Goin' Troppo....part2

PART 1 here:
http://www.austouring.com/forum/showthread.php?t=971


Day 8 Dorrigo-Waterfall Way-Armidale-Walcha


This might be boring by now…. but…. more frost and blue skies, the cabins proved a good choice !!



Back for another look, as arranged last night, at the trains, daylight revealing some of the things we missed out on last night.



Yesteryear's Dining Car, pressed tin ceiling, ornate and exquisite timberwork....


Conductor's control box....all mechanically actuated.



Washing basin for each compartment...





Everyone is gob smacked by the choice and extent of the collection.
Keith leaves a lasting impression, this guy is just incredible.




Then to the Skywalk, a viewing platform built by the National Parks over the top of the tree-canopy, just a few k’s out of town. More great views towards the coast…please, let it never stop !







It’s back to traveling, this time up the Waterfall Way for a good, hard gawk at Ebor Falls,



"The Corner Hound and his charge", and boy, did they go



then the 15k’s of mainly smooth dirt to Point Lookout. By now, none of the group has issues with dirt roads anymore, Moira barrels along happily, Tim on the Gixxer and supersoft road-tyres slip-slides at 80k’s and more, Karel and Goodie always in the midst of things, Nige has finally found a way to keep the front weighted with those 2 HUGE eskies on the back….and Garry, well…once dirt’s in sight, he’s outta sight. Not even a dust cloud to be seen.
Roaming livestock, cattle grids, dips…no probs.
The last climb to the lookout is sealed, the walk around the top as magical as it was 3 years ago. A good place to just hang around a few hours, yo…it’s one of those spots.











Another angle...



The huge quoll we saw last time doesn’t show though…
Back towards the main road and a sign proclaims the Yarradoon Eco-Lodge, a place as good for lunch as any other. Hmmmpf….not !
Frozen & nuked at Nouvelle-Cuisine prices, the bush setting is peaceful though…
Garry is impressed by the lid of a Gravox Instant Gravy packet in his pot-pie….

Nice, quick, open sweepers to Armidale, a short hop south to Uralla on the New England and a last-of-the-day chase getting bobbed around by strong gusts into Walcha.



Walcha is known as a cold spot, the New England Hotel has some old-style rooms for $15/ head…. beats setting up tents in the dark and freezing our butts off.
The Chinese cook is off for a wedding; next best place is the local RSL for a feed.

And what a choice that turned out to be….
The lady-cook (or are they cookettes, someone help me here….no, NOT Croquettes!!) is totally flustered by a jammed-packed “full-house” of about 15 patrons total, (after all, this is Saturday night…even in Walcha) something she obviously didn’t bank on… sooo….the meals are sort of “stretched”, portions halved, one pack of frozen veggies spread over 15 orders makes for 2 beans and a slice of carrot….pretty, but a bit skimpy, aye….should’ve ordered 2 or 3 mains each but there would’ve been only a bean and no carrot on each plate….it’s hilarious.



The poor soul is totally rattled and keeps striking out menu-options at the chalkboard every time a plate leaves the kitchen. Out of this, out of that…
We’re having a ball of a time…. but sooner or later have to brave the icy gusts down the main street on the way back to “our” pub. “Goosebump-Alley” echoes with laughter…the bar of the New England Hotel is deserted, they must all be having dinner at the RSL…

Day 9 Walcha- Oxley loop-Thunderbolt-Gloucester

And then there was :?: :?: …………….. :idea: :idea: frost and clear skies !
A cosy night for the bikes...



Thanks God for sleeping bags, the old timber sash windows were draughty as hell.
The café opposite looks inviting, the stove going already but the only available hot drink is Hot Chocolate…the water pipes had frozen overnight .



Noice !!



Bacon, eggs, hot chocky for breakfast then.



Even better...breakfast in the sun.




The famous Oxley Twisties are beckoning, but not before we’ve had a look at Apsley Falls, the impressive deep gouge in the landscape, sheer rock walls glowing in the early morning sun.







The Stroms were gone, the Peg did a brave stand-in


The turn-around point is set as the gravel-carpark at the bottom of the twisties and it’s everyone for themselves. Tim drops 3kg of rubber over 70k’s. Gingers Creek Roadhouse is busy with the local punters and just a blur at the side of the road…





Approaching the bottom, the carpark is bare…with the red-veil-down fair and square, Tim and Garry have overshot…. as expected, really …. but 10 mins later they come tootling back.



Warming up in the sunshine, everyone’s eager to tackle the stretch again and off we go. Some slow traffic adds salt to the dish, so does a group of locals, “Rossi-ing” up the twisties, arse hanging out, wild entries, zigzag lines in close formation.
Way too hot and aggro for us, we wave them past and watch the antics from behind.
And what a show it is….
Watching 2 of them side-by-side hammering into a blind leftie, I decide to drop back even more, don’t want to be the first one scraping one of those guys off the front of a truck, rather leave that to one of their mates…

The local version of the Reefton is a cracker though, fairly smooth…and tight, real tight in places. Wouldn’t mind coming back on a weekday….



Back on the High Plains, we group up again for the long, shallow sweepers back to Walcha. The wind gusts are disconcerting at times, but lunch at the morning’s café compensates for it, this time the water pipes have thawed out, too.







The wind blows us across the plains of the Thunderbolt Way, there’s a huge plume of smoke to the right, looks like another burn-off…then the road tightens up, following the ridge and past a lookout, before the steepish drop on rough, bumpy tar down the Barrington Escarpment.




The gear on the back makes itself felt, pushing the bikes downhill quicker than what it feels.
Once down the steep part, the gentle up and down leads through quite noticeable temperature-pockets. Climbing out of a cool dip, the crest is warm again, before the next dive into a nippy, wooded, blind depression…. then warm again on the exit of the lefthander across the rickety timber bridge. And there’s the sign…




Nige and Moira had gone ahead in the morning and picked our old spot, the former pump-house near the creek at the Gloucester Caravan Park. The warm sun brought out all the stories; there was beer in fridge already…yeeha.

The pub puts out some good meals, incl. a seafood platter...





...with complimentary pubic hair…Moira turns pale there for a minute…. as do a few others. :?
A quiet (but STRONG) word produces a replacement pronto… this time without the “added garnish”.
Then Nige drops the 12V air pump when trying to boost-up the wrinkled airbed in the dark….ziiizizziiiiizzi turns to rroowwwooroororowworrrr…it’s rooted! :roll:

Ahhhh….it’s freezing again. The full moon gives the tents a white bath.

Day 10 Gloucester-Bucketts -Nabiac-Dungog-Cessnock



Arghhhh :evil: :roll: …Nige and Moira left all of yesterdays shopping in the fridge that inhabits the old pumphouse next to our campsite. Those bananas are not really to kill for, but to kill with….





...and the MILK !!





The bread’s ok after soaking up whatever warmth…and whatever else… is left in the sleeping bag.

Ordering replacements??



Once more, the blue skies drive us onto the road, up the Buckett’s Way to Nabiac, near the coast. It’s mostly re-sealed now and the going is good, little traffic this early.
We make the famous Australian Motorcycle Museum even before it opens…and no words can do the collection justice. It’s superb…just as it was 3 years ago. An absolute “MUST SEE” if ever around this part of the world :!: :!:

















It’s impossible to post all the worthwhile shots…. there’s 100’s of them.
Just a few more:









Even found my first bike ever....a French Velo Solex 50cc, with drop-down engine, the front tyre driven via a rubber-roller. It topped a whopping 25kmh and was licence-free for anyone above the age of 15 (Germany). Any colour as long as it's....yep, black.



South on the roadworks-riddled Pacific Hwy for a short stretch just past Buladelah and we turn inland again, west to Booral, then north to Stroud.
Holy shit, who brainfarted on that one ??
Rough as guts, rutted, potholed, gravel, twigs, and big asphalt berms…this one takes the cake by a mile and a half…but if it’s on the map we’ll ride it !!

A soggy burger in Stroud, the pub being an impressive buiilding....



.... and it’s off to tackle more of the Buckett’s corner-delights to Dungog, then south to Maitland. Medium to quick running, tight sections mixed with flowing sweepers….and a weird moment when the road looks like crossing the railway tracks…but suddenly decides to tack abruptly, running parallel instead…for a stretch, anyway. Another one of those “over the crest and oh-shit” moments.




Somehow, the Hunter Valley area has never done it for me, it’s a mainly industrial, partially grubby area, fairly dull and utilitarian…. the few vineyards around it’s fringes just don’t fit it’s core. Maitland is no exception, nor is Cessnock, a little further south (or Singleton, for that matter).

By now the group works well together, pitching tents along the back-fence of the local Caravan Park would be a breeze, if the bare ground wouldn’t be like concrete….at least there’s a vineyard on the other side of the fence to sweeten the views back towards town.




The recommended “Swill&Grill" in town proves to be of the upmarket variety and the tucker is exceptional…the best meals of the trip thus far. Good stuff !!

A full moon brightens the sky on the walk home…

Day11 Cessnock-Putty-Wollombi-Hawkesbury-Lithgow

Now customary, the thin white crust of frost reflects the first light of the day…







The face says it all...


And another one who didn't like to crawl out of the fartbag this morning




The plunger-cups are doing overtime, the Black Mongrel DR650 adds some blue smoke, the ever-increasing oil consumption pointing towards something chronic….and terminal…. let’s hope she pulls through.

The only real-good part of the much-overrated Putty Road is the Hunter-Valley-end.
Twisties-heaven, tight but with a good surface, we’ll HAVE to do that one!
The local vintage-car-club provides some mobile chicanes on our sweeping ways through the Southern Vineyard area to Broke, some of them are decidedly worth a second look (like that E-type Jag, and....)

Into the twisties of the Putty now…YEEEHA….the Cessnock-bakery supplied breakfast is burned-off quickly. No traffic to speak of, it’s on once more..... balding tyres and oil-burning DR’s completely forgotten.

Same corner, different lines...





Double whites?? " I was INSIDE ! " Inside what??



No qualms here...







30-odd k’s later it’s time for a breather…. and with the road straightening out, also time for the turnaround back to Broke….sort of…. “going for Broke”….







Nicely warmed up by now, the blue skies see us back into more of the same on the way to Wollombi,



then mid-speed sweepers further south to Central Mangrove followed by the twisties down the mountain to the banks of the Hawkesbury River.

The aim is to avoid Sydney and suburbs at all cost and find some good roads while at it…. Oh yeah, mission accomplished!
The following day and a half is the best Sydney-bypass route I’ve ever seen…
Any straight piece of road right now…. and most of us would be in the bushes, still trying to carve bends…
Wisemans Ferry is on our side of the river and the crossing is swift.

Karel's Strom juuuust squeezes in under the load limit





The shocker comes for Karel after lunch, his bike marked by a red/ white plastic tag and a notice stuck to it from the “Office of Misdemeanors” (another surprise out of Nigel’s 2. esky…now dubbed “the box of tricks”).
Didn't have the camera ready for that face initially , the thing had most of us fooled fair and square....initially, anyawy.





The tiny single-laner along the southern banks of the river becomes a heart-stopper at times…short, un-signed dirt-sections, over-hanging rock-ledges, gravel and sand mid-corner…very picturesque, very demanding and well worth it.
The Lower Portland ferry gets us across the river again,





....a couple of turnoffs later we’re on the Blaxlands Ridge Rd. and soon onto the Bells Line…





...as the afternoon wears thin and the cold creeps in rapidly.
Everyone’s worn out…one more reason to grab some spacious cabins at the Lithgow Caravan Park, before Karel, Garry and I go shopping…with empty stomachs….the filled top-boxes and empty wallets pretty much a foregone conclusion.

Space to spread out, never-ending fabulous tucker… a heater that works after a corker-day on the roads with the next one already mapped out and laughs galore after a zillion twisties…. could anyone ask for more ??

Congratulation Pete well written.All this Pictures bring back lots of memories.It feels like yesterday.All this Picture are still my memorybank.
Thanks a lot .
Guenther

Ps.:i'm jealous

glitch said:

The pub puts out some good meals, incl. a seafood platter...

Click to expand...

Bastards!!!!

Day 12 Jenolan Caves-Taralga-Goulburn-Yass

“…. could anyone ask for more ??” ….not really, but how about the same again?
‘ken oath, that’ll do !
Nearly 2 weeks down and it’s overcast the first time around. At least it’s as cold as usual. :!:



Breakfast is extended to the goats in the next paddock, then a leisurely checkout of the old railway bridge nearby



Got some visitors, too...



Karel shows us a classic...



…a few k’s east on the Western Hwy., then turning south to Jenolan Caves. The clouds break up. The 40k’s of sweepers-delight end at the steep drop, the road narrows radically, but it’s traffic-free. Tight, steep, narrow and dirty through most of the bends....



….then through the Big Arch for the carpark. Now the sun’s out again…and stays that way for the rest of the day. :?

Dr. Garry offers the eye drops around and gets a taker.



We split up, most taking one of the tours, others just going for a wander-around.

Milling about Jenolan...



















After a quick-bite, it’s out of the narrow valley, climbing some steeeep hairpins up towards Edith Creek…. there’s a single-lane bridge right after a crest and an oncoming truck that keeps the hammer down…anyone for a game of chicken? 3 slip through, the rest hit the anchors….hard.

There’s supposed to be a turnoff around here…a road leading south-west past Shooters Hill for a joinup with the Oberon-Goulburn stretch….there it is.
A new, wide, perfect road stretches out across the gently rolling hills; with only 2km of dirt before the next intersection.

And then comes a rollercoaster of the :!: exceptional order :!: , 60k’s of the most demanding roads we’ve seen. Some stretches are new and perfect, then a piece of a-million-patches, narrow, rough, bumpy….then newish road again…but here the builders decided to just “lay-it-on-top”. There are no cutouts, no fill…the road just sits on top of the natural landscape. A piece of licorice draped over the top.Triple-apex righthanders, the first dropping and nicely cambered, the next climbing and decidedly off-camber, the last one neutral and over a crest….followed by 2 successive lefties downhill as the surface changes to crap again….jeezaz, this is fun.
Pine plantation close-in changes to paddocks…then bush, then plantations again. Up, down…barely a level part…crests and dips by the bucketload. Concentration is in overdrive !!
No warning, no signs… the tar stops suddenly… and there’s corrugation and rough, rocky stuff for the next 10k’s.

After all the stuff of the last 10 days or so, nobody’s really rattled anymore, but rather fully into it. We LOVE it…lap it up...

Just after passing the lonely roadcrew, the bumpy tar leads over the top of yet another crest…then corkscrews steeply down the side of a hill…through a few folds…the steep hairpins are something else, hard to keep the rear on the deck.

Another 5k’s of dirt, super-smooth this time…and Tim, never afraid of dirt, takes the big Kilogix by the scruff of its neck, zipping past at a great rate of knots. Looking down…yep, I’m right on the triple-digits. How the hell does he hold it together on those Diablo Corsa’s?
:? :?

The fun is over…. we roll into Taralga, a sad little town with an obviously richer past and hopefully a better future…some small signs are there.
The buildings are magnificent.







It’s a more sedate pace into Goulburn for a fill-up, which we get over with quickly as everyone uses cash and vacates the bowser, pushing their bike out of the way as soon as they’ve finished filling up.

After the high of the last few hours, the dreaded Hume Hwy to Yass is a pain in the arse. The exact opposite of what we’ve had. Still, the miles have to be spooled down and it’s better to break it up, doing the 2. half of it tomorrow.

It sounds unbelievable…$7.50 steaks on special…the pub will be going broke on this. :? 8)
What shows up is even more incredible: A real, proper, full-sized sirloin with the standard chips/ salad. THAT is the best bang-for-buck meal of the whole trip.

Therefore, all savings are turned into drinks.

Day 13 Gundagai-Tumut- Tumbarumba- Elliott Way-Khancoban

“When are you guys leaving”….a chainsaw buzzes in the background, his breath steaming up the cold morning air. “We’re about to lop those poplars, including the one right here”.
Who wants a poplar dropped on their head? "We’re out of here in a flash, mate, give us 5…."

The droning of the 100odd k’s of boring Hume mercifully finishes at the Gundagai servo,



then into the first set of bends, only sweepers, for the day, the mountains in the distance beckoning…but also off-putting with their cloak of gray clouds.

The short hop into Tumut barely gets us humming, but the good tucker and coffee at the bakery does.



As on the day before, the sun cracks through the muck up there to stay around for most of the day. Dave shows up to join the crew for the last few days, just having clocked 700k’s on the FZ1 since last night to catch up with us.

The going is good through the remaining apple orchards around Batlow.



Little traffic, the pace building. Tumbarumba next and we’re still gorging ourselves on quick sweepers.



The Elliott Way points towards some tighter fun…not for the start, but a couple of wallabies make up for it…. the drop to the dam is tight, good fun, but way too short.





The tailie....very stealth !! Great camouflage....



Some pull ahead to set up for a photo-shoot along the steep and tight climb past Tumut 2 Power Station (no more guided tours available after the privatization).

Moira:


Goodie:


Who else, but.. :?: :?: :idea:




There is some mighty slippin’ and slidin’ as bikes squirm around bends, held in gears longer than usual….all good fun and some nice shots.
Small dabs of snow are lining the last few k’s into Cabramurra,



stop for a hot chocky…the place shows some serious traces of recent snowfalls.









Crikey…if we’d been here a few days earlier, it would’ve been messy.
Might’ve had to fight over Nigel’s Esky- lids for tobogganing then…

How much oil does a KiloGix hold?




The afternoon sun dips everything into a golden glow…the ghostly white trees, bare to the trunk, wear a strange hue of red against the backdrop of the deep blue sky, the rich-green grass, the occasional multi-coloured snow-gum….the small lumps of snow at the roadside grow into continuous lines bordering the mostly black, sometimes reddish asphalt. A magic 2 hours of light, stark contrasts…tight and twisty, unmarked roads, virtually traffic-free…unforgettable.









The drops and climbs into and out of the valleys that hold the 2 dams along the way…









then, coming around a blind righthander, there are Karel and Dave clearing the road of a dropped and scattered branch, the bulky debris covering most of the road.



Brought back memories of a previous ride some years back, a bit further down the same road, same situation.

The feeling is one of coming home, familiar tracks and surrounds, roads traveled often before. The warning-call comes instantly…on the last long downhill stretch towards Khancoban the road runs parallel to the power lines. The bush is cleared underneath, but close and thick along the other side of the road. Roo-territory !!
The sensors go up, while cruising through one of the rock-walled cuttings.

“ Should’ve mentioned it to the others at Cabramurra, dammit” !
A headlight behind me…dual lights…that’ll be Karel or Tim, I think….slow down to slow them down…
We go on for a bit, eyes wide open, peripherals on alarm settings, center-road position…it’s fine.

I can see the last bit of straight before the righthand tuck into the bush…. and something twitches, moves on the right. It’s close. WAY too close, 20 meters or less. A blink of an eye at that speed…the anchors go on hard, the tail wants to come up despite the heavy gear on the back…the sucker moves straight into me…coming at me at a shallow angle.
Without time to think, I crank the bike over slightly to the right…right into the point of impact… stiff-arming the bars, letting go of the brakes…ready for impact and hoping for a glancing blow to jerk the bike upright, possibly slightly to the left…with hopefully enough road after the hit if the bike's still manageable.
Relax…NOW !!
It doesn’t happen…I can see one of Skippy’s feet vanish under my front wheel in a frantic attempt to reverse direction, literally skidding for purchase on the ground….and the hit doesn’t come. A quick jerk brings the bike back up, wobbling back into a straight line…. Fu&^%…THAT was CLOSE !!

Ohhh man, was that close.
Karel watches the show and just can’t believe it. My luck held firm once more….

We make Khancoban late afternoon, the trees are in full colour and burning away in the setting sun….more stories…more laughs…and another great night amongst mates. Life on the road is special.

Day 14 Tintaldra-Granya-Yackendandah-Myrtleford-Whitfield

The fog out there is thick…just like this morning’s mood.



We’re nearly home, the ride nearly over, one more day together before splitting up for each to find their way home. The overwhelming impressions of the last 2 weeks hit….and nobody wants it to finish.

Shit...we've gotta do something about those pants, mate....they just don't cut it for Europe next year







Dave finally finds the keys to the FZ ...that'll make it go properly !!



The “Switchyard Special” at the Khancoban store lifts the mood somewhat; the sun breaks through for a couple of minutes.



It’s damp and cold, visibility down to a few meters after the visors catch the fine droplets out of the dense fog, those with glasses have got real problems…the going is down to a crawl and even unsettling at that.
Just before Tintaldra, the pea-soup clears a bit, time for a break as the moisture has frozen everyone to the bone. Then the cruise past Walwa and Jingelic to Granya, a quickish run through the sweepers along the Murray River… before the more serious twisties of the Granya Gap…the magic Granya Gap.
The stops are pulled for some morning fun…the face-splitting grins on the other side say it all.
A short bit of Goulburn Vly. Hwy, then onto the Yabba Rd., along the Mitta Mitta river. Just having re-discovered Victorian roads, we seem to be back into NSW, this thing is bumpy and rough, with gravelly corners and the odd cow framing the road….full of surprises. Dave, having missed out on all the practice we’ve had up north, doesn’t like it, the rest doesn’t care, even enjoys it. 8)
A quick dogleg and up the Lockhardt Gap, another set of delightful twisties into Tangambalanga and Kiewa. Yet another short dogleg and onto the backroad to Yackandandah, via Allens Flat….the much-liked backroad.

Garry tries to talk one of the local into swapping vehicles as he wants to take the scooter to the gravel-pit just outside town to give it some "of the berries"...



…but has to go for lunch instead.





The backroad-sweepers to Myrtleford are the last few interesting roads for the day, the cut across via Oxley and up the King River to Whitfield is as dull as ever….at least the sun is out, setting the deciduous trees alight…adding some colour to the background of green paddocks and the ever-increasing number of vineyards along the way.

Friday night, and the Whitfield pub has some spare rooms out the back, just perfect for us. We grab some chairs and let the sinking sun warm our backs as another day on the road passes by…
With no mercy shown by Moira’s right hand, the DR is now nearly using as much oil as petrol …but she’s hanging in there, faithfully giving it’s best and more, hour after hour.
We all want to keep on going…another few weeks…months…. we should get paid for this, too !!

Day 15 All over now….


The famous, but illusive bumblebee makes a flashing appearance



….just as the sun decides it’s time again for a last, light-filled morning.



The sweepers and twisties from Whitfield to Mansfield give one more photo opportunity, but don’t get the juices flowing anymore…not after the last 4500 km.

Garry chasing Tim...


Goodie chasing the Latte-Express (Dave)


Nigel


Told ya she's going like a banshee now...Moira


Yours Truly...TEC for the last day.


Riding "the line" !!


It’s nice....yeah... but that’s it. The prospect of a very, very last set of twisties up Mt. Buller is a different proposition. Dipping down into Mansfield, the faultless blue sky turns into a solid wall of dark-gray muck that is obviously traveling towards us. The guy in the cage just came down...there's 6' of fresh white stuff up there.
Bummer… !!!
Scrap Buller then…on go the wets…and it’s down the boring highway to Yea…what a fizzer.... :?
Running ahead of schedule, everyone avoids being the first to say final goodbyes…none of us wants to let go, not after a trip like this.

Yeeeha...everyone (practically) home safe...







In the end, Nigel, Moira and Dave pull out first…and it’s a damn sad sight to see them go… the huge Twin-Esky-twin and the oil-smoking DR in particular.



It’s been a trip that none of us will forget….and there isn’t much more to add to that.

The rain holds back despite the black clouds….3 drops only a few minutes before getting home.
The “real” world has us back… but the calls that night from everyone to say they got home ok changes all that again….if only for some moments.

To all who were there: Anytime, anywhere…but you knew that.

Thanks for a great time :!: :!: :!: