Brisbane to Roma

As we rode away from Brisbane, we both knew we were taking the first steps towards home. Steve picked an easy route along the city’s suburban streets and we were soon riding in the countryside and passing through the little township of Samford. The bikes enjoyed a burn up the hill to Mt Glorious. We stopped at the rest area close to the summit but we didn’t make tea or bother to put on our wet weather trousers. Instead we decided to scurry down the mountain side as a light mist was filling the air and we both sensed that rain wasn’t far away. Too late. As soon as we rode out of the rest area the rain came and the descent became a wet and miserable experience. The tight hairpin bends seemed steep and menacing but there was nowhere to stop. We rode on past Lake Wivenhoe and the heated grips stayed on until the bikes were parked outside the bakery in Esk. Bacon and egg burgers and a large plate of chips provided welcome relief after two and a half hours in the saddle.

From Crows Nest we took the back roads through Haden and Peranga. Outside the pub in Quinalow we relied on a roadside mud map to tell us which road to take next. The bitumen soon turned to an unexpected stretch of gravel. The gravel road was short and sweet but it managed to make a terrible mess of the bikes.

We stayed the night in Dalby and then we trundled along the low road, through Kogan and Condamine, all the way to Roma. The hills of the Great Dividing Range had given way to open plains and cotton fields. When a bend appeared in the road we leant into it as we never knew when we would find another. We had to share this minor road with a few road trains. Sometimes the empty cattle trucks filled our nostrils with cow poo but we didn’t mind because riding in the outback is pure magic. When the road became only a single lane, we kept a keen eye on the state of the road verge; we only had to pull off the road twice but that was enough.

This is the busy season and there was no room at the first caravan park we tried to book into. We took this as a warning shot and from now on we will be phoning ahead.

I will always remember Roma as the home of the Bottle Tree. These beautiful trees line the streets in the CBD and the local nursery sells young ones for those who would like one of their own.

We are now relaxing at our campsite, drinking beer, and watching a flock of at least 100 kites circling overhead; life is good.

On The Road Again

After the Ulysses AGM in Maryborough, we placed the bikes in a storage facility near Brisbane Airport, and flew home to Perth to check on the house and enjoy some home comforts.

When the time came to fly back to Brisbane, and resume our motorcycle ride around Australia, we had developed a taste for our reclining lounge chairs and the big TV; we didn’t feel ready for life on the road again. Fortunately there is something about airport lounges that can flick switches in the brain and as soon as I saw our flight number on the monitor I started to remember the wonder of travel. By the time we touched down in Brisbane I was feeling a little excited about being reunited with Devil again.



Devil and Dwarf wait patiently at Eagle Farm.

The storage facility, Storage King at Eagle Farm, lived up to our expectations. When we opened the roller door, there they were, Devil (F650GS Twin) and Dwarf (R1200GS), just as we had left them. The bikes seemed pleased to see us and they both started with the first push of the button. By now it was 3pm and we proceeded well through the thickening city traffic until Steve decided to dart into the inside lane which was for left turners only. This little sojourn separated the bikes and it took two goes, with Steve waiting for me and then me waiting for Steve until we rode together again. A GPS and bike to bike communications would help avoid situations like this but we like to keep it simple. After this episode I noticed a little frustration creeping into my riding style and we were lucky that the caravan park was only fifteen kilometres away.

Unfortunately our allocated tent site was lying six inches under water and the last thing we felt like doing was heading back to the office to negotiate moving to higher ground. Still these small things are sent to try us and by sunset the big tent was up and we were wining and dining at Ghazal, an Indian restaurant which serves authentic cuisine at affordable prices. Steve and I chinked glasses many times and we both said “it’s good to be back.”

Ulysses AGM in Maryborough – 2013

Camping at Maryborough Showgronds.

By lunch time on Monday 15^th April we were riding around the AGM village in Maryborough looking for a suitable place to pitch our tent. We were looking for some high ground, but we needn’t have worried as someone cleverly arranged for the onset of the dry season to coincide with the start of the AGM. Eventually we settled on a position amongst some friendly trikers from Innisfail.

On Monday night we introduced ourselves to the Piazza, a licensed meeting place which holds 1200 people seated at tables of eight. Live music played, every night, from 7:30pm till late and you could dine on anything from Mexican fair to sweet pancakes depending on your fancy. We found the Warnbro Sound Wanderers crew and it was wonderful to see a familiar face again.

The AGM is a great place for bikers to hang out for a week. On Wednesday, while Devil (my F650GS) was still sleeping, I sneaked off to test ride the new BMW F700GS. I must admit that the new machine was a little lighter and more nimble under foot but I didn’t tell Devil. When I arrived back at camp Devil was still sleeping and she knows nothing of my infidelities.

Collection of Douglas motorcycles.

On Friday we joined a group ride out to Biggenden to see a private collection of Douglas motorcycles. It would be an understatement to suggest that owner Alan Cunningham is a collector. For a small fee, which all goes to charity, we were allowed to wander around and enjoy the eclectic mix of motorcycles, old cars and farm equipment. Afterwards we were treated to some good old Queensland hospitality at the local pub, which served home-style meals at very affordable prices. On the way home we broke the journey with an ice-cream at Childers. Unfortunately I missed the rider briefing outside the ice creamery. Apparently Jack, our ride leader, arranged with the other riders in the group to show them the way back to Hervey Bay. I didn’t know this and, as second man, I marked the corner, waited for everyone to ride on by, saw Tail End Charlie in my rear view mirror and then I took off, like a woman possessed, after the others. I hadn’t realised that I was supposed to go straight on. Steve was Tail End Charlie and he was riding on one wheel at times trying to catch me.

Warnbro Sound Wanderers at dinner.

Friday night’s dinner in the Hoecker was great, especially for those who brought along their head torches as the portable toilets had no lighting. This situation provided a bit of amusement and it was nearly a shame that by 8pm a floodlight had been delivered and we could see what we were doing again. For Saturday night’s dinner the toilets were moved to the other side of the Hoecker where the lights were so bright you needed sunglasses.

Grand Parade Maryborough.

Saturday’s grand parade was wonderful. The assembly point, for the 1300 bikes, was orderly and organised. The ride into town brought tears to my eyes as I acknowledged the locals who lined the streets and avenues along the way. So humble was the hospitality offered to us in Maryborough that one lady held up a sign which read “thank you for coming.” I could have wept inside my helmet, but I managed to hold back the tears and concentre on the bikes in front. On Saturday afternoon Steve and I attended the AGM meeting and then we went back to camp to socialise in the Hoecker once more.

The week spent messing about with bikes had been so much fun that while we were packing up our tent my thoughts turned to the AGM in Alice Springs in 2014; tempted.

Red Devil and me enjoying the Grand Parade Maryborough.

Ride Canberra to the Ulysses AGM in Maryborough

As much as I enjoyed the National Folk Festival, after six days living at Canberra’s EPIC centre, I was happy to be on the road again. Unfortunately my reverie was short lived. When we pulled into a local fuel station there was a problem with the payment mechanism; no one was moving. Steve stood with his arms folded while we waited fifteen minutes for the driver of the car in front to appear. When it was my turn to hand over the money, some dude was trying to pay with a debit card that didn’t have enough money on it. By now Steve was gesticulating to me through the window. His arms seemed to be waving all over the place so I said to the attendant “is the pump working?” “Yep, that’s $32, thanks.” I paid up and marched out to see what was wrong. “Where is the water?” he demanded. Water provides some moveable ballast for Devil’s (F650GS) panniers and I held the key. When we pulled out of the fuel station we were both a little agitated and I forgot to put my sunglasses on. Five hundred meters later we were stopped on the side of the road; take two.

Steve quickly redeemed himself by finding some back roads and took us on a wonderful ride all the way to Goulburn. A wrong turn somewhere on the approach to town and we found ourselves at the Goulburn bakery, eating custard tarts and asking “how do we get out of here?” In between making cups of coffee, the manager drew us a mud map on a paper pie bag and our passage was made easy.

As we approached Oberon we came across a nasty piece of road works. They had just laid thick gravel all over the road and then proceeded to escort us to the other side before the dirt had been compacted. I tried to ride in the thin tyre track made by the escort ute. I felt myself tensing up every time Devil crept into some of the thick stuff. I managed to keep going but the escort vehicle was going too slow for Dwarfie (R1200GS) and he had to stop, ankle deep in mud. I haven’t been so pleased to make it through a stretch of road words for a long time.

The towns high up in the mountains are beautiful and Oberon was no exception. We made tea, and watched the world go by while we sat on a park bench right in the middle of town. Unfortunately we couldn’t stop for long as we were heading to Katoomba and there was still some riding to do.

As we rode on, the views of the Blue Mountains in the east were simply stunning. I kept saying “wow,” and when I considered how close we were to Sydney I said “wow” again.

Katoomba, misty one day, raining the next.

What we didn’t know, when we paid for three nights accommodation at the caravan park at Katoomba, was by the following morning the fog would roll in and we weren’t going to see anything of The Three Sisters, or any of the spectacular scenery. After two days stuck in the tent, with the wet towels and jackets, I couldn’t wait to get out of the place. Steve didn’t dare suggest we stay another day. We made do with a quick glimpse of the mountains as we rode the scenic route back out onto the highway.

Lithgow was soon just a dot in our rear view mirrors and we were on the road to Mudgee. We turned off towards Rylstone and the quiet back road was a delight to cruise along. At one stage we came across a horseman mustering a herd of cattle. Devil slowed to a crawl and I felt a swell of importance when the cows seemed to think I was part of the muster team and they moved obligingly to the side of the road. The run through the Goulburn River National Park was slow but rewarding and it was 3pm before we arrived in Muswellbrook. A quick pit stop and we were back on the road again for the nonstop ride to Tamworth. Half an hour before sunset the tent was up, the weather was dry and we were happy.

The mandatory stop at the Golden Guitar.

Unfortunately the caravan park we chose was a construction site by day. On Saturday night the barbeque area was taken over by a group participating in a Variety Bash. Thankfully Sunday arrived, Variety left town and the caravan park fell quiet again.

While we were looking for things to do in the Tamworth Visitors Centre, Steve spotted a poster for our favourite comedian. Ross Noble was performing at the Town Hall on Sunday night. We bought tickets ten rows from the front; amazing. Why Ross plays in such small venues could be something to do with the DVD market. I’m sure the Tamworth Show will be available in store soon.

The Tenterfield Saddler.

From Tamworth we took the New England Highway in search of the Tenterfield Saddler. We found Tenterfield but the saddlery was closed for renovations. I still took a moment to sit on the veranda and remember Peter Allen’s grandfather, George Woolnough, who was made famous in the song.

By now daylight saving seemed to be a distant memory and we missed the longer evenings immensely. Living in a tent we prefer to have the daylight at the end of the day rather than the beginning. The beauty of the high country had brought with it bouts of mist and showers and the summer weather we had enjoyed so much seemed to be gone forever.

We like to avoid rain on ride days and we left Tenterfield with a smile on our faces and a clear forecast up our sleeve. All the Australian states seem to have quite distinctive architectural styles and nothing is quite as striking as the beautiful Queenslander houses. As I ride on by I like to dream about a romantic life on the land.

Bald Rock National Park.

Because of the incredible damage caused by the floods, there were road works everywhere as we headed northwards towards Kingaroy. At one stage we were stopped in the Lockyer Valley waiting for our turn to traverse. I looked up to my left and I was shocked to see the most unstable looking cliff face I have ever encountered. It was the type of thing you might find in a third world country but not Australia.

When the clouds gathered and a few spots of rain appeared on our visors, Steve pulled over and said “what do you reckon?” We chose not to put on our wet weather gear and five minutes later a short, tropical shower made us realise we had made an error of judgement. Steve stopped again and we both agreed that our gear would blow dry in no time at 100km hour. The only trouble was we kept riding in and out of the same rain cloud as the road twisted and turned. By the time we reached the day’s final set of road works we were soaked through. Once again the tent was full of wet clothes trying to dry out; next time we’ll be wearing the wet weather gear.

On Monday 15^th April we will leave Kingaroy, the peanut capital of Australia, and ride to Maryborough for the Ulysses AGM; motorbikes and friendship – we are looking forward to that.

National Folk Festival 2013

We rode into Canberra on our motorcycles and checked in at the festival camp site on Wednesday afternoon, the day before the opening concert. We cruised around the camp site for a while, trying to establish what was available in the fowls, the quiet, camping area. We were off to a good start as a new found festival friend invited us to share his powered site. The great aspect about camping onsite is you can wander back to your own patch for a little RNR and then immerse yourself in the festival again.



Red Molly.

On Thursday we poured over the program with a highlighter pen. Without my guitar in tow I didn’t pay enough attention to the incredible experiences on offer. If I had, I would certainly have joined in the Festival Choir, led by Spooky Men’s Chorale choir master, Stephen Taberner. The Festival Choir performance, at the Farewell Concert, was testament to Stephen’s ability to create something quite magical under challenging circumstances.



We just hung out at the festival over the four day Easter weekend and enjoyed many performances including fiddler, Alasdair Fraser and cellist Natalie Hass. I was thoroughly entertained by the synergy between these two musicians and they were a pleasure to watch. Spooky Men are a festival favourite. Apparently they “are not a mens group;” they said so in one of their songs. I also spotted a Spooky Men poster which read “Spooky Men in acronynimus dispute with FCUK.”



Finbar Furey.

Red Molly were a must for anyone who enjoys country pop and Chris Smither if your poison is blues. Finbar Fury delighted the audience with his Irish charm and humour; I could quite happily listen to Finbar spinning a yarn all day long. During Himmerland’s performance I was drawn to the character and deft touch of their percussionist, Ayi Soloman, for the entire fifty minute set. If you ever need a session drummer he’s your man.

At times we wandered through the Session Bar. The number of people participating in jam sessions was amazing. Then we would check out the dancers in the Coorong, I wanted to have a go but Steve said “I don’t dance no more.”



Judge Judy.

Judy Small surprised us all with her decision to retire from performing in the pursuit of her new role as a Judge. I first heard Judy’s song “Mothers, Daughters, Wives” on my car radio way back in 1995. Judy’s farewell concert, to a full house in the 3,000 seat Budawang venue, earned her a standing ovation. It felt surreal that we may never see Judy perform live again.

The catering was great and we chose to dine on Thai, Mexican and Turkish Gozleme. With Pizzas, Indian delicacies and Moroccan fair amongst the large choice of culinary delights, every ones taste was catered for.

We were lucky to buy souvenir festival mugs before they were sold out. In the mornings we filled these mugs with coffee and in the afternoons we filled them with beer. When I washed them and put them away I could feel the slight touch of the potters hand and they are a wonderful souvenir of our first National Folk Festival.

There were so many wonderful musicians in residence that I couldn’t help compiling my “2013 National Folk Festival Super Group,” the line up is as follows:

¯  Fiddle - Alasdair Fraser

¯  Cello - Natalie Hass

¯  Acoustic Guitar - Graham Mcleod (The String Contingent)

¯  Bass Guitar - David Woodhead

¯  Percussion - Ayi Soloman (Himmerland)

¯  Duduk - Tigran Aleksanyan (SANS)

¯  Vocals – Kavisha Mazzella (I Viaggiatori)



A group setup while we were having lunch.
They played some Swedish folk tunes.

This festival is the friendliest event I have ever attended. I never saw a sad face all weekend and the level of participation is unprecedented. The musical groups didn’t just congregate in the black board venues and the Session Bar, they also formed out in the festival streets, under trees, and around picnic tables; each group playing quietly in their own space without becoming a nuisance to anyone else.

On Easter Monday I knew the carnival was nearly over when I started brushing my teeth to the tune of a little jig playing inside my head. Thanks to the organising committee and the hundreds of volunteers who make this event happen, long may it be so.

In the tent on a cold Canberra morning.
Updating my blog and drinking coffee from my festival mug.

Ride Melbourne to Canberra

“Apartments can rot good bikes and good blokes.” I had grown so comfortable during our week in the little unit in South Yarra that, for a moment, I felt I could quite happily have spent the rest of my days there. Simple tasks, like making a cup of tea, were a dream in the tiny kitchen and I found the comfort difficult to leave behind.

Camping beside the King River, Whitfield.

We were checked out by 9am but the thick Melbourne traffic seemed reluctant to let us go as we crawled along Toorak Road, clocking only five kilometres in one hour. Devil and Dwarf hated idling in the heavy traffic and Dwarf’s temperature gauge and Devil’s engine fan kept telling us “this can’t go on much longer.”

We started to relax once we made it to Healesville. We took a pit stop at the town’s bakery and then we gave the bikes a burn up the Black Spur all the way to Marysville. We took all day wandering through the roads and lanes and by happy hour we had arrived in the little town of Whitfield. We pitched our tent at the beautiful Gentle Annie Camping Reserve. For only $20 you can camp down by the river. It’s a great spot as long as you don’t mind the smell of fresh dog poo, deposited by the resident pooch, before you have finished your breakfast.

Beachworth.

The following morning we were on the road again as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed and put away. When we arrived at Beachworth we were pleased to find the town full of historic cars participating in a RACV rally. I am always delighted when I find a MKII Jaguar; these old cars bring back fond memories of the car my dad bought in 1968. I was in for a treat as there were several old Jags in the historic fleet.

It is easy to forget about the concept of remoteness when travelling in Victoria and no matter how hard we tried we couldn’t find fuel in Tangambalanga. When we finally fuelled up in Bonegilla, Steve poured 19 litres into Dwarf’s 20 litre tank. I gave Steve “the look,” nothing more was said.

Red Dwarf and Red Devil.

While we were drinking tea at the Hume Weir, a local dude, full of his own importance, wandered by for a chat. He had ridden thousands of miles on his 1980’s BMW motorcycle. When I said to Steve, “there you go, there are plenty of miles left in our bikes” he proceeded to put down the longevity of Devil and Dwarf (F650GS, R1200GS); you don’t make friends like that.

We trundled along the Murray Valley Highway and set up the big tent amongst the trees at a delightful caravan part in Colac Colac. We were exhausted from our week in Melbourne and when the weather settled in and rained all of the following day neither of us complained about taking it easy.

We were camped in The Man from Snowy River Country and the towns and villages in this neck of the woods embrace the wonderful story of Jack Riley. Jack Riley was the inspiration for Banjo Paterson’s famous poem. The spirit of Jack Riley seemed to be everywhere and on that rainy afternoon I wrote this little ditty.

I thought I saw The Man from Snowy River late one afternoon,

He appeared to me beneath the trees amidst the rain and gloom.

We were camped near Jack’s home of Tom Groggin, his grave site not too far away.

I guess he knew I was passing through and he came to say G’day.

As soon as the rain cleared we took Devil and Dwarf on a day ride through the hills in the upper Murray Valley region. We stopped for refreshments at the general store in Tintaldra. Our knowledgeable host made tea in a pot and kept us entertained with stories about stockmen and drovers from the distant past. We then rode on through the villages of Jingellic and Tumbarumba. These roads are so amazingly quiet, it’s a wonder they have been converted from gravel to bitumen.

Item number 16 on our “Things to do before I die” list reads “Climb Mt Kosciuszko.” When the weather became clear and calm we took our chance, moved our camp to Jindabyne, and climbed the mountain. Of course the navigator took us the long way around to Jindabyne and we passed by Cabramurra and Mt Selwyn; a signpost told us we were riding along at 1500 meters. In the cold mountain air, Adaminaby provided a great lunch stop and we were pleased to feast on hot chocolate and bacon and egg burgers in the warm and cosy cafe.

For our assault on Mt Kosciuszko we took the chair lift from Thredbo and then walked to the summit along the easy, well prepared 6.5km track. As we stood on top of Australia, and looked out across the Snowy Mountains, it seemed there was no way through, even though we had been riding in those mountains just the day before. If you get the chance, climb Mt Kosciuszko. I will carry the memory with me for the rest of my life.

The National Folk Festival, in Canberra, gave us somewhere to go and something to do for the Easter holiday. While I rode into the capital I felt so happy and inspired I wrote the chorus to a new song.

Before I make it home again I’ll ride the Snowy Mountain Highway,

And I’ll climb the highest mountain in this great and southern land.

And I’ll write about Jack Riley as I ride along the byway

Singing more about this country than I will ever understand.

Lake Jindabyne.

Australian Formula 1 Grand Prix – Melbourne 2013

Mark Webber.

For Formula 1 week we took up residence in a clean and tidy one bedroom apartment within walking distance of the Albert Park race circuit. One of our GP Advantage privileges promised us a pit walk at 9am on Thursday morning and we were waiting, with thousands of others, by 8:30am. For some reason the pit walk was delayed by half an hour, but Victorians are a patient bunch and everyone waited quietly and calmly in the queue. When the pit walkers finally arrived in pit lane the group stopped moving while hundreds of digital cameras snapped away. Even security, who kept barking “move along, move along,” seemed to have no impact on the large group of punters. At one stage it looked like they wouldn’t be able to clear pit lane in time for the first event at 10am. We stopped long enough to take some great photographs of the F1 pit garages. Many of the photographs were the same ones we had taken in 2009, however it was important to get the new and updated images.

There is plenty of on track activities but there is no racing on Thursday so it was a great day to enjoy some of the grand prix’s off track entertainment. We browsed through the merchandising stalls and noticed that Red Bull T shirts and caps were the most popular. Ferrari merchandising seems to be taking a back seat after the departure of Michael Schumacher.

Nitro Circus.

The FLAIR Moto Trials Show was very entertaining but it’s difficult to compete with the motorcycle and bicycle acrobatics of the Nitro Circus; those guys are truly insane. There seemed to be a lot more entertainment aimed at children and teenagers and I thought the age demographic was younger than it was in 2009.

On Friday the F1 cars took to the track for the first time and we were treated to three hours of F1 entertainment during the course of the day. Since 1985 I have always been a Mclaren fan. When Lewis Hamilton joined the Mclaren it seemed like a match made in heaven for both me and the team. Unfortunately Lewis is now driving for Mercedes and I missed him. First and foremost I always hope that Australians Mark Webber or Danny Ricciardo win, no matter who they drive for. If the Aussies can’t win Mclaren is my team.

Saturday Qualifying in the rain.

Rain stopped play after the first qualifying session on Saturday and we were thrilled with our undercover seating while we watched the high tech sport of Formula 1 use brooms to try and sweep the standing water off the track. Eventually race control rescheduled the second and third qualifying sessions until 11am on Sunday morning.

We couldn’t take our undercover seating home with us and we were drenched walking back to our unit in South Yarra. A hot shower, a plate of Peking Duck and a bottle of Red from a local Chinese restaurant and we were all smiles again.

Because of the rescheduling of qualifying, gates opened at 10:00 on race day Sunday. Luckily Steve remembered that GP Advantage ticket holders could enter the circuit from 8:30am on Sunday so we didn’t have to queue with the masses. With a quickly drying track the final two qualifying sessions were a nail biting experience. Eventually the two Red Bulls, Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber, took out the first row of the grid.

Front Row: Vettel and Webber.

Steve and I always choose our seats so they overlook pit straight as we find there is always something going on in pit lane or on the starting grid to keep us entertained. On Sunday we stayed in our seats for most of the day and enjoyed the support races which included V8 Supercars, Porsche Carrera Cup and International Sports Cars. Moto GP retiree, Casey Stoner certainly brought a touch of celebrity to the Ultimate Speed Comparison and I made sure I was in my seat each time this event was on track.

The Podium.

Sunday’s race is always full of drama and Mark Webber was the first victim, losing several places before the first corner. Kimi Raikkonen surprised everyone and took out the win using good tyre management; Kimi only made two pit stops instead of three. Ferrari’s Fernando Alonso came second and Sebastian Vettel, the current world champion, third. Mark Webber finished sixth and Danny Ricciardo retired in the late stages of the race. The fans were quickly on the track after the completion of the race so they could join in the celebrations on the podium. When the Premier of Victoria was introduced an audible booing came from the crowd. This happened again when Sebastian Vettel was awarded his third place trophy. I hope, in Sebastian’s case, the booing was delivered with a touch of humour as Aussie Mark Webber is his team mate.

We stayed a while, watching the celebrations and soaking up the last glimmer of this amazing event. The Melbourne F1 Grand Prix just keeps getting better and better and it felt like a pleasure and a privilege to be there in 2013.