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See
the Photos.
April 29-30 2000 - by Richard Speedy
Background:
The first organised "away" trip was
in February 2000. While on the trip talk turned to other "must-do"
rides that were achievable in a weekend. Brendan and Richard both knew
of the Oxley and thoughts turned to a plan. That plan is what took place
here – great whether ,great roads, and most of all great company.
Attendees:
- Byron VTR1000 (Mr Yoshimura and his twin pipes)
-
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David ZX9R
- Peter TRX850 (Mr Staintune and his twin pipes)
-
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Richard CBR900
Saturday
Richard had agreed to be the provider of muffins
and coffee to start the trip off with. At around 7:45AM the early morning
stillness was disturbed by the sound of a twin. None other than Peter
appeared after a 6:15am start from his home 150KM south.
Next to arrive was Brendan followed by Byron
– the competition between the sound of the twins and the stock-exhaust
in-line 4’s was a no-match.
Byron’s bike was up on the race stand for
an oil check – it was low – too low for the trip. Richard and
Byron departed via car to collect oil. 30 minutes later starters are thumbed
and we are away to motor to our first meeting point via motorway. A call
is placed to David to let him know we are already behind schedule –
little did we know that the day would become more interesting.
Refuel at Windsor and proceed to the meet point
to collect David who has been waiting some time for us in the belief we
could have been early.
Now the ride starts to become what it was all
about – great roads and more great roads.
From Windsor we are on the Putty Road, the plan
is to regroup at the Half-way Roadhouse – 100KM up the road. We maintain
a reasonably tight group as we head for Colo River. After here the fun
begins and Brendan with Richard in tow start to set the pace. Regular
from here the racers hanging-off position becomes the name of the game.
The odd car we come across is quickly dispensed with by using another
quarter turn of the throttle.
After a break of twisities some open straights
appear – Brendan adopts the racers crouch which indicates to Richard
that WFO (warp-factor –one) is about to occur, true speed is seen
before the throttle is relaxed to cruise mode. It’s at this point
our first fright happens. Some errant motorcyclists also with the weekend
on their mind decide to overtake Brendan and Richard in the same lane
– why who knows. Later a situation too chilling explains why we as
a group do not condone such behaviour at any speed – let alone high
speed. Richard has the red-mist descend and decides to give the errant-ones
a chase. Within ten minutes the message is presented – issue closed
- or so we thought. Richard by now has left the main group way behind
– happens at WFO and as he slows for the Half-way Roadhouse, notices
David on the Kwaka behind him – but no one else – his heart
does a jump as he pulls over and hits the kill switch. David explains
that Brendan has got a puncture some 40KM back – "Oh #$%%"
– all ideas race through from going ahead another 75KM to get a repair
kit to calling significant other with a trailer. Richard has the idea
to talk to the owners of the Roadhouse – after some discussion he
emerges with a tubeless tire repair kit and an electric car pump with
some loose wire to jerry-rig a link to a motorcycle battery.
David and Richard return at WFO only to discover
an accident has occurred. It seems members of the errant bikers group
got hung up on each other while overtaking one another on a tight corner.
According to police the bikes had tangled their bike racks spearing one
hapless individual off the road – he is in pain and doesn’t
look well. Later it is revealed that he has lower back injuries - lesson
to all - do not overtake on corners and don’t follow too closely.
With this chilling piece we continue to find Brendan by the side of the
road. Within 25 minutes we are on the road again – Richard completes
his first tubeless repair and Byron’s bike donates the needed battery
for the pump. Who ever said Boy Scouts were nonce’s ?
The group gets on the pace back to the road
house – by now we are 90 minutes behind schedule when we reach the
Halfway Roadhouse. We had left a $20 deposit as good faith – the
owner only wants $3 for the repair and won’t take the change for
beers – there are some saints out there and he is one of them. With
a fond thank-you we head off to Singleton some 75KM further on.
Again Richard finds himself as point as we race
to Singleton and some of the famous Putty twisties. Seeing the 60KMH sign
as we enter Singleton the speed drops to the limit – local police
do not like speeders through their town and we respect this – something
we religiously follow on throughout the trip.
Richard, Peter, and Brendan proceed to find
a service station with Premium and we start the wait. My initial thoughts
are out of fuel. Brendan decides to go back – Richard twigs to switch
on his mobile as everyone has one and hears Byron’s curses about
running out of fuel. Richard negotiates the free use of a fuel container
and after filling the CBR900 and purchasing a tie-down roars back to do
the refuel of first Byron then David who managed 305KM before he went
dry – a feat we are sure he will not repeat.
More time has been lost – Richard has left
instructions to have food ordered so we lose the minimum amount of time.
Now we are 2 hours behind schedule.
Next we are off on to backroads to East Gresford
and then Dungog. The speed is cranked to make some time back. Average
is WFO-1 to improve with the odd WFO-2 when conditions allow. The common
rule of waiting at corners to regroup is rigorously maintained. On to
Gloucester we have our first couple of dirt stretches – the sports
bikes are not motor-crossers and this shows – but despite the slow
speed we don’t lose much time on schedule. More rolling plains with
spectacular scenery – fat cattle everywhere. The road goes from good
to crap in the blink of an eye – some pot holes big enough to swallow
a bike for breakfast and still want more – at least they looked that
big as we speed by. Quick reflexes by the team, means everyone gets through
unscathed.
At Gloucester we refuel with the plan to take
Thunderbolts way to Walcha – the map shows dirt so we head off to
make a good pace before it gets dark. Little were we to know but this
piece of road was our nirvana. Once again the pace is set as we cut towards
the Great Dividing ranges – this is lush country-side and despite
the odd errant cow that decides that the grass is tastier on the other
side of the road we have no incidents.
We come to the start of the climb up the Great
Divide – we stop on a sunny out look for photos – the scenery
is almost ethereal in it appearance – group photos are taken –
Byron does the video thing with the snappy digital camera and we are off.
Richard again in point leaves it in third for the climb out. As Richard
rides the glorious power curve the others roar behind the sound of the
twins bouncing off the rock walls – frightening the wildlife.
As we crest the top of the great Divide something
magic happens – the setting sun is in ours eyes and makes progress
slightly more difficult. What had been planned as dirt ends up being the
finest piece of blacktop we have seen. Like young boys in the candy store
WFO is wound on. This continues for 30-40KM no one really looks at their
speedo – ‘cause once you’re doing WFO who cares. Instead,
no one spends little time sitting still as people’s minds go into
"the zone" as concentration is now paramount as the performance
of our bikes is pushed.
The chase continues past here when Rosella decides
to impede the progress of the CBR900. One bird escapes, the other collects
the radiator at something unprintable – instant feather explosion
– bits of Rosella over the leathers and cockpit. A quick stop occurs
with numerous high-fives and the words of "Oh my God I have been
to heaven". Brendan claims in an effort to chase he saw WFO-11 before
settling the pace. Byron concedes he has now travelled at the fastest
speed ever in his life. With the fading light those with tinted visors
change to clear ones and the race commences to Walcha. The roads command,
rather they demand, high speeds to be maintained in order to get the most
from them. The bikes we have sneer at our meagre efforts to wrench the
maximum from them.
We reach Walcha at dusk and start the refuel
process – mobiles are switched on – bugger no reception when
we try to ring the folk at Gingers Creek to let them know we are later
than expected. We have made up nearly an hour thanks to Thunderbolts Way
and the impressive confidence inspiring roads.
As we prepare to leave a motorcyclist coming
from the east warns us to be on the lookout for wildlife.
Richard in lead decides to wind on WFO to get
as much done before we are in total black and the final 20KM of tight
roads to our accommodation. We have 80KM and 35 minutes – can we
do it ?
As we leave and see the 100KMH sign, throttles
are wound on until we come across the overtake lane covered in gravel
– some hippy-hippy-shake and we are back on blacktop. Must remember
to stay focused despite the tired bodies and tired minds from full on
concentration over the previous 8 hours.
As we come across cars, they are dispensed with
ease, the hi-beam of the CBR900 let’s the wildlife know we are here
– only one ‘roo to cause a mild piece of panic. One Porsche
we blast by is obviously miffed and decides to leave his hi-beams on –
who needs rear mirrors anyway ?
Now it is really dark and we come to the start
of the twisty road leading to Gingers – 20KM of it. There is already
low fog and the road is covered in dew – the butt-pucker factor is
on high. We dare not use our front brakes as a lock-up could prove fatal
– this road has claimed many lives by those who thought they could
tame the Oxley.
Visors start to fog up, even with the Fog-city
liner the mist is covering the outside and with the night bugs from the
earlier 60KM we have a murky mess to see through. Then suddenly, through
the wooded trees is a sign – 4KM to Gingers Creek – this is
the motivation we need to continue. Mentally we start to tick down the
100M sections – a few road deformations cause the odd bang of wedding
tackle on petrol tanks as we loom towards the Gingers Creek road house
– no LIGHTS !! Bugger !!
The barricades are up and we ease our way in,
to find that the owners are going into the Walcha Show for the night and
had been expecting us earlier or at least to call. Explanations of no
phone coverage fall on deaf ears – we sulk as we have clearly offended
our hosts. We are offered crisps from the store as a substitute for dinner
– as there is no other food source out here things look grim. The
owner’s wife decides to stay back and cook for the hungry five while
the owner leaves with the rest of his family. We feel bad as they even
have stocked the bunkhouse fridge with beer.
As we park the bikes Richard notices that his
bag was not completely closed – what is revealed is that a very expensive
mobile phone and sunglasses are missing along with copies of the planning
spreadsheet and maps. Holy hell – Richard is unhappy, until Brendan
remembers papers disappearing from the back of the CBR900 just after leaving
Walcha – a mental note is made to make a 160KM round trip before
breakfast tomorrow to try and find the missing items.
The first beers are cracked as we inspect our
digs for the night – in order to make up for our misdemeanours we
agree to go simple on the food – Works burgers and Apple Pie. We
have even been provided with wine glasses and a bottle opener – the
Ritz of Gingers Creek is now open.
Dinner ends up being monster burgers washed
down with VB’s and 3 bottles of red – desert consists of apple
pie – whipped cream – what Brendan can do with a whipped cream
can defies imagination. Later a bottle of port disappears as we relive
the corners, the speeds, and the fun we have had. Despite the Alpine like
drop in temperature we feel no cold – this happens when you are still
on a high from having a fun filled day. Bench racing ensues as discussion
turns from who went the fastest where when suddenly a deer interrupts
proceedings by wanting our left overs. The remainder of apple-pie and
cream goes to the deer who wants to join in – must be the altitude
that makes the wildlife so damn friendly. A brief joke about venison burgers
for breakfast is quickly settled.
A quick check of the bikes to make sure no bike
does the sinking thing into the soft soil and it is time for lights out.
Sunday
Everyone sleeps soundly with Richard rising
at 6am to shower and head back to Walcha – its cold – very cold
and a heavy dew lies everywhere. The place is magic – green lushness
and the glorious clean air only a place like this can have.
David helps Richard depart with the promise
to be back around 8:30am. Richard by some fluke, finds the maps, route
spreadsheet, sunglasses and the phone – all unscathed save a nick
or two on the mobile – Mr Nokia you make a quality product to survive
a WFO get off. With that, the run back to Gingers is done in 35 minutes
– no traffic and the sun has come up on a glorious day with magic
visibility. On arrival back at the Roadhouse, the other sods are still
stuffing about and yet to have breakfast. We make up with the owners and
all is forgiven and we are treated to a breakfast more in line for feeding
the local timber cutters than a bunch of city boys. After coffee, juice
and breakfast we feel like we can take on the world. Richard refuels the
CBR900 as it is another 80KM for fuel and he has hit reserve due to the
160KM round trip into Walcha. The crew assembles for a brief photo and
gets ready to depart. The email address of the owners is obtained with
a promise to stay in touch. A local has come up from Port Macquarie and
informs us that the road is good but still quite damp in parts –
take care is the advice we are given.
Brendan wants to get some moving footage and
we agree to use a rest stop 1KM down the hill as the loop circuit –
a few passes of each rider are made and it is time to go. Byron and Brendan
take turns at the camera much to the amusement of travellers passing by.
Again the original railway-like efficiency of the trip is out by an hour
and we are yet to really start our return trip.
Brendan sets the pace with Byron’s roaring
VTR following – the glorious growl of the twin Yoshi’s is magical.
Peter is nursing a self-inflicted illness – called a hangover and
suffers with the thump-thump of his Staintune equipped TRX.
We are riding at 8/10’s and we are never
straight for more than 30 seconds before we have a hard right then a hard
left and it goes on for 40KM. Some of us are feeling quite knackered as
we hit Long Flat and enjoy the 85KMH posted corners and doing double plus
10 to keep the senses alive. On the open stretches Byron gives the VTR
a bit of stick only to find Dave on the ZX9 nearly leaves him standing
still. Dave proves to be the quiet one who actually can ride way better
than he lets on.
We regroup and Peter is still feeling delicate.
Brendan cracks the pace for Wauchope and fuel – the hunt is on for
Premium. We refuel and try to enlist the help of the proprietor for directions,
only to be told "I’m not from around here". The maps are
extracted and after a wrong turn we are on the pace again. Traffic is
dispensed with ease.
The main Pacific Highway is traversed and we
see our first Plod booking Mum/Dad/kids on there way back to Sydney –
the speed limit is strictly observed for the 7KM to Kew. We peel off to
go inland again – poor planning causes us to travel more dirt littered
with cowpats. Richard the trip organiser is not getting an award at this
point judging by the grumbles. We rejoin the highway for another stretch
and get more dirt after misreading the map and taking a forestry road
instead of a B-Road. Now Richard is a popular as some of the cow muck
we have ridden through. Maps are extracted, and a route is chosen inland
via Taree and we proceed at a decent clip. At a stop point smiles all
round – we are back to doing serious speed and using our bikes for
what they were made for.
After Taree we take the Bucketts way all the
way to Gloucester – we come to a stop at a pub for food only to be
told – "No lunch here boys". By now Richard has redeemed
himself and Brendan is setting a cracking pace averaging WFO and topping
WFO-11 on the open pieces – he is having fun and it is an effort
for the others to follow.
We reach Gloucester and find a lovely Cafe for
lunch – Byron goes the Cesar’s salad and Richard has the Latte
– with a chocolate frog included. God we feel like yuppies –
mobile phone reception is obtained and a phone home to let them know where
we are, and that we will be late.
Bikes are refuelled and starters are thumbed
again as we are off to Singleton via East Gresford and Dungog. The dirt
we encounter now is nothing to phase the group and the pace is maintained
once tarmac is reobtained .
A quick regroup under the sign "Cranky
Corner Road" ends in a photo stop and the pace quickens into Singleton.
Another refuel and we are off. Just outside
of singleton David stops to change from sunglasses and contacts to glasses.
We catch the others further down putting on thermals and swapping tinted
visors for clear ones. We amuse the young girls across the road at a farmhouse
as we strip off and redress by the side of the road – we wave goodbye
and start the run home. As the twisties start, Peter is in the lead, David
adjusts the pace and rockets the ZX9 by us. The race is on to the Halfway
Roadhouse and with legs and arms crying for a break from the punishment
that the endless corners dole out we continue at a cracking pace. The
road opens up and David’s tail-light is but a speck on the horizon,
Mr Kawasaki makes a fast motorcycle. We regroup in 5 minutes and Brendan
sets the pace to Colo – now the road is getting difficult, visors
are getting clogged with bug-life and on-coming headlights ensure we must
keep something in reserve.
We pass the section where the fallen biker lay
in pain the previous day and respectfully cruise by the now clear crash
scene – only a gouge in the road remains to tell what happened a
little over 24 hours ago – chilling.
High beam becomes a necessity in order to clearly
see the road as the pace is still fast as we all either have commitments
or loved ones to see. Some motorists clearly have no respect for the single-headlight
boys and refuse to dip their beams – frustrating and scary at the
same time. Concentration is now at 10/10’s and the slightest mistake
could be fatal with these ignorant road users. The odd overtake area is
difficult with frustrated car drivers blocking our attempts to pass. We
make Colo as a regroup point and a need to clean visors and allow our
legs and shoulders a stretch before the final run to Windsor is wound
on. Punching up out of the valley is the last we see of serious commute
speeds and we settle the pace once we hit Wilberforce – we have come
more than 1200KM and no tickets so why ruin the weekend. A regroup for
fuel and good byes takes place and the chapter on another ride closes.
We all agree we must do this again as Australia and our own state has
some great roads for riding. It is at this point we can all agree - God
does ride a motorcycle.
Awards:
Most improved: Byron who hustled the VTR with
aplomb
Biggest darkhorse : David who ACTUALLY knows
how to ride real fast
Best motor-crosser: Brendan who bitched more
than most about the dirt bits
Biggest cowpat: the guy on the blackbird that
overtook us on the inside !
Most unlucky: Brendan with a puncture and the
poor Rosella.
Most lucky: Brendan getting the repair fixed
and Richard finding the lost mobile phone.
He who drank the place dry: Peter – followed
by "The Crew" – where did the cork go on that bottle of
port ?
Biggest laugh: Byron who gallantly went to the
rescue of David who ran out of fuel, only to run out himself 2KM later
Saddest story: The biker who came down hard
Favourite corner: The final corner to our homes
Favourite road: Thunderbolts way
Least favourite corner: the tarmac to –
oh my God it’s now dirt corners
Least favourite road: The dirt bits – all
of ‘em
Missed photo opportunity: Using a lipstick-cam
as we road Thunderbolts Way
Best sounding bike - Byron's VTR with the Yoshi
cans.
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