Dargo Sunday 20^th January, 2008

Having stubbornly resisted for many years the whole concept of plasticising myself, the moment of truth had arrived on Sunday morning… faced with a day of constant rain, I proceeded to reluctantly put on some borrowed wet-weather plastic gear with a most glum disposition, and replaying in my mind was the mantra “What resists, persists”.

I lasted as far as Moe, our first stop, after which I proceeded to quickly de-plasticise myself, much to the head-shaking of some of my wise fellow riders. Ah well, I just like leather... and I tell myself – suffer the consequences of your decision. Okay, lesson learnt – have bought some wet-weather gear… just have to force myself to use it (maybe) when it next rains.

The wetness of the road meant a bit of a cautionary pace. I was reminded of the loss of tyre grip when I overshot a corner being marked and started skidding when I applied the brakes. I could sense the corner-marker’s (Jean) relief when I made the corner okay. Later when I mentioned the episode to him, he replied in a very gentlemanly fashion “I wasn’t going to bring it up”. The favour was repaid when Jean ran out of petrol, after which Peter Feistl swiftly assessed the problem and proceeded with a petrol transfusion and I, waiting quietly and patiently (as rear rider), did not “bring it up” either.

As rear-rider, I witness a variety of sights such as road-kill which has had no chance of escape from the fast and furious onslaught; “incidences” (on previous rides) where a rider has a crash of some sort, and me feeling so helpless, yet stirring empathetic feelings which struggle to find expression in these circumstances, and then continuing the ride feeling sick in the guts; or watching in disbelief as riders go in the wrong direction from the corner which is/isn’t marked (twice on the Dargo ride) and then watching as another rider goes in hot pursuit to retrieve his fellow-rider and both happily returning to rejoin the pack, like a couple of puppies who deviated momentarily on their own little adventure.

I’m also amused as to how the corner-markers proceed to entertain themselves while passing a bit of time waiting for me to eventually appear (cigarette smoking, mobile phone calls, visor cleaning, tyre checking, general chit-chat amongst the two corner markers) followed by a quick scurrying onto the bikes when I do appear. What did you guys do before I came along?

But the best reward as rear-rider is having the pleasure of being entertained by some great monos, alternating between Misho and the mono-master himself, Ron Solomon. After taking off from corner-marking duties – thanks guys - it puts a hell of a big smile on my face and makes it all worthwhile at the back.

It never ceases to amaze me how wonderful the roads are that this Club finds for us to savour exclusively. Today, Ben took us on some excellent roads, which went on and on, so isolated from any signs of humanity – just the sights and sounds of this ever-changing rugged and beautiful landscape to be enjoyed.

The other thing I enjoy about riding with this Club is the fact that there is never a dull moment… Apart from the interesting personalities that partake in the ride, there is always some event along the way which adds a bit of interest, such as on the Dargo ride where we rode about 8km up a very isolated road, only to find the Upper Maffra West Bridge not negotiable, and happily back-tracking to find an alternate route. Then doing 100km up the very challenging, wet and twisty Dargo Road just so we could feast on a very tasty hamburger made by the wonderfully cheerful and hospitable, Dan and Maggie at the Dargo General Store. Then back down again to Biagolong to refuel and collect my bike which I had left behind. You see, by the time we arrived at Biagolong, I had done 200km of wet roads wearing wet leathers (already soaked from previous day’s wet pillion ride) and was feeling a little cold, as well as feeling a little weary from self-inflicted weekend rest-deprivation and a little hungry from mismanaging my sustenance intake during the ride. Now, the serene master (Ben) being a sharp observer of human behaviour and understanding of the human condition, thought best if I did the next challenging stretch of the ride up the Dargo Road as a pillion, rather than a rider. I humbly requested if he could assist the apprentice and after an obliging nod, I hopped on the back of the Honda.

There were some long stretches of the Dargo Road which allowed some relaxed and playful riding while enjoying the scenery. I particularly remember when we were riding through a long and gently undulating road, hugged by an endless avenue of tall green trees, tall mountains rising in the background and wet mist gently breathing through from above. I began enjoying the potent fragrance of eucalyptus coming from a huge plantation on the adjoining hillside, when suddenly the fragrance changed from eucalypt to pine and with it the scenery changed to a shadowy dense green forest, very mystical and fantasy-like, almost as if I was looking into the mythical land of Narnia and expecting the mighty Aslan to appear out of the forest to challenge this beast of modernity invading his land.

The tight, twisty bends of Dargo Road induced feelings in me of awe and fear at how Ben dealt with not only the relentless technical difficultly which this road presented him with; but also when having to negotiate a lot of unexpected variables such as a kangaroo about to jump in our path, gravel, pebbles, unexpected wet slicks of road, and a very wet and slippery wooden bridge appearing with no prior notice around a sharp bend.

Little did I know how difficult and treacherous this road could be, never having ridden here before – feelings of deep gratitude to my guardian angel – for having safely negotiated the road to and from Dargo.

All up, the Dargo ride was a long one, 650km, returning home at 8.30pm to a warm and soothing shower.

My work colleagues are getting used seeing me turn up at work on Mondays with a tired, but satisfied disposition, whereby I’m greeted with the usual “Where did you go this time?” And I think to myself … aahh…if only you knew!

Pina Garasi