Towong B&B
Honda CBR929 Ben Warden
Honda CBR954 Paul Southwell Suzuki GSXR1000 Danny Hasnat
BMWR1150GS Rob Langer Suzuki GSXR1000 Cliff Peters
BMW K1100RT Mike Neat Suzuki GSXR1000 Lyn Duncan
Honda CBR1000 Sean Neat Yamaha TDM850 Ern Reeders
Magna Wagon Julie
Warden Suzuki
GF1200 Ron Johnston
With three weeks
to go, only 6 of the 10 beds were filled and I was about to surrender one of
the cottages lest the Club lose money. Then I remembered a couple of mates who
I had ridden around Tassy with on a family shindig a
couple of years ago and later on a trip up to
Throughout the preceding week Julie and I received various contributions to be carried in the car. Ron and Julie Johnston dropped around with Cliff’s bag of stuff, Paul S. dropped off a clothes bag and a six pack and most importantly the first night’s pasta and bolognaise sauce for the spaghetti. Lyn dropped a bag off, as did Danny Hasnat along with a rear tyre and tyre changing weapons.
Departure Day. By the time I finished packing the car with a push bike, tools, a spare rear wheel for my Fireblade, a spare front tyre should anyone want it, and Danny’s spare tyre, all the bags, and two clothes baskets of food, I was already hot and bothered, and looking to be late for the 9.30 am start at Yarck. But I made excellent time, arriving only a minute late, picking up beached Danny Hasnat on the way through.
Ron was joining us for a day ride to Whitfield and back. His bike’s cam chain was on its last legs, no doubt having it’s life dramatically shortened when he removed the muffler and left the throttle wide open for an extended period – nominally to send a noisy message to his neighbours.
The forecast was
37 deg for
I almost know
the distances for this ride by memory now – 50 km to
After collecting Rob from Tallangatta, Ern headed directed for Towong, while we skooted across Granya Gap (in near perfect condition) and around the Hume Lake to Walwa and Tintaldra, seeing us arrive around 6 pm, all safe and sound after a sensational ride, the heat not really a problem with the regular stops. Ern was already settled in, sharing a beer with Ron Vise, our host. The were seated overlooking the spectacular view across the Murray River flood plain to the not-so-far-off mountain ranges including Mt Kosciuszko, tomorrow’s destination.
No dramas were encountered on this day, or any other time on the ride: no breakdowns, punctures, errant car drivers, near misses or police incidents. Travelling mid-week, with school starting and hence all the families back from holidays, the roads were almost bare of vehicles on all of the days.
A beer-run into Corryong an hour or so later saw Lyn and I find Mike and Sean seeking directions to Towong. Mike and I had been leaving voice mail messages all day, but with no mobile reception at Towong, the final leg’s directions were difficult to communicate. I figured they would get as far as Corryong and then figure it out from there. Rob had noticed them from the confines of a local café and rescued them. Ten minutes later saw everyone back at camp and accommodation sorted, supplies procured and tea underway. After a feed of spaghetti and meat sauce, supplemented with fresh tomatoes from the garden, it was out with the Skipbo and the usual competitive game of cards, resuming from where we left off at Porepunkah. Of course the tennis was on and now reaching the pointy end of the tournament.
Leaving at
A blast up to
Much discussion ensued about the upcoming cattle-grid followed by a sharp right hander, the bottom bridge and a second cattle grid. The road-works preceding the aforementioned danger removed any chance of being caught unawares. On to Dalgety, back up to Berridale and on to Adaminaby for rest and food, which seemed to be mainly ice-creams for Lyn. Cliff and ZX10 Danny were on the gas particularly heavily on this section.
Great road to Kiandra, down to Cabramurra for smoko, then back to Khancoban and the oppressive heat. The upper Alpine roads have unusual bitumen suitable for extreme cold. It appears to be an amalgam of 50% by volume of blue metal and 50% rubberised bitumen. The surface is relatively soft and gooey on really hot days, giving way with the weight of the bikes, leaving dark lines. You can pick out the rubbery stuff with your fingernail and it has the consistency of chewing gum or Blue-tak. With Sean following me from the Kiandra turnoff, the first steep downhill section saw my rear tyre let go and drift wide, and generally feel very weird. I thought I had a puncture, the bike feeling very loose. And then I remembered encountering this before. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to check the tyre pressures by the tried and true method – kicking - before convincing myself that they were okay. The conditions certainly sapped my confidence, dropping cornering speeds considerably. Other riders stopped en-route to also check for flat tyres before continuing on.
Paul noticed the
Khancoban service station temperature gauge sitting on 35 deg with the
Back to camp where Julie was waiting to go for a swim in the river. Cliff, GSXR Danny and I accompanied her, but the water was freezing, the water being released into the river from various storage pondages. Of course, the water is released from the bottom of these lakes where it is the absolute coldest. Even Julie didn’t get wet above her knees.
That evening we fired up the wood BBQ. Total Fire Ban day? Probably. Julie had excelled herself and there was a huge mountain of salads, olives, cheese, fruit, etc. After Paul had cooked the steaks, some plain, some marinated and all had eaten their fill, there was enough food left over to do the same again the following night. Adding up the receipts and diving by 11 saw everyone pay $10 for, in effect, three meals, with another $2.50 covering incidentals – tea, coffee, milk, bread, butter, jam, peanut butter, cordial, fruit juice, etc. A bargain. And the accommodation was cheap as chips as well.
Heavy duty bike talk ensued late into the night for some, others retired early, pleasurably exhausted, and still others stayed up and watched the Federer – Safin game, arguably one of the greatest tennis matches in recent years. (Preceded by the season’s final of Nip/Tuck, compulsory viewing of course.)
A
After a pleasant
break we headed for
At Tumut we lunched in the main street, spending a long time watching the world go by, eating ice-creams in the pleasant 35 deg heat. I think Rob had disappeared to the pub. I had shooed the bikes off the ever-tempting footpath, remembering our most recent experience where Mr Plod enforced the rule of law. Best not to get noticed.
Next was the much anticipated Wee Jasper road with a 90 km loop out to Tumorrama and Bongo and back to Tumut. Again a logging truck road through pine plantations. It is remarkably wide in places with excellent visibility. Long series of fast sweepers had people very excited when we finally reached the dirt at Bongo. Rob accusingly wanted to know how long I had known about this road (and by inference not told him). Since November. Paul was quite bemused by the short, sharp conversation.
We back-tracked to the tricky right hander which saw plenty of riders over shoot, and headed out to Tumorrama (a weird name), the bitumen extended another few km since November. The dirt road at the far end was so smooth that I didn’t realise it was dirt until I noticed an oncoming vehicle generating a cloud of dust and wondered what was happening! The new bitumen was still sticky, maybe only hours old. The tinkling of stone against pipe alerted me to the treacherous nature and the yucky consequences. Paul said his bike was covered from head to tail in black tar when he got home to clean it properly.
Back to Tumut and fuel, then back to Tumbarumba and home, another late finish, the day punctuated with lots of stops to take on water and recover our senses.
Another trip to the river saw Ern claim the fastest 100 metre swim on record – swimming with the fast flowing, icy current. The post ride detailing session was once again in full swing, some observing, some participating, all enjoying themselves. My rear tyre was well used – a Michelin Pilot Race – looking more like a slick than anything else, and was soon replaced with the spare wheel adorned with a Pilot Sport. Give me the “Race” any day.
My T stands also fitted GSXR Danny’s bike and we soon had the rear wheel ready for removal, the plan being to change his rear tyre. But given that he had ridden very gently almost the whole time, it was deemed there was plenty of tread left for the trip home, and we didn’t bother changing the tyre. Cliff’s front was decidedly more dodgy but he figured to ride slowly and it would get him home.
Sausages in the frying pan supplemented the remaining steak and left over salads. Did I mention the ice-cream and pineapple/real mango pieces jelly Julie made? That was second course for both nights. We ended up giving half a tub of leftover ice-cream to Ron. Bike mag reading, bench racing and tennis watching were the night’s entertainment.
Last day, the weather bright and sunny yet again. Ern was taking a circuitous route home, heading for Swan Reach tonight and home the next day. We looked at the map and figured out a few possibilities before he hit the road.
It seemed easier
to pack the car this time, much of the food stuffs now consumed. Julie was on
the road by
Again the Granya Gap was in fine condition, no gravel or leaf litter. After a quick refuel in Tallangatta we back tracked the 4 km and headed south to Eskdale and Mitta Mitta. The woman behind the counter now recognises us because we are such frequent visitors. This also is a brilliant piece of road with constant radius corners (at the northern end) – the same radius – despite being variously marked at 60 or 70 km/h curves. Just dial in the desired speed and sit on it. Fantastic.
From Mitta it was back to Eskdale and up to Tamgambalanga
and down to Dederang. I got a fright when a new gold Falcon ute came storming up behind me. Then I remembered
passing him much earlier. Across the
It began to rain
and looked decidedly miserable, the sky completely overcast and gloomy, a
constant drizzle. At Oxley it was time to make a decision: Whitfield and
Lyn and Paul
followed me to
Paul, Lyn and I continued down the Hume. I hit reserve at the 274 km mark around Kalkallo, a new world record, finally refuelling at home at 310 km. It was here that we saw the only mobile radar police blatantly parked in the median strip looking the other way, though Rob mentioned seeing one near Broadford in a phone call a day later.
Home by
p.s. thanks to all who contributed to a present for Julie for her culinary efforts over the week; she has purchased a sun-safe top and a large bunch of Australian flowers.