Myrtleford via Falls Creek and Omeo Mon. 27th Dec. 2010

 

Kurn Bridgeman

Honda CBR600

Ben Warden (leader)

Honda CBR954

Ron Johnston

Honda CBF1000

John Willis

Honda XL1000

Misho Zrakic

Honda CBR1000

Pina Garasi

Honda CBR600

Paul Southwell

Honda CBR1000

Cliff Peters

Kawasaki ZX10

Ian Payne (rear)

Honda CBR1000

 

9 bikes, 9 people

 

Route (according to Ben):

·         Leg 1 : Bright, Tawonga Gap, Mt Beauty, Falls Creek – stopped at upper motel café, sat outside

·         Leg 2: Falls Creek, stopped at Rocky Valley Reservoir for photos, down soft, fine gravel road , Omeo for lunch.

·         Leg 3: Omeo, Mt Hotham, stopped to admire views at side of road, glorious weather – though cold, Harrietville

·         Leg4: Harrietville, Tawonga Gap, Mt Beauty, Kiewa Valley highway for 9 km then Tamgambalanga Road running parallel up to Dederang, across Happy Valley Road towards Ovens, picked up Rosewhite Road to Mudgegonga and then Myrltleford Bakery

·         Leg 5: Myrtleford to Porepunkah, 30 km. Total 479 km for the day

I had been looking forward to our club Christmas camp for the last couple of months, with fond memories of a decade ago, when the same event used to get moved around to a different location each year. Halls Gap comes to mind, with spirited rides to Zumsteins, Mt. William and around the Grampians.

I had borrowed a mate’s bike trailer and arranged to take mine and Ron Johnson’s steeds to Porepunkah. The trouble was I hadn’t  done a trial run, and arriving at Ron’s on Boxing Day morning, it was obvious to blind Freddie (whoever he is or was ) it wasn’t going to ‘appen. The mudguards fouled the bike’s exhaust. So Ron was going to have to ride up, with Julie following in the tin box. My bike was okay in the centre of the offending trailer.

Robbie Langer was good enough to share his accommodation with me, an on-site cabin he has had continuously for the last 12 years. Under the trees to keep the worst of the heat off, on hot days.

The Johnson clan were installed under an enormous tent city, Ian Payne in a cabin, sharing with Ha Du and Chris Pointon on various nights. (Now just you stop that! It was all completely innocent.) Ben and Julie, Pina and Misho, Kurn, Peter and Liz with ankle biters in tow were all under canvas. Paul and Jo had rented a house just around the corner. And so the scene was set for a great week’s riding un stuff.      

Half a dozen of us started off as we meant to continue, with a quick blag up Mt. Buffalo, with a full road width of gravel on a 20 km/h blind left hair pin to give us a wake up call. Further up, road works were still happening where half the road had departed down the mountain after recent heavy rains.  The view was as good as I remembered from the top.

First day out was started at the local servo at 9am for a fill up and tyre pressure test. Kurn had put in a prior request (he’d been sucking up to Ben big time) for the day’s route, taking in all his favourite bits as he had come up for only one night and two days. Now that’s keen. So orf  we set to Tawonga Gap which is a climb up some nice twisties to the lookout and down the other side, about 20 kays of good stuff.

Next bit was my favourite of the day, the run up to Falls Creek, motorcycling heaven on a stick. Paul (black Fireblade) was proving difficult to pass with all that horsepower. I spent a few kays up his clacker, then went for it, into a left hander leading directly down to a single lane bridge. I was rather hot entering the 90 degree corner to say the least, but past I was, and that’s where I was staying. Get you behind me, thou evil black Blade.

Morning tea was taken at the Alpine Village Hotel cum coffee shop. Then the terrifically good black top was consumed at a great rate of knots on the way to Omeo Bakery for food, and petrol for people with normal type fuel tanks. The Varadero takes 25 litres and is good for about 400kays. Come to think of it, if I only half filled it, maybe I could get by Pauls Blade without the desperado move next time. A few kilos less ballast - or just eat less ice cream.

Up and over Dinner Plain to Mt. Hotham where obligatory photos were taken. I tried to imagine the joint in mid-winter with a blizzard blowing hard horizontally across the scenery. It’s enough to make your nether regions shrivel up and drop off, a la brass monkeys.

Heading down the mountain, the bitumen was a bit on the ordinary side, the bikes walking some what upon its softish surface, backing off a tad the preference. (By the by, all the typos in ear are sposed 2 b of a slitely umur arse nature in case yor wundrin abowt my prow ess in the spelin deap art munt. I actually managed sum ow not 2 ever get ex spelled at skool, by the skin of me teef, I reckon. Awfly sorry if it takes a bit of de sifer ing. Praps I need a few more Scrabble games with Mrs Ben.)

And so it was, peace descended on the land. All was well with the world. The annoying buzz of four cylinder machines has ceased, and the world would have to wait till tomorrow before they could once again be thrilled by the deep throated rumble of proper two cylinder thumper bikes, passing sedately down their leafy lanes.  

 

John Willis