: Melbourne-Ballarat-Melbourne

I borrowed my niece’s car to drive my sister-in-law (her mother) to Ballarat for the funeral of our old friend’s mother. Sad, but OK: she’d had a good life and a long one.

By the time we got to back to Melbourne, parked the car and caught the train into the city, I was knackered. A couple of beers, half a bottle of red and a decent meal meant I needed a bit of sleep during a stellar performance from Pat Metheny. Almost a crime in my family, but I simply couldn’t help it. I was awake for the really excellent bits.

[redbirds_imp]

Excellent read and photos. Thanks for taking the time to post.

[the Ferret]

Awesome as usual Cormanus. I know you are going to really enjoy your visits to the states next May, but I can also tell by the words, not the ones written, but the ones expressed in your pictures, that you will enjoy returning home. What a cool place to live.

And... That's a lot of bikes on that ferry!

[Rocky_imp]

Wonderful post
I love reading your road trip posts - this one in particular since I've been to Melbourne and Phillip Island and have seen some of the spectacular ocean scenery.

[CA200_imp]

What a great story, really enjoyed seeing this from the other side of the world.

well, let’s just say we were in a spot of bother. - Cormanus it happens to us all but here in the states we express it in a little different way, most
you could not print here!

[Cormanus]

Awesome as usual Cormanus. I know you are going to really enjoy your visits to the states next May, but I can also tell by the words, not the ones written, but the ones expressed in your pictures, that you will enjoy returning home. What a cool place to live.

And... That's a lot of bikes on that ferry!

Thanks all. You're right, Ferret, Australia is a cool place to live. It's been an unexpected outcome of this new-found interest in touring that I'm reminded of that every time I head out. That's not to say I'm not looking forward to riding in the States.

[emptysea]

Wonderful chronicle. Thank you so much for your contributions to this forum.

[the Ferret]

Wonderful chronicle. Thank you so much for your contributions to this forum.

+1.

[nhawk7504_imp]

As always thanks for sharing! 33 degrees F at the moment. Light snow. Bare trees. It's only the 11th of December. Three months before one can even think about riding around here!

[Cormanus]

Day 16: Melbourne-Geelong-Melbourne-Devonport

593 Kms, but only 145 Kms on the bike

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It seemed a long time ago, during the manic day of running around between getting home from the Lions TT and leaving for Phillip Island, that the mechanic at the dealer had told me I’d be lucky to get more than about 3,000 kms from my rear tyre. I was annoyed at the time as it had done only 7,400 kms since I’d replaced it. Optimistically, I thought I’d try to make it last until I got home. But, on the way down to Phillip Island, Jalalski and Pterodactyl gave me a lesson in tyre inspection and I was no longer able to delude myself about the need for a new one.

Figuring that the best time to do the change would be on my way back into Melbourne from the Great Ocean Road, I organised with a dealer in Geelong to get me some more Bridgestone Battlax BT45s. I had been intending to change to the Michelin PR3s but I was worried about Pterodactyl’s experience having to shave the centre stand while I was away from home and on a bit of a timetable.

Of course, this plan didn’t work and the tyres were not available on the planned Tuesday, so I had to retrace my steps to Geelong on a grey, cool morning. While the tyres were changed I had breakfast and caught up on my notes of the trip. The bike was delayed so I also made a start on the write up of the LionsTT. The bike appeared and I went to pay only to be told the front brake pads were close to the end. They had no OEM pads, but did have some others that were suitable, so it was back to the workshop for the bike and some more writing for Cormanus.

I also had a little wander around and saw this little treasure hiding out the back.


A little bit later, and a few hundred dollars lighter in the wallet, I hit the road back to Melbourne.

Neither the ride to Geelong or back is really worth describing. It was all freeway stuff. Quick and efficient.

In Melbourne, I had time to have lunch, finish packing, buy my niece and her husband a thankyou present and fill their car with petrol before making my way the few kilometres to the terminal where I was to catch the ferry for Tasmania.



Waiting for the ferry. The guy, second from the right, leaning on the post, was one of the tallest people I’ve come across for quite a while. He was with a group of off road riders who had ridden from the same area I live. The following morning, I rode after the two guys in front of me who were riding an ST and a Guzzi.



There were more bikes in front of us and another large contingent further aft.
On the ferry, the bikes stay in first gear on their side stand and are then tightly strapped down across the bars. The guys are careful and do a great job of making them secure.

It was an uneventful night on the ferry. I’d taken the chance of sharing a cabin and had an agreeable cabin mate who didn’t snore. I hope I didn’t.
Day 17: Devonport-Hobart

371 kms

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Tasmania holds a special place in my heart. It was where I grew up, went to school, learned to ride motorbikes and lived for 40 years. My children were born there and one still lives in Hobart. I left for various reasons, but not because I’d come to dislike it. Even though the weather is much less conducive to riding bikes than where I now live in Queensland, it is still possible to ride all year round if you’re prepared to deal with the cold.

It’s an island, rugged in parts. Stand on the beach near Strahan on the west coast looking west and there’s nothing between you and South America. Only South America, the South Island of New Zealand are nearer Antarctica.

I woke to a cool and overcast morning as the ship came alongside in Devonport. By not long after 0700 I was on the way out of Devonport following the ST and Guzzi of the blokes I’d boarded with the night before. It was cold and threatening rain, so there are no photographs of the early part of the trip.

The guys I was following had told me they took the ferry to Victoria at least once a year to go for a ride. They were both older than me (well, I think they looked it) and had been doing it for quite a while. I followed them to a place called Exeter where they were stopping while I was pushing on to Launceston. In Launceston, I was to meet an old mate who, in age falls into the 7.42% group of CB1100 forum members. He’s had lots of bikes and has recently bought a Ducati Monster 659 which has been tuned down a bit to make it a learner-legal bike in Australia. I think he bought it because it offered a bit of excitement without being as heavy as an in-line 4. He had timed the first service so he could meet me in Launceston and ride to Hobart with me. How kind was that?

Actually, it occurs to me that I should record here a vote of thanks to Graham. He and his wife came to stay for a few days in 2013 and while we were chatting about bikes I told him how much I liked the CB1100. He turned up a few reviews and really went to work on me to buy one if that was what I really wanted. I did. Thanks mate. It was a great decision.

I met him at his hotel and had a cup of tea to warm up before we lit out for Campbell Town, 70 odd kms to the south. We stopped there to refuel and have a belated breakfast. Actually, I think it was Graham’s second breakfast!

Even though tuned down a little, the Monster had no real trouble keeping up with the CB

We then turned east to ride the Lake Leake Road, one of the better riding roads among many in Tasmania. It climbs briefly over a range before falling away to the east coast and has a number of really good, fast sweepers. As we got to the top of the range, an irritating drizzle set in. I regret not putting on my wet weathers.



On the Lake Leake Road

I love the east coast of Tasmania. It’s a great place to ride a bike. It’s not too twisty, but it’s by no means straight either and you can get along at a good pace, particularly when you know the road a bit. It’s amazing how it came back to me as we made our way to Orford where we met my youngest son for lunch. I ate an excellent focaccia and enjoyed a welcome coffee while I dried out a little, warmed up and marvelled at how much weight my son had lost since last I saw him.

After lunch it was on with the wet weather gear, although I had a bet with Graham that it would stop raining once we were not many kms inland. It did, and that was great because the Orford to Hobart road was always one of my favourites as a young bloke. It’s better now than it was due to widening and a better surface and the enthusiast can maintain a cracking pace.

At Sorell we stopped and said our goodbyes as Graham was heading in a different direction. It had been a good ride and I’d enjoyed seeing the Ducatti up close.

I made my way to Hobart where I got off the bike for a couple of days to go sailing with my brother. It was one of the reasons I’d decided to come to Tasmania. Although other parts of Australia offer a more benign climate for sailing few, in my view, offer the range of convenient coastal cruising as Hobart. There are plenty of relatively isolated, sheltered bays to drop the anchor and some semi-sheltered waterways offering excellent sailing. Sailing has long been one of the things that has given me great joy, particularly cruising. The forecast was reasonably good and I was looking forward to seeing some old haunts again.