good onya blokes !!

I am actually surprised you have made it past the end of your street with all these posts GITH. But we sure do appreciate them.
rossco

I met up with Dee Why (top bloke!) in Strathfieldsaye, just east of Bendigo, we chatted easily for half an hour, I strapped the spare pannier mount to the seat and after saying our goodbyes and thank yous, we headed out in our respective directions. But not before he clued me in to some really terrific country roads leading southwards towards my destination. On his sage moto advice I managed to avoid nearly all of the main roads and have an hour and a half blast over some fine, winding, two-lane back roads.

From one corner to the next the smiles came fast and furious. This is the old Bridge Hotel, now defunct, across the Goulburn river from Murchison, Victoria.

On the way to Clunes, the original Victorian goldrush town.



Main Street, Clunes, and the town featured in the original Mad Max film where the Toe Cutters Motorcycle Club rampaged and danced in the streets. Grab your old dusty VHS copy of it and watch it to see the corrugated metal garage featured in the film (on the right hand side of this picture) is still a car workshop to this day.

Had a hot cuppa tea with Mum, she's in good spirits, and now stirring that promised home made soup while I run out to the local pub for a coupla bottle of, hmmm, something Victorian....in honour of my location for several days more, better make it a VB, Victorian Bitter, or in the local vernacular, Vomit Bombs!

Wow, that shot of the bike in front of the defunct Bridge Hotel is now my desktop photo.

Fantastic photos!

blakey wrote:Wow, that shot of the bike in front of the defunct Bridge Hotel is now my desktop photo.
Fantastic photos!

Ta, Blakey. Have some more...

The Bridge Hotel, which closed in 1971, seems to be undergoing some sort of painfully slow resto. Murchison Victoria.


A London plane tree sheds its foliage as sunlight filters down through the branches. Until almost this moment it had been heavily overcast.


Red bike, red leaves.


Along the Golden Highway, Shady Hollow, New South Wales.

rossco wrote:I am actually surprised you have made it past the end of your street with all these posts GITH. But we sure do appreciate them.
rossco

Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing Rossco. How does he fit it all in.

GITH, great to meet up with you and have a chat. Always good when a plan comes together.

Hope you enjoyed the North Harcourt Road.

And thanks for all the gossip on the SE Queensland inmates.

Enjoy your stay.

"And thanks for all the gossip on the SE Queensland inmates."

Don't like the sound of that...

Ditto Blakey! that "red bike, red leaves" pic is now my screensaver. Gives me an unmerciful dose of wanderlust, I just want to sit on the bike ease the clutch out and see what's next around that distant bend. Go GiTH Go!

88KE

Wow, I just saw the "red bike red leaves" pic.

That's freakin' art!

"Go GiTH Go" That would look good on a t-shirt.

Guest, I suggest that the three residents of SANDY Hollow may wish to have the name of their village corrected. When the three wise men came through Werris Creek in NSW, I had to explain to the others that it was not vandalism, but locals who painted with red over the brand new sign that had misspelt the name of their town. A lot of money and the sign was wrong.
In Warkworth on the Golden Highway police had their warning signs out...Police are now targeting speeding.. A sign was placed on both ends of the village and some one painted out the s and d in speeding. I remember seeing those signs like that for about 6 months before they were taken down. Gee the police were tough on those who needed a toilet break.

I like the second one looking out from under the tree.
Those autumn colours are something that we in the South East of Queensland just dont see much

ainsjac wrote:Guest,
In Warkworth on the Golden Highway police had their warning signs out...Police are now targeting speeding.. A sign was placed on both ends of the village and some one painted out the s and d in speeding. I remember seeing those signs like that for about 6 months before they were taken down. Gee the police were tough on those who needed a toilet break.

Funny that, as the inspiration for a photograph of that view came from a moment's pause spent having a roadside slash.

Rick G wrote:I like the second one looking out from under the tree.
Those autumn colours are something that we in the South East of Queensland just dont see much

True, and the camera's limited lens didn't quite capture how intense and brilliant those colours actually were. I waded through them half way up to my knees. It reminded me a bit of my time spent in New England, the US states of Vermont and Massachusetts in what they call the 'Fall'. I suppose that's a bit like Aussies talking casually about the 'wet' or the 'dry'. Though I recall Americans would rarely say Autumn when they talked or wrote of the season. Either way, it was bloody beautiful!

Ah Massachusetts.......At least two of the BeeGees have finally made it ..."back to Massachusetts."

As a Yank, it's very strange to see the 'fall' currently on display somewhere else, even while admitting my unfamiliarity with your beautiful country. I have enjoyed reading and viewing the travel posts that GITH and others have posted from Aussie, and it does make me yearn to travel there someday.

The next best thing to riding and exploring on one's own bike is to see the excitement of others who are travelling in their neck of the woods. Here's hoping my life schedule actually permits me to do some significant touring of my own this summer here in the Northeast, and I'll be sure to share pix if I do.

GITH, thank you for your excellent travelogue! Enjoy the rest of your trip.

yep its all agreed bob ...we love seeing travell pics.... even better if you can get together and share some of the experiences ....

our local mob out here welcomed some southerners up to "our neck of the woods" not long ago

im hoping they will relay the trip to some friends they might meet ....and treasure the sights on their trip .. as we have when travelling south in their area ...

ol mate "gith" does have a way with words and an appreciation of sharing his visual teasers ... were pretty lucky to have him round to share some of the stories that abound when we meet up ...or on here with us all

cheers "gith" happy travels

Today, like yesterday, was a non-motorbiking sort of day.

Dawn arrived grey and cold with a brisk wind blowing over the dry pastoral landscape. The bare, rolling hills have few large trees and windbreaks are rows of sentinal-like poplars or stubby, dark green pines. My elderly Mum and I walked with scarves round our necks and overcoats about our shoulders for two kilometres to the newly-opened train station on the Maryborough to Ballarat line, which happens to have a single stop per day on the inbound run.

At a quarter past seven this morning we crunched our way across frosted grass and felt the bite of the breeze against exposed skin. It was not particularly cold, at less than 5 degrees celcius, but dry air made it sting a bit more sharply. At the station platform we spoke to other passengers while waiting the train's arrival. Precisely on 7.51AM it rounded the bend and we moved to position. The doors slid open on the three cars of the diesel powered unit, we found expansive rows of seats and only several people per car, but it was warm and comfortable inside. The doors slid closed and we were off. A pleasant chap punched a hole in our tickets with a smile.


Whistlestop. Clunes, Victoria, the V Line.

Over the countryside through the small town of Creswick, over open fields, round bends and through dense pine forests we rolled smoothly on. A line of low-hanging grey clouds sat at the edge of the sky to the west. A golden orange orb rose steadily through breaks of blue to the east. The train slid into the line of cloud and was devoured. The feel of the morning changed.


Morning, east.


Morning, west.

We'd entered Ballarat, often the coldest city in Victoria. The doors slid open and disgorged passengers. We melted in to the melee. At the station a queue of people stood waiting for a cup of coffee or an egg sanga. Urban Victorians, not unlike Londoners, seem to favour dark clothing to match the bleak mood of impending Winter. We decided to find a brighter, more comfortable cafe and eat a leisurely brekky. The relatively empty morning city was only just waking. Soft shoes tramped over cold footpaths, a hard city block, then another until we landed at the doorstep of an inviting place called Java something. Its orange walls were adorned with stylised pictures of original Minis, the first Beetle and an FJ Holden. We selected a table and revelled in the warmth, made all the more pleasant by the overhead rattan fans slowly circling above near the ceiling, spreading the air down over us.

Hot coffee steamed and soothed, its strength a succor to our previously chilled bones. I pulled off my hat and slunk further down into my chair. Office people came and went, waitstaff buzzed and circled, the cold wind snuck in in swirls through the rapidly opening and closing front glass door. Satisfied and sated, we headed for the door and into the folds of a kerbside taxi's backseat.

It was time to check out our hire car, a bright red Yaris with a 1.3 motor that spun and whined and barely got us moving. Into the mall, entering shops, grabbing tins of vegies, bags of rice and pasta, and fresh food, through cash register queues, past rows of housewives pushing prams and trolleys stocked with a week's worth of shopping, school children wagging class, or delaying the inevitable.

Back into the countryside we went, on bumpy tarmac that twisted and turned past pastures full of grazing sheep and cattle, old farmhouses with rusting, corrugated rooves and long, gravel driveways, and acreage that spread and undulated for miles into the distance.

Back in Clunes we met up with elderly aunts and uncles, made party plans with cousins, sipped cups of tea, ate sweet treats, and tossed lumps of red gum and box wood into brightly burning wood stoves. Tomorrow, a half day's drive across Victoria to the other side of the city to visit still more elderly aunties, two years since a previous visit, and this could be the last time.

One never knows how time goes. We know the day we were born, most of us anyway. But it's the other very important day we don't know with such certainty.

Yep. GITH has a way with words.

Been thinking about time a lot. Recently, I've been 'bestowed' with a new, unwanted domestic situation and a newly-ill elderly parent. Can't seem to find the time to ride the way I would like to, and I have been forced to consider the end-of-life stuff, as well.

All the more reason to enjoy others' travel pix and stories. Guest, please keep 'em coming and thanks to all who post here. Reading this forum is a genuinely satisfying online experience, mainly because of the quality of the folks who populate it.

bobgass wrote:. Reading this forum is a genuinely satisfying online experience, mainly because of the quality of the folks who populate it.

+1 Bogass , couldn't agree more.



Lovin' the blog GITH, have you written professionally of your other travels around the globe? (of which I gather there are many) I'd buy a copy!

88KE

I don't know about working at motorbike shops GITH, i think you have missed your calling.
Maybe a job at a motorbike magazine would be more suitable considering your ability. Or maybe a bike travel book is in the pipeline.

As others have said its great to read your blog, at least if the rest of us can't get away we can read about your adventures. Great pics too.

Rick i hope all is well with you and your family.

Jees GITH, I thought I was reading a novel... great stuff!

This is a great read. It makes you see what is possible and what a trip is all about - enjoying the ride, opening your eyes to what is around you and smiling at the end of the day.

Aw, shucks fellas...thanks, I mean it. Glad you enjoy the read as much as I enjoy the write.

I am currently in quaint Maldon, Victoria at the International Trials Competition, being held in and around town on Mt Tarrengower.

It's grey, cool and. raining, but the crowd and the competitors seem to have had a fine day. Judging by the length of the wait for a cuppa, the local shop owners are experiencing a residual.

Good work gith , nearly as good as being there.
Since you have already changed your handle once can i suggest doing so again ? Guest in forum threads would allow us to call you the
GIFT.

Good one GITH. I always enjoy reading your travel logs. You always put a touch of humour too.

CF

Spotted in Daylesford, Victoria while out riding about in 8c degree grey weather and in need of a warming cuppa. The British Motorbike industry is dead. Long live the British motorbike industry! Can you imagine what bike manufacturers such as Ariel would be like today if they'd kept up and exceeded our expectations like the Japanese did, (he say to no one in particular). It's the coffee talking.


Hail, what yonder approaches!? Pardon me my obvious error for intruding on your right of stampeding passage. I shall slip to the left quickly that ye might pass by unimpeded, for there are but one of me and very many of ye. A quick, friendly wave of the hand from the farmer in the ute and all's well. Baaah.


"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in New Zealand anymore."

The wonders of rurual Victoria. If not for the dryness it would remind of Devon and other areas of Ol' Blighty. So far this week I've stopped in and around Clunes, Ballarat, Castlemaine, Smeaton, Campbelltown, Newstead, Creswick, Daylesford, Maldon, and etc., I have: crawled round under and over an aged VN Commodore (Holden, GM's Australian division) looking for why the motor went clunk, had a birthday party for my 77 year old uncle complete with cousins and aunties, drank copious amounts of wine, Cooper's ale, and strongly brewed black tea, chopped, split and stacked (and burnt) a whole heapload of firewood and replaced all of the firebricks inside of an old Coonara wood-burning stove, driven across Melbourne twice in peak hour, harvested ripe Persimmons, gone window shopping for 'stuff' with the ladies (oh, the bore, they should have a chair outside of those shops for the blokes, and a stack of appropriately thick magazines), laid some pavers and sand out the back of Mum's cottage for when and if Summertime ever arrives (we Aussies tend to live outdoors in the brighter season), fed the sheep, bought a woolen beanie for my bald head 'cause it's so bloody cold here, tinkered wif me bike ('cause we do that), looked at page after page of black & white family photos from last century, and learnt a bit more about how and why my olive-growing Italian grandfather (Guiseppe Tancredi) suddenly left Foggia, Italy to go to South America then cross the Pacific ocean in an ancient steamer with his younger brother Angelo, to Melbourne in the late-1920s (he was a pacifist and Mussolini and his goose-stepping blackshirts were not). Family, you can't choose 'em so you might as well embrace 'em. I see my own beautiful daughter in the face of my mother and her mother from the '50s and the '30s. All in a weeklong stay with Mum. Beautiful stuff indeed.


Glengower Road on the way to Creswick. The rounded-off hills round these parts and the red red soil are remnants of long extinct volcanoes. Mid-1800s saw the first Victorian gold rush with piles of offcast, or tailings scattered here and there over the countryside, some areas of the countryside are heavily forested and others open and expansive like in this scene. The roads are winding, often narrow and lanes aren't marked, a bit bumpy, but beaut for motorbikes.

The misty rain has begun anew on this grey Tuesday morning. I've seen the sun a coupla times but it ain't what I'd call balmy. It's drive me barmy if I had to live here. I am verily haverin' for the return trip to Queensland (two or three more days, I reckon) where the nighttime lows are higher than the daytime highs here. But I wouldn't have given up the opportunity, to have sat with the old ones in my family and hear the tales, for anything. They a make a mighty good cuppa, too: loose leaves, extra long steeping time, a dab of fresh honey on the end of the teaspoon (to cut the tannin flavour) and a healthy splash of whole milk from the cow, unpasturised and you can see the green paddock where the fresh grass grows that ol' Bessie the cow chewed on just yesterday. Never mind that she's got like four stomachs for it to pass through.

Cheers all.

Great tales GITH. I look forward to reading these regularly. It's so good to learn about you and your country.

nice one gith

thanks for the update... havent seen sheeps for ages

hmmm holden vn - vp engine going clunk ....check the harmonic balencer on the front of the motor ...yes that bloody huge wheel down the bottom where the fan belts connect up ...they are renoun for busting the rubber on the isolation ring after many years ...not detectable till you hear that clunk every now and then ....it will anounce its failure in the not distant future when it will give way completely followed by a verry weird rotating noise as the teeth of the balencer grind against the engine proper

some times you can detect it by reving the motor and listening as it comes back to idle ....if it has an air conditioner turn it on and the headlights as well to add load to the whole deal

you used to be able to buy a rebuilt harmonic balencer at about 1/3rd the price of an new one ...under $80 ...not sure if they still make them

the next thing that goes clunk is the rubber mounted arm idle pully ....often the bearing just dry out and go knees up . but make an awfull racket when you hit bumps whilst driving

cheers safe trip !!

I reckon the harmonic balancer which I replaced less than two years ago and still has its sticker on is nothing compared to the spun rod bearing and subsequently siezed crank.... I was told it went clunk.

"But is was running fine before, a little bit noisy, until I went to start it again!" She said.

Thanks for the tip though. This old bomb is ready for the tip.

Now I'm hanging new clothesline, a tad more domestic.

oil ? whats that ...im sure i checked it ten years ago ??? it never uses any anyhow !!!! giggle





your a "good son" gith ....hope she is pleased to see you

Sounds like quite a full week GITH. Glad you're enjoying a real winter, not just a dry season.
Try and have a look at Anderson's Mill just 1km south of Smeaton if you get the chance.

Cheers,

charlie99 wrote:oil ? whats that ...im sure i checked it ten years ago ??? it never uses any anyhow !!!! giggle. You're a "good son" gith ....hope she is pleased to see you

Funny thing is, regarding the car, it was my uncles, and had very low kms. It's actually an '89 model Toyota Lexcen, same as a VN Commo, as you know, with 85000 kms on it and was kept in Surfers Paradise at his holiday home. He lived mainly in Rosanna, near Melbourne, and the oil was changed twice a year whether it needed it or not. In the three years my Mum's had it I've changed it several times too. Nuh, the car was well-maintained and not used often, kept garaged and only needed a new radiator and the duco a scrub up when it was un-mothballed for re-use after his passing. If I had the time and a chainfall I'd whack a reco 3.8 into it and call it good, but. My other uncle's Holden Dunnydoor did the same thing last year. It must be the Clunes weather, or gold dust ingestion. Yeah, that's it.

Save that gold dust GITH. It might come in handy one day.

CanberraDave wrote:Save that gold dust GITH. It might come in handy one day.

Shall I pan it from the used sump oil, Dave?

Whatever works Mate. There's Gold In Them Hills. Or should that be oil?

clever stuff dave ,,,,,,touche !!

It's all fool's gold. I reckon it goes, There's Gold In Them Thar Hills, Dave. Your version just doesn't have the right ring to it!

Sorry, I couldn't work GITH with two T's. I enjoy reading your travel tales, please keep them coming. I did hear a rumor though that there are many jealous Queenslanders waiting for you at the border. Getting to see what winter is realy like and all.

A sultry -3c here tonight. That equates to about -10c or -12c for the ride to work tomorrow. Coming back over the Snowy Mountain might be out of the question for you. They had about 30cm of snow over the weekend. They are even going to start the ski season a week early. That means there are some great roads which will be off limits for a month or three now.

Keep the updates coming.

My afternoon. It started as a great big pile in the middle of the gravel drive.


This morning was more pleasant. These blokes can fly!

125cc two stroke engines with a place for a bum, an aluminium airframe, a carbon fibre prop, some cord and a fabric sheet over yer head, and not much else. Think of it as a minimalist café racer in the air.


In the main street, Clunes. Ain't she perty!

Heading out from Mexico to my home in the North mañana (tomorrow morning).

˙dn sǝɔɐɟ ǝɹǝɥdsıɯǝɥ uɹǝɥʇnos ǝɥʇ ʇɔɐɟ uı ʇnq doʇ uo sı plɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇsǝɹ ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɥʇ sɐ slǝǝɟ ʇı sǝɯıʇǝɯos ¡ɹǝpun uʍop ɯoɹɟ sƃuıʇǝǝɹƃ

Gee that's a great pile of fire wood are you comming my way by chance

Rick G wrote:Gee that's a great pile of fire wood are you comming my way by chance

My woodsman, green thumb, radical, free-thinking father, rest his soul, used to say that a person is warmed at least three times by burning wood: once when you cut it, twice when you stack it...

It took about two hours to haul 3 metres of red gum, oak and boxwood across the drive and stack it neatly in an L shape a metre and a half high for Mum to use this coming Winter. She's already had the stove going regularly. It's a warm memory for me (pardon the pun) as we burnt wood for heating and cooking from my childhood in Victoria and Tasmania, and later on too when I lived in the US's New England, a Vermont Castings-brand Defiant wood/coal combo sat proudly glowing in the corner of my front room. My ex used to smile and say that I 'smelt of woodsmoke'. Perhaps that's another reason she's my ex...

It's Thursday, 6.30AM, still dark, hovering above the freezing point, woodfire glowing nicely, the first cuppa's poured, the bike packed, my warm riding gear ready to throw on. I depart when the frost begins to melt with the morning's first sunlight. I doubt I'll make it past Parkes NSW today, at about 9-1/2 hours of steady riding and 750 kms distance away. I'm giving myself a three day ride towards home, have a good look around, breathe it in - smell the scent, open my eyes - see the sights, rein the tempting throttle twist in a bit - keep it close to legal speeds.

More pics to follow. Cheers!

Go safely and enjoy the ride!
88

I was riding along under the sun, the frost melting away rapidly, the cool air warming up to 17c or so from last night's low of 3c, the motorbike feeling unusually smooth & powerful,. I was checking out the scenery and overtaking almost every car and slow-moving B-double (big truck in OZ speak). Screw good fuel mileage, I was seduced by the right hand twist grip and sat between 115 and 130 km/h for mile after mile. The beauty of it all had me humming my favourite musicians, like Johnny Cash, inside my helmet.

"I've been everywhere, man, I've been everywhere..." Only difference, well, a big difference, the place-names rang a little less like the US of A and a bit more like indigenous OZ.

It started with the aboriginal place name of Baringhup, moved onto Goornong, then Burnewang, through Corop, Carag Carag, Mooroopna, Congupna, Marungi, Yarroweyah, Koonoomoo (I'm not making these up!) and into Tocumwal, over a waterway called 'Turn Back Jimmy Creek', then followed by Jerilderie, Bundure, Morundah, Corobimilla, Gillenbah and over the mighty Murrumbidgee river into Narrandera (still heaps of pools of stagnant floodwaters around from three months back), round the bend at Grong Grong, past Mirrool, Alleena, right next to Buddigower, and finally stopping for the night at Wyalong, West Wyalong, that is. Yeah, I've been everywhere, man.


I'm in the old and faded Metropolitan hotel. The room's got a decent heater and a very comfy bed, the bright red motorbike's locked up out the back under cover, I've got wifi reception in my room, and the pub and grub are just downstairs. The camera was in my pocket all day. Did I snap any photos as I passed? Not a one. But it's in my head, all of it.

Yeah, I've got everything, man...

Sounds like a nice relaxing days ride in great weather. Enjoy the ride home.

West Wyalong. I like that place as a stopover. Maybe that's where we should meet for that ride people are talking about?

CanberraDave wrote:Sounds like a nice relaxing days ride in great weather. Enjoy the ride home.

It was a meandering 630+/- pleasant kilometres over some easy ground. Tomorrow, off the beaten track, rain-dependent. The 'weather' is heading my way.

Saxon7 wrote:West Wyalong. I like that place as a stopover. Maybe
that's where we should meet for that ride people are talking
about?

It's only about 1100 kms from Brissy...

Yes, fair point. It's probably at the limit of my comfortable day's riding and that's about 400km closer than Brissie. Next!

//www.bom.gov.au/products/national_radar_sat.loop.shtml

The blue and yellow swirly patch dropping rapidly towards NSW from Queensland is what I'm heading into by day's end. I'm glad I've got my rain gear.

Guest in the House wrote:I was riding along under the sun, the frost melting away rapidly, the cool air warming up to 17c or so from last night's low of 3c, the motorbike feeling unusually smooth & powerful,. I was checking out the scenery and overtaking almost every car and slow-moving B-double (big truck in OZ speak). Screw good fuel mileage, I was seduced by the right hand twist grip and sat between 115 and 130 km/h for mile after mile. The beauty of it all had me humming my favourite musicians, like Johnny Cash, inside my helmet.

"I've been everywhere, man, I've been everywhere..." Only difference, well, a big difference, the place-names rang a little less like the US of A and a bit more like indigenous OZ.

It started with the aboriginal place name of Baringhup, moved onto Goornong, then Burnewang, through Corop, Carag Carag, Mooroopna, Congupna, Marungi, Yarroweyah, Koonoomoo (I'm not making these up!) and into Tocumwal, over a waterway called 'Turn Back Jimmy Creek', then followed by Jerilderie, Bundure, Morundah, Corobimilla, Gillenbah and over the mighty Murrumbidgee river into Narrandera (still heaps of pools of stagnant floodwaters around from three months back), round the bend at Grong Grong, past Mirrool, Alleena, right next to Buddigower, and finally stopping for the night at Wyalong, West Wyalong, that is. Yeah, I've been everywhere, man.


I'm in the old and faded Metropolitan hotel. The room's got a decent heater and a very comfy bed, the bright red motorbike's locked up out the back under cover, I've got wifi reception in my room, and the pub and grub are just downstairs. The camera was in my pocket all day. Did I snap any photos as I passed? Not a one. But it's in my head, all of it.

Yeah, I've got everything, man...

Great writing mate, - keep it coming!

Keeping my fingers crossed for you! Great commentary!!

Most Aussies have driven the Newell Highway from Tocumwal, Victoria outback through central New South Wales and over the border into Queensland to Goondiwindi. It drones on an on and there's not a lot to see right up close. Vast acres of emptiness, grazing land, crops, and gum trees as far as the eye can see. There are low, scrubby and rocky hills off in the distance, a few interesting signs to read, lotsa cattle and sheep, and plenty of heavy trucks, but not-quite road trains (they don't allow the really long, three and four car trucks this close to civilisation).

Here and there it's interesting. The towns are colourful and the main streets have plenty of thriving shops and cafes. Most of them are places where I could settle, with a river and parks and nice neighbourhoods full of rows of neat houses in the Australian early to mid-20th century style - most towns, but not all. Some are dried up, dust bowl, dead grass, stink of cattle, dregsvilles. But some are quite lovely. I s'pose it has a bit to do with the quality of the soil, the interest and pride one shows in their town and other socio-economic factors. The Dubbo to Gilgandrah to Coonabarabran (say Koona-barra-bran) to Narrabri (say Narra-bry) stretch is like that, so much so that I had to divert and pass through the Warrumbungles National Park, which eventually empties out at the quiet little astronomy hub of Coonabarabran. There's heaps of observatories up there due to the clear nights of the billion star hotel. It was nice, empty, scenic, twisty, but not spectacular road, though I took some photos (which I'll post after a shower and a well-deserved beer). I'm stopped for the night as the rains have set in, at first lightly but now it's a drizzle that's got the dust running down the sides of everything.

But there's a road that runs away from Narrabri that'll have me heading back this way soon.

Go to www.maps.google.com.au and under ' Get Directions' type in Narrabri NSW to Bingara NSW. Just north and east of Narrabri you'll see a little-known road that runs up round Mt Kaputar through the national park and over Killarney Pass (those Irish were everywhere!). It's over 110 kms of pure motorbike heaven. I saw several cars, but had to overtake none of them as they were coming the other way, and followed a snaking road that crested and dipped and turned and climbed and went through a dozen or so water crossings (mainly dry). It was blissful. Lots of goats graze up there, the grass seemed drier than the surrounding farmlands, a river ran next to the road for a while with a fair bit of running water in it - this in a very dry country, usually. The rocky peaks are evidence of long-ago volcanic activity, and I spotted a sign that hinted at glacial action along the mountain range too. It's hard to imagine the remote and dry Australian continent ever having been subjected to a mass of ice but long ago it did. I had time to look around, but mainly I was head down, bum up, feet back and going for it on an amazing ribbon of road. Here and there were cracks in the tarmac, a bit of roadwork going on, a few potholes, but mainly it was a smooth and undulating road that climbed up and over the low range.


"How do they get the 'Roos to cross near the yellow signs?"

I managed a few good speed runs along some two or three kilometre, smooth straights. At one stage I went for it and tucked in behind the screen, elbows in and saw 9300 rpm (no rev limiter on this mighty K) and the speedo needle steadily settling in on 245 km/h! That's 152 mph in the old money and I reckon there must be a tad of error in the dial. But what a rush, it's never gone that fast before and it wasn't aided in any way by a downhill decline. It has been running really well on this trip. There's nothing like a good roadtrip to blow out the dulling daily drone of commuter cobwebs in both man and machine!


The twisties go on forever.

At the end of the road is the quaint and tidy little bush town of Bingara, a name I'd never heard of nor seen on the map prior to this ride homewards. I'm glad I stopped. I can see the potential for this particular hotel because they have a clean place here with lots of rooms, some ensuite, and an attached motel. Rooms range from $35 to $65 to $85 per night. I lashed and and got myself into an ensuite. The 'shared facilities' of last night's room in West Wyalong put me off that idea for a while. Pictures after beer and dinner. Cheers!


The Imperial Hotel. Bingara, New South Wales. Cold drinks, bike parking out the back, clean rooms, good tucker.