The Cormanus Chronicles: The Wintersun Run 2018

[Cormanus]

Back in June 2014, Pterodactyl posted that he was off to the Wintersun Run. When I said it sounded good, he invited me to join him. It was very short notice, but, despite a concern that I might be off to meet an axe murder, my wife encouraged me so off I went. Turned out that at almost the same time Mrs Pterodactyl expressed a similar concern about axe murders. Another CB1100 friendship was born. So, too, was a continuing interest in CB1100 touring. That tale is told [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3294&pid=47946&highlight=Wintersun#pid47946]here and [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3324&highlight=Wintersun]here.

Recently, after weeks of renovating, I was in need of a decent ride. Pterodactyl announced he was off to Wintersun 2018. I signed on.

Day 1: Brisbane to Narrabri (661 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RgOZdv4uQy9wsypaNozNRGzqoQg4HQru&usp=sharing]Link to Map

I left home just before 0630 with a visor I’d broken the previous evening while cleaning it. One of the tabs that held it to the helmet had snapped. If I forgot to close it, there was a fair chance it would blow off, snapping the other tab in the process. I changed my planned route so I could ride through Gatton and Toowoomba stopping at every motorcycle shop I came across in the hope of finding a new visor. By Warwick it was clear that I was going to have to order one, so I abandoned the search and got on with riding.

The broken tab was on the bottom right of the visor. Curiously, when the visor was closed, it was when I turned my head to the right that it was most likely to pop out and threaten to blow off.

It was a cool but sunny morning and I had a lovely if uneventful ride, stopping at Texas for lunch before riding on to Narrabri. A highlight was an unexpected hill crossing between Bingara and Narrabri which gave me both some agreeably winding road and a surprising glimpse of the great, flat Australian interior.

Even at 0645, the cages heading into the city are lining up. Lucky for me I’m heading away from all that.


First faint glimpse of the ranges to the south as I headed from Toowoomba to Warwick


Photo op at Texas


This would turn out to be the second last stretch of even vaguely winding road I’d see for a bit




The hills in the distance mark the end of the plain between Bingara and Narrabri. After climbing over them, you are down onto the endless flat lands




First glimpses of the seemingly endless flat land in the centre of Australia


Down from the Great Dividing Range and approaching Narrabri

In memory of our inaugural ride, I met Pterodactyl at the Crossroads Hotel where we checked in and set about planning the route to Mildura where the Wintersun Run is held.
Day 2: Narrabri to Cobar (590 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1s1FqNDYMcccil1rJocJEp_KQNUM049ZC&usp=sharing]Link to Map

We awoke to a glorious morning, although cold. As we loaded our bikes, I was engaged in conversation by an American—from Phoenix, I think—who joined the legion of people who rode or owned a CB750-Four back in the day. Pterodactyl has a theory that, if you counted all the people who told CB1100 owners they’d had a CB750, the total would far exceed the number of CB750s ever produced, even allowing for multiple ownership.

He may be right; but, in the case of this gentleman, I had no way of knowing. He told me he was interested in getting back into riding and was very taken by the CB1100. He took a photo of our bikes and I told him about the Forum and the left-over 2014 models back in the US. Who knows? Another new member soon?

The bike warms in the sun outside the Crossroads Hotel while I chat with another potential CB 1100 enthusiast

It’s a testament to our planning aptitude that we still had no idea precisely where we were going. West was on a good enough start as the last time we made the trip we’d contemplated returning via Broken Hill (home of what is now BHP Billiton) but had abandoned the idea because we weren’t sure whether there were enough fuel stops. Research had shown there were, so Broken Hill was on the itinerary.

So, we turned our noses west out of Narrabri and made our way out through the cotton country in the general direction of the great flat centre of Australia.

What looks like stones beside the road is actually cotton


Not many trees here

Early European explorers criss-crossed the Australian continent looking for the Great Inland Sea. They didn’t find it, although as you fly across Australia, you can see myriad water courses where water flows and collects on the rare occasions it rains. Undaunted by failing to find the inland sea, the Europeans pillaged the Darling River—which flows from Queensland to South Australia—to grow crops like cotton which is, perhaps, a tad heavy on water for the Australian environment. The upstream pillage goes on, some of it illegal, and is a major source of controversy in those parts of modern Australia affected by it. It is one of modern societies’ more intractable problems. Our forefathers (and mothers) made decisions—most likely in good faith—that would prove unsustainable in the long run. Unpicking them now, with the almost endless consequences for people’s lives and the costs of compensation, is very difficult indeed.

In any event, it’s interesting country, flat. White tufts of cotton litter the roadside for miles to the west. Huge trucks hauling cotton and, sometimes, bales of hay passed us as we made our way through Wee Waa (where we had an agreeable breakfast) to Walgett and then Bourke.

A road train in Walgett


CB1100s in Walgett

[url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bourke,_New_South_Wales]Bourke is an interesting town. There is an Australian expression, “out the back of Bourke” which means something is a very long way away indeed. It is said the legendary Black Stump is not far from Bourke. [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Stump]The Black Stump is a mythical marker of the end of Australian civilisation.

In the nineteenth century, Bourke was a major trading hub, accessible by coach, river and later rail. Any notion of river transport is now a joke as the diversion of the Darling River into irrigation means there is insufficient water to float much of a boat in much of the river.

The main street of Bourke

Bourke was something of a decision point for us. Three considerations came into play.

The first was the Darling River Road which runs from Bourke to Wilcannia via Louth and Tilpa. Pterodactyl was keen to ride it but Google maps gives the transit time as more than 7 hours for 319 kms. In this part of the world that means one thing only: dirt, and a great deal of it. Outback dirt—or bull dust as it is often fondly known—has a couple of features. It is fine and powdery and can hide enormous potholes that you simply don’t see until you ride into them. It also takes on the less appealing characteristics of a skid pan at the faintest hint of moisture.

The second was a priority: the first match of the annual State of Origin Rugby League was to be played the following night and could not be missed. For those very few of you neither Australian nor interested in rugby league, the State of Origin is a three game grudge series played between the Australian States of Queensland and New South Wales. Read all about it [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State_of_Origin_series]here in Wikipedia.

We were hoping to camp at [url=http://warrawongonthedarling.com.au/]Warrawong on the darling near Wilcannia where, quite separately, we’d both been told there was a wonderful camp site.

A phone call to Warrawong advised us that there was no television in the communal area, so watching the State of Origin match was not an option. During the day we’d discussed the dirt and decided against it, so we’d decided Broken Hill would be the place to overnight on Wednesday.

It’s a 600 km hike from Bourke to Broken Hill and the riding, although straight and relatively flat, is surprisingly hard, so we decided to reduce the load and make the 100 km run to Cobar and overnight there. That would put us just into the time when the kangaroos were rising from their beds and playing their evening game of chicken with motorists. They’re welcome to this game, although the carnage and persistent smell of decaying loser that creeps into a motorcycle helmet leaves one wishing Skippy would evolve a little thereby increasing his likelihood of surviving chicken.

Bull dust on the wide shoulders of the rod between Bourke and Cobar, allowing a slightly better chance of spotting a kangaroo or emu.

It felt like a gentle climb all the way to Cobar. Turns out it was: 100 metres difference or a metre every kilometre. You’d imagine you wouldn’t notice it, but I did.

We made it to Cobar unscathed and settled into the Great Western Hotel.

[Cormanus]

Day 3: Cobar to Broken Hill (471 kms)


Link to Map

Another glorious but chilly day saw us on the way to Broken Hill. It was more of the same: flat land, low scrub, dead kangaroos, endless grey nomads, wild goats, emus, big trucks, and the occasional live kangaroo.

A not very good photo of roadside emus between Walgett and Bourke

The land, although flat and seemingly endless, is, to my eye, surprisingly interesting. Just when you think you’ve had enough, you realise the red soil that produces bull dust has changed to a paler colour and the size and type of tree has also changed. There is also the endless spectacle of the Big Sky. Out here it is mostly untouched even by aircraft vapour trails.

We stopped for breakfast and fuel at the Emmdale Road House, passed by Warrawong on the darling, saw the empty Darling River at Wilcannia, refuelled again at the Topar Roadhouse before rolling into Broken Hill in good time. We both enjoyed the final 10 kms or so where the road surprisingly developed a few turns.

At the Emmdale Roadhouse. The Harley in the background was the first bike we’d seen since leaving Narrabri

At Emmdale, we talked to a couple of ADV riders who told us to avoid the dirt roads as there were some horrendous potholes which they though CB1100s would not appreciate.

Pterodactyl settles in for the next leg


Back on the road. It’s a while till the next stop


On the road down the incline in front of me is a truck. Behind it on the horizon is the faintest hint of a hill. There are some more off to the right of the road. By that time of the day, even a hint of a hill was enough to make me stop and take a picture.


The plain to the left of the road. No hills that way!


At the Little Topar Roadhouse. There’s nothing there except a small store and some petrol bowsers

The Palace Hotel looked substantial and inviting, had a television to watch the rugby, cold beer, a reasonable tariff and a lockable garage for the bikes. An agreeable chap on a Harley—only the fourth bike we’d seen since leaving Narrabri—appeared and shared the garage. Later three ADV riders also borrowed the key and parked their bikes.

Broken Hill locals admire two fine motorcycles!


The main street of Broken Hill in the very early evening

New South Wales won the State of Origin, much to Pterodactyl’s disgust. I probably should have been disgusted too, but it was such an exciting match I slept through the second half.
Day 4: Broken Hill to Silverton to Menindee to Broken Hill (318 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=12X2YrdF90OT_lguMoXjdB2hA7Wj5l7Y3&usp=sharing]Link to Map

Broken Hill was something of a high point of this part of our trip. From Narrabri (212 metres above sea level) we had descended to Bourke (106 metres) before climbing to Cobar (260 metres), descending again to Wilcannia (75 metres) and then climbing through Little Topar (127 metres) to Broken Hill (315 metres). Our Day 3 ride would take us down again to Menindee at 60 metres. Mildura would see us at 51 metres.

It’s also a bit of a high point because it’s a pretty spectacular town in the middle of nowhere. It’s nearly 1,000 kms from Sydney as the crow flies and 1,200 kms from my home in Brisbane. By road, straight though they are, I’d travelled a tad more than 1,500 kms. Curiously, my fuel consumption on the way here was slightly higher than usual.

[url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broken_Hill]Broken Hill got its name from an explorer, Charles Sturt. Neither exists any longer: Sturt from the effluxion of time, Broken Hill because it has been mined away since 1883 when silver was discovered. Although I saw two motorcycle shops that had shut down, the civic buildings in Broken Hill are magnificent and speak of significant past prosperity.

For movie buffs, the Palace Hotel, was a stopping point for the characters in the movie The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. The hotel was used for some of the filming. Even better, from my perspective, the hotel started life as a coffee palace paid for by the temperance movement as a counterpoint to the plethora of licensed hotels in Broken Hill. In the long run, the temperance movement lost out.

The hotel features a number of splendid murals. Priscilla’s shoe float adorns the foyer.











Murals in the foyer of the Palace Hotel, Broken Hill


I hope I’m right that this came from the movie The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

After a late-ish breakfast across the street—partly to avoid the chill—we set off for Silverton, around 25 kms to the north. It, too, will be recognisable to movie buffs, as it features in Priscilla, A Town like Alice, Mission Impossible II and others. Mad Max II was filmed around Silverton and the town features a Mad Max II museum which was closed when we got there.

The road undulates slightly and must be amazing on the rare occasions it rains. To warn hapless motorists of an impending dip, yellow, diamond-shaped signs proclaiming “DIP” feature beside the road. About half-way to Silverton, I noticed some one had painted “Radish and Onion” above the word “DIP”. On the way back, I spotted a Gluten Free dip and an Avocado Dip (Guacamole). I didn’t take photos, only partly because it would have been hard to stop beside the road.

A chill desert breeze blew through the town

The museum




The Silverton Hotel complete with external tribute to Mad Max




Posters in the Silverton Hotel


Silverton’s gallery


For those who enjoy Australian place names ‘Umberumberka’ must be up there with the best

The town felt like the Australian equivalent of a wild west set so, after a look at the Hotel, we turned south again to Broken Hill and Menindee, home of some celebrated outback lakes.

At one stage of our planning we’d contemplated riding from Wilcannia to Menindee via a dirt road. The three ADV riders we met at Broken Hill had persuaded us not to. Leaving Broken Hill we were treated to another feast of sweeping corners as the road headed downhill. After that, though, there was a seemingly endless flood plain.

Of water there was little sight. Menindee Lake was just another flood plain and, when we visited the historic Kinchega Woolshed we found it a little hard to believe the wool used to be collected by paddle steamer which took it south to Wentworth.

The road from the little town of Menindee to the Kinchega Woolshed


Pretty much had the place to ourselves


A windmill! Must be a CB photo op


The old woolshed


Where the shearers used to strut their stuff


One of a number of wool presses

As we’d arrived at the Woolshed, there was a single Land Rover. By the time we’d finished our tour, the car park was full of them. A Land Rover rally, no less. We spent a while wandering around, working out how to weave our way between them. One bloke even moved his vehicle for us. Pterodactyl mounted and took off in a completely different direction around and exited without difficulty. I followed, laughing fit to bust. I hope the bloke didn’t think us ungrateful.

A Land Rover rally
Nowhere in Menindee looked all that inviting as a place to stay. In any event, we’d have to return to Broken Hill before turning south to Mildura, so we headed back, thinking to find somewhere different to stay. Nothing appeared as we rode in, so it was back to the Palace.

On the way out of Menindee, we climbed a hillock to look at the lake, but there was little to no water to be seen.





Day 5: Broken Hill to Mildura (311 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Nz1bDKr_BLI8kEQlg4ANCBn7gYQkQHN4&usp=sharing]Link to Map

Another cold morning with the promise of rain greeted us. In a place with an average annual rainfall of 242 mm (9.5 inches), even a drop’s a treat for the locals so, even though it offered the likelihood of donning the dreaded wets, we didn’t begrudge them.

From Broken Hill to Wentworth is 261 kms. Theoretically the CB would make it; but, even allowing for noroomtomove’s first law of motion and fuel consumption, I was not anxious to put it to the test. Particularly as the CB had been sipping slightly more petrol than usual to this point. As it turns out, based on the fuel I actually used, I would have made it with a few kilometres to spare, but I’m still glad not to have attempted it.

Even though the Coombah Roadhouse—pretty much in the middle of nowhere—was only 120 kms down the road, after recording Pterodactyl’s 111,111 milestone ([url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=9640&pid=208042#pid208042]see here), we stopped there. A number of road trains were parked as earlier rain slightly further south meant they couldn’t negotiate the dirt road taking them to their destination. We wondered whether they’d be there for a day or so.





Milestones

Others at the roadhouse said it was raining in Mildura, so we donned our wets and set out again. Rain it did in patches. Not much, but persistently enough to make me glad of my waterproofs. Having nearly lost my damaged visor once when I turned my head right forgetting about it, I was pleased to discover it still kept the water out. I’d not been confident. Having realised on the first day that I’d be very lucky to find one, I’d rung Mildura and ordered one. I was relieved it was there and that it fitted.





The Coombah Roadhouse. The Road Trains were sitting around waiting for a dirt road to dry out


Inside a sign told us where we were heading

A bloke in the motorcycle shop told us the road into the Wintersun rally was a quagmire and he’d decided not to ride in. Setting up tents in the rain is never appealing so we retired to Mildura’s Grand Hotel where we found a comfortable room at a very reasonable rate. After an excellent Thai meal and a couple of cleansing ales at a local beer house we slept well.


Pterodactyl consults the internet with the Honda shop in the background. I was relieved to have a replacement visor that was not going to blow away in a moment of forgetfulness
Day 6: Mildura and thereabouts (161 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1fQBMgswBqMJsxfM6Uo6PJ3k3uLMvVcLP&usp=sharing]Link to Map

The Wintersun Run is mostly about going to Mildura. There local Motorcycle Club, where one camps, hosts a bonfire and entertainment on Saturday night, flat track racing on Sunday, and a barbeque in the evening, but that’s about it. They also provide breakfast for three mornings and, on both days, a local food van was on site. The rest of the time you’re on your own.

We checked in and set up our camp.

This Kawasaki ornamented the outside of the check-in tent



It was time to go for a ride. On the way from Broken Hill I’d noticed a sign to a place called Pomona. I lived in Pomona, Queensland for a number of years and had always wanted to visit its southern namesake. We did. A sign and a boat launching ramp were about it.

While stopping to take a photo of the sign for my wife, I gained first had experience of just how treacherous the desert dirt is. I pulled off the black top onto what looked like damp gravel. Even after very minor rain, it was soggy and sludgy and sticky. Pterodactyl told me he thought I was going to get bogged in it. Blech!


We rode on through the town hoping we may find a circuit to take us back to Mildura. We found only dirt roads and so turned back. A break at the boat ramp provided brief entertainment.

Spot the belated competition entry

We rode back along the norther side of the Murray River and settled in to enjoy the entertainments.

I passed a milestone on the way



Day 7: Pooncarie (298 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1D90iXjIFJ3-gFsxK1MUDIgSydiLyIWKb&usp=sharing]Link to Map

We’d hoped to ride from Menindee to Wentworth via Pooncarie, but the road is dirt and all the advice we collected urged against it. However, as the road from Wentworth north to Pooncarie is sealed we decided to while away the morning with a ride. More of the same flat, fast country, but a surprisingly good breakfast of eggs benedict at a surprisingly sophisticated café on the banks of the Darling River. It was a particular counterpart to the sign that warned about the state of the river!

The sign says: ‘WARNING! This water may be contaminated with algae. Do not DRINK, SWIM or allow pets in the water. Avoid contact with water.

Pooncarie is a pretty oasis and was once a major port for the paddle steamers plying the Darling. They couldn’t do it now, as I’ve noted, as there’s insufficient water in the river, but that’s not the reason they stopped. The advent of faster (and presumably cheaper) road transport spelled the end of waterways as a major transport route.

As well as the café, [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pooncarie]Wikipedia tells us,
Quote: … the village has a postal centre and Centrelink office (which is housed in the former Pooncarie police station), a hotel, a golf course, a tennis court, a general store, a cemetery, and a racecourse, where the Pooncarie Cup - held on Labour Day (NSW and SA) - attracts a crowd of over 1,500 enthusiasts.
Pooncarie is also close to the Lake Mungo National Park, where the remains of the oldest known human in Australia were found. The remains are believed to be around 40,000 years old, although there has been some controversy about that, [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Mungo_remains.]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Mungo_remains.

Although any number of people said Lake Mungo was worth a look, the long dirt road ride involved in the aftermath of rain put it out of the question.

The woman at the café told us about an alternative route to Mildura which would take us past Fletcher’s Lake. She claimed it was pretty when there was water in it. It was.


An afternoon of flat racing, a spit roast, plenty of motorcycle and other conversation around the fire pit at the Mildura Motorcycle Club made for a rather-too-good afternoon and evening.







A couple of bikes hanging around

I enjoyed seeing one of the new Kawasaki Z900RS in the metal. I liked it. Pterodactyl didn’t. It’s owner was sporting an interesting hoodie—[url=https://www.google.com/search?q=kwikasfuki+hoodie&safe=off&client=firefox-b-ab&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=E0MRH7Iv_W1MHM%253A%252C3J8yRrmco-j1rM%252C_&usg=__RZNjre45f2i9KNyR-NvEmlVQnE0%3D&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiWgIP-wv3bAhXbdN4KHcSeAbQQ9QEIKzAA#imgrc=E0MRH7Iv_W1MHM:]see here.

[Rocky_imp]

WOW!!!!!!!!!
That was an amazing post of pictures and narrative. Fantastic job

[The A-man]

Great write-up. Made me feel like I was right there with you!

[Cormanus]

As they say ... Wait! There's more.



Day 8: Mildura to Kerang (318 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1OuI3NVG9CO8XF-AlH18EfeDoxhBq4wsr&usp=sharing]Link to Map

After breakfast provided by the club and a further rest, we struck camp and rolled out of Mildura in the middle of the day. We hoped to follow the Murray River east, but ended up at Hattah, a bit to the south, where we refuelled the bikes and ourselves before turning north to the river.

Signpost at the Hattah Roadhouse

We rode through Manangatang, which is of no import except that I once knew the bloke who was matron of the country hospital there.

We reached Kerang at around 5 pm. It was decidedly cool and we checked into the Exchange Hotel where the Indian proprietor served cold beer and an OK Butter chicken. According to Pterodactyl, the curry was not so good.

Day 9: Kerang to Boorowa (550 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1jRE52EuH8S-L1BtPvUK7A1UR69YIRjdl&usp=sharing]Link to Map

Rain overnight left the bikes wet in the morning and it was decidedly cold as we made our way north and east across the border back into NSW. It was a chilly but pleasant day as we made our way through Deniliquin, Jerilderie, Urana to Wagga Wagga. While the roads from Wagga Wagga to Gundagai and thence north from Jugiong to Harden are excellent riding, we decided to try a different route north through Junee and Cootamundra. A pretty ride, and an overnight stay in Cootamundra will be warranted sometime, but the riding through Jugiong is better. We both agreed, though, that being back on roads that undulated and had corners was a relief.

The Boorowa Hotel has become an almost mandatory stop on Pterodactyl’s and my travels south and the evening’s entertainment did not disappoint, although we both dropped out early before it became excessive.

I took one photo all day, apparently. A milestone

Day 10: Boorowa to Denman (433 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Xv0fuKgXKfnLyxqTwBqwh8bLMzd8hyhk&usp=sharing]Link to Map

With early rain forecast on top of a decidedly chilly morning, we made another late-ish start and initially avoided the rain. We made our way through pretty and winding back roads to Lake Wyangala where we had a late breakfast. Somewhere along the way we stopped to put on some wet weather gear. As usual, as soon as we got moving again the rain stopped, although we were to be glad of it after breakfast when we got a good dousing heading towards Bathurst.

The Boorowa Hotel

A ride up the glorious Bylong Valley in improving weather conditions, afternoon tea at the Bylong General Store (mandatory under current management) found us in Denman where I had said to Pterodactyl I never wanted to stay again.

We found a different pub with better rooms than the other I’ve stayed at and had a quiet and agreeable evening with me thinking maybe Denman was not so bad after all.

Day 11: Denman to Ebor (508 kms)

[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1n_eJxDTchuUt88_JETQn14uiJtM25She&usp=sharing]Link to Map

Of course I was wrong about Denman. We awoke to become an unwilling audience to one of those ugly domestic arguments between the publican and his partner. Most of their overnight guests head off to work very early and I think they thought the place deserted. Sadly, it fortified my resolve to try to avoid Denman in the future. I suspect I’ll fail. It’s one of those places that is always just far enough from somewhere to be an ideal stopping point.

It was cold again; so we delayed our start and had breakfast at a Denman café before Pterodactyl introduced me to a much prettier way of getting to Jerrys Plains. After a quick stop for luggage tightening, we said our farewells as, a few kilometres further on, Pterodactyl would turn south for home.

I knew only that I was going to ride one of my favourite and oft-described roads from Singleton to Gloucester. After that, I wasn’t sure. On one hand I was a bit keen to avoid the scenic but cold New England Plateau; on the other, the alternative would involve a greater exposure to the slab that I wanted.

It was cool at Gloucester, but the sun was shining, the coffee and meat pie were OK, so I abandoned warmth for cold and riding pleasure. I rang ahead to the Ebor Falls Hotel-Motel to make sure they had a room and set off up Thunderbolts way to Walcha, Uralla and Armidale where I refuelled for the final run to Ebor.



I managed 2 milestone photos between Gloucester and Walcha

I left Armidale slightly later than I wanted to be out and it was cooling fast. I think it focused the mind, and I had a fantastic ride to Ebor on a great surface with not much traffic, lots of good sweeping corners, Australian farmland and pretty bush scenery.

An excellent evening in the Ebor Falls Hotel-Motel with the locals and Dave, A BMW rider from Newcastle and Tasmania, capped off a good day’s ride. The promise of sub-zero temperatures and a cold morning offered the prospect of a sleep in. What could be better?
Day 12: Ebor to Brisbane (439 kms)


[url=https://drive.google.com/open?id=1kVc4esH21Tx_TP26NQDr_UkSsdEFsfP1&usp=sharing]Link to Map

The manager of the hotel told me the local weather guru had recorded -5.4ºC not long before dawn, and it felt like when I wheeled the bike from the garage into the sun.

Frost on the ground on the way to get the bike out.

I was in no hurry and packed up in a leisurely way before a final cup of tea and toast in the pub’s kitchen. It was a glorious morning when Dave and I shoved off in different directions at around 10 am.

The Armidale Road to Grafton did not disappoint, except for occasional patches of bad surface, it’s a great road for a motorcycle. The good news was a stretch occupied by a road gang rectifying some of the surface issues.

A strange and large musician on the Armidale-Grafton road

Trusting to noroomtomove’s law of motion and fuel consumption and the availability of fuel, I kept going through Grafton to a remote service station at [url=https://goo.gl/maps/yE8oUnMYPmn]Whiporie where the bike got fuel and I got coffee. At 255 kms from Armidale, it was the longest ride I’ve made between refuels. According to Honda I had 1.7 litres remaining and would not have made it to the next fuel at Casino.

Somewhere after Casino when I’d managed to get some lighter gloves on so I could use the camera more easily, I managed—finally—to get a decent rear view mirror shot.


Shortly afterwards I got a first glimpse of the border ranges.


Food at Wiangaree and a ride over the recently reopened Lions Road, sporting a couple of flash new concrete bridges, brought me back to Queensland. From there I rode through some of the Gold Coast hinterland to Beenleigh, onto the slab and home.

A new bridge on the Lions Road

A tad over 5,000 kms ridden on 271 litres of fuel, most of it in company with my good mate, Pterodactyl. Sadly, neither noroomtomovenor Aussieflyer were able to make the trek to Mildura to say g’day. I got to ride through some new and interesting country and visited some new and interesting places. A tentative approach about the possibility of some paid work evaporated after about the second day. How good was that?

All in all it was a suitable anniversary ride for my introduction to long distance touring. Thanks Pterodactyl.

When the trusty CB1100 and I set out to meet Pterodactyl in 2014, the bike had done around 10,000 kms. When I got home at the end of this trip it had 91,586 kms on the odometer. It’s done OK these past four years and didn’t miss a beat this trip.

A note on fuel consumption

I’ve tracked fuel consumption on my CB for nearly 86,000 kms. My average fuel consumption is 5.34 litres/100 kms. (Don’t ask me why the metric system measures fuel consumption like this.) It means I get an average of 18.87 kms per litre of fuel or 44.40 miles/US Gallon.

On the way to Mildura, I noticed my fuel consumption was up around 5.51 litres/100 kms or 42.25 miles / US gallon. I wasn’t riding any differently; nor was I carrying any more gear than I carry when camping. I wondered about it along the way, particularly when it fell back to more normal levels after Mildura. I have to assume it had to do with riding on long, relatively flat and straight stretches of road at around the speed limit—in other words, maintaining a consistent and slightly higher speed than I would on a windier country road. I also wondered whether the absence of a windscreen contributed to greater wind resistance and therefore higher fuel consumption. Pterodactyl says his fuel consumption on the way out was normal.

Long term I don’t think there’s cause for concern as the average for the trip was 5.36 litres/100 kms.

[use2b_imp]

Wow great photo's and adventure . That VW sure has some tires ......

[noroomtomove]

Once again a great read.

Regards NRTM

[the Ferret]

An absoluetly fantastic read while Moto 2 was running and waiting for the Dutch GP at Assen to start. You are quite the story teller and picture taker my friend. Always informational and entertaining.

Congrats on the milestones Cormanus.

(Wow my response got interrupted by one heck of a Moto GP race lol.)

[Cormanus]

Yes. That MotoGP was spectacular.

[Vic_imp]

great trip story and pictures!