Tamworth to Tasmania

Kosciuszko Road,
Kosciuzko National Park.

It was with gratefulness and contemplation that we rode away from Tamworth at first light on that warm Sunday morning. The dawn light shone like gold on the silent hay bales and me and Devil (F650GS) were enjoying the open road once more.

We fancied our chances of a Devonshire Tea in Scone, but the Scone townsfolk were still in bed when we rode through the main street and we had to wait until Merriwa before we could sink our teeth into a fresh scone topped with a generous serving of cream.

We turned off at Sandy Hollow for a run along the Bylong Valley and we were safely camped at Bathurst in time for happy hour and before a good drenching, from a thunderstorm, cleaned the heat from the air.

Crossing Abercrombie River;
Great road.

From Bathurst the road led us southward through Crookwell. We skirted Queanbeyan amidst a threatening sky but refused to done our wet weather gear until it actually started to rain. We were wearing full wets as we rode through Cooma, pleased to be riding against the traffic heading home after the Australia Day long weekend. Lake Jindabyne was a welcome sight and provided a place to rest our weary heads amidst the more temperate climate of this beautiful Lake.

Half way down the Alpine Way,
Geehi camp ground.

By Thursday it was time to get a wriggle on as our Bass Straight ferry crossing was scheduled for Friday night. We rode The Alpine Way one more time. This technically difficult road was made all the more menacing by the number of small rocks, that had been loosened by the strong wind and rain from the day before, and lay waiting on the riding line for the next unsuspecting motorcyclist; I was pleased to arrive in Khancoban and leave The Alpine Way behind me.

On the ramp onto the Spirit of Tasmania ferry.

The caravan park in Yackandandah became our home for the night before an early start for the final days run to the ferry. We trundled along the back roads through Ned Kelly country and down King Valley to Mansfield. At times The Alps peeped out at us and made us smile as we clocked the miles away towards Melbourne. A long and uneventful day saw the bikes safely tied down on Spirit of Tasmania by 8:30pm with Steve and I enjoying a glass of white on the upper deck before pizza fair for dinner.

Tassie here we come.