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There's A Road On A Map. Mon Sep 26, 2011 1:09 am
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Guest
I rose early on Sunday and headed out on the red K towards the city of Brisbane, but with an eye to skirt round the CBD and venture into some new territory. There's a road on the map that I've been eyeing for some time now, so yesterday morning I decided to have that look. It would take me a fair bit of navigating since it's within the city limits but in an area that's not easy to reach. This road lies just above the Brisbane River and seems to meander along the river's banks out towards the old Moggill Ferry, up into Pinjarra Hills and then on to Mt Crosby. It was a brilliant, sunny morning and I needed a good old fashioned explore!
After a smooth, lightly trafficked roll Northwards on the M1 into the fringes of the glistening city, I veered off at the neighbourhoods of Tarragindi and Morooka, and headed circuitously towards Rocklea. It's where the Sunday Brisbane markets are held for the masses of fruit and veg buyers and sellers. During January's devastating floods, this entire area was under water. It's a vast commercial warehouse environment but at the weekend is crowded with retail shoppers vying for a fresher avo, greener spinach or juicier watermelon. I didn't stop. Crowds and I don't much get on. If I need something at the shops I'm in and out in seconds, much to the frustration and consternation of my past female partners, who thought that that sort of thing was actually relaxing. It must be a female thing, shopping. For me it's a function and I'm quick and efficient at it. Superman couldn't race into a phone box to change into his undies to fight for Freedom, Democracy and the American Way any faster.
I veered off the main road onto some greener lanes and wandered about the leafy suburbs looking at finely manicured houses with riverfront gardens in narrow, winding streets. I could see that in most the garden was full of furniture and the houses full of plants. Trim young mums wearing joggers and sun visors pushed prams, and Mercedes and Audis filled the shady driveways. The only working class vehicles were those of leaf-blowing gardeners. Tanned urbanites wearing sunnies sat round tables in trendy cafés and restaurants admiring one another. I could almost hear the clink of glass and feel their satisfaction. It all looked to me a pleasant existence. I thought to myself, 'get me out of here before it's too lattè!'
There's a lovely old bridge going North out of pleasant haven that carries traffic across the Brisbane river to Indooroopilly. From there I headed West towards Fig Tree Pocket and the old Moggill Road. New neighbourhoods with massive houses an arm's reach from one another ("Hi neighbour, I appear to be out of loo paper. Can you spare a roll?') are springing up all round this city as the population spurts on and the need for housing and poor planning promotes the usual suburban sprawl. Perhaps one day we'll get away from this single 4 wheeled vehicle for one person mode of existence and get some real urban planning and honest to goodness public transit systems going and maybe as a side benefit save the bush for the animals too!
Through the last set of suburban traffic lights my motorbike rolled and I was underway. The speed limit ticked up, the road banked left and right, rolling up and over hills and through vales, past grazing cows and frolicking horses. It was classic fourth gear stuff and the motor pulled cleanly and easily, the need for speed not a high priority on this fine and sunny morning. I spotted one grey 'roo off in the back of a paddock. At one stage I headed down towards the river and watched the Moggill Ferry carry vehicles across the short span which nine or ten months ago was under siege by the intense amount of water released from the Wivenhoe and Somerset dam catchment areas after weeks of rainfall. Australia has that cyclic hot and cold, wet and dry weather pattern influenced by La Niña and El Niño off the mighty blue Pacific which continues unabated.
After a refreshing break under a vast avocado tree at a green public park near the brown water's edge I headed further West. I wanted to see what was out here and the interestingly named little villages of Bellbowrie, Karana Downs, and the quiet little village of Mt Crosby, intrigued me, and where the roads simply ends. It was worth a look. A lovely place indeed. I imagine that the people who live there are prepared to stay home and work or do the commute into the city at whatever cost. A narrow bridge, that would have been entirely submerged, carried me onto the South side and into the fringes of the city of Ipswich near Tivoli. Since it was only mid-day, I grabbed some throttle and went like buggery through Sunday driver traffic on the Warrego Highway towards lunch at quaint little Fernvale!
Crowded in with Sunday bikers and tourists on a beaut arvo in paradise I found a table at the local bakery and enjoyed a bit of traditional Aussie tucker and a cold drink. Having a squiz at the map whilst crumbs filled my lap I decided to avoid the main roads and the plentiful viewers of the water at the Wivenhoe Dam and headed straight up between the vast reservoir complex dammed in amongst the dry, browning hills, and rolling pasturelands and made my way through the spot-on-the-map towns of Dundas and Crossdale towards the abbatoir town of Kilcoy.
From there, after a brief ride through and look around in the pine barrens, the D'Aguilar Highway carried me back towards the Sunshine Coast via Villeneuve. It's the best long shortcut along that stretch. But the really best bit is the turn off up towards twisting, winding Mt Mee, where strong winds moved the bike sideways, but the spectacular views of the great blue ocean and rolling hills inland make it all worthwhile! Then back down over the range on 'roads to die for' (and bikers frequently do judging by the amount of red pictorial warning signs) into Dayboro for coffee, on through denser forest towards Sanford, Samsonvale, and then the busier roads round The Gap near Brissy.
The last bit was a short blast of Motorway after traversing a few roads through the CBD of Brisbane. All up I'd covered 360 kilometres and done it in about nine hours inclusive of stops for an occasional slash, mid-day tea, arvo coffee and general rest your legs and look at the stunning view breaks. I took no pictures but hope that your mind's eye captured a few images of your own in my story. The Mighty K did her usual best and delivered 10 k's shy of 400 kilometres from a tank of premium, and the recent K1100 throttle body and front brake mods did their job supremely well.
Today's another day off. Where's that map again?!
After a smooth, lightly trafficked roll Northwards on the M1 into the fringes of the glistening city, I veered off at the neighbourhoods of Tarragindi and Morooka, and headed circuitously towards Rocklea. It's where the Sunday Brisbane markets are held for the masses of fruit and veg buyers and sellers. During January's devastating floods, this entire area was under water. It's a vast commercial warehouse environment but at the weekend is crowded with retail shoppers vying for a fresher avo, greener spinach or juicier watermelon. I didn't stop. Crowds and I don't much get on. If I need something at the shops I'm in and out in seconds, much to the frustration and consternation of my past female partners, who thought that that sort of thing was actually relaxing. It must be a female thing, shopping. For me it's a function and I'm quick and efficient at it. Superman couldn't race into a phone box to change into his undies to fight for Freedom, Democracy and the American Way any faster.
I veered off the main road onto some greener lanes and wandered about the leafy suburbs looking at finely manicured houses with riverfront gardens in narrow, winding streets. I could see that in most the garden was full of furniture and the houses full of plants. Trim young mums wearing joggers and sun visors pushed prams, and Mercedes and Audis filled the shady driveways. The only working class vehicles were those of leaf-blowing gardeners. Tanned urbanites wearing sunnies sat round tables in trendy cafés and restaurants admiring one another. I could almost hear the clink of glass and feel their satisfaction. It all looked to me a pleasant existence. I thought to myself, 'get me out of here before it's too lattè!'
There's a lovely old bridge going North out of pleasant haven that carries traffic across the Brisbane river to Indooroopilly. From there I headed West towards Fig Tree Pocket and the old Moggill Road. New neighbourhoods with massive houses an arm's reach from one another ("Hi neighbour, I appear to be out of loo paper. Can you spare a roll?') are springing up all round this city as the population spurts on and the need for housing and poor planning promotes the usual suburban sprawl. Perhaps one day we'll get away from this single 4 wheeled vehicle for one person mode of existence and get some real urban planning and honest to goodness public transit systems going and maybe as a side benefit save the bush for the animals too!
Through the last set of suburban traffic lights my motorbike rolled and I was underway. The speed limit ticked up, the road banked left and right, rolling up and over hills and through vales, past grazing cows and frolicking horses. It was classic fourth gear stuff and the motor pulled cleanly and easily, the need for speed not a high priority on this fine and sunny morning. I spotted one grey 'roo off in the back of a paddock. At one stage I headed down towards the river and watched the Moggill Ferry carry vehicles across the short span which nine or ten months ago was under siege by the intense amount of water released from the Wivenhoe and Somerset dam catchment areas after weeks of rainfall. Australia has that cyclic hot and cold, wet and dry weather pattern influenced by La Niña and El Niño off the mighty blue Pacific which continues unabated.
After a refreshing break under a vast avocado tree at a green public park near the brown water's edge I headed further West. I wanted to see what was out here and the interestingly named little villages of Bellbowrie, Karana Downs, and the quiet little village of Mt Crosby, intrigued me, and where the roads simply ends. It was worth a look. A lovely place indeed. I imagine that the people who live there are prepared to stay home and work or do the commute into the city at whatever cost. A narrow bridge, that would have been entirely submerged, carried me onto the South side and into the fringes of the city of Ipswich near Tivoli. Since it was only mid-day, I grabbed some throttle and went like buggery through Sunday driver traffic on the Warrego Highway towards lunch at quaint little Fernvale!
Crowded in with Sunday bikers and tourists on a beaut arvo in paradise I found a table at the local bakery and enjoyed a bit of traditional Aussie tucker and a cold drink. Having a squiz at the map whilst crumbs filled my lap I decided to avoid the main roads and the plentiful viewers of the water at the Wivenhoe Dam and headed straight up between the vast reservoir complex dammed in amongst the dry, browning hills, and rolling pasturelands and made my way through the spot-on-the-map towns of Dundas and Crossdale towards the abbatoir town of Kilcoy.
From there, after a brief ride through and look around in the pine barrens, the D'Aguilar Highway carried me back towards the Sunshine Coast via Villeneuve. It's the best long shortcut along that stretch. But the really best bit is the turn off up towards twisting, winding Mt Mee, where strong winds moved the bike sideways, but the spectacular views of the great blue ocean and rolling hills inland make it all worthwhile! Then back down over the range on 'roads to die for' (and bikers frequently do judging by the amount of red pictorial warning signs) into Dayboro for coffee, on through denser forest towards Sanford, Samsonvale, and then the busier roads round The Gap near Brissy.
The last bit was a short blast of Motorway after traversing a few roads through the CBD of Brisbane. All up I'd covered 360 kilometres and done it in about nine hours inclusive of stops for an occasional slash, mid-day tea, arvo coffee and general rest your legs and look at the stunning view breaks. I took no pictures but hope that your mind's eye captured a few images of your own in my story. The Mighty K did her usual best and delivered 10 k's shy of 400 kilometres from a tank of premium, and the recent K1100 throttle body and front brake mods did their job supremely well.
Today's another day off. Where's that map again?!
Last edited by Two Wheels Better on Mon Sep 26, 2011 8:08 am; edited 1 time in total
1986 k75, 1985 K100rt, 
