GGEEOOFFFF''SS JJAAUUNNTTThe Second Grand Tour: October 201 4

Peter Hubach

The 2nd Grand Tour started to take shape in

Geoff's mind over two years ago. He wanted

to go back to the GP at Phil l ip Island, this time

riding the whole way. I f he was going to ride to

the mysterious east, he may as well do a bit of

touring around whilst there. The trip was

planned meticulously and was to last for seven

weeks with many milestone stopovers. Books,

maps and the internet were consulted,

photographs gathered and an article written for

the magazine in typical enthusiastic Geoff

style.

There were two years to refine the detai ls, get people's attention and have them apply for leave from theiremployment and partners. A few members showed interest. I t was a bit of a commitment, being away for so longand also, probably a bit expensive. Eventual ly, Geoff shortened the trip to four weeks which necessari ly reducedthe touring.

Now the trip would be across the Nullarbor, down the Eyre Peninsular, up the other side, through the Flinders toPeterborough, Broken Hil l and Silverton, then south into Victoria, The Grampians, Castlemaine, Ballarat andSovereign Hil l , then into the Snowy Mountains, up Kosciuszko, through Thredbo and Khancoban, at Bairnsdale wewould do the Barry Sheene Tribute Ride down to Phil ip Island for the GP then west to The Great Ocean Road,Mount Gambier and The Blue Lake and back across the Nullarbor to Perth. Sti l l a good trip.

Only four riders started the trip, Geoff (Triumph Adventure), Russell (Kawasaki 650), Bob (Honda Blackbird) and me(Moto Guzzi Norge). Fred arranged for one of his BMWs (the RT) to be freighted to Melbourne. Fred would fly overand ride from Melbourne to meet us in Bairnsdale and do the tribute ride. Geoff had arranged a three bedroomhouse for accommodation in Cowes. Gemma, his fiancé, would fly over and stay with us for the GP. Fred would notbe comfortable in single story domestic architecture so he arranged to stay in a motel. After the GP, Fred would ridewith us towards Adelaide and then peel off to freight his bike back and fly to Perth. Most of the accommodationother than at Cowes would be camping. That was the plan and you know what happens to plans. . .

Well wishers at departurefrom Bakers Hil l Pie Shop

I rode a totaldistance of 1 0,323kilometres. TheNorge used 544.7l itres of fuel,5.3L/1 00km. Themost expensivefuel was atMadura, $2.20/Land the cheapestwas at Wonthaggiat, $1 .25/L.

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What is this fascination with gadgets?Music players, in-helmetcommunicators, micro cameras,“smart” phones, tyre pressuresensors, and don't get me started onGPSs. OK, tyre pressure sensorssound like a good idea. Thesegadgets attach to the tyre valve andsend the tyre pressure reading viabluetooth to some other electronicdevice (gadget).

Russell had these fitted and somehow they alsoconnected with his in-helmet communicator. Thesame in-helmet communicator that initial lycommunicated with Bob's in-helmet communicatorunti l i t didn't, pretty early on in the trip and Russelland Bob were unable to fathom out why. So Bobspent the rest of the trip l istening to Brian Ferryinstead of Russell .

Somewhere in Victoria I was riding behind Russell .The road was quite twisty in places and there werea few cars in the way, (aren't there always?).Normally, Russell would exercise the right wristand graceful ly overtake when safe. This time hewasn't. He remained behind the cars and seemedto be ignoring the obvious chances of getting past.

The reason being we later discovered, was that the bike was handling a bit odd . Russell was trying to work out whywhen the emergency alarm over-rode the Kamal's Greatest Hits playing in his earphones and he saw from thegadget readout that his front tyre had only 1 7lb pressure.

We stopped. We examined the tyre and couldn't see any sign of puncture. When Russell looked at the tyrepressure gadget, he found that it was loose on the valve. The gadget had deflated the tyre and then warned him. I twas as if it was trying to attract attention to itself. Geoff to the rescue with another gadget! Geoff had a small aircompressor that ran off the bike's battery. In almost no time the tyre was reflated and the tyre pressure gadget morefirmly attached. Now that pump was a useful gadget to have but we wouldn't have needed it if Russell hadn't fittedthe tyre pressure gadget in the first place.

Bike alarms are another gadget. Geoff's Triumph came fitted with a beauty. When parked and it detectedmovement or the presence of a carbon based life form, it beeped. I f you didn't acknowledge that the alarm hadsounded, the bike sulked for hours. Then, when you were least expecting it, it set off another alarm of a differentbeep sequence to alert you to the fact that the first alarm had gone off at some time. We lost count of the times itwarned us that the first alarm had gone off. Strangely, we never heard the first alarm. Eventual ly, Geoff worked outhow to turn the damn thing off or maybe, he just cut a wire somewhere.

GPS, that's an acronym for Get PerfectlyStumped. Not only do they attract yourattention away from your actualsurroundings but the information theysupply is sometimes just plain wrong. Forexample, leaving Mansfield to get toAlbury, Geoff keyed in the criteria forsealed, back roads. Pretty soon thebitumen stopped and the road surface wassomething l ike loose blue metal. Wecontinued, thinking that it may be just ashort section. I t wasn't. After a fewkilometres we came to a “ROAD CLOSED”barrier. There were extensive road worksand heavy machinery ahead.

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A truck approached the barrier just as wewere considering turning back. Thedriver shouted that it was OK to proceed,he had radioed back to say that a groupof motorcycles were coming through. Sowe continued. The gravel road becamerather steep and Russell and I forgedahead as it was better to go quicker thanslower. We didn't real ize that on the hil l ,Bob had applied the rear brake on theBlackbird that was linked to the frontbrake. The front wheel locked and theBlackbird had another of it's over-balancing episodes. Geoff saw theincident and stopped to help Bob pick upthe Blackbird. They then retreated. Sothe “adventure” bike didn't do the roughroad.

Camels on the Nullarbor, invisible to gadget gazers

Russell and I continued and the road deteriorated. I t went from gravel to dried, rutted mud and we paddled our waythrough to an intersection where we waited for Geoff and Bob. Geoff had texted Russell , (a good use of gadgets),to tel l us that they had retreated to the bitumen and would meet us at a pub. A grader lurched up the road. Wewent to talk to the operator to find out how much further unti l we got back to the bitumen. He told us that he was amotorcyclist and when he heard on the radio that a group of road bikes were coming through he thought that theywould never make it. He certainly wouldn't have attempted to bring his bike down this road. We had only anotherthree kilometres to go - only three, long kilometres.

We made it without any more over-balancing episodes, no thanks to the GPS. I suppose they can be useful forfinding caravan parks if you don't want to speak to the locals but that's about it.

Collapsible seats? Why? They fold up bigger than my tent, weigh more and when are you going to use them? Acomplete waste of space. I 've always managed to find something to sit on.

Stoves? Not for this sort of motorcycle touring. Stoves mean you need something to put on them like saucepans.Then you need fuel. Then you need to have something to heat up l ike food. You can't take much food with you andyou can't keep food cold so that l imits your choice of ingredients. Then you have to wash up which means waterwhich is heavy. Why bother, just go to a pub in the evening and a café for breakfast or a pub for breakfast too whichis what happened in Brim.

“Smart” phones! Where do I start? Why, just why have them on a motorcycle tour? Yes they can be useful forfinding places to stay and camping stores etcetera, l ike a GPS gadget. But these can also be found using papermaps and actual ly asking the locals. At least information gained from local knowledge wetware has a chance ofbeing up to date and accurate. I t's not the gadgets themselves it's the way people use them. They can't put themdown and are forever fondl ing them. Why is is so important to post to social media where you are and what you'vejust done EVERY lunch stop?

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This gadget fondl ing stops conversation.You don't communicate with your fel lowriders because you're too busy tel l ing AuntFlo and anyone else “friended” that youare sitting in a pub in the SnowyMountains, having missed seeing realsnow on the real Snowy Mountainsbecause you were fixated with yourgadgets on the ride in to town. Likewise,camels on the Nullarbor standing rightbeside the road were not seen by thoseriders consulting their gadgets. Nevermind normal discursive banter withpresent flesh and blood. I f it isn't onFaceBook it hasn't happened.

Snowy Mountains missed by gadget gazers

I don't care what the sales people say in the camping stores, the only comfortable camping bed is an air mattress.Those self inflating rugs, a few mil l imetres thick are the difference between trying to get to sleep on floor boards orcarpet. Useless! Why bother with them when a proper air mattress can be had for $25 max and the same for abattery pump with which to inflate it?

These mattresses provide centimetres of depth with which to accommodate hips and other bodily protuberances.They fold up small and weigh not very much at al l . The pumps can be a run from the bike accessory joby or a standalone four D cell device. I prefer the stand alone version because you can inflate the mattress in the privacy of yourtent without needing the bike in close proximity. These pumps have one blow nozzle and one suck nozzle. Thelatter good for removing the last vestiges of air from the mattress before packing.

I cal led my mattress Mati lda and we spent many happy nights together, unti l she let me down, l iteral ly. At Silvertonthe caravan park is adjacent to the oval and has numerous areas of “grass” on which to camp. All of these arescattered with some sort of small , sharp prickle that easily penetrate groundsheet and air mattress. Mati lda deflatedover night and I awoke about midnight lying on the ground. Thinking that it may be that I didn't close the valveproperly, I inflated Mati lda again, only to be let down again pretty soon afterwards.

By daylight my back was extremely painful and I wondered what could be done to gain a decent sleep that night.Mati lda came with a repair kit. This consisted of a sticky piece of plastic with which you were supposed to cover thepuncture. I had no way of finding the leak, troughs of water being a bit hard to find in outback Silverton.

Nasty pricks at Silverton

That afternoon we were inMildura, once again looking formotorcycle trousers for Russell .We stopped at a camping storeand they sold exactly the samemattresses as Mati lda. Theywere on sale at 25% off. Also, ifyou joined their club, you got anextra 1 0% reduction. For $1 2 Ipurchased Mati lda I I and sheremained faithful to me for therest of the trip, me being a bitmore careful to ensure that sheavoided nasty pricks.

Camping was going to be our main form of accommodation for this trip. I t provided flexibi l ity and cheapness with asl ight concession to convenience. Tents were therefore required. Swags are a waste of time. They are bulky andcramped, al l you can do in them is sleep (yes, I know.. . ). For the same packed volume you can have a three mantent, air mattress and sleeping bag. What are swaggers trying to prove?

A so-called, three man tent, is ideal for one biker. I t provides plenty of room for the bed and assorted bags ofgear/food that wil l be useful to be inside the tent rather than outside, on the bike or in the rain. There is also ampleroom for changing clothes without attempting Kate Bush-l ike gymnastics (Russell take note).

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Smaller tents are a waste of time. They usually don'tpack up any smaller and their only advantage is thatthey present less windage. I f it's windy, you probablyaren't going to get much sleep in a tent anyway,unless you are Russell .

Tents are rain resistant and they keep out insectsand snakes. Wild pigs are another matter but, thistrip, we didn't encounter any of those. Tents give youa feeling of privacy. This is false. Everyone in thesurrounding tents can hear what you are doing andyour bodily functions. Tents are snore permeable(Bob) and also allow others to overhear al l your latenight mobile phone conversations with your wife(Bob again).

I t's amazing the difference a barrier of nylon material can make to the perception of temperature. Tents feel hotwhen the sun is on them but they soon cool down after sunset. They are comparatively warm on cold mornings.You might think it's cold when you wriggle out of your sleeping bag but when you emerge from the tent youexperience the ful l grandeur of inclement weather. At Port Campbell in Victoria, it was 1 ºC. There was ice on thetents and on the bikes. I t wasn't unti l you were out of the tent and crunching your way across the frozen grasstowards the ablutions that you realised just how cold it was. We were dismayed when Fred told us that the airconditioner in his luxury room would run for only a few hours. Fred was certainly roughing it.

I f your tent is wet, you can sti l l pack it up. Tents fold and rol l so that the groundsheet is always on the outside. Dirtand grott stay on the outside. I f the tent is wet, it wil l dry when you put it up again in the afternoon. I f it's wet whenyou need to put it up again, it won't matter if the tent is already wet. Don't pack the tent away for weeks if rol led upwhen wet. Erect it when you get home and allow it to dry thoroughly before putting it away for weeks/months.Otherwise it wil l stick together and go mouldy.

Standard three man tents are cheap! We found the same model as Bob's tent on sale in Ballarat for $28! I f it lastsonly one night that's cheaper than staying in a pub. General ly, a good quality one can be had for under $80. Thestandard fibreglass pole, dome tent model is fine. The more complex, one tug and they're up models (yes I know.. . )can disappoint (Geoff). Keep it simple. You don't need annexes and verandahs. A window flap for venting is agood idea. You are not going to be doing much more than sleeping in the tent. A surround sound system is notrequired (Russell).

I t was grey and raining when we left Perth. The rain didn't last long and at Cunderdin we discarded the wet weathergear and rode mostly in sun. We had good riding weather al l the way across the Nullarbor and down the EyrePeninsular. I t was pleasantly warm for our “Lay Down” day at Peterborough but the temperature increased to themid thirties at Broken Hil l and Silverton.

I t was warm when we left Silverton to ride south to Victoria. There was a very strong wind. Luckily this was fromthe north, so we had a tail wind pushing us all the way. At Mildura there was a dust storm. Lawrence of Arabia stylein the suburbs. Visibi l ity was much reduced and the orange, gusty wind made riding quite unpleasant. Escapingover the Murray River floodplain, the wind dropped but grey and threatening clouds rol led in. We needed to get asfar south as possible so that we could enjoy the Grampians the next day. So we continued on into the rain.

Eucla camp site

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Gadgets connected to the internet told us that the pub at Brim had wonderful accommodation next to a lake. Thereviews were all positive. I t was getting dark and rather showery when we arrived at the Brim pub. Never mind, wewould have a roof over our heads for the night. No. The information on the internet was out of date by about twoyears. There was a new publican in charge and the rooms were closed for renovation because they were riddledwith rot. There was no accommodation at the pub any more but you could book for the council caravan park whichwas a paddock up the road about a kilometre away. This was also where the lake is.

So we booked in for a night in the paddock and told the publican that we would be back for a meal when we had setup the tents. The rain had almost stopped now but we erected the tents well clear of the dripping trees beside thelake. There was lots of room here and the few caravans over by the ablution block were a long way off. We mightas well have been camping by ourselves, which was nice, despite the rather long walk to the showers in themorning.

I t was dark and sti l l raining a bit when we started our walk to the pub. We had just got to the road when a Toyotatroop carrier pul led up and the driver asked us if we were the motorcyclists going to the pub for a meal. Thepublican had sent this guy out to collect us. As we climbed in, I said to Russell that this is where we are taken to aremote location and never heard of again. Such fun.

We were delivered, un-molested, to the pub and the driver drove off with our thanks. I think we were the onlypatrons that night. We got chatty with the publican and his wife, who cooked us a great meal with real vegetablesafter we told her that we were rather tired of chips and salad with every meal. Geoff drew a pretty good rendition ofour club logo on the white paper table coverings with the crayons provided for children. We all signed it and it wasput up on the wall in the dining room.

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The publican drove us back to our camp and it had final ly stopped raining. He told us that he would open up forbreakfast if we gave him a time. There we nowhere else to eat in Brim so this was a great offer that we could notrefuse. What could have been a rather tiresome experience had turned out to be one of the most memorable nightsof the trip, in a good way.

We had good riding weather after that unti lthe “Lay Down” day at Jindabyne. I t rainedall day and the locals told us that it would bemadness to try to ride to Thredbo, TomGroggin and Khancoban as the road wouldbe affected by wash-aways and debris. Sowe changed our plans and rode east to getdown from the high country and away fromthe storms. When we left Jindabyne it was2ºC, wet and windy. Geoff's GPS lead usastray again (surprise!) and we had to re-trace our route to find the promisedroundabout. Riding was not pleasant inthose conditions. The gusty wind blowingthe bikes to the edge of the bitumen as wecrested hil ls. The wet and the wind maderiding across the local planks with boltssticking up bridges interesting too.

Choosing ski apparel in Jindabyne - would I wear this in Perth?

At Brown Mountain, we left the bad weather above us and descended to the coastal country via a very twisty andscenic pass. The temperature rose to a balmy 9ºC, which felt warm. We had good riding weather for the rest of thetrip. That is, it didn't rain on us again though some of the nights were rather cold for camping.

I know that some people find wallets convenient. They put al l their credit cards, business cards, health cards,discount cards, money and a photo of their beloved in them, plus anything else that they find in their pockets andcan be crammed in. Everything is in one place and they know where to find al l that stuff. But a wallet represents asingle point of fai lure. I f you forget where you put your wallet or can't find it, everything is lost. Guess whathappened.

I t was morning in the Tumut caravan park. A lovely spot, right next to a fast flowing river, venting from the SnowyMountains Scheme. The tents are rol led and packed away. The other gear is bagged and strapped to the bikes.Gadgets are fondled, connected and arranged. Breakfast is on our minds before the day's ride down the SnowyMountains Highway to Jindabyne. We are about to leave when Russell discovers that he can't find his wallet.

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I suggested the obvious that he checks all his pockets and thensystematical ly search his gear. Pockets are patted and the tank bag, whichis where he always puts his wallet, is emptied. I t's contents of chargers,wires and connectors arranged on the bike seat l ike some de-constructedelectronics catalogue. No wallet here.

The top box is gutted of it's contents. More electronics and a laptopcomputer. No wallet. The tent bag is unstrapped, the tent removed,unfurled and searched. No wallet. Whilst Russell rummages through therest of his gear, Geoff and I check with the park office to see if a wallet hasbeen handed in. No wallet. So we decide to retrace our steps that we tookthe night before from town. Looking in the gutters and amongst the grass forany sign of Russell 's bulging wallet. With al l that electronic gadgetry, I 'msurprised Russell hasn't fitted it with a tracking device.

Then Geoff gets a phone call from Russell . The wallet has been found! I twas in the lower leg pocket of the cargo pants he was wearing. Somewherethat Russell never puts his wallet so he didn't look there when doing hisinitial pocket check. We decide to ride into town and eat a delayed breakfastrather than slap Russell . He watches us chew through a meal he eschews,Russell doesn't eat breakfast, he slurps his strawberry milk, obl ivious to ourreproachful looks. Later, we discover that Russell doesn't actual ly keep cashin his wallet, there's no room, what with al l those cards. . .

More wallet fun was had at Bega. There at the cheese factory cum museum cum canteen cum souvenir shop, wedis-robed from our soaked wet weather gear. Pil ing up the rubberised nylon garments on the café table with ourhelmets and tank bags. They dripped on to the floor, creating a sl ipping hazard that was recognised by a staffmember placing a large yellow plastic cone next to us.

We looked at the mechanical cow being mechanical ly milked and tasted the various examples of Bega cheese. Icouldn't tel l the difference, maybe because my taste buds were sti l l frozen after the 2ºC wet and windy ride fromJindabyne. At least it had stopped raining when we packed up and rode off. Half an hour later, down the road atPambula, we stopped to refuel. Geoff then discovered that he had no wallet. Unl ike Russell 's Geoff's walletcontained cash as well as a plethora of cards. Geoff remembered that he had put his wallet on the table when hewas changing his wardrobe. He couldn't remember picking it up again so he phoned the Bega cheese factory.Some kind and honest soul had handed it in complete with contents.

Whilst Geoff rode back to Bega to collect his wallet, the rest of us decamped to the log fire in the adjacent pub.There we dried out our gloves and boots, eventual ly managing to get the local bar tender to talk to us. Bob boughta Drambuie to warm up his internals. This nectar is a mixture of scotch, honey sourced from heather and herbs. I t'slethal and was probably why it took nearly an hour for the bar tender to lose his suspicions and become chatty. Justas we were developing a relationship, Geoff arrived, in time for the beer that we had ordered for him.

Way back in the Dark Ages, Iworked with Toni at the AgricultureProtection Board. I t was my job tomake the state safe for agricultureand it was her job to promote thework with engaging graphics forexhibitions, pamphlets andpublications. Toni is a gifted artist.A pity that she comes from Victoriabut you can't choose where you areborn.

After leaving the “State ofExcitement”, Toni returned to the“Place to Be” met and married Rob.They spent the next 1 5 yearsconstructing three buildings fromdiscarded material using mediaevaltechniques. I don't know whatmust have been more exhausting,the building or trying to getapproval from the local council .

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The results are breath taking. I t's l ike being in a British Elizabethanvil lage. There are no straight l ines or right angles. Every window isunique. Character building hard work oozes from every wall . Theatmosphere of the interiors is restful in a timeless – don't worry aboutmodern frippery it won't last as long as us – sort of way.

We visited Toni Town, just outside of Castlemaine and stayed thenight. Toni and Rob live in the mud brick cottage with the twistedchimney. The larger house is not quite finished inside. I t wil l bewhere Toni and Rob live when they set up a Bed and Breakfast sometime in the future. The even larger barn that spans the driveway hasa separate office, bedroom and bathroom. This is where wesentenced Russell to sleep so that his snoring wouldn't offend ourhosts (or us). In the unfinished house, Geoff set up in the largepantry, Bob in the ground floor lounge room and me in the roomabove. The floor boards weren't quite thick enough to deaden thesound of Bob snoring below, another night of ear plugs.

Toni cooked a lovely meal of dahl, rice, home made pickles and otherside dishes. There was a sort of home made ice cream and crumblefor desert. This was eaten around a large table in front of the woodfire that was burning in the impressive fire place below the twistedchimney in the mud brick cottage. The food, conversation, indeed,the whole experience was so engaging that we all completely forgotthat we hadn't got any alcohol. (One of the few alcohol free nights ofthe trip.)

We visited a few museums on this trip. Al l are worth a look if you are in their areas. The motorcycle museum inPeterborough has mainly motorcycles but also other memorabil ia of passed eras. Though I looked hard, I couldn'tfind a milk separator. The motor museum at Birdwood could take up a whole day and you sti l l wouldn't seeeverything. I t contains cars as well as motorcycles. Bob declared that he wasn't interested in looking aroundbecause he used to work “. . .on al l that old shit. ”. Probably why he now rides a Honda Blackbird and not somethinga bit more modern.

The Steamtown Heritage Rail Centre at Peterborough can likewise take more than a day to see everything. Thereare examples of steam locomotives and passenger carriages from different rai l generations. We went to a soundand light show there in the evening which was very informative if a bit cramped as they had to squeeze everybody into an old carriage to see the show. I had a direct view of a window frame for much of the evening.

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Birdwood

Birdwood Peterborough

Peterborough

Peterborough

Peterborough

Peterborough

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Peterborough used to be where the SouthAustral ian Railways did most of themaintenance work on the narrow gaugelocomotives and rol l ing stock. When therailway yards closed in 1 970 with theswitch to standard gauge, the main reasonfor Peterborough to be there and most ofits income had gone. Peterborough thushas many grand houses that have fal leninto disrepair.

The most extensive museum we visited was the “l iving museum” of Sovereign Hil l at Ballarat in Victoria. OK, somost of South Austral ia can be thought of a “l iving museum”. Sovereign Hil l is a collection of period buildingsaround genuine gold mines in the suburbs of Ballarat. The buildings are either original and moved to site or theyare very good reconstructions. A complete main street is recreated with a post office, chemist, printer, generalstores, cafés, theatre, photographic shop and, of course, a gold mine.

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The locals dress in period costumesand play various characters. I t's forthe tourists but it is very well done.There is a lot to see such as goldsmelting and pouring, metal turning,mil itary parades which included avery up to the minute speechcomparing the Crimean War withrecent mil itary interventions in foreignlands by Austral ian forces. We wentinto the chemist and I asked for acough remedy containing opium.The very nice young lady behind thecounter then delivered a discourse onhow opium was used in al l sorts ofpreparations in the 1 9th century. I tcovered up a lot of symptoms butdidn't do anything to cure theaffl ictions, much like what you getover the counter in chemists today.

We also visited the photographer's shop. Here I asked for aphotograph to be taken of Geoff and me as a couple with Russell asour love child. This came as quite a shock to Russell . Luckily theydidn't have a nappy costume that would fit him. We settled for Geoffas The Gentleman, me as The Preacher and Russell as the Floosie.Russell looked very fetching in the Kawasaki green satin dress withred garter and beard. The local yobbos looking through the wall ofglass at the side of the shop thought so too. Unti l Russell blew akiss to them and they ran away.

Kryal Castle may also be worth a visit but itwas closed when we got there. From theoutside, the building looked impressive.

At Naracoorte there are caves containingfossil remains of the mega fauna that usedto roam Austral ia unti l humans arrived on thescene. The museum contains lots ofinformation about the mega fauna includinga replica of the “Marsupial Lion” Thylacoleocarnifex wrestl ing a fossil snake. (Whatdrugs are South Austral ians on?) There is aninteresting chamber recreating the bushcontaining mega fauna of thousands ofyears ago. This contains animatronic mock-ups that lurch and leer towards you in thegloom. A pity we got there too late to visitthe actual caves themselves but they keptthe museum open so that we could have agood look around.

There were lots of Police involved in the managing of so manyriders on main roads. There were numerous squad cars and Policemotorcycles including a blue BMW 6 cylinder one with those LEDoutl ined headlights. I know this sounds l ike an Old Fart but “ThePolice were wonderful! ”. They warned us that some of the otherriders would try to push past to get to the front of the ride. ThePolice would ensure that there would always be a Police riderbehind me. Because I was riding such an outstanding red bike,they would use that to identify the last of the “blessed” group at thefront. The hoi pol loi would have to stay back. Well you know whathappens to plans. . .

I t's a long way to Phil l ip Island from Bairnsdale when yourmaximum speed is 60km/h. I t took most of the day with a stop forlunch. There were over 1 000 riders, in a long column about fourabreast. The route was lined with cheering and waving crowdsmost of the way and this is no exaggeration. Primary schools l inedup the children to wave Austral ian flags at us. I don't know howenthusiastic they would have been after the 900th rider. I t was allvery nice despite the constant beeping of some rider right behindTex and Bundy trying to attract attention to get their photograph onsocial media.

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At Cann River, before breakfast, Geoff recognised the Moto Guzzi Stelvio that was on a trai ler outside a café as theone used by Tex and Bundy. Tex being a rather rotund gentleman that is sort of famous in the east for riding theStelvio to charity rides and Bundy being a rather rotund dog that is sort of famous for sitting on the Stelvio tank. Ihad never heard of them and I went over to talk to the man at the trai ler, who I found out later was the mechanic,about the Stelvio, a bike that I am interested in. Geoff was inside the café being Geoff with Tex.

Being Geoff, Geoff got invited to bring the ORMTC group right up the front behind Tex and Bundy for the BarrySheene Tribute ride that was starting from Bairnsdale the next day. This meant that our planned late start turnedinto an early morning one because we had to be right at the front of the over one thousand riders that would gatherat the Bairnsdale city centre. Well , you know what happens to plans. . .

The night before the tribute ride, Fred shouted the group to a meal at the Bairnsdale RSL which was putting on apre-ride do. I t was a great night with entertainment and auctions. Fred successful ly bid for a pair of second handriding boots that had been worn once by some famous rider whose name escapes me. These he thought wouldmake a suitable present to a daughter. While we were enjoying ourselves, the rear tyre of the Norge was going flat.

In the morning, I checked the tyre pressureand found it wanting. There was a very slowleak, so I pumped the tyre up and rode to thestart of the Tribute ride and had breakfast inan adjacent café with the group. I t's aconstant niggle knowing that your bike has apuncture, al l be it a very slow one. I t could getworse. I decided that I had to get it fixed and ifthat meant missing the ride, so be it. One ofthe marshals for the ride turned out to be themanager of the Bairnsdale Honda shop. Hearranged for them to look at the puncture assoon as I could get there. The cause of theleak could not be determined and the treadwas worn enough to make a safe return toPerth doubtful, so I bought a new tyre and wasback up the front of the pack in time for thestart of the ride. Many thanks to BairnsdaleHonda, the only motorcycle workshop I 'vebeen in that sports a large vase of flowers.

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Unfortunately, after a long while, both in the morning and after lunch, the Police motorcyclist that was keeping backthose riders who sought fame and immortal ity by riding right behind Tex and Bundy (that sti l l sounds l ike a bogandrink combination to me), had to zoom off to block traffic at side roads to allow The Ride to pass, uncorrupted bycars. As soon as this happened, some riders nudged and bull ied their way forwards, shouting at me to “Get out ofthe (expletive deleted) way!”. A couple managed to squeeze dangerously past. A blot on an otherwise enjoyableexperience.

At San Remo where the bridge goes over to Phil l ip Island from the mainland, the ride finished. Charley Boormanwas there, having parachuted in with a GS BMW for photographs. Russell had to use his pannier petrol to top uphis tank as there had been no opportunity on The Ride to stop for fuel as he would have had to rel inquish hisblessed place in the special group.

I know that some people are interested inmotorcycle racing but I 'm not. The GP wasnot why I went on this trip. I t would provide adifferent activity for a few days but the GPcertainly wasn't on my bucket l ist.

The track at Phil l ip Island is right on the coaston top of the cliffs. The undulating groundmeans that you can not see all of the circuitfrom any one place. That's OK because youcan walk around and choose your ownvantage point for a corner of interest. Thereare a few stands of seats at various locationsif you want to spend more money and sitdown. The seats are allocated so you can'tmove around in the stands.

Around the track are exhibition tents and companies set up stal ls to sel l you stuff. For me, there was enough to seeand do to keep me occupied for a day. The event was three days. The first day was practise, the second day wasqualifying and the third day was race day for the different classes of bikes. The big event was the last race on thelast day.

All the bikes were very loud. So loud that I wore ear plugs when walking around the circuit. Al l the bikes were veryfast and very colourful. The skil l demonstrated on the corners and the acute angles achieved were impressive – fora while. Then the feats became commonplace as the brain habituated to the extraordinary.

You are not al lowed to take alcohol into the track, you have to buy it there and pay rather a lot for the privi lege.There are food caravans dotted about, al l peddl ing fast food and sugary fizzy drinks. There are also coffee vans butthese usually had even longer queues than the food stal ls. I bought the worst “sausage rol l” of my life here. I tlooked all right but the flaky pastry had the texture of tree bark and was just as dry. I t enclosed a contents that wasdessicated and salty and probably devoid of any animal protein. I recognised carrot shards and bread crumbs, thatwas about al l .

By the second day I had seen enough and left the track after lunch to walk around Cowes by myself. I was notlooking forward to another day at the track. Then Russell declared that he would rather ride to Wilson's Promontory,the southern most part of mainland Austral ia in the morning and be back at the track in time for the last, big race. I twould be a round trip of about 300 kilometres. I had been there before and knew that the roads were rather nice.So I agreed to accompany Russell , even if he would be using his GPS.

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The road to the “Prom” goes through Fish Creek. Here there is an Art Deco pub with a giant fish on the roof.Victorians, don't you know that giant fish are DaDa not Deco? Once inside the national park, the road climbs up intothe granite hi l ls and there are wonderful views across the coastal plain and to the numerous islands just off shore.There are many tight corners and signs reminding you that, in Austral ia, we drive on the left, as if you wouldn'talready have twigged that by the time you got to this place!

The bitumen ends at Tidal River, not quite at the tip of the “Prom” but it's as far south as you can go on a road bike.There are camp sites and lodges here. The place was crowded with young people sporting trekking thighs andearnest expressions. This is what passes for wilderness in Victoria, it's al l rather genteel and well managed.

Russell and I got back to Cowes in good time to get the bus to the track. I t was hot and humid when we got on thebus and bloody cold when we got off. The sea breeze had come in and the temperature had dropped about 20ºC.Everyone was dressed for summer and now, suddenly, it was winter again. There were no queues for sugary fizzydrinks but the l ines at the coffee stal ls were longer than ever.

Our stand was out at Siberia, see map. I t looksl ike you should have a good view of a few cornersfrom here. You don't. The lay of the land and agrove of trees meant that you could just see theshoulders of the riders as they crested the closestcorner and then they disappeared again. Ourseats were just a few rows up from ground levelso we didn't see any more than we would havestanding at the fence. Never mind, there was agiant TV screen across the track so you could seewhat was going on at the rest of the circuit. Therewas also a handy lap counter so you knew whatwas happening and where the race was up to.

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What happened was that some young bloke pulled well ahead of the rest of the riders. He was sweeping round thecorners as if his knees were out-riggers. He was faster than the others by a long way. Then he fel l off at somecorner out of our sight (as most were). At that moment, the TV screen opposite our stand went blank and thendisplayed a “No Signal” message. The picture didn't return. We couldn't see what was going on and I didn't knowwhen the race finished.

The race was won by an older guy that apparently had won a few races before. I t was a tortoise and hare scenario,age and experience triumphing over youth and exuberance. The older rider won because he didn't fal l off, notbecause he was the fastest rider. That's what I got out of the GP. When we rode around the circuit after the BarrySheene Tribute Ride, Fred was impressed with the tack surface. Just l ike he was impressed with the culverts atMount Barren on Grand Tour 1 last year. So Fred got something different out of the GP.

Mount Gambier is famous for its blue lake. This is anextinct volcano, the crater of which provides a huge holedown to below the local water table. I t's l ike a natural,flooded, open cut mine. The volcano rump is visible fromall of Mount Gambier, it's not hard to spot but we wererelying on Geoff's GPS to guide us to it.

We could see it. The road we were on appeared to beheading straight for it, then Geoff turned off down asuburban street. I t was a nice enough street real ly, with acreek and trees on one side and houses on the other. Butit didn't appear to be heading towards any extinct volcano.I t was warm and humid so I l ifted my visor. Immediately Iwas stung by some insect that I didn't see. I t hurt,probably more than it should have. I have an allergicreaction to some insect stings and always have some non-drowsey anti histamine tablets with me.

I stopped and got off the bike. I wasn't feel ing too good already and was decidedly wobbly. I took off my helmet,swallowed a tablet and sat down. I t felt a bit l ike being drunk but with a sharp pain above the right eye where thesting site was. Fred looked for signs of a remaining sting. He took the opportunity to use one of his gadgets,selecting a blade from his faux Swiss Army knife. This he dragged around above my eyebrow but didn't findanything.

Russell went to the front door of the house whose garden I was sitting in and begged a glass of water for me. Thatwas nice and cool. I felt very strange. When I stood up I wondered if I would be able to ride, my balance beingquite affected. I needed to eat something. Geoff thought that there would be somewhere to eat at the blue lake.We followed his GPS directions and after a bit more meandering, we arrived at the crater rim, as far away from thecafé as you could get. So we toured around the crater, returning almost to where we started, before we found theeatery.

I t was rather basic, even by South Austral ian standards. Eventual lythey managed to heat up a cheese and ham sandwich in themicrowave oven for me. I added a good sprinkl ing of cayennepepper so that I would feel it going down. I was not feel ing right andmy eye was beginning to swell up. Geoff wanted to press on, so weheaded towards Naracoorte.

I t was proving very difficult to stay awake. I shouted at myself, Isang (which was worse) and I punched my thigh. But I sti l l hadincidents when my head dropped forwards in a narcoleptic moment.At the Naracoorte service station I painful ly removed my helmet andrealised that I needed to l ie down. I t was too dangerous to continueriding.

Geoff just wanted to get home and Fred had a plane to catch fromAdelaide the next day so they left Bob, Russell and me atNaracoorte. The lady in the service station got in her car and leadus to a large park with big trees and deep shade. That was reallykind of her because, if we had fol lowed her initial directions wewouldn't have found the park. I got off the Norge, amazed that Ihadn't dropped it, and walked over to a darkly shaded patch ofgrass. I lay down, pul led my beanie over my eyes and plummetedinto unconsciousness.

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I awoke about an hour later with a fly on my nose. Bob and Russell were at a picnic table close by fondling theirgadgets and ensuring that my prone body wasn't interfered with. I felt much better after the sleep. The reducedpressure of not having to ride, ride, ride, balanced by the increased pressure of a swell ing eye socket. We decidedto stay in Naracoorte that night and to go and have a look at the famous caves in what was left of the afternoon.

The return ride to Perth was taken at a gentle pace. None of us needed to be back to start work immediately. Therewas time to enjoy being on the road again. We sti l l rode past many points of interest that, if we had all the time inthe world, we would have visited. Maybe next time, there's so much to see. I t didn't matter to us that the road southof Clare was closed due to a serious accident. We just amended our plans and stayed in Auburn instead. Therewas a good pub there and a peaceful council park in which to camp.

Eucla on the Eyre Highway is an interesting place, l ikemost of the stop overs on the highway it has a history.The Albany to Adelaide telegraph line opened in 1 877and the telegraph station at Eucla was importantbecause it was used to relay on the messages and alsotranslate the American Morse code used by Victoria andSouth Austral ia to International Morse code used byWestern Austral ia. Another example of Austral ian statessetting their own standards regardless of the others, rai lgauges are another example as demonstrated in thePeterborough museum.

In the 1 890's, rabbit plagues destabil ized the vegetationand the dunes encroached on the town. The town wasmoved further up the scarp and then the telegraph linewas moved north to the railway line in 1 929. Themagnificent stone telegraph station building wasabandoned to the white sand. I t's a short, gravel roadride down the scarp from the road house and out towardsthe beach.

This trip has shown that being flexible is important when motorcycletouring, sometimes good things happen when plans go awry.Twisty roads are very nice but not enjoyable when slow cars blockprogress. There are many great and various roads in the east.Why they aren't ful l of motorcyclists is a mystery. Eastern statesriders are spoilt for choice and wherever you are, a great road is alot closer than what we are used to in The West. Riding here isdifferent, the east is very nice but I 'm glad there is the Nullarborkeeping all that “over there” and making our visits just a l ittle bitmore special than if it was closer.