travellingbennetts

They say a change is as good as a holiday. So if a holiday is combined with a job change, then one week of riding around in NSW before the BMWMCQ Christmas party is mathematically two weeks of holiday, but with only one week of expenses. Sweet.

The schedule was brutal; last day at work drinks on the Friday night, with unregulated IPA consumption, then up early on Saturday for a 7:15am departure. The IPA didn’t dovetail well with the GPS, which was trying to get us to Beaudesert, while the IPA thought we were supposed to be going to Boonah for reasons only the napalmed remnant brain cells could recall. Finally, the navigational fog cleared and a seamless transition onto the Beaudesert road occurred, celebrated at the Beaudesert Café with coffees and toasted banana bread. Fortified, we proceeded south to Innisplain Road and the transition onto Lions Road.

We had reconnoitred Lions Road previously due to closure on the NSW side, the objective was to see whether the road was still open as far as the turn-off to the Border Ranges NP. It was, so we headed down with confidence, doing a soupcon of off-road practice through the Grady’s Creek Road with its five creek crossings. Although a reasonable amount of water was still coursing, it wasn’t the raging torrent carelessly ridden through a month previously, so no serious challenges were faced. A few more kilometres and we were onto Simes Road which got us to Forest Road for the climb up to the National Park.

At the park entrance a sign helpfully stated that absolutely everything was open, except for the road. A committee meeting was held to discuss this early disruption to the day’s plan, however the marginal weather indicated that we’d be able to see bugger-all from the top let alone Mt Warning, so a back-track was required that got us into Kyogle two hours earlier than planned. Our bush lunch was consumed in a Kyogle road side stop, fuel was purchased, and we were off again. The target was the Bruxner highway, via Stratheden and Dyraaba dirt roads including the fabulous long straight section which encourages Dakar racing speeds. Appearing on the highway at Mummulgum, named after the standard husband’s verbal response to an odd-looking credit card purchase inquiry, we hooned along until the dividing range separating the Richmond and Clarence River valleys was reached.

As we were early in the afternoon, a quick trip up to the Mallanganee lookout with its sweeping views was appreciated by all those who had missed the Border Ranges NP, i.e. both of us. A surprise vehicle on the dirt road on the way back down caught Cindy unawares, resulting in the first official drop of Gus the 700GS. After assistance from the vehicle occupants to get Gus upright, again confirming that it a good idea for me to get way out in front and not have to get involved, we headed on into Drake. We stopped at the General Store for a drink, before discovering it was shut and re-mounting for the trip to the pub on the other side. Cindy seemed to have lost the ability to be an omni-turner, so only left-hand turns were possible which is tricky when making U-turns in Australia. After a scary moment for Cindy getting across the highway, the mechanical team swung into action and quickly discovered Gus’ right Barkbuster was broken and jamming into the side panel. The broken bits were quickly removed, binned, and we were back on the highway after a refreshing drink at the Lunatic Hotel.

The fabulous winding sections of the Bruxner negotiated, we swung into Tenterfield. Timing was a little tricky, it was a bit early to stop for the night, but the magnetism of the Peter Allen Motel was strong. So, we gave in and checked in, before a rest and a wander about the quiet town, inevitably running out of puff in front of the Commercial Boutique hotel. A couple of boutique beers and wines, a cracking steak, and a pleasant conversation with a new 1200GS Rallye X rider on a shake-down run was a lot of fun, before we nearly got back to the hotel without paying causing a poor staff member a serious cardio workout trying to catch us.

Day 2 was all about dams. For some reason seeing the dams of north-central NSW and south-central QLD became a theme during the route planning, highlighting the risks of having a few reds while using Garmin Basecamp. We also wanted to visit Texas, likely also the result of drinking reds. So off we went west along the Bruxner, cutting across the big loop of the Dumaresq River at Mingoola and into QLD to the Glenlyon dam.

After the dam, we took the dirt along Pinnacle Road which continues west, eventually crossing the Dumaresq River at Bonshaw Weir to get back into NSW. Then we headed the short distance up to Texas, crossing the Dumaresq River to return to QLD. A coffee and refuel in Texas, then we crossed the Dumaresq River again to return to NSW. The little wheel on my watch fell off at this point due to the constant time changing, and it was fortunate we weren’t transporting rabbits as each time we’d crossed into QLD we’d have worn a $40,000 fine per bunny.

We headed back down south, through Ashford, and then east to the Pindari Dam on the Severn River. This dam has an impressive wall, which we decided to walk along for some reason even though it was getting hot by this stage. We got about half way across to the spillway viewing area, then stopped as looking down on a bare rock channel suddenly didn’t seem terribly exciting. Doing the sequenced rush back into earplugs, jacket, Camelbak, helmet, and gloves before realising the bike keys were still in the pants just as the sweat flood broke, we got back on the road as quickly as possible.

Some interesting dirt roads led us down toward Inverell, with a profusion of purple flowers blooming on the sides of the road after the recent rains. This resulted in a change of the trip theme from dams to Cindy finding beds of flowers to park Gus in and nail the artistic shot.

Luncheon was taken in Inverell at the Chinese restaurant annex to the Imperial Hotel, the air conditioning, cool drinks, test cricket coverage, and buffet appreciated roughly in that order. Once our lunch was complete and lunch had started at the cricket, there was no point hanging about in the mainly closed Sunday streets of Inverell. Movement was the only solution to the uncomfortable heat, so we headed off west and south to the final and largest dam of the day, the Copeton on the Gwydir River.

The boredom with dams was now complete, with the number of photos taken at each dam following an exponential decay function, so Copeton was damn lucky even to get one.

The journey continued, zig-zagging south-ish through Barraba to complete the riding day in Manilla, presumed birthplace of the ubiquitous stationery item although no giant folder statue or plaque to Cyrus Q Blatherington the inventor of manilla folders was seen. Then it was realised that Manilla has one L too many, so Cyrus must have been living in the Philippines at the time of his office filing efficiency breakthrough.

Day 3 was Monday, so the shops were open. The route plan was to cut south-west across to Gunnedah, before the final push south to the destination town of Mudgee. However, with Gus missing a Barkbuster the risk of another minor drop breaking a lever was unacceptably high, so we filled in the corner and went to Tamworth. The western side motorcycle dealer suggested by Google Maps didn’t exist, however the Western Ranges Honda/Triumph/Harley dealer on the south side was a major facility with lots of bikes and gear, including a full range of Barkbusters. With temperatures rising, we loitered about and looked at bikes and stuff while a stylish set of red Barkbusters was fitted to Gus. Another benefit was that a better route was suggested to Mudgee rather than the “boring” highway to Gunnedah, via Werris Creek, Spring Ridge, and Premer. It would have been better if it weren’t for the torrential rain after Spring Ridge, with no place to shelter until Premer, where a full change and donning of wet weather gear was required under a picnic table shelter. Lunch at Premer was abandoned after it was realised that the town held the first-world record for the most burned-out and derelict cars per head of population, and we moved onto the Black Stump Way to continue the journey south.

The black stump is well known to everyone, millennials naturally excused. I had always believed it to be simply an Australian saying; as in “beyond the black stump” being anywhere out in Whoop-Whoop and not an actual place. Then suddenly our ignorance was exposed; the black stump was not only an actual thing, it had been a mere 220 yards from a trendy wine bar.

The wine theme built to a crescendo as we rode further south. A late warming lunch of a pie at the Coolah bakery, and the journey continued down through the recently rained on farmland and Gulgong before finishing up for the day in the destination town of Mudgee. A stroll about the very pleasant and affluent-looking centre, purchase of new boot in-sole liners, and checking out potential places for dining were the order of the late afternoon. Mudgee is surrounded by coal mines, farms, and wineries so has prosperity as a result of economic diversity. A Mudgee rosé and sparkling at a wine bar matched the aura of the town, which was then destroyed by dinner and Guinness pints at the Mudgee Irish Pub which was pretty much the same as every other Irish Pub anywhere in the world.

Day 4 commenced with the routine of get up, shower, dress in motorcycle gear, pack bags, attach bags to motorcycles, install GPS, don jacket, helmet, gloves, then remove gloves because keys are still in pocket, then remove helmet because of the huge bug splatter, clean visor, put helmet and gloves back on, remove gloves because bug splatter distracted from getting keys, put gloves on, and mount up. After refuel and breakfast, it was heading east toward our next destination location of Harrigan’s Irish Pub and Accommodation in Pokolbin, creating fresh doubt about the dining choice of the previous evening as we may have been over-Irished.

We turned east at Budgee Budgee and motored through the Munghorn Gap, passing through Wollar and following the valleys to the south of the Goulburn River, which eventually becomes one with the Hunter River. The road was nowhere near as “adventure rider extreme” as imagined, and only included a relatively short section of dirt road along the Bylong Valley Way which looked as though it was being done up for all the coal mine traffic. We eventually reached the Golden Highway at Jerrys Plains, and joined the traffic for the run down to Broke – if it ain’t don’t maintain it. The journey included the famous Putty Road, one of Australia’s top motorcycling roads.

After Broke it was through the Singleton Military area with signs every 10ft explaining that live artillery rounds could be landing unexpectedly on the road, so just move along. Surviving non-improvised explosive devices, we pulled into Harrigan’s Irish Pub at about lunchtime on officially our shortest riding day. A traditional Irish Caesar Salad (potatoes with mash and a Guinness pie) later we had booked on a half day winery tour, and booked into the hotel. Quickly changed, we were on the bus with the others and off to a few wineries for extensive tastings. A distraction at a cheese and chocolate shop, a final winery or two, and we were back at the Irish Pub for a traditional Irish Cheese Platter with Cheeky Hunter Valley Merlot, and well-deserved bed.

Day 5 commenced with a traditional Irish breakfast of orange juice and cereal that both tasted like Guinness, before loading up the bikes and heading north. The first part of the journey was highway through Singleton and Muswellbrook, before heading east at Aberdeen toward Gundy. The touring objective was a saunter up the dirt roads through farm land to Timor, then back out to the New England Highway for morning tea. The plan went well after the navigational rod wasn’t spared on a recalcitrant GPS, with some very pleasant country traversed and a very nice coffee and scone consumed at Murrurundi.

A blast up the highway, and we turned off to the east after visiting the oddly-located First Fleet Memorial at Wallabadah. The reason why the memorial is at Walladabah is basically because no other council wanted it, and a local convict descendent man did, so an excellent park with a lot of information on most convict fleets and the lists of convicts on each vessel is the result. The following easterly journey led to Nundle, which was a lot bigger than the expected population of zero, and it even had a Woollen Mill built using equipment bought for a song in the early 2000’s after the collapse of the Australian textile industry. The little town was attractive and seemed to be thriving, no doubt assisted on weekends by its proximity to Tamworth.

After a Nundle lunch, we motored up into the hills to Hanging Rock (this one 100% Miranda free), and after a brief stop at the lookout hit the dirt on the forest roads through to meet up with Thunderbolt’s Way. The weather by now appeared threatening, so a removal of jacket and pants and insertion of linings was completed at the intersection. No tooting was recorded from passing cars, so it is obviously well within NSW social norms to stand next to a highway without pants on. We headed up to Walcha, ignoring the opportunity to cut the corner across to the Oxley Highway as fuel was required.

Thunderbolt’s Way is one of Australia’s top motorcycle roads, except for the bit we did which was pretty much straight, but it meant that with our 100m of Putty Road we could tick off yet another of Australia’s classics, and in future smile and nod when amongst a group of riders talking about the best rides. That left just one more classic for the day; the Oxley Highway, probably one of Australia’s highest car-sick incident per number of travellers roads. By now, the weather had moved from threatening to downright abusive, with fog and rain almost all the way down to Mt Seaview. The speed limits had not been decreased to 80kmh as that change was occurring in December, but on Mitas E-07 dual sport tyres with 18,000km wear on wet bitumen, even doing the new speed limit wouldn’t have lasted for long on the relentless bends. It was a couple of fairly happy travellers who finally appeared in Port Macquarie after a very long day. After finding lodgings, we went off for drinks and dinner, choosing a place near the waterfront as we couldn’t find an Irish Pub.

Day 6 plan was to get to Grafton, and fortified by an egg and bacon McMuffin breakfast at an establishment that will remain nameless, we headed up on the newly completed highway to Kempsey. At Kempsey, due north became north-west as we rode up Armidale Road through Bellbrook, before the road suddenly turned from first-class bitumen to reasonable gravel along the Macleay River. There was about 80km of winding dirt, and some spectacular scenery as the road meandered beside the river with green grass flats running to the edge, or rocky bluffs pushed the road up the hill. After leaving the Macleay, we followed George’s Creek north and popped out on the appropriately named Waterfall Way, because water was indeed falling, turning back east to Ebor for lunch.

The café at Ebor had several motorcyclists attempting to dry sodden gear, but the rain meant that the waterfalls would be pumped up so after a quick bite and slight drying we went down to Ebor Falls. Here where the water of the Guy Fawkes River has found its way through columnar basalt and worked at the weak spots, floods have broken through and pushed basalt lumps over the edge onto the harder rock below. The result is two sets of falls, creating a nuisance for visitors as there is a fair walk between the two, unless they are smart enough to realise that both falls are serviced by a bitumen road suitable even for heavy articulated vehicles.

By now, water was falling a lot more heavily on Waterfall Way than was pleasant, and by the time we pulled up in Dorrigo it was relentless, so a quick meeting of heads of the motorcycle touring division was held to discuss the growing crisis. From our position under a shop awning we could see the Dorrigo Hotel was offering accommodation, so checked our dripping selves in. A short time later, the room and anything that could hold up sodden gear was festooned, while we went for a stroll about the small town to purchase pneumonia medication, just in case. Dinner that evening was at Hickory’s Country Kitchen, where the best meals of the trip including a homemade pasta with meatball sauce were consumed, accompanied by a BYO merlot and slightly easing rain.

Day 7 plan was to get to the ultimate destination of Evans Head. After breakfast in the Dorrigo Hotel we donned still slightly damp gear and headed north out of town for a quick stop at Dangar Falls on the Bielsdown River. With the viewing platform about 3 metres from the car park, there was no requirement to disrobe before a couple of quick photos and continuation on toward Coramba via the East Dorrigo Way. Once again rain set in, making sections of the track look as grippy as an oiled-up Sinead O’Connor. We pressed on slowly, with the scariest part being the Paul Hughes Bridge, scene of his broken leg incident in 2016. The wet wooden planks had a thin film of red clay slime covering them, however it was safely negotiated by lining the bikes up dead straight and riding slowly and smoothly across, which turned out to be more successful than Paul’s method of starting a big high speed drifty while still on the bridge.

Eventually we left the dirt and stopped for a much-appreciated morning tea refreshment at Coramba, on the Orara Way heading toward Grafton. Fortified with a heady mixture of scone, jam, and cream, it was back on for a bit of bitumen. Apart from seeing a group of red clay-misted and clearly traumatised Harley riders coming toward us, and a section of slippery wet red clay roadworks, the riding challenges were almost done. Cindy and I had a trial separation at Whiporie, I still hadn’t had enough dirt so took the Bungawalbin Rd while Cindy stayed on the Summerland Way. My road cut a big corner so at high speeds on the well-formed gravel road, and then at low speeds on the well-formed gravel road after a kangaroo incident, I arrived into Evans Head in time to find a spot for lunch and wait for Cindy to join me.

After a solid week of riding, it was nice to check in to our accommodation at the Evans Head Bowls Club, do some laundry, and get some solid drinking practice in with gathering friends for the BMWMCQ Christmas Party the following night. On Day 9 we arrived back home, glad to be back as every day is perfect in Queensland and it never rains when riding.