1
Summer travels # take 2. Tue Jan 28, 2014 9:41 pm
Guest
Guest
Summer travels:
“ You’re a smartarse, ( comma, lengthy pause), Sir.”
“Yes, ok. Just give me the ticket” I knew my face was contorting into a kind of naughty schoolboy smirk, but I just couldn’t help it.
“ Oh! I’m giving you a ticket am I?? I’LL be the one who decides what’s going on here! “ He brandished his ticket book and glared at me dangerously.
“ Well, as you have the ticket book and pen in your hand, I sort of assumed…..”
“ Listen PAL…..don’t argue with me….” He began to fiddle with his name badge absently.
“ Yes, sorry, clearly I was getting carried away with myself.”
“ Carried away??!! Listen, would you park your CAR up here in the park like that?’ He began to look menacing again.
“ Certainly not, officer. It probably wouldn’t fit between the trees here.”
“ Mate…if you couldn’t get your car up here, you wouldn’t deserve to have a licence!” At this point I began to realise he was relishing our pleasantries.
“ Don’t be angry Sergeant.” I tried a more conciliatory approach.
“ ANGRY? I’m not angry! You’d know if I was angry! ( Yes, I thought…you’d be brandishing that 9mm Glock) . But mate, if you wanna argue with me, I’ll argue with you all day! “
“ No no, sergeant. Please just give me the ticket.” I could feel my lip beginning to curl again, awkwardly.
“ Oh! We’re back THERE again are we?! “ He began to caress his holster.
“ Do you want the ticket or the lecture?” Now HE was smirking.
“ Oh, the lecture pleeeeese”
“ You’re being a smartarse again…..aren’t you..”
It had all began innocently enough. A little over a week before this, Kerry and Seamus had left in the car and driven down to the central coast, where Bella and I would pick them up the following day on the bike. My brother Tim and his son Sean arrived in Guyra the evening before and we set off down through Walcha and Thunderbolt’s Way. January in Australia is the height of summer and already the day was warm with a dry wind blowing from the north west.
A quick coffee at the Café Royal in Walcha with Brad and Toni and then on down the hill to Gloucester. Thunderbolt’s Way is definitely being upgraded but it’s still a goat track, now interspersed with occasional bits of smooth tar. From Nowendoc down, the road twists and turns and descends rapidly in places, with 25kmh hairpins.
The bikes: Tim’s 2011 Triumph Thunderbird Storm, a 1700cc parallel twin. Sean’s KTM 990 in road going form. Oh and my trusty old BMW K100 RT with sidecar and Bella the red dog.
An overnight stay at Terrigal with Kerry’s mum and the next day we set off again, heading south. Tim and Sean had stayed overnight in a farmhouse near Singleton and were busy doing the Putty rd. We arranged to meet them at Oberon.
Lovely ride from Mt Victoria over to Oberon in the afternoon, with minimal traffic and maximum sweepers, the old Beemer pulling like a train despite carrying two people, two dogs, camping gear and clothes etc. This has been a truly good motorcycle over a long period and once again she didn’t miss a beat all trip over 2,500km. One small incident near Taralga on the way back when low beam decided to have a bit of a lie down. This was merely a connector in the headlight shell and we soon fixed it and were on our way again.
.
Oberon is a peaceful place, interrupted only by the sound of snorting truckies and the constant noise of the fertilizer plant which runs 24-7 and is naturally right next to the caravan park camping area. After a few tonsorial varnishes at the Royal hotel, I decided to pretend that the roaring noise I could hear all over town was the ocean and this would lull me to sleep. This worked very well until about 4am when it decided to let off steam and the roar became a crescendo. We were so impressed we decided to stay another night.
*** ****** ***
Next day dawned bright and hot, the cicadas adding to the cacophony and we rode over to Bathurst to visit a friend of Kerry’s and to have a look at Mt Panorama.
There is an interesting museum at the Mt Panorama circuit and it’s well worth a look if you’re interested in cars………but there are a few bikes on display as well and I picked up some ideas for the outfit.
Back at Oberon we drank beer again and watched cricket. England lost. By 4am the utterances from the plant had taken on a sinister note and I began to expect Chuck Heston to come striding through the camp yelling out that Soylent Green was made from human corpses. It was time to move on.
Oberon to Taralga and then Goulburn. Another hot day and it was clear that it was going to get seriously hot as the day wore on. We headed south from Oberon through Black Springs and Taralga, stopping for petrol at the local CRT shed in Taralga before reaching Goulburn. We found a shady spot and gave the dogs more water and then headed on towards Yass and Gundagai.
By this time we were on that concrete monstrosity of a road called the Hume and battling the dry wind and heat at 120kmh, grateful that the fairing was no longer there to trap even more heat against my legs and other places. The construction of these roads with their wide lines set against the slopes and planes in the summer heat somehow serves to make things worse. Whether it’s the truth or merely a result of the monotony remains unclear to me.
By this time Tim and Sean had disappeared into the distance and I was beginning to worry about the dogs. The temperature was into the 40’s and so we began to stop frequently to rehydrate both ourselves and the canine companions and even wet the dogs down. At Yass it was 41C, Jugiong 42 and by the time we reached Gundagai where we found time and Sean in a pub drinking cold beer it was 43. 
The road through Tumut and Talbingo and the snowy had been closed due to the tar melting in the heat and also bushfires which had sprung up. It was surprising that this was the first lot of fires we’d encountered so far. We took a shortcut through some country lanes through Adelong and Tumbarumba and finally arrived in Khancoban in the late afternoon after riding through an all too brief storm and shower after Tumba. We were grateful to find a billet for the night at the caravan park and settle in for a day or two there. We drank some beer and watched some cricket. England lost. It was time to head into the mountains for a brief respite from the heat.
That’s one way to build a fence.
Time for some day rides. Khancoban over to Jindabyne via Thredbo and the top of Australia; mile after mile of twisties and cooler air before along the spine the road opens out into long sweeping bends perfect to set up on a sidecar.
There is a schnaps distillery on this road and it’s probably worth a visit. The sour apple one is very nice. A policeman also sits outside there in a yellow Holden, so discretion is advised.
A word of warning for those travelling through these roads: there is a plethora of grey nomads now towing caravans or driving 4wds along these roads…using ALL the roads…and there are also far too many ‘go-pro’ wielding motorcyclists getting out of shape and using ALL the road as well…..idioten. Still, all good things come to an end and it was time to head home again, this time through Cabramurra and Tumut, where we found very good coffee and pastries and bushfires again.
Another night in Oberon and a drizzly ride along the Bell Line and that brings us back to the little park across from the Taylor’s Arms Hotel in Windsor.
A crowd had gathered across the road and its members were beginning to show signs of unrest and far too much sympathy towards the dogs as they sat there looking cute in the sidecar under the menacing gaze of the constable. I could hear rmutterings and some soft boos. The cop looked around with a jaundiced eye.
“ Move this vehicle immediately sir….or I’ll be giving you that ticket. “
I did so. With alacrity.
“ You’re a smartarse, ( comma, lengthy pause), Sir.”
“Yes, ok. Just give me the ticket” I knew my face was contorting into a kind of naughty schoolboy smirk, but I just couldn’t help it.
“ Oh! I’m giving you a ticket am I?? I’LL be the one who decides what’s going on here! “ He brandished his ticket book and glared at me dangerously.
“ Well, as you have the ticket book and pen in your hand, I sort of assumed…..”
“ Listen PAL…..don’t argue with me….” He began to fiddle with his name badge absently.
“ Yes, sorry, clearly I was getting carried away with myself.”
“ Carried away??!! Listen, would you park your CAR up here in the park like that?’ He began to look menacing again.
“ Certainly not, officer. It probably wouldn’t fit between the trees here.”
“ Mate…if you couldn’t get your car up here, you wouldn’t deserve to have a licence!” At this point I began to realise he was relishing our pleasantries.
“ Don’t be angry Sergeant.” I tried a more conciliatory approach.
“ ANGRY? I’m not angry! You’d know if I was angry! ( Yes, I thought…you’d be brandishing that 9mm Glock) . But mate, if you wanna argue with me, I’ll argue with you all day! “
“ No no, sergeant. Please just give me the ticket.” I could feel my lip beginning to curl again, awkwardly.
“ Oh! We’re back THERE again are we?! “ He began to caress his holster.
“ Do you want the ticket or the lecture?” Now HE was smirking.
“ Oh, the lecture pleeeeese”
“ You’re being a smartarse again…..aren’t you..”
It had all began innocently enough. A little over a week before this, Kerry and Seamus had left in the car and driven down to the central coast, where Bella and I would pick them up the following day on the bike. My brother Tim and his son Sean arrived in Guyra the evening before and we set off down through Walcha and Thunderbolt’s Way. January in Australia is the height of summer and already the day was warm with a dry wind blowing from the north west.
A quick coffee at the Café Royal in Walcha with Brad and Toni and then on down the hill to Gloucester. Thunderbolt’s Way is definitely being upgraded but it’s still a goat track, now interspersed with occasional bits of smooth tar. From Nowendoc down, the road twists and turns and descends rapidly in places, with 25kmh hairpins.
The bikes: Tim’s 2011 Triumph Thunderbird Storm, a 1700cc parallel twin. Sean’s KTM 990 in road going form. Oh and my trusty old BMW K100 RT with sidecar and Bella the red dog.
An overnight stay at Terrigal with Kerry’s mum and the next day we set off again, heading south. Tim and Sean had stayed overnight in a farmhouse near Singleton and were busy doing the Putty rd. We arranged to meet them at Oberon.
Lovely ride from Mt Victoria over to Oberon in the afternoon, with minimal traffic and maximum sweepers, the old Beemer pulling like a train despite carrying two people, two dogs, camping gear and clothes etc. This has been a truly good motorcycle over a long period and once again she didn’t miss a beat all trip over 2,500km. One small incident near Taralga on the way back when low beam decided to have a bit of a lie down. This was merely a connector in the headlight shell and we soon fixed it and were on our way again.
.
Oberon is a peaceful place, interrupted only by the sound of snorting truckies and the constant noise of the fertilizer plant which runs 24-7 and is naturally right next to the caravan park camping area. After a few tonsorial varnishes at the Royal hotel, I decided to pretend that the roaring noise I could hear all over town was the ocean and this would lull me to sleep. This worked very well until about 4am when it decided to let off steam and the roar became a crescendo. We were so impressed we decided to stay another night.
*** ****** ***
Next day dawned bright and hot, the cicadas adding to the cacophony and we rode over to Bathurst to visit a friend of Kerry’s and to have a look at Mt Panorama.
There is an interesting museum at the Mt Panorama circuit and it’s well worth a look if you’re interested in cars………but there are a few bikes on display as well and I picked up some ideas for the outfit.
Back at Oberon we drank beer again and watched cricket. England lost. By 4am the utterances from the plant had taken on a sinister note and I began to expect Chuck Heston to come striding through the camp yelling out that Soylent Green was made from human corpses. It was time to move on.
Oberon to Taralga and then Goulburn. Another hot day and it was clear that it was going to get seriously hot as the day wore on. We headed south from Oberon through Black Springs and Taralga, stopping for petrol at the local CRT shed in Taralga before reaching Goulburn. We found a shady spot and gave the dogs more water and then headed on towards Yass and Gundagai.
By this time we were on that concrete monstrosity of a road called the Hume and battling the dry wind and heat at 120kmh, grateful that the fairing was no longer there to trap even more heat against my legs and other places. The construction of these roads with their wide lines set against the slopes and planes in the summer heat somehow serves to make things worse. Whether it’s the truth or merely a result of the monotony remains unclear to me.
By this time Tim and Sean had disappeared into the distance and I was beginning to worry about the dogs. The temperature was into the 40’s and so we began to stop frequently to rehydrate both ourselves and the canine companions and even wet the dogs down. At Yass it was 41C, Jugiong 42 and by the time we reached Gundagai where we found time and Sean in a pub drinking cold beer it was 43. The road through Tumut and Talbingo and the snowy had been closed due to the tar melting in the heat and also bushfires which had sprung up. It was surprising that this was the first lot of fires we’d encountered so far. We took a shortcut through some country lanes through Adelong and Tumbarumba and finally arrived in Khancoban in the late afternoon after riding through an all too brief storm and shower after Tumba. We were grateful to find a billet for the night at the caravan park and settle in for a day or two there. We drank some beer and watched some cricket. England lost. It was time to head into the mountains for a brief respite from the heat.
That’s one way to build a fence.
Time for some day rides. Khancoban over to Jindabyne via Thredbo and the top of Australia; mile after mile of twisties and cooler air before along the spine the road opens out into long sweeping bends perfect to set up on a sidecar.
There is a schnaps distillery on this road and it’s probably worth a visit. The sour apple one is very nice. A policeman also sits outside there in a yellow Holden, so discretion is advised.
A word of warning for those travelling through these roads: there is a plethora of grey nomads now towing caravans or driving 4wds along these roads…using ALL the roads…and there are also far too many ‘go-pro’ wielding motorcyclists getting out of shape and using ALL the road as well…..idioten. Still, all good things come to an end and it was time to head home again, this time through Cabramurra and Tumut, where we found very good coffee and pastries and bushfires again.
Another night in Oberon and a drizzly ride along the Bell Line and that brings us back to the little park across from the Taylor’s Arms Hotel in Windsor.
A crowd had gathered across the road and its members were beginning to show signs of unrest and far too much sympathy towards the dogs as they sat there looking cute in the sidecar under the menacing gaze of the constable. I could hear rmutterings and some soft boos. The cop looked around with a jaundiced eye.
“ Move this vehicle immediately sir….or I’ll be giving you that ticket. “
I did so. With alacrity.
