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Sunday, 1^st April

April Fools Day! When we arrived in Adelaide our thoughts had turned to home and it took quite some will power to stay as long as we did. Of course we are glad we did stay as we had a great time. It didn't stop us from packing up our tent with a smile on our faces, the open road beckoning once more.

Coming from a sailing background, Steve and I have developed over the years a degree of superstition - never go to sea on a Friday, always pass the port to the left and so on. I am sure we would never in a million years have set sail from Adelaide bound for Fremantle on April Fools Day, however, we were bikers now and threw caution to the wind. On such a superstitious morning one can never be completely off their guard!

We were soon out of the city and retracing our steps through the beautiful Clare Valley. We met a group of bikers in Clare, congregating for their Sunday ride. We asked "how long will it take us to get to The Stone Hut bakery?" They umm'd and ah'd between them before coming up with one and a half hours. "That far" we said. Was this the April Fools joke we had to look out for? "Looks like its going to be a late lunch then" said Steve. There was no way we were falling for that one, buying lunch in the next town, only to find the bakery turning up five kilometres down the road. The locals were nearly right. We just built up a bigger appetite. I managed to scoff down a custard tart too! We stopped for a cup of tea in Melrose, the main street looking exactly as we had left it seven weeks before. Then it was through Horrocks Pass once more and across the plains to Port Augusta. Our riding skills had obviously improved as we were keeping up with the local traffic easily.

We pitched our tent for the last time in Port Augusta, and prayed for a dew free night so that we could pack up the tent dry the following day. The last three nights of our journey home would be spent in hard accommodation.

 

Monday, 2^nd April

Our prayers were answered! Well nearly! Only a light dew had fallen and the tent quickly dried while we were having breakfast. It seemed surreal that we were packing up the tent for the last time. We were on our way by 8:30am for a pleasant, easy days run to Ceduna, only 468km away. At the fuel stop in Kimba we met a couple of Ulyssians heading east, from WA's Joondalup branch. They were on a Goldwing, towing a camper trailer. Their journey just beginning, ours coming to an end. Our cabin at the Big4 in Ceduna was great. Our own toilet and shower seemed a luxury we had forgotten existed. Of course we just had to have one last seafood basket, they just aren't quite the same in WA.

 

Always happy to stop at the edge of Australia

Tuesday, 3^rd April

Without the tent to pack away we were showered, fed and ready to leave by 7am! It was time to get some real miles under our belts, hoping to make Madura some 673km away. It was a great riding day, not too hot, with a good following breeze, which worked wonders for the fuel consumption. We will never forget the feeling of riding on the open road, mile after mile with hardly a care in the world. Noticing every scenic change, the Highway Heaven feeling so electric at times it almost felt like a tangible thing.

Nullarbor Roadhouse

It was usually me who went and handed over the credit card when we had filled up with fuel. I always enjoyed the brief exchanges I had with the colourful characters who worked in the roadhouses. When we arrived at Nullarbor I was delighted with the guy on duty. He wore a big cowboy hat together with a leather waste coat and he really looked the part. It was a warm day, and I don't know how he managed to keep the jacket on! I noticed right next to the counter, creatures, carefully preserved in large pickle jars - scorpions, spiders, snakes, and asked where they found them. He replied "I caught most of them, usually first thing in the mornin', right there on the door step!" Brought shivers down my spine just the thought of it. I was so taken by this guy that he got a mention in a song I was writing.

 

When the days turn to winter and my spirit gets restless,

Its time to hit the road for a month or three.

Don't look for nothin' special,

Just a chance to find my soul

And meet that fancy dude at the Nullarbor tree!

 

We were making good time when we arrived at Eucla, so we rode on the extra 180km to Madura. The strong following breeze stayed with us all day and it sure made for comfortable riding. In the motel room next door to us was a cyclist, riding from east to west. The strong easterly wind had helped him cover the 180km between Eucla and Madura in one day! We stuck to some good old truckie tucker for dinner and settled in to watch TV before falling easily to sleep.

 

Coffee Break

Wednesday, 4^th April

We were up and away with just a cup of coffee to sustain us until Caiguna, 155km away. A dense fog had descended on Madura overnight, however it was very localised, and the air was clear as soon as we were out of the valley. Caiguna was only one and a half hours away, and when we arrived, we were delighted with the sight of all those trucks parked outside. We knew we were going to get a good bacon and egg sandwich! One thing you have to get used to at the roadhouses, there are prices for truckies, and prices for everyone else. No prizes for guessing who pays the most!

The 46km of road works east of Balladonia gave us plenty of opportunity to stretch our legs when it was our turn to let the traffic through. We had made it all the way to Norseman by 2:30pm, 521km behind us. We stopped at the BP roadhouse for fuel and the comfort of the air conditioned cafe, as the day had warmed up considerably. We spent some time admiring the exhibition of old pioneering photographs. Norseman is a real staging post for travellers heading both east and west. I looked across at the motel where we had spent our first night, and thought "I hope it isn't too long before we pass this way again." But there was no time for sentiment, Kalgoorlie still 190km away! We finally reached Kalgoorlie at 5pm. We pulled into the first caravan park we came to. Booked into a self contained unit and enjoyed a good cold beer or two, before walking into town for an "all you can eat" pizza and roast night, excellent value.

 

Thursday, 5^th April

It isn't all over until the fat lady sings and she sure sung loud and clear on our last day. I left my riding jacket in the caravan park office while we were booking in. Unfortunately we didn't notice it was missing until we were ready to leave. Our first thought was that it had been stolen while we were unloading! Despite polite efforts to contact the office after 7am, and staff arriving at 7:30am, they didn't want to give us the jacket until opening time at 8am! They reluctantly gave Steve the jacket after he stood outside the office looking like thunder. We won't be staying there again! It was going to be a hot day and it hadn't started well. I managed to turn some of the anger to creativity and penned this little ditty while riding along:

 

They must do good tucker at the Yellowdine Roadhouse,

There are more truckies than the eye can see.

Must mark it on my road map and write it in my diary,

Next year when I'm travlin' I will stop for tea.

 

My little Pink Panther mascot has travelled with me for 25 years

We rode on and on. The last mile home can often seem the longest. We got soaked in an isolated thunderstorm as we left Mundaring, and the heavy Easter weekend traffic tested our patience one more time! We finally arrived home at 6:45pm.

To celebrate our home coming there was a huge pile of mail to wade through, the burglar alarm kept going off every two hours, the toilet kept filling up and the blinds kept falling down. As if to say "Welcome back, Steve and Jane, welcome back!"

 

The Long Way to Adelaide

Tuesday, 20^th March

When we woke up it was raining. One thing I will say about our tent is it didn't leak. Like the sailing and bike riding we do, we are fine weather campers - bad weather cramps our style. Eating becomes a particularly difficult occupation. The camp kitchen always seemed full of foreigners with long faces. I felt like saying "has someone died," but they wouldn't have got the joke. We muscled our way in, made ourselves at home and enjoyed our tea and toast - we had as much right to be there as they did.

The rain would not let up so we put on our wet weather gear and got to work. Checkout time is 10am. I let the office know that we were running a little late due to the weather and they looked at me as if to say "just this once." I felt like saying "get a life mate." What difference is half an hour going to make if there is no one waiting to check in? Of course I said nothing. They certainly weren't going to let us have any preferential treatment even though we were Big4 members. The caravan park also had an internet cafe. The one and only terminal was out of order so we asked at the office if they would be so kind and look up the latest weather information on the net. Lets just say they were reluctant! No service above and beyond the call of duty.

Finally we were ready to leave. Our newly tuned motorcycles, together with roads wet and swimming in oil made us focussed and cautious. In the heavy city traffic we had only covered 25km in the first hour - we were ready to stop before the journey had even begun. We rested at the nearest bakery with a pie and a cup of coffee. This refreshing break didn't stop us from getting lost trying to find the Gippsland Highway. The weather cleared and before long we were riding along another great road and smiling again. We had hoped to make it all the way to Bairnsdale but somewhere along the way we must have been lost in a time-warp. We were filling up with fuel at Yarram, it was already 4pm, Bairnsdale still 140km away. So we made camp at Yarram. We had the camp kitchen all to ourselves this time. After dinner we lounged in some old cane chairs and watched The Bill on TV - luxury!

 

Lakes Entrance

Wednesday, 21^st March

By lunch time we were in Bairnsdale, the tent was up and we were ready to go riding in the place they call Gippsland. How sweet it is to slow down a little and spend more quality time exploring! We rode down to Paynesville. There were yachts, powerboats and house boats everywhere - great trailer-sailor country. We spotted the yacht Myvanwe which used to belong to our cruising friends Graham and Marika. She was looking a little neglected, nothing that couldn't be fixed with some TLC. Then it was back to camp for happy hour and a great BBQ tea.

 

Lets go up the hill

Thursday, 22^nd March

Being so endeared to food we decided to go on a food crawl. So it was the lovely little town of Metung for morning tea, Lakes Entrance for lunch and Bruthen for afternoon tea. The roads were great. The early rain had turned the hills emerald green and the area reminded us very much of England. Lakes Entrance is another fascinating place for sailors. A large fishing fleet work out of this port - in the words of Ali G - "respect." It is not a haven for deep drafted vessels as the bared entrance is shallow. We couldn't resist a seafood basket for lunch. We will miss the cold water fish from Tasmania and Victoria. It certainly appeals to our taste buds. We didn't arrive back at camp until late afternoon. Where we pitched our tent there wasn't a tree in site and it would have been far to hot to rest in the afternoon sun.

 

Jane crossing Livingston Creek

Friday, 23^rd March

We were due home in two weeks and home was along way away. We had spent all the time we could afford in the Gippsland area, but we will be back that's for sure. Our idea was to take the Great Alpine Road to Bright, spend a few days sampling the delightful roads in the Alpine region, then start heading west, breaking the journey for a few days in Adelaide before taking on the Nullarbor once more.

It is not true to say that we had become complacent about the weather forecast but we didn't take it as seriously as when we were sailing. We hadn't heard the forecast so we just packed our bags and hit the Great Alpine road. By mid morning we were riding in a savage westerly gale. The day was still quite bright, but the bullets of wind on some of the bends made us sit up and take notice.

Not unduly worried we stopped for the promise of a great pie at the wood fired bakery in Swifts Creek. We were disappointed to find the pie cooked in a conventional oven. There was no wood fired bakery. The guy who stokes the fire was busy helping to put out real fires in the national park! Not to worry, it was still a nice example of a pie! We got back on our bikes and off we went. The road enjoyable in every way despite the wind.

On our approach to Dinner Plain, out of nowhere the clouds came rolling in. We stopped to put on our wet weather trousers. Steve said "I don't like the look of this," neither did I. We were soon back on the road, riding in the kind of drizzle that will soak you to the bone without you noticing it! We took shelter in the refuge at Dinner Plain, made tea and chatted to other travellers. The staff in the resort were most obliging and assisted us with the latest weather information. A thunderstorm was sitting right over the top of us. The advice was wait half an hour then we should be riding in sunny conditions again. So we waited, and we waited. The conditions weren't severe, just persistent.

Caught out at Mt Hotham

We saddled up once more and headed to Mt Hotham only 11km away. Things turned ugly just as we were riding into town. A torrential downpour lashed at us with such force we stopped to catch our breath at the visitor centre. Of course the place is a ghost town out of the ski season. When the rain eased and the wind died to a zephyr, the fog rolled in. The densest fog I have ever seen, visibility 15m. We discussed our options. Take a room here at the resort, but for how long? The locals were tipping a possible early fall of snow! The temperature was 15oC, a far cry from the hot day down on the plains. The thought of being stuck at Mt Hotham was beyond comprehension and we made the decision to ride on. I went in front. We had only the snow poles and road markings to guide us. At one point Steve lost sight of my tail light and thought I had stopped even though I promised I wouldn't. Twenty minutes of mega concentration and we were out of the fog as if nothing had happened.

Our troubles weren't quite over. Steve boiled the brake fluid in his rear brake. Our visit to Bright turned out to be only long enough to make a few phone calls in search of a mechanic. It was 3pm on a Friday afternoon. What hope did we have of finding someone to help us before Monday. But we did. We found a very obliging guy at Wangaratta. He stayed open until we arrived and changed the break fluid on the spot. What service, we will never forget this level of hospitality.

We found a caravan park, pitched our tent and licked our wounds over an icy cold beer. After dark we walked into town and celebrated with Pizza on the pavement. It was still 32^oC!

 

Ned Kelly

Saturday, 24^th March

When in Rome do what the Romans do, right? So we went to Glenrowan and learnt about Ned Kelly. The town of Glenrowan is still being developed as a tourist destination. We noticed an unhealthy competition between the two museums, so much so that maybe neither of them will survive. I was completely taken by the Ned story, I felt quite teary as I walked around the museum. When I introduce my song My Lady My Lover, I have always used American outlaw Jessie James in my pre song patter. I'll be using Ned Kelly from now on. It is only through lack of knowledge that I hadn't used him in the first place.

 

Car park at Australian Super Bikes, Winton race track

Sunday, 25^th March

When we found out that the Australian Super Bikes were racing at Winton Raceway we couldn't resist another day at the races. What a fabulous track. There were no high fences and the track was so close to the spectators it made us step backwards a couple of times! From where we were standing you could see just about the whole track, amazing. It would have to be the most entertaining track we have ever been to. It is a wonder it hasn't been closed down with all the litigation talk. It cost $40 each for a day ticket. When the Super Bikes were at Wanneroo in 2006 it was only $25. Worth every penny though, and yes we will be looking out for opportunities to visit Winton again.

 

Mansfield - Whitfield Road

Monday, 26^th March

Up before dawn. The lights in the camp-kitchen only come on at night so we were drinking tea and eating toast by torch light. We were heading for home now, no doubt about it. We incorporated three of The Bears rides into the days riding. This kept us on the back roads, out of the traffic and enjoying some fabulous scenery along the way - what could be better. We had to negotiate Bendigo which was more difficult that it sounds with our level of road maps. A helpful Ulyssian gave us our final instructions and we were home and hosed. St Arnaud became our home for the night. That's a nice looking little town. The caravan park is situated high on a hill and had lovely views. After a full days riding we were too tired to walk into town. Next time around!

 

Tuesday, 27^th March

We had lost daylight saving by now. We missed it in the evening, made us want to go to bed at 7:30pm. By the clock we were up and away by 7:30am which was great for morale, Adelaide was 540km away. The extra early start had given us a big appetite and we were pulling into a Macdonald's car park by 9:30am. After that it was head down and bum up for a boring and busy highway ride. The trucks were horrendous. One truck over took me a little close for comfort so I gave him a toot. Why not, it's my arse on the line! A storm was brewing and we were riding in a gusty NW wind. The miles ticked by slowly. I wanted to stop for a drink at the Roadhouse at Murray Bridge. Steve wanted to stop for afternoon tea in Hahndorf. We didn't stop at all. Most of the time we are on the same wavelength but not on this day. It made us a little frustrated and grumpy. As luck would have it we managed to find the caravan park without a hitch. That first cup of tea sure tasted good.

 

National Motor Museum

Wednesday, 28^th March

With the east coast completely consumed by drought, the last time the bikes saw a hose was in Tasmania. In Victoria we weren't even allowed to use a bucket, only the headlights and wind shields could be wiped clean. In South Australia a bucket was still permitted so we sloshed some water around and tarted them up as best we could. My little pink panther, who has travelled with me for 25 years, needed a bath. He had enjoyed the entire journey tied to my handle bars and didn't look any the worse for wear.

After lunch we did the run to Birdwood. I was feeling lazy and took the pillion seat. The ride up Gorge Road was great, Steve wrote in the log "as good as Tassie." Birdwood is the home of the National Motor Museum. The museum has a fantastic display and included iconic cars like "The Last Statesman" to leave the production line before the Commodore styling took over.

Unfortunately we got caught up in the peak hour traffic on the way home. The locals sure know how fast they can take each bend and it wasn't the time of day for a stranger to be cruising around.

That evening we had a BBQ tea and relaxed around our camp site. Adelaide was turning out to be fun.

 

Thursday, 29^th March

There was no doubt that autumn had arrived and winter was just around the corner. We were wearing our beanies in the morning to keep warm.

We took Steve's bike into Adelaide for a new rear tyre. The old one had given up the ghost at 9,500km, such is the hard life of towing a trailer. While we waited we had the pleasure of ambling around the streets in an unknown city. We loved every minute of it.

 

National Motor Museum

Friday, 30^th March

We took both bikes for their last ride through the Adelaide Hills. We did the famous Corkscrew Road. At first we wondered what all the fuss was about, then it really tightened up. At times we were down to first gear, you wouldn't want to stall it that's for sure.

A light drizzle set in as we reached Mt Lofty so we stopped in the Visitors Centre to warm up and give the weather a chance to clear.

Lunch was a cup-of-soup and a home made ham roll in the town park in Hahndorf, followed by a rich example of a German chocolate torte. We agree with The Bear, Hahndorf passes the test on theme villages.

My prized F1 denim jacket was just the place to pin a few motoring badges so I was very keen to return to the motoring museum in Birdwood. The selection of badges was amazing. I bought four, Yamaha (my bike), Kawasaki (Steve's bike), Saab (our car) and Jaguar. The Jaguar badge is in memory of my Ma and Pa's 1968 Jaguar. I haven't found an occasion to wear this jacket but it is a great souvenir of our holiday.

We left Birdwood early enough to miss the peak hour traffic on Gorge Road. It was a great days riding and so close to a major centre - amazing.

 

Saturday, 31^st March

Our last day in Adelaide. It was a toss up whether to go to the car and bike show that had just arrived in town or to see the movie Wild Hogs. The movie was a more relaxing option and we really enjoyed it. To see it while we were away, two middle aged punters on our own road journey, made us laugh our heads off. Anyone who is remotely into bikes will enjoy this movie.

When we returned to camp we packed up as much as we could. It was hard to believe that the following day we would pitch our tent for the last time. Our road journey was nearly over and the trip goes down as one of the most enjoyable things we have ever done.

Melbourne F1 Grand Prix

Maybe not a real Ferrari!

Tuesday, 13^th March

So here we were back in Melbourne. By the time we had cleared quarantine and collected our gas bottle it was 8am - peak hour. We taped our directions to the caravan park to our wind shields and off we went. Melbourne drivers although a little impatient are polite and they will let you in when you indicate. It was a very pleasant and entertaining ride even though it did take an hour to cover only 10km. We were staying in Melbourne for the week of festivities surrounding the F1 GP. The caravan park was large and clean with an excellent camp kitchen not far from our camp site. We paid our dues and settled in for the hustle and bustle that is city entertainment.

 

Chinatown Melbourne

Wednesday, 14^th March

It is more difficult than you think to organise a bike service at short notice. Most places spoke of a three week waiting period. Luckily we had posted a message on the Ulysses website forum asking for recommendations. We had one reply - "go to Charlie, he will fix you up without taking an arm and a leg in the process." Charlie is Chinese and works nearly exclusively on Triumphs. Bikers come from far and wide for a little of his magic. When Steve phoned, Charlie said he was very busy but would fit us in if we could leave the bikes for a few days. So that's what we did, we took the bikes to Charlie. When he saw my bike he played with the throttle and said "this no good, your hand goes numb right?" "yes" I said to which he replied "I fix for you no charge!" Then he pulled at the clutch, "no good," then the back brake. "This bike never set up for you, I will fix, when you come back, like new bike." So we left our bikes and Charlie to his own devices. Too scared to say "no" and secretly afraid that we might not like the outcome!

The rest of the day we spent in Melbourne, enjoying a banquet lunch in China Town and taking in the city sites. Melbourne certainly has a lot of character, we loved it.

 

Arriving at Albert Park

Thursday, 15^th March

Our first day at the F1 track. The F1 circus lasts four days. It starts on Thursday and ends on Sunday. Unfortunately it took nearly two hours to get to the track. Partly because we were travelling in peak hour, and partly because the journey comprised of a good walk and then two tram rides. We just settled in for the duration - what else can you do? Once we excepted that it was out of our control it was quite relaxing and interesting to watch inner Melbourne go gently by.

When its only day one of a four day event it's important to pace yourself. It's all about being there and not exhausting yourself in the process. Thursday is a day of support races, the F1 cars do not take to the track. Fortunately our seat was in the shade until noon. After that it was impossible to sit there when the sun came out from behind the clouds, it must have been 45oC in the stand. Despite the heat, we wandered around "side show alley" and the pits of the supporting classes. The atmosphere was fantastic.

Friday, 16^th March

We just made it to the track in time for the first F1 practice! Today we were in the Fangio stand, nicely situated opposite the pit area where there is always something going on. Luckily Melbourne cooled down and presented us with nearly 100% cloud cover. The temperature in the stand was quite comfortable. We spent a very pleasant day in and around our allocated seat. We always take a packed lunch - no "track tucker" for us. We went back to basecamp early enough to enjoy a home cooked meal. Eating out is great but not all the time.

 

Ferrari fanatics

Saturday, 17th March

Saturday is qualifying day. With the absence of the 9 to 5'ers it was a much quicker journey to the track.

Qualifying is a very exciting process of elimination. The F1 cars take to the track in three sessions of fifteen minutes each. After session one only the fastest 15 drivers continue. After session two only the fastest 10 go to session three. This is how the grid positions are decided. The process is probably more exciting than the race itself.

Before qualifying started, in the hope of improving the odds, we both placed a quinella bet for the race result. Steve went for Massa and Fisichella and I went for Alonso and Button. I can tell you now, we both bombed big time!

For dinner we treated ourselves to another banquet in China Town - this is the life!

 

Track side, after the GP

Sunday, 18^th March

Race day. Quite frankly I find the race itself a bit of an anti-climax. When the F1 cars take up their places on the grid the event seems all but over. The race itself seems to pay merely lip service to the three days before. Don't get me wrong, it's still good to be there for the race, but it isn't the reason for going. Fortunately it was another mild day and we sat happily in the Brabham Stand, on the first corner, hoping for our share of the action.

When the race was over we stayed awhile, watching the press conference on the big screen. The punters in the corporate stand behind us seemed oblivious to what was going on - most of them are not real fans. Then we went down onto the track to be with the real fans, all 76,000 of them it seemed! We clicked a few more photos through the fence at the scrutineering yard and then headed home. For dinner an old Italian guy made us a pizza with his bare hands - ever likely it tasted so good. We had done a Melbourne F1 GP. Would we do it again - you bet ya!

 

Those were the day

Monday, 19^th March

Our last day in Melbourne and time to get our bikes back. We spent the morning in town. Still caught up in the hype, Steve bought a Mark Webber cap. It was on sale for $35! I got a Williams denim jacket for only $20 - now that was a bargain. For lunch we had to have one last Souvlaki (kebab). Such delicious flavours and made with real meat - they don't make them like that in the west.

Charlie had our bikes ready and waiting for us. He concluded "when you riding across Nullarbor you will be saying, thank you Charlie, bike like new and no more wanker grip!" He was right, we will never forget Charlie.

Post race party

Up the East Coast

Richmond Bridge

Wednesday, 7^th March

Our week was up and it was time to move on again. Despite the weather being against us we had done most of the things we wanted to do. Perhaps I was denied a walk along Lauderdale beach but we hadn't done too badly. To me the magical views of Hobart from Mt Wellington belies the atmosphere on the ground. I thought this thirty years ago and nothing had changed my mind.

The Gulch, Bicheno

We packed up our tent and were on our way by 9am, Bicheno our next port of call. It was a little early to sample a scallop pie when we arrived at the bakery in Richmond, but the plain, chunky steak variety, no problem! It was an easy ride, the road quite open and fast on Tasmanian standards. Unfortunately the following day there was an accident just outside Bicheno involving two motorcycles. Both visitors too.

At $16 a night the campsite at Bicheno was one of the best and cheapest so far. We had the tent set up in record time and wandered into town for a look at the anchorage. There was a heavy easterly swell rolling in and the fishing boats were chomping at the bit. A Bad looking anchorage always makes Steve and I swallow hard, we can't help it.

 

Thursday, 8^th March

The exciting but exhausting process of visiting old friends had left us feeling tired and weary. We had originally planned to walk to the Wineglass Bay lookout in the Freycinet National Park. Apparently its a three hour return amble up and down some 600 steps. The poor weather forecast was the only excuse we needed not to go! We cleaned our bikes in the morning and in the afternoon went for an easy ride to Coles Bay. It was too cold to sit outside and enjoy our home-made coffee so we relaxed in the cosy Coles Bay Cafe instead. Horses for courses! The views were splendid. There were a few yachts in the bay, pitching about in the freshening westerly breeze. We just smiled, pleased we were travelling by motorcycle! Apparently Coles Bay is the first town in Tasmania to adopt a 'no plastic' policy - or so they said!

 

Derby General Store

Friday, 9^th March

Our last weekend in Tassie just happened to fall on a long weekend. Call it what you like but "bad planning" comes immediately to mind. With the incredible pressure on camping facilities in the summer school holidays and long weekends, we had to take up residence in the next caravan park for three nights - the remainder of our stay. This meant the caravan park had to be close enough to Devonport so we could reach the ferry on Monday, even if the weather turned against us. We picked Beauty Point, 47km north of Launceston. This left us a very long ride if we wanted to take the scenic route from Bicheno. There seemed no other route worth taking so it was "one oil barrel at a time," and the first oil barrel happened to be a pancake at the Mount Elephant Pancakes Of Tasmania cafe!

We twisted and turned up the Elephant Pass looking out for the pancake parlour around every corner until there it was - the most unforgiving driveway we had ever seen. Very steep and covered in loose gravel with ruts where the water had run off. Some motorcycles were dangerously parked on the road. Steve took his bike down and then came back for mine. Getting out was no problem.

After we had eaten our fill it would have been nice if the road had straightened out for a few kilometres. Bad luck kiddo - prepare yourself for the descent of the newly resurfaced St Mary's Pass. This kept us focussed and burping for a while!

Lookout at The Sideling

We rode on and on, admiring the scenery and stopping for a pee every now and then. The towns of St Helens and Scottsdale were quickly out of view - there was no time to stop on this ride.

The descent of The Sideling, one of the stages of the Targa Tasmania Rally, tested our riding skills once more and we were both pleased to see Launceston come into view soon after. You don't realise what a sleepy little hollow Tasmania really is until you ride into the second biggest city on the Friday afternoon of a long weekend!

The final leg to Beauty Point seemed to take forever even though the road had gentle curves and was quite fast. It had been another good day in the saddle, however we did feel our age when we pitched our tent that night.

 

Beauty Point

Saturday, 10^th March

We were exhausted from the day before. An unpleasant encounter when the kids next door started throwing stones added to our lethargy. Their dad was most upset with the terms of phrase Steve used. Later the girls were sent over to apologise, leaving it all forgiven but not forgotten! So we rested, until one of our chairs gave up the ghost. We had no option but to make a trip to Beaconsfield for a new one. Beaconsfield is a very sleepy little town, we bought the last chair they had! They may have a gold mine but a seven day a week internet cafe - no way!

In the afternoon we trundled down to Green Point for an ice-cream. We met a guy on a Harley Davidson visiting from Melbourne. He said he comes over most years for a burn around the island. We would too if it wasn't so far away.

 

Sunday, 11^th March

Feeling well rested and recuperated we went riding, despite the overcast conditions and the forecast of rain. The roads are so lovely and quiet you really have to experience Tasmania to believe it. We crossed the Tamar River at the first opportunity and took the back roads through Lilydale to Scottsdale and then on to Bridport for a picnic lunch. The day brightened up and the riding was great. It does however remain a mystery how ride 62 made in into The Bears book. It seemed a very straight and boring run to us. After doing so many great roads, the bar has been raised and all rides have a lot to measure up to!

 

Yacht careened at Port Sorell

Monday, 12^th March

Steve's big toe had an argument with one of our large tent pegs and guess what? - Steve lost! The tow was twice its normal size within minutes. We thought it was broken. We also thought Steve might not be able to get his riding boots on. We got the ice onto it immediately and began mumbling things about "not being able to ride" and "at least we had five good weeks." Steve sat quietly while I fussed around making sure the toe bath was no warmer than 1oC! After an hour in and out of iced water Steve was ready to hobble about for a while. We packed up the tent, loaded the trailer and then like a real trooper on went the boots. Those creatures from Mars can certainly withstand certain types of pain more easily than their cousins on Venus! Luckily it was Steve's right foot. If it had been the left, the one than changes gears, the trip would have been over.

On ramp to Spirit of Tasmania

We took the back roads to Port Sorell before arriving in Devonport early afternoon. We found a picnic area where Steve could rest and get his toe back into some ice. It was turning black now. What a mess. The public holiday meant everywhere was closed. We did manage to kill an hour checking the emails - there certainly is a lot of hanging around to do when catching a night-time ferry.

Finally it was time to take our place in the queue. All the bikes, maybe 40 of them, were together and the atmosphere was great. Most of the bikers were Victorians, dressed in full leathers and riding sports bikes. They had come over for the long weekend. Before long we were on the ferry, together this time. The bikes were secured and we were dining in the galley on Spirit of Tasmania. Our Tassie sojourn over for now.

Hobart

Wednesday, 28^th February

Luckily it remained dry while we packed up and made ready to leave once more. Today we were heading for Hobart only 130km away. After a 30 year absence I was very excited. Five minutes down the road we were riding in light drizzle and the rain stayed with us nearly all the way. We had fog while winding our way down the steep, twisty Tarraleah Valley. It was tough riding but a challenge we both enjoyed. By the time we arrived in Hamilton we felt we had earned our morning tea.

We managed to find room in an adequate caravan park in Berridale, only 8km north of Hobart. In between the showers we set up camp right on the banks of the Derwent River. In the distance to the left was the Cadburys chocolate factory, to the right and next door a sewage works - charming! With people to see and old haunts to revisit, we made ourselves at home in Hobart for a week.

 

Victoria Dock

Thursday, 1^st March

When we woke up it was still drizzling. Mt Wellington, which towers over old Hobart Town was still lost in the cloud. It seemed like a good day to do the Cadburys Chocolate Factory tour, so we booked in and off we went. The best part of the tour was probably access to the "seconds" shop. We stocked up on brunch bars and peppermint flakes to the point where we could eat them two at a time and not notice the pile going down! There we were, growing old disgracefully again, and increasing our girth at the same time!

The rain persisted so in the afternoon we went to the maritime museum, which included a wonderful exhibition on Antarctica. Best of all it was free! It had been a good day. To cap it all off, the weather was kind enough to allow us to stay dry on the short ride back to camp.

 

Friday, 2^nd March

We woke up to a bleak morning, in the afternoon we had commitments to visit friends. In our optimism we decided to make a day of it and take the scenic B68 road which takes you south of Hobart, through Woodbridge and Cygnet and onto Huonville. By 10am we had aborted the ride. The rain had set in, and there was no point in a scenic ride because you couldn't see anything as the cloud was so low.

We had been told that visitors are welcome at the Antarctic Division headquarters in Kingston. We were only a couple of kilometres away so we stopped, mainly to warm up with a cup of coffee. However we were treated to the full-on guided tour with a friend of a friend, and spent four hours learning a little more about Australia's remotest outpost. It rained the whole time we were there. Eventually we had to leave so we could reach our first engagement on time.

The road from Hobart to Huonville would be a great ride on a nice dry day but like any good road, "when they are good they are very very good, but when they are bad they are horrid." The locals still motor along and we were given the hurry-up by an empty logging truck which didn't make it a comfortable ride.

It was great to catch up with old friends. We couldn't stay long as we had another engagement to attend to! A much more traumatic affair visiting our sailing friend Else, whose husband Tod had passed away at the end of 2006. I can tell you we had never been so glad to get back to basecamp. To cap it all off, a truck carrying salmon had spilt fish oil north bound along the southern outlet. This had made the road very slippery in the damp conditions and there had been several major accidents in the last couple of days. Apparently you can't see it, only smell it. So we rode home on tender hooks with sensitive noses - never again!

 

Mount Wellington

Saturday, 3^rd March

Finally Mt Wellington showed its face! There was only one place to go - to the top of the mountain. We took a quick look at the famous Salamanca markets on the way, but they were busy and we aren't good shoppers.

The road to the top is narrow, windy and very busy. However the traffic was well behaved and it turned out to be a good ride, with plenty of chances to stop and take in the views. Its amazing there isn't a cafe at the summit. Every other opportunity to attract the tourist dollar seems to have been exhausted but not that one. Perhaps its a good thing, however we would have enjoyed a cappuccino sitting in a heated cafe - outside it was freezing!

 

Clifton Beach

Sunday, 4^th March

We dedicated Sunday to me. It was my day to visit all my old haunts. In doing so it turned out to be quite a scenic ride too. I stopped and took photo's of my old schools, and the house where I lived as a child. Then we had a picnic lunch at Lauderdale Beach, followed by a stroll along Clifton Beach - I'm sure those waves used to be bigger! In the afternoon Steve was off the hook and enjoying ride number 69 out of The Bears book. I had afternoon tea with my old school friend Margaret. Margaret and family were living in her Ma and Pa's old farm house where I used to sleep-over as a child. What do you say to someone who you have not been in contact with for 30 years? Not much really, however I enjoyed being there, it was a spiritual thing.

 

Port Arthur

Monday, 5^th March

We nearly didn't go to Port Arthur. Maybe it was the weather, maybe just the mood we were in, but we are very glad we did. The grounds and ruins are extensive and we spent five hours wandering around the historic site. We skipped the guided tour, just went under our own steam as there are plaques with snippets of history everywhere. There is just so much to see, some of the buildings are just shells, others have been completely renovated and are decorated in period costume to set the scene. It is wonderful to see that funding is pouring in from somewhere and the preservation of Port Arthur is in good hands.

It is a scenic 93km ride from Hobart to Port Arthur. On the way there we stopped to check out the convict built Denison Canal. On the way home, even though the weather was against us, we stopped for a quick look at the Tasman Arch, the Blow Holes and the Devils Kitchen. Every time we went to get back on the bike it was a major "chamois job" and tempers got a little frayed.

Tessellated Pavement

Despite the rain I insisted we stop at the Tessellated Pavement. This was a place I had fond memories of as a child. We managed to score five minutes of fine weather to hop along the pavement. When the rain came again we took shelter under a sandstone cliff. I sat down on a kind looking rock. For some reason I thought "I wonder if there are any snakes around?" So I cast a quick glance to the side and low and behold, less than one foot away was a brown snake! It was just sitting there quietly. Never thought I could move so quick, or Steve, and he had his wet weather pants down having a pee! We were happy to walk in the rain after that. I do like the Tessellated Pavement, but I didn't want to end my days there.

We had a great evening meal in a pub in Sorell, which included brandy snaps, one of my favourites. Then it was "home again, home again jiggity-jig."

Gordon Dam

Tuesday, 6^th March

Our last day in Hobart and a fine one at that! We were hoping for a good day to do the Hobart to Strathgordon ride, and here it was. It is 159km each way. You have to re-trace your steps on this ride, but it is a pleasure, and it is surprising how different the scenery can look on the return journey. We were on our way early as a 300km trip in Tassie can mean quite a few hours on the road. The cold, crisp morning had me signalling to Steve to stop so I could get the circulation back in my hands. My gloves are not Tasmania proof and it was only March!

The road to Strathgordon is a delightful ride. It meanders through tiny towns which hardly rate a mention on the map and beware, some of them may have run out of fuel! There was plenty of road-kill which kept us on our toes, even a crow-bar sat in the middle of the road - only in Tasmania.

There were still protesters camped out on the road-side trying to save the trees. We asked one of the locals about this as we thought all the remaining trees had been saved. They explained that there is still 2-3% of the old growth forest in danger of logging.

The road was not too challenging in the fine weather which allowed us to relax a little and enjoy the scenery as we rode along. At every opportunity we stopped to pick blackberries. Steve is good at picking them and I am good at eating them - what a team!

Apparently there is a group of enthusiastic individuals who have a vision to "undo" the damming of Lake Pedder and return the area to its original glory. How wonderful it is to listen to people who dare to dream big.

As we approached the Gordon River dam I found myself drawing breath at the sight of the dead trees sticking up out of the water. It was like a grave yard and the dead trees the grave stones. It is only because the water level is so low that it looks like this.

On the way home we gave thanks to the weather God. The ride to Strathgordon is one of the best and we would like to do it again and again and again.