A bit of a ride: back on the road

[Cormanus]

Day 7: Sydney-Cooma

534 kms



Six days had passed since I left home. I’d had a great ride to Sydney and a great weekend spending time with my son and catching up with an old friend. I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs Pterodactyl. Finally, on the evening of the sixth day, I got to enjoy one of Sydney’s spectacular storms. We get them at home too, but they’ve been scarce of late and it was good to be reminded of how much water can fall from the sky in a very short period. My son and I only just got in the door of the local pizza shop before the skies opened.

In the morning, the remnants of the storm were hanging about. There was no rain, but it was overcast and the forecast for later in the day was pretty bloody awful.

Pterodactyl and I met at a service station (that’s gas station in American) near to both of us, refuelled and launched ourselves into Sydney’s commuter traffic. Cleverly we were going away from the traffic along a route Pterodactyl had devised. It would be all new riding to me.

Pterodactyl sets a course south

A 30 kilometre ride had us at the Loftus Oval next to the entrance to the Royal National Park. Here we stopped to meet Jalalski (as he is known on the Australian Netrider forum) who was to be a our companion on the way to Phillip Island. And while there, too. Jalalski had made the pilgrimage south with Pterodactyl in 2013 and had decided he needed to upgrade from his GS500F to something larger. He’d done an amazing deal on a Triumph Sprint, a worthy companion for the CB1100s, and was looking forward to putting it through its paces.

From left, Jalalski, Pterodactyl, Cormanus

The ride through the Royal National Park is amazing, although many would say too heavily speed limited. The road is narrow with the bush often coming very close to both sides of the road and it twists and turns away enough to make a motorcyclist drool. There was not much traffic and we made good time.



Royal National Park


At the southern exit from the Royal National Park looking south to Wollongong and the Sea Cliff Bridge.

We didn’t ride the Sea Cliff Bridge as Pterodactyl had other plans for us. We took to the Princes Highway to skirt Wollongong, turning right when we reached Albion Park to head up the Macquarie Pass towards Robertson and its emponymous Pie Shop.

Princes Highway


Heading inland towards Macquarie Pass


One of the early corners on the way up the Macquarie Pass


The road narrows

Another great road. Well done, Pterodactyl. The climb up the pass is well worth the effort, although it is easy to get stuck behind a car for long periods.

By the time we got to the Robertson Pie Shop, it was considerably cooler, the sky was looking more forbidding and I thought we deserved the cup of coffee and Portuguese tarts. Both were good.

Our tour guide then took us back down the mountain to Kiama through the very pretty Jamberoo Rd. Although the ride from Albion Park to Kiama was effectively a 56 km detour, it was a damned sight prettier and more fun than the 17 km dash down the highway. That’s the joy of riding motorcycles: it’s often more fun to take the long way.

We travelled on down the Princes Highway stopping for fuel at Berry before turning left at Nowra to begin the climb to the highlands. The sky looked increasingly ominous and it wasn’t long before Pterodactyl pulled over, climbed off and started to haul on his wet weather gear. Jalalski and I followed suit. Not a moment too soon. Even before we were back on the bikes the rain started to fall. Hard.

I’d like to report it was just a shower and we were quickly through it. It wasn’t, and it was to keep going for the rest of the day delivering, to me at least, an object lesson in the inadequacy of nearly all motorcycle wet weather gear in really wet conditions. I confess it was a bit of a shock to realise that my hitherto waterproof boots were slowly filling up with water; that the seam in the crotch of my trousers was failing and parts of my jacket just weren’t doing their job. I suspect a set of ocean racing wet weathers may well be the only thing really up to keeping the water out.

We stopped in Braidwood for something to eat and a coffee and decided not to take the planned route as it involved a reasonable stretch of dirt and Pterodactyl was a bit concerned about crossing one low-lying creek on the way through. We detoured via Queanbeyan, just over the border from Canberra, Australia’s capital, and then punched into a strong southerly wind for the 100 or so kilometers to Cooma .

It was approaching dark when we finally arrived at the Swiss Motel. We were relieved to find an old fashioned oil-filled heater which did stirling work drying all our wet gear.

Dinner at the Alpine Hotel was welcome and acceptable, if unmemorable.

 

[Pterodactyl_imp]

I must add that Cormanus' discomfort on arrival at Cooma and being wet and cold was eased considerably, and quickly, by a couple of tots of Sailor Jerrys 80 proof spiced rum. I just happened to have a bottle in my saddle bags, next to my first aid kit. Purely medicinal of course.

Cheers

 

[Cormanus]

How did I forget that? Golly that rum was good. And effective. And it makes an appearance later in the story.

Thanks Pterodactyl.

 

[Rocky_imp]

Nice post

 

[metallyguitarded_imp]

Fantastic write up and photos! I seriously wish I could have been there to experience it alongside you guys. Your report came awfully close to putting me right there.

Note to self: Add Sailor Jerry to first aid kit!

 

[Elipten_imp]

Yea but be careful if Bundy and vegamite appear.


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[Cormanus]

Elipten, as you might imagine, my recollection is hazy, but I'm pretty sure Sailor Jerry's potion was manufactured from best Bundaberg sugar.
Day 8: Cooma-Omeo

435km



Early the day before, we’d realised Pterodactyl’s tail light was not working. It was hard, but Jalalski and I restrained him from making a long, voluble protest on the forum about the poor quality of the CB’s manufacture. He seemed to think a tail light should last more than 40,000 kms. Jalalski was up very early and replaced the globe which fixed the problem. He’d also been watching the news and seen that Sydney had been pelted by an unseasonable storm. There was chaos in the city as snow had fallen on the Blue Mountains to the city’s west (where I’d been riding only days before). There was a logjam of traffic and we were very pleased not to be making our way out of the city in it. The forecast was not all that encouraging, although the weather was expected to improve as we made our way south. And, of course, we had to ride across the highest country in Australia to get where we were going.

Pterodactyl and I had washed the worst of the grot from the previous day off our bikes. Jalalski laughed at us and pointed to the virtues of bikes with big fairings and lots of plastic. We had a leisurely breakfast and Pterodactyl went in search of an optometrist to get a replacement screw for his spectacles.

By then it was raining, but lightly and sporadically. We donned our wet weathers again and set out on the Kosciuszko Rd for Jindabyne. There were occasional showers and it was cold.

Mt Kosciuszko is the highest mountain on the Australian continent at 2,228 metres (7,309 ft) and sits in the Kosciuszko National Park, in the Snowy Mountains which also form part of the Great Dividing Range that Pterodactyl and I have ridden up and down for most of the length of NSW. In Queensland too, but not together.

After Jindabyne the road becomes the Alpine Way and you soon come to the ranger station at the boundary of the national park. If you’re not passing directly through, they relieve you of some cash for the pleasure of visiting. At this point it was clear, even to the untalented observer, that the unseasonal weather had stretched south of Sydney.

There’s snow in them thar hills!

The helpful woman in the ranger station told us there were reports of snow up ahead. Jalalski, I think, asked whether other bikes had been through ahead of us.

“Yes,” she said.

“How many?”

“Oh, about 30 or so.”

“Have any come back?”

“No.”

So, have they not come back because they’ve all slipped of the road? Or is the road passable?

After a bit of a huddle, as decision is made: we’ll push on.

“You lead, mate,” they said to me.

“Oh, good,” I thought, “They can watch me slide off the road.”

It was beautiful. Yes it was cold. Yes it was overcast and there were occasional spots of rain. Yes the road was wet. But there was snow to each side of the road and on the hills and it was very lovely indeed.

After a time we came to [url=https://goo.gl/maps/HfPeh]Dead Horse Gap.

If you follow the link above, it will take you Google Maps and at least one photo of Dead Horse Gap on a dry day.

It seemed a good idea to take some photographs, so I stopped and we all hopped off. While the shutters were clicking, some bikers came up from the way we were heading and told us it was snowing up ahead. Great!






We didn’t get snowed on and had a lovely ride down the twisty Alpine Way and the Murray Valley Highway until we stopped for lunch at Corryong. I have no memory of what we ate

It's completely irrelevant, but the Murray Valley Highway is so named because the Murray River that Pterodactyl and I spent some time beside on an [URL=https://cb1100forum.net/posts/758595/]earlier trip has its source in the Snowy Mountains.

A view back to the mountains and signs of the weather improving

 

[Cormanus]

The better weather also meant I could hang my camera around my neck again.








Just after this bridge, we turned left on to the Omeo Highway and a pleasant ride on a good road through low alpine farmland for about 55 kms until we reached Mitta Mitta where we refuelled.

The road to Mitta Mitta

Jalalski’s bike was well loaded with Ventura bags, saddle bags and God knows what else. It was a bit of a struggle for him to get on as the Ventura bags made the load too high for him to stand on the footpeg and swing his leg over. Fortunately Jalalski is a younger man than either Pterodactyl or me and was agile enough to develop an elegant hop-step to get himself onto the bike. It never failed to make Pterodactyl laugh. I didn’t quite catch it here, but you can get a vague idea.


For around 96 kms from Mitta Mitta to just north of Omeo was—for me at least—the best road of the trip. It was twisty with generally gradual rise and fall. There was next to no traffic. The road was dry. It was well marked and, even better, on many a left-hand corner the vegetation had been cleared so you could see far enough ahead to be able to use as much of the road as you liked. Much of it wa the sort of low-alpine Australian bush I really like. Occasionally we raced alongside pretty streams. The only mild negative was the amount of bark on the road, probably from the storm the night before.






We had a comfort stop by one of the streams














And so it came to pass that we came to the Snug as a Bug Motel in Omeo, tired but very happy from a good day’s ride. Dinner was taken at the Golden Age Hotel, Omeo, in company with many another motorcyclist making the pilgrimage to Phillip Island.

 

[Django]

Thank you very much for this continuous report. These are journeys, I really like! I really envy you. Great pictures, great trip!

Btw. Jalalski is right about the virtues of bikes with big fairings and lots of plastic.

Coming from there, I guess I have to accustom myself somehow to the idea, to clean my motorcycle more than 2 times a year.

 

[Elipten_imp]

Thanks for the ride report. I look forward to every one of the down under reports. I only hope when I get to retire I can still ride and will have the ability to write similar reports. I love vegamite, but did not appreciate the Bundy.


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[emptysea]

Love the pictures of the CB1100s in the snow and by the river.

Let Jalalski know that I have a friend who rode his Sprint ST to Alaska and used a car tire on the rear to do it. He, too, had to do "the hop" to mount his bike..maybe it's a Triumph thing. He made a nice little report about it here Alaska - 3 guys, 3 bikes - 'goin for broke

Also, you included two pictures that are, to me, remarkably reminiscent of photos I have from my trip to Robbinsville, NC. I'm going to look for them later and perhaps post them here. Of course, you will have a chance to re-create them yourself in a few months.

 

[the Ferret]

Like the other I really appreciate the efforts on your ride reports. Just outstanding.

On a side note coming from the Highway saferyy field I always look at the signs in your reports. I loved the GIVE WAY sign beside Ptero in the one pic. The equivalent of our YIELD sign.

And lastly I'd love to see what Optiglanz would do on your pipes lol

 

[redbirds_imp]

The story line, photos and maps, all fantastic. :clap::clap:

 

[Cormanus]

Some photos

I forgot as I was writing the earlier reports that Jalalski had kindly agreed to my using any of his photos in this report. I will draw on them extensively later; but, for the moment, here’s some he took with his GoPro on Days 7 & 8.

Day 7: Jamberoo Valley

Leaving Cooma

Approaching Jindabyne with Lake Jindabyne in the background. The vigilant will catch a glimpse of the snow on the mountains

At the ranger station, Kosciuszko National Park

Coming into the snow and stopping at Dead Horse Gap

Now, I'd better stop procrastinating and get us moving again.

 

[Cormanus]

Day 9: Omeo-Phillip Island

433 kms



Day 9, 16 October, dawned fine and clear. A bit cool, but glorious. We decided to forgo breakfast in Omeo and enjoy a ride to Bruthen before refuelling the bikes and ourselves.


About to head out

I didn’t realise it at the time, but things started to go wrong from the moment Pterodactyl took to the road a few moments ahead of Jalalski and me. By the time we left, Pterodactyl was out of sight and I immediately started wondering whether he’d simply gone ahead or decided on a wee tour of Omeo while he waited for us. I was in the lead and I assumed the former and set off for Bruthen.


Leaving Omeo


Leaving Omeo (courtesy of Jalalski)

At Swifts Creek Jalalski and I stopped and tried calling Pterodactyl. I sent a text as well. He responded quickly from ahead of us somewhere and I told him to keep going; we’d join him at Bruthen.

Off we went again and, although we were getting along at the speed limit, we were often overtaken by chaps in full leathers in a big, big hurry. Not far past Ensay, the road gets good again. What could be better—beautiful sunny day, a fine road to ride on, pretty stream running along beside it; not too much traffic. All was good.


A group of bikers pass us

Courtesy of Jalalski, some photos of the Great Alpine Road south of Ensay.






A group of masterly looking riders, mostly on Ducatis, hurtled past. I admired their skill and resisted landing myself in the river trying to give chase. Not long afterwards though, we came to the tail-end Charlie pulled up beside the road. We stopped to see if he was all right.

His rear brake had decided to lock itself on which he said made riding the bike hard. Luckily he figured he could disconnect it and ride with only a front brake and Jalalski had the necessary tool to help him fix it. He was soon on his way.

While he was effecting repairs, my helmet which I’d sat carefully on the seat of my bike decided it wasn’t happy and jumped onto the road before rolling enthusiastically down the steep embankment towards the river. Luckily it came to rest before being forced to swim. It was a difficult but not impossible climb to recover it. By the time I got back to the top, though, I realised I was very irritable indeed.

As we rode the rest of the way to Bruthen, I realised I should have had breakfast before we left Omeo. A wee pre-breakfast jaunt turned out to be too long; I’d let my blood-sugar level get way too low and the day was not going at all well. Not true, really. The weather was OK and I was riding the CB, so it shouldn’t have been all bad. But it was.
Pterodactyl was, meanwhile, sunning himself in Bruthen waiting for us. He was very patient; I’ll give him that. He was also rewarded when he came to leave and realised he’d left the ignition switched on and didn’t have enough power in the battery to start the bike. The younger, fitter, stronger team of Ducatti riders Jalalski and I had helped pushed us out of the way and gave Pterodactyl a push start.

Attentive readers will recall that the Pterodactyl’s tail light globe was blown on the day we left Sydney (day 1 for him but day 7 for me) and will be concerned at this point that his CB1100 (with a mere 40,000 kms on the clock) was suffering a major electrical meltdown. Have no fear, folks. The new tail light was holding up well and Pterodactyl suffered not another moment of battery weakness while we were riding together.

But I digress.

I’m afraid the rest of the ride wasn’t very interesting. Aside from my general grumpiness, we were now largely travelling on freeway across flat and not particularly interesting country. There was a bit of wind blowing from straight ahead of us. There were also a good few police photographers with their speed cameras hoping for hapless motorcyclists heading for Phillip Island. My helmet continued its recalcitrant behaviour jumping off almost anything I put it on, until I accepted the need to put it on the ground.

I have to confess, though, to a certain excitement as we approached Phillip Island and the knowledge that next morning, along with a few of my new best friends, I’d be watching the best of the best weaving their way around the track. Of course we stopped at the wrong place to gain entry and had to wait a long time to find out we needed to be somewhere else.

I wasn’t prepared at all for how pretty a place it is. The lower point of the track is right next to Bass Strait—for those who follow ocean racing, the scene of many a disaster in the annual Sydney-Hobart Yacht Race and renown for the short, sharp and dangerous seas it can produce. From the campground, we looked across turns 1 and 2 of the track and out into Bass Strait. We had a good view of Cape Woolamai, the south east tip of the island, as we set up our tents and made camp.


Camp Phillip Island. From left right, the tents of Pterodactyl, Cormanus and Jalalski. Cape Woolamai in the background behind one of the spectator stands

Tents up, it was time for a beer. I decided to go foraging and found my way to the other side of a fence where I came face to face with the beer shop and the curiosity of what happens when a gaggle of the forces of arrant stupidity come together. After the preliminaries, the conversation went something like this:

“Could I have 6 cans of beer, please?”

“I’m sorry, I’m only allowed to sell you 4. They have to be open and it’ll cost you $28.”

As I started to say something profound like “W-a-a-a-a!?” she said, “But, if you walk back to the other side of the fence where you’re in the camping area not in the track precincts, I can sell you a slab for $54.”

‘Slab’ is Australian for a carton of 24 cans/bottles/other receptacles of beer.

“Right,” I said and trudged around to the other side of the fence, approached the window, talked to my new best friend about the stupidity of the prevailing laws, organised the slab and realised my wallet was back at the campground.

“Hold that carton. I’ll be back.” My day was just getting better and better.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eon, I made it back to the tent clutching the slab. That’s it in front of Pterodactyl’s bike. That’s him in the background, lowering the level of a can.



A squall blew close by.



I’ve no idea why I’m still in my wet weather gear or why I’m posing like an idiot



We had a deeply ordinary dinner from the friendly and hard-working staff of the food van and washed it down with a couple more beers. Later Pterodactyl decided we should have a warming tot of Sailor Jerrys 80-proof spiced rum (see [URL=https://cb1100forum.net/posts/777605/]here). Jalalski held out his mug.

“Say when,” said Pterodactyl and started pouring.

After enough time for me to start worrying whether there’d be any left for me, Pterodactyl said, “I said to say when.”

“I’m Russian,” said Jalalski as if that explained everything.

Once more the rum was very welcome and sleep came easily.

 

[the Ferret]

The view leaving Omeo is just outstanding.

Love your ride reports Cormanus, so much so I'll forgive the rainbow pic with the jelly fish coming out of your hat lol..j/k my friend, awesome report as usual.

 

[CA200_imp]

Really enjoyed this!! Keep it up the good work.

 

[silverbub_imp]

Thank You for keeping some of us from early winter insanity due to stored bikes!...a bike travel journal/photos well enjoyed!...Mr. ferret...Thanks to you for the BIG chuckle about the "jelly-fish" rising from the stocking cap!...think I will soon unplug from the site & do some "work" on my "slab"!

 

[metallyguitarded_imp]

Another book I'm ready to buy if you ever get around to putting it altogether. Great read. But what would the title be? Hmmm..."On the Road with Cormanus and Pterodactyl: The Other Thunder from Down Under." I think it has a nice ring to it and would be sure to bring in the fairer sex. Even if only by deception.

 

[emptysea]

Your reports have motivated me to pursue the idea of some moto-camping trips in the future, probably with my son as my wife has no interesting combining the two activities. I hope that, on those future trips, we are able to capture half the beauty you have presented in these reports. I'm amazed and awed with every new report you post. Thank you.