Cindy and I had always enjoyed the BMWMCQ monthly lunch rides. Note the past perfect tense “had” replacing the present perfect tense “have”, at least until the next lunch ride where the tense may change again depending on the rate of emotional and physical recovery.
We had been planning an adventure in one of the world’s last great wildernesses, the Conondale National Park, for some time. Three previous attempts had failed and then been re-branded as “reconnoitre” rides; the Saturday ride in mid-January with euroMoto Tour’s Rikki Dryden which we’d abandoned at the Mt Glorious Café because it was just too jolly hot, the next day’s club breakfast and ride which had been abandoned at Jolly’s Lookout because it was going to be just too jolly hot, then the following week’s ride through the D’Aguilar National Park which we’d abandoned at the Braisen Hussy café in Woodford because it was just too jolly hot.
Ignoring the mantra; if at first you don’t succeed, pretend you can’t try again because you have critical motorcycle maintenance to do, we decided that the BMWMCQ January monthly luncheon was the perfect time for the fourth attempt. The GPS was worked into a lather trying to get a track from Woodford, up Nonmus Road, onto Bellthorpe Range Road, Bellthorpe West Road, which confusingly becomes West Bellthorpe Road, before the connection back through to Aherns Road and the cruise through to the luncheon at the Maleny Hotel. The GPS insisted that Kilcoy Lane is a major highway and arriving at the hotel way too early was likely to be our biggest concern, so it happily drew the magenta line from West Bellthorpe Road and we slept well. The mantra of visually checking all tracks on Google Earth because some exist only on hopeful town planning maps drawn in 1886 was ignored, otherwise sleep patterns may have been disturbed.
The weather looked quite good on the day, overcast and some threat of rain but the temperature was mild with no apparent need for wet weather gear. The trip up Mt Mee and coffee at the Pitstop Café was well timed, with a nasty front coming in from the south and dumping lots of rain while we laughed at riders who had been out in it from inside. The front moved off, so we decided to follow it as the dust would have been eliminated as a hazard on any dirt tracks ahead. Things were going well, too well.
I’ve done the Bellthorpe Range Road many times but always as a follower, so had never realised that it was called the Bellthorpe Range Road. There is no forgetting that tightening and steep hairpin left-hand bend going up the range, one of the most over-cooked corners on the planet, and if ever a vehicle was coming down the other way at the same time it would be festooned with motorcycle hood ornaments.
The gravel started unexpectedly on the Bellthorpe West Road, but the showers of rain had quelled the dust and the surface was smooth. Somewhere about there, the GPS’ unshakeable confidence in getting us to lunch early turned to uncertainty, hesitation, and confusion. Unfortunately, picking the mood swings of a GPS is difficult unless you know where you are supposed to be going, which pretty much negates the point of having the GPS. Turning west toward Kilcoy at a tee intersection didn’t seem right, nor did continuing west past a few intersections, at which point it became clear that the GPS had decided going to Maleny was a “where do you see yourself in 5 years?” style of interview question answer.
Leadership without a co-operative GPS was inspiring for Cindy until the 5th U-turn, at which point conversation on the intercom coincidentally turned to the topic of the fate of Tsar Nicolas II after the Russian revolution. So out came the presciently named Mud Maps app, which put our location into big picture perspective, and had us heading back in the right direction along West Bellthorpe Road. Avoiding the display of old machinery at the Bellthorpe Conservation Park due to time and the rain suddenly becoming lightly pressing, the next problem materialised at the Kilcoy Lane intersection, which existed only on hopeful town planning maps drawn in 1886. What may have been the actual Kilcoy Lane did exist about 100m further on but was a suspicious red clay colour and a two-wheel track, completely unsuitable for persons without a change of clothes and shortly due at a hotel luncheon. So, press on into the increasing heavy rain, surely a highway version of Kilcoy Lane is just around the corner.
Accidents on the Bellthorpe Road in the rain are always the result of a series of stupid decisions.
Stupid decision No.1: The road was becoming very slippery on any short red clay sections. A sign with the top part missing, yet unnecessary due to the bottom part proclaiming “When Wet” is observed. Deciding to keep going and power up the steep red clay hill wildly fish-tailing wasn’t ideal. A series of undesirable slides along a flat red clay section, then quits was called as it was awesome both of us were still upright. The choices were; to keep going and hope the red clay disappeared and a dusty gravel road to Maleny appeared, or turn around and go a long way back. Turning around was a good choice.
Stupid decision No.2: When getting back to the red clay hill, deciding to ride down. At least riding up has the weight on the back wheel and the engine is helping against gravity and no braking is necessary. On the way back down, no-one knows what the hell was going on, but all aspects of the machine and rider became useless, including engine, brakes, tyres, the lot. Even screaming in terror didn’t help, although it is line ball whether it ever does. So the speed of the uncontrolled slide just increased and direction became more chaotic, until finally the wheels and the centre of gravity filed for divorce and the fun was over.
Fortunately, no major injury was the result even though I was standing up and the only rock between Woodford and Jimna was landed on, so the bike was back up and, as should have happened the first time, safely walked along the edge down to the bottom, where it was gently laid over on the other side. Cindy had not ventured down the hill but had put the side-stand down in gloop so at one point there were no normally parked motorcycles. Fortunately, a 4WD passed at just the right moment, keeping Cindy’s record of complete strangers being on hand to help her pick up her motorcycle intact. Beside that minor incident her riding skill was unblemished for the day in technically very demanding conditions. Unlike mine.
After some very heavy puffing, walking, and sliding Gus down the hill, we were back on and repeating some slippery bits until we got back to the bitumen. A stop at Bellview was required to use an overflowing water tank at the community hall to wash the mud from the Sunday best, before heading off to Maleny. It had rained on and off while out in the wilderness, but we were still reasonably dry which was good considering our pressing luncheon engagement. Until 5 minutes out of Maleny when a torrential rain event went over us, prompting regretful recollection that since numerous previous drenching’s we had promised ourselves to pack spare clothes.
We were only half an hour late to meet up with the large turn-out of BMWMCQ friends at lunch, and with a bit of Glad Wrap over the plush seats, who knows but the Maleny Hotel may not have had to chuck them out.
Attempt No.5 is imminent. Just waiting for a drought.
travellingbennetts 