We rode away from Bathurst early enough to catch the workers scurrying towards Lithgow for a 9am start. Add to that, a bunch of race fans hurrying home to Sydney, camper trailers flaring, by the time we traversed The Bells Line of Road and reached the Pie in the Sky at Bilpin I had completely lost my appetite and Steve was left to dine alone. It was warm riding on the eastern side of the ranges with the temperature up to 30 degrees. For the first time in 5000km of riding our jumpers were no longer required and we squeezed them into our already overfull panniers.
Kendalls Beach campsite
At Richmond, Steve found some quiet backroads and we headed southwards through one village after another all the way to Mowbray Park. Plenty of folks live here in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, isolated from the big smoke by the elevation and the twisty roads. At Picton we jumped onto the B88 for an enjoyable ride until we reached the motorway on the outskirts of Wollongong.
Historic timber terraced shops, Kiama
The seaside town of Kiama became home for a week while we enjoyed the lanes and mountain passes around Robertson, Kangaroo Valley and Jamberoo.
If you love the world game, call into the pub at Jamberoo and stop for a while in the Johnny Warren room. The photographs and memorabilia will take your breath away as you follow Johnny’s journey from age five until his passing at age sixty-one in 2004; The pub is owned by Johnny’s brother and family.
Sea Cliff Bridge
Another highlight was the ride along the coast to the Sea Cliff Bridge which was built out over the ocean when rock falls destroyed part of the coastal road.
We nearly became permanent residents, we so enjoyed breakfast overlooking Kendalls Beach and the whales frolicking in the bay, but Devil and Dwarf had other ideas. After seven nights we were back on the road again enjoying some twisties on our way to Bairnsdale for the Barry Sheene Tribute ride; looking forward to that.
Even after watching the Bathurst 1000 on TV every year, for the past thirty years, nothing could prepare us for the magnitude of this event, in the flesh, in real life. We had to pinch ourselves as we rode into the track, The Mount Panorama sign, high on the mountain, gleaming in the early morning sun; here we were, fulfilling a lifelong dream.
Craig Lowndes pitstop
We made ourselves comfortable at corner one, Hells Corner, for the V8’s first practice session on Thursday, an awesome position to watch some hard braking and then see the cars disappear up mountain straight. We stayed a while, taking in the deep rumble of these magnificent V8 engines at one of the most awesome race tracks in the world. In the paddock we caught a glimpse of Craig Lowndes as he tried to escape the pits for the comfort of his motor home. Craig was true to his image, always smiling and signing autographs as he walked along.
Mountain camp site
For Friday’s session we caught the shuttle bus to the top of the mountain to see the action at Skyline, The Dipper and The Esses. It’s difficult to comprehend the number of folks camping on the mountain, fires burning, beer drinking and mostly having fun. Race day land rights were already staked out with painted lines and you wouldn’t want to argue. Fortunately there are no facilities at The Dipper so everyone gets a chance to stand on the fence line and see the action. There’s a strong police presence at the track, trying to strike a balance between the Bathurst 1000 being a family event and folks having fun; they seemed to be doing a pretty good job too.
Even the police were having fun
On Saturday we continued to roam around the track on our general admission ticket and our $45 paddock pass. The elevated contours of the viewing areas made me wonder why anyone would buy a grand stand ticket; unless it’s raining.
Murrays Corner action
Early on race day we were in the paddock enjoying a cup of coffee and I was very impressed to find colourful flyers, produced and printed overnight, detailing the starting grid for the race. For the pre-start circus we made ourselves comfortable on the fence line, directly opposite grid position ten with Frosty’s Bottle-O V8 parked right in front of us. They keep the race format interesting with seven compulsory pit stops, even so, with two thirds of the race done, Whincup looked like he was running away with it. Then the first safety car appeared and the carnage began. With the deployment of each safety car the odds on who might take the chequered prize changed too. For a moment we thought our home town boy, West Aussie Garth Tander, was in with a chance, then Whincup got desperate and wiped McLaughlin and Tander out of the race.
It was an exciting finish to an awesome weekend of motorsport. Whincup took the chequered flag but with a fifteen second time penalty was demoted to 11th place.
1st place – Will Davison/Jonathon Webb
2nd place – Shane Van Gisbergen/Alexandre Premat
3rd place – Nick Percat/ Cameron McConville
(subject to a protest from Whincup’s Red Bull team).
Winners are grinners
If you love motorsport, stick the Bathurst 1000 on your bucket list because this truly is a peoples event and is well deserving of its tag as Australia’s biggest motor racing event of the year.
We escaped Ceduna between the showers and stayed dry all the way to Port Augusta. The following day we rode onwards and eastwards, through the mist, over Horrocks Pass, towards Broken Hill. In Peterborough we found a gem of a cafe, setup in the old cinema, and decked out with movie memorabilia. High on the stage were statutes of The Blues Brothers in action, it was a captivating place and the hot chocolate was great too.
Nice lunch stop
We were in time to score the last campsite in the town caravan park at Broken Hill and then we settled in for a few days to enjoy the Pro Hart gallery and the historic township nestled at the foothills of a slag heap. They say that you don’t know how good your tent is until it rains. Our little tent took 50mm on the chin so we’ve given her 10/10. From Broken Hill we took the bikes on a run to Silverton, once a township supporting a thriving silver mine, now the home of a collection of visual artists and a great outback pub.
Historic lift bridge, Darling River, Wilcannia
We are calling this year’s outback ride “The ride of rivers and birds,” as the swollen rivers and creeks have made us more aware of Australia’s intricate river systems, and the morning bird calls have been magical. I was quite taken with the town of Wilcannia on The Darling River, once NSW’s third busiest port, now a collection of historic buildings attract folks to the town.
The Darling rises
It’s on nearly every Aussies list to visit the Back O’Burke at least once in a lifetime. An old timer told us that the Darling River was rising at 1cm per hour and we confirmed this by taking a flood water measurement over twenty four hours. He also explained how a town can become a victim of a flooding river when the town is in drought and hasn’t seen any rain in years.
Singing my original tunes in an outback pub.
Magic
The opal fields at Lightening Ridge have the charm and character to draw you in and make you want to stay a while, and we always enjoy riding Devil and Dwarf down the main street of an unfamiliar town. When we pulled up at the Grawin Club in the Scrub, a local dude wandered over to checkout Dwarfie (R1200GS). We exchanged pleasantries and it turned out that Laury D was an old muso and guitar maker from Tamworth, he had retired to the opal fields ten years ago. Laury asked “If I can find you a guitar in 60 seconds will you play me a song?” I felt so at home in this outback pub that without hesitation I picked up the fancy, newly strung, acoustic guitar and sang a collection of my Australiana songs to a very appreciative audience. I had so much fun I could imagine holing up in Lightening Ridge for a couple of weeks and playing a few sessions.
On this ride we’ve been keeping a keen eye on the path of the storms and floods in the south of the country as riding in fine weather is our top priority. To escape the next bout of inclement weather, we rode north from Lightening Ridge into Queensland and enjoyed a three day ride to Mudgee via Goondiwindi and Gunnedah. Only a biker would ride a thousand kilometers to make five hundred.
Hebel Hotel, another amazing outback pub
It seems there is nothing simpler, and more enjoyable, than riding all day, cooking dinner, sleeping soundly in our little tent, only to be back on the road by 8am to do it all again. Twice we encountered water over the road between Hebel and Birranbandi. Steve crossed first, taking the centre of the road in the blind hope that any pot holes wouldn’t be deep enough to grab the front end and bring the big GS to her knees; the second crossing was quite long and deep at 0.2m.
From Gunnedah we took a selection of scenic backroads to Mudgee ready for our final assault on Bathurst for the V8 Supercar Bathurst 1000. The poor state of the roads in NSW is alarming. One warning sign proclaimed that the road was “deformed.” Potholes and patched up potholes are the norm in this neck of the woods and you need to keep an eye out for things that can trip you up. We’re always on the lookout for stock, wildlife and locals running wide on the bends, but yesterday’s tree across the road took us by surprise; still that’s riding and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Devil gave us only one chance to make a quick getaway on the cold morning of Tuesday 13th of September, but we blew that opportunity by stalling her. Our first idea was to try the jump-start technique on our steep driveway, but the rear tyre locked up on all three attempts. The success of the trickle charger seemed hours away but after fifteen minutes Steve gave her another try and Devil sprung to life, it seemed she was looking forward to a life on the road too. In this flurry of activity we nearly pulled out of the driveway leaving the garage door open. We were both able to compose ourselves from this trying moment in the privacy of our own helmets and within an hour we were cruising along the Brookton Highway, home seeming another world away.
Fraser Range Station
We rode the 2000kms from Perth to Ceduna in four straight days camping at Merredin, Fraser Range Station (100km east of Norseman) and Eucla. The wind chill on these cold spring mornings made the riding uncomfortable. When we arrived at Southern Cross, Steve was actually shaking from the cold. Cup-a-soup was an enjoyable reward at lunch time while we warmed our bellies and soothed our chapped hands. We both concluded this was our most challenging Nullarbor crossing by motorcycle.
Head of the Bight
The Southern Right Whales put on a great show at the Head of the Bight and we watched in amazement at least a dozen mothers and their calves in the sheltered waters of the bay. One calf was practicing all his moves like spy hopping, breaching and tail slapping; it was hilarious.
We holed up for a day in Ceduna while it rained, but this is no punishment as the salt and pepper squid and the scallops from the local fish and chip shop are to die for, and the genuine Italian style pizza is not to be missed by any pizza lover.
Nullarbor Plain
Unfortunately the rain caused the caravan park’s resident huntsman spider, who we named Big Ced, to take refuge on the inside of our tent’s fly. I disturbed Ced one night and he fell into the open tent as I was about to climb in. I called to Steve for assistance but while we were rummaging qaround for head lights, Big Ced must have climbed out. After completely emptying the tent and shaking and turning everything inside out a dozen times there was no sign of the spider. Big Ced never turned up again but I think of him sometimes and half expect him to make an appearance at an inopportune moment.
When we leave home on a long motorcycle journey, rain is our worst enemy. Nothing will test our resolve more than riding in the rain and trying to keep water out of our small tent. On Thursday 8th September everything looked rosy for a slow ride from Perth (Western Australia) to Broken Hill (New South Wales), 2850 kilometers. By Friday morning everything had changed. A complex weather system had developed, seems the mere whiff of Devil (F650GS) and Dwarfie (R1200GS) riding across the desert plains to was enough to break the drought single handed. In the shear desperation to get under way, we decided to leave on Saturday, and substitute the slow ride for long days in the saddle, in the hope of staying ahead of the rain.
Devil and Dwarf rearing to go.
When our alarm sounded at 5am on Saturday morning, I bolted out of bed. Adrenalin filled my veins as I both relished and feared the prospect of trying to out run an ugly looking weather system. Steve woke up in a more sensible mood. After a serious consultation with the latest weather information we decided this was no way to begin our ten week road trip on the bikes. Better to stay warm and dry at home until a more suitable outlook appears. Good decision? We will only know with the benefit of hindsight.
While travelling on my motorcycle (The Red Devil, a BMW F650GS
twin) I often get ideas for new songs.
The inspiration for “Six Hundred Outback Miles” came to me
when riding between Barkley Station and Daly Waters in the Northern Territory,
Australia. By the time I arrived at the camp site, the tune and the first verse
were set in stone. Over the next few weeks I had the pleasure of musing with
the lyrics while I enjoyed riding the roads of the Northern Territory and
listening and learning about Aboriginal Culture and Country.
I have just finished recording this song, which is on my
latest album, “Does
it Rhyme?”.
Another motorcycle adventure is about to start next month,
so stay tuned for more blogs.
The Photographs:
Charles Knife Canyon,
Pilbara, Western Australia
Lake Argyle,
Kimberley, Western Australia
Cape Range National Park,
Western Australia
Great Northern
Highway, Pilbara, Western Australia
Great Western Tiers,
Tasmania
A Jump-Up, Channel
Country, Western Queensland
Overlander Roadhouse,
Western Australia
Kata Tjuta (The Olgas),
Northern Territory
Daly Waters, Northern
Territory
Pemberton, South West
Western Australia
Aboriginal Art, Wyndham,
Western Australia
Mt Roland, Tasmania
Playing Music Sticks @
the Katherine Markets, Northern Territory
Campsite Porongurup National
Park, South West Western Australia
Porongurup National
Park, South West Western Australia
Gig @ Kalangadoo
Crafts, Narrikup, South West Western Australia
Uluru (Ayers Rock), Northern
Territory
Aboriginal Rock Art,
Kakadu National Park, Northern Territory
Kimberley, Western
Australia
Kings Canyon, Northern
Territory
Kings Canyon, Northern
Territory
Mabel Downs, Kimberley,
Western Australia
Kakadu National Park,
Northern Territory
Litchfield, Northern
Territory
Kimberley, Western
Australia
Porongurup National
Park, South West Western Australia
I felt delighted with the styling and comfort of my new BMW
Summer Pants, and just to be sure, I tested the conversion from pants to shorts
and back again before I left the dealer showroom. The proof of the pudding is
always in the eating, so the following day I decided to take my new jeans on a 500km
run from Safety Bay (Western Australia) to Porongurup. My Ulysses Motorcycle Club
bear came along for the ride, too, as he had been nagging me for some time about
a badge for his riding jacket; like everyone else, Bear’s got to earn his
stripes too.
Bear at Donnybrook
The air temperature was 24°C
and the jeans felt comfortable and were breathing well all the way to our first
pit stop at Donnybrook. The cargo pockets are great, although I would prefer a velcro
fastening instead of press studs. It was nice to see that I stopped worrying
about my keys as they were safely stowed away in a zipped hip pocket. The velcro ankle strap is worth its weight in
gold and easily kept the jeans off the ground and stopped them from riding up.
It warmed up for the next leg to Manjimup, my temperature gauge
nudging 32°C.
Not far out of Bridgetown, a crow decided to test the hip protection and
slapped me on the right. Sadly the bird lay stone dead in the road but the armour
did its job and I don’t even have a slight bruise to help tell the story; I was
starting to think “I was meant to buy these jeans.”
I felt warm in my jeans while I sipped tea in Manjimup, but
I was smiling in the sure knowledge that if I’d been going for a walk around
the township, I’d just convert my Summer Pants to shorts and be pretty dam
comfortable.
Some nice back roads
While the farming folk were home enjoying lunch in the cool
of their farmhouse kitchens, we rode on to Porongurup. Although the sun was
lighting the way, it was hot on our backs and I started to understand why there
were venting holes in the knee armour. We stopped at Rocky Gully to hydrate
once more and I was hot in those jeans, but I would have felt hot in any jeans.
In summary, I’m loving my new Summer Pants, I haven’t washed
them yet but with a two year warranty they’ve got the tick from me.
Bear showing off his Albany Commemorative pin
PS It seems that commemorative pins are out of fashion in
small towns like Porongurup, so Bear had to ride on to Albany before he could
find a pin for his riding jacket.
