Day 32: 12 November 2016
Jindabyne to Sydney (547 kms)
Day 32: Link to Map
“
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.”
So opens AB ‘Banjo’ Paterson’s poem
The Man from Snowy River, an Australian treasure and pillar of support for our romantic view of brumbies (or wild horses).
I was mildly surprised, as my hosts walked me around a small part of their beautiful property, to hear them cursing Banjo Paterson. The cloven hooves of Paterson’s much loved brumbies—which are not native to Australia—cause endless damage to the Kosciusko National Park. And the damage is getting worse as the number of horses multiplies. A draft plan by the New South Wales Government to reduce the number from 6,000 to 600 over the next 20 years has been greeted with howls of alarm.
I was more than a bit surprised when they went on to tell me that the brumby problem paled into insignificance beside the problem of feral deer. Indeed, having read stories of deer and motorcycles on the forum, I was alarmed at having to deal with the prospect not only of kangaroo, but also of deer on Snowy Mountains roads.
Deer breed more rapidly than horses and enjoy some bizarre historic statutory protection in NSW. My hosts told me they’d shot well over 300 deer on their property in 2016 alone and were struggling to keep up with the problem.
I wouldn’t have minded a couple of days of bucolic respite in the mountains near Jindabyne, but I was due in Sydney that evening, so a bit later than I hoped, I set off, hoping to cut across country to Braidwood and thence to the coast.
The road out of the farm
An irrelevant milestone shot
Inevitably, within about 10 km of hitting the Jerangle Road I ran into … no, not a deer … dirt. I was conscious that I had a full day’s ride ahead and that I had no idea how long the dirt lasted, so I turned back and headed up the main road to Canberra, where I joined the highway to Sydney. The only surprise was seeing water in Lake George just to the north of Canberra. It’s usually empty, but this day showed how big a shallow lake can become in the right conditions.
High country
I stopped for fuel and something to eat at Goulburn, home of the Big Merino—an Australian Big thing wonderful both for its size and attention to anatomical detail.
While there I was struck by the stunning selfishness of a bloke on a sports bike who felt it was OK to fill his bike with fuel and then abandon it while he wandered off to get something to eat and then sit down in the café to eat it. I guess it must have been a hard bike to move.
I hit the highway again for what I hoped would be a reasonably quick run to Moss Vale where I planned to turn off for the coast. It was not to be. About 15 kilometres up the road I was travelling in the outside lane when the blare of a police siren penetrated my noise cancelled bliss. I looked in the mirror to see a khaki police car bristling with ariels and lights-a-flashing. I wasn’t speeding, but nonetheless an innate paranoia kicked in and I wondered what I’d done. I accelerated and pulled quickly into the other lane.
The police car steamed by and, in another 5 kilometres I found out why: one of the old 4-door MGs with the rounded roof had collided with a Nissan Pulsar. The two elderly occupants of the MG were badly injured.
Australia’s main highway between Melbourne and Sydney. The police car on the left is the one that passed me and is stopping here, presumably to start slowing traffic before the accident
Traffic was banking up, but I was able to cruise up the shoulder and realised the accident had occurred at an intersection. Trusting that the road went somewhere, I turned off and had a quiet country interlude that took me eventually to Moss Vale. In Moss Vale the first thing I encountered was a minor traffic accident and further delays.
Another accident entering Moss Vale
I also encountered a large group of Harley riders leaving a pub to resume their ride. I tagged along at the end of the long line, letting the stragglers past and hoping they were not going the same way as me.
They weren’t, and I proceeded across the plateau to the Robertson Pie Shop.
The Robertson Pie Shop
From there it was down Macquarie Pass.
Macquarie Pass
By the time I reached Albion Park at the bottom of the pass it was a warm afternoon and I stopped to remove another layer or two.
Other than the Seacliff Bridge north of Wollongong, the Royal National Park north of that, there’s not much to report about the ride into Sydney. It was hot, the traffic was horrendous and I was later arriving than I had intended to be. Luckily my son has good taste in pubs and we were quickly ensconced at the Duck in Chippendale enjoying a beer and an excellent dinner.
A random milestone
Seacliff Bridge
Royal National Park
Day 33: 13 November 2016
Sydney (54 kms)
I took brunch with some old friends, battled Sydney’s appalling Sunday traffic on the way back to my son’s place and made a serious misjudgement about the size of the sandwich I’d be served (it was excellent though).
Somewhere during the course of the afternoon, I decided I’d had enough and really wanted to be home.
Day 34: 14 November 2016
Day 34: Link to Map
As has become our practice, I met Pterodactyl at the Caltex Service Station at Randwick. It’s a good meeting place as it’s close both to his house and my son’s apartment and convenient for escaping from the city. Even though it’s not cheap, we are quickly on toll ways that get us north out of the city.
We repeated our journey north, again aiming first for Colo Heights where we would refuel. The weather was much less threatening this time and the riding was pleasant enough once we got out of the worst of the city traffic.
Colo Heights. I think this might be the only thing there
From the Colo Heights service station it’s a pleasant 46 kilometres along the Putty Road to the Grey Gum International Café, favourite haunt of motorcyclists recharging for the famous ’10 Mile’—the section of the Putty Road to its north.
Heading for the Grey Gum Café
After a fortifying coffee and a comfort stop, we were off into the 10 Mile. It’s a fabulous ride. Twists and turns, a good surface and great scenery. It was Monday, too, so the usual collection of sport bike heroes were safely tucked into their employment.
Scenes from the 10-Mile section of the Putty Road
I never tire of the ride from Singleton, at the northern end of the Putty Road to Dungog and then Gloucester. The surface is not always good, but it’s scenic and there’s a good mix of road from straight to sweeper to twisty.
East Gresham on the way to Dungog
The road to Dungog
Dungog
The bows of Cormanus’ CB1100 showing the consequences of the interminable battle with bugs
In the picture above, I’m at a loss to explain the glistening of the front tyre. It was a pleasant day and there was no rain about. I didn’t fall off afterwards, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t oil either.
Dungog was very badly damaged by flash flooding in early 2015. Three people died and four houses were completely washed away. The road we entered on looks like it was first sealed in the 1930s and has been patched (not very well) a thousand times since.
After refuelling the bikes and a taking cup of tea each, we pressed on towards Gloucester.
Sections of the ride to Gloucester are also excellent fun. Indeed it was heading south on this section of road in 2014 that I had an
entertaining ride behind a cattle truck.
Passing through Gloucester we turned onto Thunderbolts Way.
The first 60 kilometres of Thunderbolts Way is a fabulous ride. The road climbs and then descends into a valley where you ride across the pretty Manning River. You then climb again steeply up on to the plateau of the Great Dividing Range for a fast, if occasionally uncomfortable, run to Walcha. It was a much better day than the soggy, foggy one I spent on it on the way south. (See
Day 2 in this post.)
The view from Carson’s Pioneer Lookout on Thunderbolts Way
In Walcha we refuelled and acquired some neck oil before heading out the 20 or so kilometres to the camp site at Apsley Falls where we passed an agreeable evening.
Day 35: 15 November 2016
Apsley Falls to Brisbane (604 kms)
Day 25: Link to Map
I was awoken by the gentle patter of rain on my tent. Mercifully, it wasn’t much and didn’t last long and it was dry for the time we packed our gear for a later than hoped for start. I must have had the shakes as the photos I took of the camp are too blurred to post. The weather looked foreboding, so we put on our wet weather gear and made our way back to Walcha where we stopped at a motorcycle friendly café for breakfast. Walcha is a popular spot for motorcycles as it sits at the top of the Oxley Highway, considered to be one of Australia’s best motorcycle rides.
Warren, author of the blog Motorcycle Paradise and one-time CB1100 rider writes of it
here thus:
Quote:The Oxley remains one of the top rides in Australia or anywhere. Some roads have lots of corners all squashed together so you spend all your time on mid change of direction rather than enjoying a radius and hang time. The tail of the dragon I am reliably told is like that and super overrated. Other roads are very photogenic, like Stelvio, which I can personally vouch is lousy to ride being just lots of u-turns connected by straights and overrated. The Oxley however is a true riders delight. Not only does it have a huge number of corners but they come at you in every sort of radius, spaced out to be well defined. The road is maintained to near perfect condition by people who themselves ride it and is low traffic not a popular route for cars, campers or trucks
While I think it unfair to say the Tail of the Dragon is “super overrated” I think the Oxley is a better road. It’s prettier, longer and way more varied. During the week, there is way less traffic too.
Sadly, perhaps, Pterodactyl and I were going nowhere near the Oxley this day. Instead we took the Armidale-Grafton Road down from the range. That is some consolation prize. It’s also a fantastic road—at least as good as the Oxley, although with slightly more traffic to contend with. On
day one of this trip I rode it in the other direction so I won’t say more now, other than to mention a lesson I learned.
Pterodactyl is a better rider than me. On any section of winding road, I’d back him to get from one end to the other more quickly. For that reason I usually follow him and accept he’ll be waiting at the other end. This day, for some reason, I let him talk me into leading. At the moment I rode too quickly into a left-hand corner and swung wide getting out of it, I realised having him behind me was a source of pressure. I know this is entirely my problem. There is no pressure from Pterodactyl; however, I felt it and had to make a conscious effort to slow down the little bit necessary to get back into my comfort zone.
The lesson? If you find yourself putting yourself under pressure because you are following or being followed by a better or faster rider, get out of the situation.
We stopped in Grafton for an indifferent but welcome sandwich before saying farewell again. Pterodactyl was off to see his son on the coast while I was to head north.
I made my way north through Grafton to the Summerland Way (which another motorcycling friend of mine has renamed the Slumberland Way). It’s cruel. It’s a good, fast road through pretty countryside, but by comparison with any number of other roads in the area, it’s just not very interesting.
Another milestone shot just north of Grafton
The Summerland Way
It’s about an hour from Grafton to Casino, where I refuelled, and then another 20 minutes to Kyogle. After that the Summerland Way get progressively more entertaining as it approaches the Border Ranges. As I’d come down on the Lions Road, I decided to complete the circle and return over the Mount Lindesay Highway which is actually a better ride, bar a section north of the border where the atrocious surface makes corners that should be sheer entertainment mildly unpleasant.
First glimpse of Mount Lindesay. The road takes you to the other side of it and between it and the Mount Barney National Park
A glimpse of Mount Lindesay from the New South Wales side of the border on a glorious section of the road
Final view of Mount Lindesay from the Queensland side of the border
The interesting bit of the road ends at Rathdowney and from there its really a bit of a slog through Beaudesert, Jimboomba and Browns Plains where the motorway starts. By then my backside was sore and I was tired. The last 100 kilometres were really quite hard work.
It was with a sense of relief that, just before 1830 I pulled into the drive at home.
I haven’t added up the distances I’ve reported in this chronicle as I’ve generally taken them straight from the maps I’ve drawn. With a bit of fiddling about here and there and the inaccuracy of the CB’s speedometer, they’ll be a little different to what I recorded on the bike.
I was away 35 days and rode 8,298.9 kilometres (5,156.7 miles).
Start
Finish. 8,298.9 kms later
I used 443 litres (117 US gallons) of fuel and averaged 5.36 litres/100 kilometres (44.08 miles/US gallon). I took 940 photos on the lanyard cam plus more with my phone and several more with another camera.
I enjoyed almost every kilometre, and particularly enjoyed it that Mrs Cormanus rode part of the way with me. Even better than that, she said she enjoyed the time on the bike as much or more than any other part of our time together.
The CB1100 performed flawlessly and continues to do everything I want of it. There may well be better touring machines, but this one will do me just fine
Thanks for sticking with me through the trip.