This journey began with one of those ominous phone calls from the boss, “A moment of your time on the eighth floor, if I may, David.” Can’t be good!! Out the door with a few months salary in my kick, in shock and wondering what comes next. I’ve been down this road before when the previous company I worked for went belly up, leaving their employees without the final months wages, let alone any redundancy package or other entitlements. So to look on the bright side, at least this time there is no real urgency in finding another job as I have some money in the bank. On the other hand it is not a good time of year for job hunting, the market is generally somewhat depressed and I am in completely the wrong frame of mind to be marketing myself to potential employers. The decision was made that I had been paid out three weeks annual leave, so I would at least have a holiday before I thrust myself into the task at hand. My eldest daughter Samantha, wise beyond her years, suggested “Why don’t you go to Melbourne and see Uncle Phil?” And so the seed was planted. It didn’t take long to sprout and bloom into enthusiasm. The book says “Sydney to Melbourne via the Hume Highway 890 km.” Not that I intend to go anywhere near the “Hume”. It’s one of those interstate conveyer belts for cars, where you get on at one end and emerge dazed and confused ten or twelve hours later, at the other end. Stopping only for fuel, food and pistops. Certainly, very fast but also very tedious. That wasn’t the idea. More like one of those wonderful, meandering journeys of discovery in your own country. That is what was required. “That spot on the map looks interesting”, or “I wonder where that road goes.” Hmmm, this is going to be fun!! After a few quick registrations with the head hunters, discussions with some very helpful public servants, who guided me through the maze of hoops, through which I was required to jump to officially register as unemployed and a bit of retail therapy I was ready to turn my attention to the trusty VX and its preparation. A new front tyre was a must, so an Avon Azarro II to match the rear was the first step. And whilst I was at the front end I installed the “Sigma BC 800” trip computer. Should come in handy. During a recent attempt at shimming the clutch to stop it slipping, I discovered the previous attempts of some Neanderthal had stretched the mild steel bolts in the clutch pack and elongated the holes in the spacers. Despite careful reassembly I managed to snap one of the bolts, “Bugger!” Thankfully John has the spare VX motor sitting on the bench, so a few minutes saw the entire clutch pack swapped. This was only a stopgap measure to keep me on the road until new parts could be obtained. New clutch friction plates, springs, bolts and spacers were soon installed and I shimmed the springs with small washers, to give it that extra bite! New spark plugs, fresh oil in engine and diff, check the cooling system and flush the hydraulic systems with fresh fluids. Clean the air filters, install the rack for the gear sack, synchronise the carburettors. Have I forgotten anything?? I think I’m ready, today is Saturday and I plan to leave Monday. A quick two hundred km “shake down” ride Sunday, to be sure. Packed and ready to go. I can’t sleep, the excitement is getting to me!
Day 1.
Monday Morning, 5:00 AM.
 |
No, this is a Rosella, not a corked Sparrow! |
Awoke at “sparrows fart” and promptly told the sparrow to stick a cork in it, and rolled over for another hours shut eye. The weather is overcast and warm, despite the early hour. It’s going to be a hot one. No full leathers today. By the time I was dressed, the bike loaded and fuelled and I was on the road it’s 7:00AM. Just in time for the start of the morning traffic. I live in the north of the city and heading south to the outskirts is about 45 km and can take a couple of hours. Oh well, no hurry. Once I am south of the city the traffic is mostly heading in the opposite direction, so no real problem. 45 minutes to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and plain sailing from there. I lived in Wollongong, south of Sydney about ten years ago, so I figured that a sentimental visit to the old house was in order. My final stop in Sydney was at Engadine, McDonalds for breakfast. The clouds are looking threatening so I don the wet weather gear as I am leaving. The skies open up as I leave the metropolitan area, and I wonder if it is an omen. The sign says, ”Melbourne 1,027 KM”. We’ll see about that!
I avoid the Freeway and stick to the Old Princes Highway. Briefly consider the road through the Royal National Park, but I figure it is a bit too early to be detouring and that is close enough to home to do any time. The city of Wollongong is situated on a narrow coastal plain, backed by a spectacular escarpment of steep cliffs, which provide some wonderful views over the region. I stopped at the aptly named “Sublime Point” for a photo opportunity and encountered some lovely “Eastern Rosellas” a common species of native parrot. The rain is gone and the temperature is still rising. Still overcast though.
) |
) |
) |
The Southern Highland town of Robertson is a pretty place and Moss Vale makes a good place for a break. This is where I encounter a strange synchronicity. I had been thinking that I should christen my trusty steed (a la Mike and “Elaine” on the US list) but couldn’t decide on a suitable name. Just prior to leaving, I came across a singer from Benin in West Africa, Angelique Kidjo. As a parting gift from my former work colleagues, I was given a voucher for a CD store that happened to stock her “Best of” album. The café at which I had tea in Moss Vale was run by a lovely African women. Also from Benin and also named Angelique! I could spend hours listening to her wonderful speaking voice. Benin was a French colony and here accent is like warm, aural honey. We chatted for about forty five minutes and of course she knew of her famous namesake. She was absolutely delighted at my suggestion that I name my bike after both of them, so “Angelique” it is.
The temperature has now reached 30 degrees C and still climbing. Looks like a nasty storm building in the west. I check the map and realise that the dreaded “Hume” is just up the road and start to look for alternatives. The tourist route through the quaint village of Exeter is a good road but the village itself seemed deserted. Just out of Exeter the road crosses the railway and from then on runs parallel to it. This gives an odd imbalance to small places like Bundanoon and Wingello because the entire village is on one side of the road, the railway line on the other, and virgin bush beyond that. Just out of Wingello, the road deviates from the railway and plunges into a forest of ghost gums, their smooth and twisted silver grey trunks seeming to glow in the eerie green light of the gathering tempest. The trees dark foliage appearing to blend into the clouds, until a fork of lightning in the distance redefined the boundary between earth and sky. I decide to use the Hume for a bit to put some distance between myself and the heart of that storm. Goulburn for lunch and fuel with 260 km on the trip meter. Premium unleaded fuel not available so I have to settle for regular. Temperature has now climbed to 35 degrees and the wind has picked up considerably from the west. Canberra, the nations capitol, is the planned overnight stop and the Federal Highway which leads there runs over a virtually treeless mountain plain along the edge of Lake George. I spend the next hour and a half leaning right at a ten degree angle into the wind. Gusts of wind grabbed my left leg and wrenched it out at a ninety degree angle, threatening groin strain! The buffeting to my helmet was causing neck pain. So, I folded down the pillion pegs, dropped my feet back, rested my chest on the tank bag put my head down behind the little screen and went for it. I estimated 120km/h cross winds and this was later confirmed by the nightly news bulletins. Sydney, and particularly my area had been hit hard by 170km/h winds leaving 100,000 homes without power and trees down everywhere. I’d only caught the fringe of the storm and avoided the rain until I was in sight of the Canberra Visitors Centre where I sat out the rain over coffee, and the search for a suitable, budget hotel. Checked in, and unloaded the bike. Then I made a quick phone call to organise to meet up with Phil and Cheryl in Palmerston a northern suburb. These are two fellow members of the “VX800 Appreciation Society” that I contacted via the European Mailing list. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting them yet but I know we share a common interest. Phil and Cheryl kindly offer to have some strange lone biker come to their home, and subject their two delightful children to the trauma of being cuddled by complete strangers. Jackson, an auburn haired beauty, stole my heart immediately, (I have always had a thing for red heads) and young Thomas was intrigued by this interloper. The VX actually belongs to Cheryl but has been used by Phil, whilst his modified/customised Guzzi Le Mans was off the road. Then there is the Triumph T100 and a couple of Suzuki Titan 500 club racers in the back shed. Cheryl had recently had an encounter with a cager trying to stuff her car up the right hand muffler. Needless to say, it didn’t fit! Cheryl went, down wrenching her wrist in the process, and the header was bent and muffler scuffed. First time she had been on the bike for months. I hope the wrist is healing and the parts hunt is successful.
Thanks, for the cuppa and the hospitality guys, it is much appreciated. If ever I can return the favour, let me know.
End of day one. According to the BC800, 372.51 km in 4:30:53 at an average speed of 82.28 km/h.
Maximum of 158 km/h (Oops).
Day 2.
Canberra is a strange place, so I’m going to have a look around and see if I can get a handle on it. It is an entirely planned city, following the decision to build the nations capitol rather than award the honour to either Melbourne or Sydney. So they built a new city in the middle of a sheep paddock, pretty much half way between the two , as the crow flies. As you come in from the north there does not appear to be any commercial activity other than a few scattered motels. No billboards or other advertising signage, and the naming signs on buildings could only be described as “discreet”. My impression was that Northbourne Avenue holds nothing but anonymous, government buildings trying to keep a low profile. Every couple of kilometres are signs pointing to shopping precincts in the suburbs. The road layout is full of “Circuits” and “Crescents”, so you spend a lot of time going around in circles. Kind of appropriate for a city of politicians, diplomats and public servants, come to think about it. Very nice on a bike as there aren’t too many straight roads, and getting lost is what this trip is about. Believe me, getting lost in Canberra is not at all difficult but kind of fun when you’re not in a hurry. At least it has cooled down, maximum around 20 degrees C.
| First stop on the sightseeing tour is a cruise around the embassy district in the suburbs of Yarralumla and Deakin. There are some interesting architectural blends on some buildings, particularly from the Asian and Middle Eastern countries. Then I spent a few hours checking out “Questacon”, the science and technology museum. All of the exhibits are very hands on, and would be a great educational outing for kids. Good fun! A quick lap around the new Parliament House, then over Lake Burley-Griffin, (there is a bridge, I didn’t do the Evel Knievel bit) and up a great road to Black Mountain. | ) |
) |
) |
) |
Perched on the summit is a large telecommunications tower, with viewing platforms and restaurants/cafes. So I paid my three bucks and rode the lift to 870 metres above sea level. Spectacular views over Canberra to the east and the mountains of the “Great Divide” to the west and south-west. As I sat eating lunch, I watched as a heavy rainstorm came in from the mountains. Looks like I’m going to get wet again. Oh, well should get a few more hours in with a dry bum. Took what I hope will be some good photos, and then headed back down the mountain. |
| I headed back down to the city and with rain about to hit I stopped illegally in the middle of Anzac Parade for some shots of the VX, the Australian War Memorial in the background in one direction and Old and New Parliament Houses in the other. I had planned to revisit the War Memorial but it is nearly 4pm and I don’t have time to do it justice. It will have to wait until next visit. Based on current average time between trips to Canberra, I’ll be back when I’m about seventy years old. The rain hit with a vengeance, and then disappeared just as suddenly. Checked out the Australian-American Memorial, the National Carillion and Blundells Cottage in pissing down rain. Then it was gone. Checked out the newly opened Australian National Museum, which looks like a giants playground from the outside. Strange building. | ) |
) |
In the centre was a pond that used to house a “Swan ride”, where the punters would be dragged around by cables, sitting in overgrown fibreglass swans. (just like their colonial forebears in years gone by?) The swans were piled up on one side, looking rather forlorn, but a family of ducks were making good use of the pond. The parents diving under, bums in the air legs back pedalling for balance, whilst the little ones disappear completely, only to pop up again a few metres away. A pair of grey wading birds, were nesting in a tree on the opposite shore. I sat eating my meal, (sweet chilli chicken with mango salad, YUM!) absorbing the serenity and realised how relaxed I was after just two days away. More to the point, what came into focus was how tightly wound the coils had been. At that moment, the peace was shattered by that scourge of modern society, the mobile phone. An ill-mannered businessman had exited the tavern to make a call and was 5 meters away from my right ear, having a conversation at full volume. I turned, glared and snarled at him and he scurried away, tail between his legs, talking in lowered tones. Chalk one up for peace and quiet! Just as the silence returned I caught a movement in the corner of my eye. A magnificent peacock strutted into view, all wonderful shades of turquoise and royal blue. He shared a loaf of garlic bread with me, even eating from my hand, and at one stage hopped up on the bench across the table and eyeballed, me something horrible. His last piece of bread he shook violently and a large bit flew off. In swooped a couple of sparrows which sat on the fence. The peacock scurried off the bench, stood over the bread and displayed his attributes very proudly. The fan-tail was over 2 metres across and he held it up for several minutes whilst strutting back and forth. Great floorshow in this place!
I’ve decided that I quite like Canberra, but it would take a while to learn your way around.
End of day two. According to the BC800, 122.55 km in 2:14 at an average speed of 63.3 km/h.
Maximum: Not worth mentioning. Trip distance: 495.06
Day 3.
Fuelled up in southern Canberra suburb, after taking twenty minutes to find a fuel station. Bloody Canberra!! Headed down the Cooma-Monaro highway and into the mountains. Not as good as it sounds, as I have already done most of the climbing but I still manage to max out at an elevation of 1100m. Yeah, I know that’s not much by international standards, but you cannot do much better in Australia, without going up nearby Mt Kosciuszko. Stopped at Michelago to thaw out, and add more clothes as it has dropped below 10 degrees. Fast open roads are adding to the wind chill factor. The roadhouse was run by a bloke from Avalon, which is 15 km or so up the Peninsular from where I live. Turns out we have some common acquaintances.
) |
Quick blast into Cooma, gateway to the snowfields, and stop for a pistop (two cups of coffee in Michelago ;-) ) A quick detour to Jindabyne to check out my mothers hometown. Well actually, her hometown is now under Lake Jindabyne, created during the construction of the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme during the 50’s and 60’s. In 1966, old Jindabyne was flooded, but in times of extreme drought parts of buildings or their foundations can be seen. Turn onto secondary roads, through Beloka to Dalgety. From there, it’s 26 km sealed and 28km dirt road back to rejoin the highway just south of Ando. The dirt was fun but obviously extra caution was required and I was quite happy when things went black again. | ) |
) |
Misty rain is falling in patches, but nothing much. The road tightens up as it skirts the boundary of Coopacambra National Park. Crossed the New South Wales – Victorian border but not before a photo, of course! At the border the road becomes the Cann River Highway, and I’m cursing the weather. This is a great road with lovely constant radius turns, well cambered with a smooth surface. Would have been much more fun in the dry, but still managed 100-110 km/h on the exit of most corners sign posted at 60 –70 km/h. Not that quick going in though, discretion being the better part of valour. Arrive at Cann River at about 4:00 pm and look for a hot shower and a bed for the night. |
| Dinner on day three was in the Bistro at the Cann River Hotel. I won’t comment on the meal, (Mum always said, “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing”), but this is a classic example of an Aussie country pub. Inside were saloon doors and a staircase, that had been salvaged from a shipwreck on the nearby rugged coast in the mid nineteenth century. This is timber country and there are some great historical photos of some pretty tough old coves hanging in the dining room. After dinner, not wishing to return to an empty motel room, I moved to the Public Bar and put my name up for a game of pool. There were maybe half a dozen locals and a couple of blow-ins, like myself. | ) |
) |
A game of pool was in progress between a local and a young “city fella.” Things were not going well for the local. There is a tradition, where if you are beaten in a game of pool without sinking a ball, that is with all seven of your balls on the table, you must drop your trousers around your ankles and do a lap of the table. I should mention that in 30 years of playing pool, I have never been present when somebody has actually done this. It is more of a joke than anything, in polite society anyway. The local was soundly beaten by a very skilful opponent, and with much hoorah, dropped all three layers of clothing from below his waist, and commenced his lap of dishonour. |
End of day three. According to the BC800, 316.47 km in 3:14:43 at an average speed of 97.53 km/h!!(Quick Day)
Maximum: 147 km/h Trip distance: 811km and still 450km from Melbourne!