Tasmania – March 2011

 

Twenty four hours after returning from Tassie, I had an unexpected reaction… I felt depressed.  After 10 day’s non-stop of feel-good drugs flowing through my system - my Bel, my bike, my riding buddies, beautiful Tassie, Ninja-Dave - it all came to an abrupt end. It took another 24 hours in Melbourne for my withdrawal symptoms to subside and to start feeling functional again.

 

How best to describe this Tassie adventure?   We had a great bunch of MSR riders, including ex-Melbournian, Dave Ward, who joined us for some madness.  Brilliant weather, lots of laughs, good food (sometimes bad), plenty of interesting beers to sample at Maydena, never-ending traffic-free roads with great scenery  and non-stop riding, minimum 500 km a day… “Ben’s boot camp” as Rob Langer described it.  Although, I started to feel a bit “wobbly” – physically and emotionally on Day 8 when Ben had a tourist-inspired moment during the afternoon break in the ride to climb some steep steps in some parkland to see some ‘sight’ and  I said “No, I’m hot and tired, not going.”  I recovered by the time he got back. Lucky for me, otherwise I would have been accused of being a “princess”. (That would be the spectacular Leven Gorge with a relatively flat 6 minute walk on a well defined path. …Ed.)

 

For me, the Tasmanian roads are extremely challenging and fill me with trepidation.  The mountainous twisties and hairpins are technically difficult and there is usually a whole sequence of them – full concentration is required.  Blind crests are the norm and keep you guessing to the last second which direction the road goes. And when you’re going at fast speeds, these crests can be quite alarming – you need to predict accurately or slow down.  Sweepers are the best fun and put a big smile on my face as I catch up to the pack and think to myself “you’re not getting away from me now!”

 

Now the roads on a regular Sunday MSR ride feel very tame compared to those in Tassy.

 

As usual, after a 500km day’s ride there is always someone who wants a bit more. And so it was on Day1, a fast group of five riders assembled for a 100 km loop from Tullah to Queenstown, Roseberry and back to Tullah.  I hopped on the back of Misho’s CBR for my speed-Misho ‘fix’. The ride followed seemingly endless mountainous blind corners at impossible speeds which left me feeling so exhilarated that for a moment I stopped breathing – as if by doing so my senses would transfer this surreal moment into the stillness of my being.  It’s one of the most memorable rides I’ve ever experienced… the feeling is still alive deep within.

 

Cradle Mountain was quite different when we visited this time as it was a sunny day and not blanketed in the usual misty atmospheric fog.  We quickly negotiated our way up to the mountain bypassing the boom-gates and overtaking any slow vehicles.  Unfortunately, word must have got out about our unusual riding style, as some park rangers were eagerly awaiting our descent ready to apprehend our group for a little cranky conversation.  As I was the last person coming down I could see all our guys had obligingly stopped, as demanded by the angry-looking khaki-clad rangers.  I started to slow down, wondering what I should do, but then I thought – “this guy’s not wearing the uniform colour for which I need to stop… nah, I’m going on”. Rear-rider, Rob Langer, followed. 

 

I waited at the next intersection.  After a few minutes, Dave Ward appeared, informing me that the ranger had noted my registration number and that I have been fined $250 for not stopping and paying the entrance fee to Cradle Mountain and that if I don’t pay the fine they will not let me board the boat to go home.  Hmmm… he really had me believing him. What a rascal! The truth emerged when all the other riders appeared one by one, having paid the compulsory $16.50 park entry fee, of which we were blissfully unaware.  Hey, we’ve got too many important things to do than stand around reading signs.

 

Apparently, when the ranger started demanding the entry fee from Dave Ward, who is now registered as a Tasmanian and had dutifully paid his yearly park-entry fee (his pass was sitting in his car at home) Dave quickly morphed into his Ninja-inspired persona and commenced to display some very cutting verbal action such that the ranger quickly released him to avoid any further damage.  Oh the laughs we had when the scene was replayed for all to enjoy.

 

The last time we were in Tasmania, Mt Wellington was bathed in beautiful sunshine… I remember it well; we were all frolicking about most happily.  This time we encountered thick, dark fog which made our ascent feel very perilous due not being able to see anything beyond a metre.  I was most scared and felt trapped in a mini-nightmare hoping that the only way I rode was up, not over.    I was hugely relieved when I finally made it to the top and could see the others were there too.  All was very quiet as we cleaned our visors and re-adjusted our senses.  I remember Ronny breaking the silence with a poignant question… “who’s f..king stupid idea was it to come here?”   Hmmm…. Ben Warden’s I think. 

 

Bruny Island was interesting – this was the most “touristy” ride we did in Tassie.  The absence of the “yee-hah” factor left Misho sighing for something ‘more’ for the day.  I gave him my bike to ride over the gravelly road to the old lighthouse to avoid his taped-up Blade fairings rattling off. I hopped on the back of Dave’s V-Strom for a rather swift ride up.  This bike is extremely comfortable, such that on the ride down from the lighthouse, the gentle murmuring engine and the comfy sheepskin beneath me lulled me into a sweet little nap.  Sorry Dave…it would never happen on the Ninja!

 

Riding by night on isolated roads in Tassie was quite a strange experience. This happened one night when we ate dinner late at New Norfolk and then had to ride another 40km’s (felt like 100km) in darkness before we reached home.  My eyes started to feel bleary-eyed from having to focus on the tail-light of the rider in front of me and concentrate on where the road was going.  Every now and then my headlights would illuminate a wallaby on the side of the road. I sincerely hoped that it was so absorbed in munching on the greenery that it wouldn’t jump out at me.   I was very relieved to finally arrive safely at Maydena.

 

Well, this was just a snapshot of what I can quickly re-call of the Tassie trip; there’s still a lot more in my memory; the feelings that accompany them are varied – fear, exhilaration, relief, happiness, tiredness, laughter, joy, and contentment. Most significantly, as a result of doing these awesome and challenging Tasmanian roads day after day, I feel so happy that I regained some of my riding confidence which I had lost after my last crash. I’m very grateful to Misho for patiently leading me during several rides, helping me to overcome my dreaded fear of the twisties such that I could enjoy the rides much more… thanks Bel x

 

My deepest gratitude to: Ben for organising this wonderful experience for all of us to share in; my fellow riders for all the wonderful, crazy fun you bring; Rob Langer for his dedication to rear riding duties; Julie Warden for tirelessly carrying our extra luggage around Tassie in the car – your kindness is greatly appreciated; Julie Johnstone and Barbara Peter’s – for your lovely company;  and finally Misho - for all the happiness and thrills you give me.

 

Pina Garasi