Highlights from the Cup Day Weekend Ride

The riders on these events really make the difference between a good ride and a great ride. And this was a great ride.

Dave Ward and Bron Manifold rocked up for the first day to Dargo and Orbost before heading home on Sunday to meet work commitments. Dave and I had a bit of a derby from Dargo to Fernbank, some 40 km of uninterrupted bliss. At one stage Dave reached behind to adjust the rear damper compression damping on his Ducati 996 – because he could. It is good to follow someone fast and smooth who can make the corner apexing decisions for you. Dave was feeling a bit rusty, spending more time on the track or on his dirt bike than the road these days. Never-the-less, I relied on the Honda grunt on the short straights to make up for my incremental losses through the corners.

Di Welsford accompanied Bron for the two days and the two were often seen travelling in close proximity to each other. They were the first to arrive at Dargo. Thanks Di for writing up the first day.

Bruce Saville was really looking forward to this ride and it ended almost comically and somewhat prematurely. An avid Carlton supporter, he found an old Carlton sheep skin seat cover in the shed which he duly pressed into service, wrapping his bike seat in the treasured item. The excess he stuffed under the seat in the available nooks and crannies. This may have proved his downfall. Two hundred kays into the trip the regulator failed possibly hastened by a lack of cooling, though their failure is a noted problem with early VFRs and VTRs. The battery over charged, overheated and blew up, taking out the black box controlling the fuel injection and sparks. Gulp. The bike was now terminally ill. A new battery brought from Bairnesdale by the local bikeshop proprietor failed to produce the right result other than to blow fuses. Of interest was the complete lack of action from the fuel pump.

Bruce retired himself and bike to the Bairnesdale with the help of the RACV. Bruce then repaired to the pub, catching up with the battery supplier. Ten beers later Bruce was so impressed by this bloke that you may read a glowing recommendation elsewhere. Bruce’s father picked up the two broken souls next day (Bruce and bike). Later in the week I received an SMS message later confirming the regulator and the black box were defunct and the bike shop was waiting for parts. The fault also took out the digital instrument panel and the head and tail lights Commiserations to Bruce. I have heard since that he has been making enquiries about a new machine – a Fireblade! Go Bruce.

Derek Atkinson, Mr Nice Guy, stayed with Bruce during this ordeal, missing out on the Dargo fang, catching up with us at Bairnesdale for the final hop to Orbost. Thanks Derek. Much appreciated.

Derek loves that FZR1000 to death and was regularly seen checking tyre pressures, steering head bearings and lubing the chain. He is a perfectionist, and I guess if the only thing between you and pain and suffering, or worse, is your bike, then that is enough motivation to keep it in as good a mechanical condition as possible.

His sensational lack of tyre wear while running a brand new D207 race on the front and a D207RR on the back was a sight to behold. He still had knobs on after the second day. There is something to be said for living on Coke and chocolate bars, and hence carrying no body weight. Throw in high tyre pressures, a smooth riding style and the mystery is partly solved.

Day three saw Derek head off on his own sightseeing excursion – a mere 700 km worth. He thought he may have been holding up the group. Not so. He left well after us, travelled 140 km more for the day, and arrived 15 minutes after us. I think we were holding him up!

Ray Walker and his mobile. I would hate to be paying his phone bill. Ray kept us informed of the Bruce drama and later let Derek know where to meet us. Good stuff.

I think Ray had a sensational weekend away. And he is so keen! Travels light, always ready first, fills up at every opportunity, and rides with so much enthusiasm and determination, pushing, pushing. This ride had so many good roads, so little traffic, no cops, so faaasssttt! He lives and breathes bikes.

Ray is one step further down the dietary abuse track: skip breakfast, pie for morning tea, Red Bull caffeine drinks by the triple for the rest of the day, or so it appeared. But who am I to talk, grazing all day, piling on the weight.

Mixing it with Rhys on the ZX9, Ben and Liz on the CBR900s, Derek on the FZR1000, and Trev on his YZF1000, Ray’s “little” GSXR600 was rarely found wanting. But watching the big bikes jump out of the corners with ease, and knowing that they were probably using about half the revs, day after day, has taken its toll on our Ray. He’s gotta have something bigger. Expect to see him on a GSXR750 soon. There ain’t no substitute for cubes. And his fuel economy will probably improve too. Stop press. Ray is now the proud owner of a red 2001 GSXR1000. Yikes!

Pete Weyermayr found a fellow soul mate in Ray, another Suzuki die-hard. And when they discovered they both barrack for the Kangaroos, it was a match made in heaven. It was better not to sit between them at meal times, as Liz discovered, or be mown down in a hail of Suzuki trivia.

Pete’s downfall was riding Ray’s 600 along the Murray Valley Highway from Walwa to Granya. Compared to the old GSXR750 M, the 2001 GSXR600 is lighter, more powerful and hence faster. Throw in modern brakes, light, sharp steering, and a slick gearbox and it is no contest. It was a devastating blow. In isolation, his GSXer was the best bike he had ever owned. He has a GSXR1100 for sale in NZ, and had a GPZ1100 in Australia. In head to head comparison with a modern sports bike, it was found sadly wanting.

So Pete, like Ray, just kept his bike pretty much nailed to the stop whenever it got twisty – most of the time. Since the ride Pete has been seen snooping around Suzuki shops and reading magazine comparos at every opportunity. He has made the call to NZ and asked the bike shop to sell his bike as soon as possible. Will he have a new bike before Christmas? Will he have a new bike before the end of the month? Stop press. Pete is now the proud owner of a near new 2001 Fireblade. Grouse!

Liz Oliver and Pete are engaged to be married in December, having moved over from New Zealand some three years ago. They had been warned that Victoria had the most unfriendly police state in Australia and so gave up riding bikes in the manner they were accustomed to in NZ. Until they discovered us!

Liz has upgraded her assessment of the ride from being “probably the best she has been on” to “absolutely the best ride she has been on”, a fine recommendation from well travelled overseas friends. Thanks Liz.

A fellow Blade rider, Liz soon figured out that I knew all the roads and their likely condition, in particular whether we were heading into treed areas, and hence shadows, and what visor combination I would recommend: tinted visor, clear visor plus sunnies, or clear visor only. I also pointed out the general road surface condition, in particular the bumpier sections. I noted that I had had a couple of serious tank slappers on my ZXRs soon after Tumbarumba. Right on cue she suffered a fairly serious one too, but survived to tell the tale.

I started pointing out scenic sights as we wizzed by, whether it was a wallaby grazing at the side of the road, or snow on the distant Kosciuzsko ranges. I think sometimes following riders become mesmerised by the bike in front and miss a lot of interesting stuff. And the wildlife was extremely abundant on this trip. I understand that the vast majority of birds in NZ are green or brown, and hence our native parrots and water birds are quite spectacular in comparison.

Trevor Harris, the third New Zealander on the ride, probably had a weekend he would rather forget. He enjoyed the roads on day 1 and most of day 2 until that fateful corner where he over cooked it with disasterous consequences. Following Rhys following Ben heading down the Alpine Way from Thredo to Corryong, Rhys ran a little wide. Watching Rhys, Trevor ran even wider, jumped on the brakes and drifted out in the gravel and the rest is … small pieces of fairing. I figured something was amiss when they disappeared from my radar. A few corners later I found somewhere to turn around and head back. Trevor was sitting on a rock holding his arm, on the other side of the road. Swiss tourists in a car had stopped to offer assistance. I had assumed they were Americans by their accent, forgetting that the “English” the Europeans speak is really American.

Trevor stood up and wandered across the road, promptly fainting, head butting me on his way down in a crumpling fall, immediately regaining consciousness. The Swiss guys volunteered to take him to Corryong Hospital, about 28 km away. His bike started eventually, firing on 2, then 3, then 4 cylinders. It appeared quite rideable apart from a clutch lever and serious fairing damage. I didn’t see the dinted frame which will no doubt lead to a write-ff. I rode it to Khancoban, some 5.5 km away, negotiated with the service station owner to leave it under cover and Rhys dinked me back. Trevor arrived in the car and I rang his wife and left the dreaded message. We agreed to catch up with Trevor, which turned out to be next day at the hospital after a blat around the Lake to Granya and the pass, then along Wayne’s favourite road through the pine plantations to Corryong hospital. After wedding ring removal – cutting off blood supply to his finger – hand swollen from a wack – we left Trevor to be picked up later in the day by Ann and taken home for rest and recovery.

It turned out Trevor had dislocated his elbow – it popped back in at the time - but has done all sorts of ligament damage resulting in him having to wear a brace for 6 weeks. And his hand turned out to be broken, not discovered at the hospital. Again just a waiting game. He is off work for some time – right elbow, left hand. Effectively he can’t type, a bugger when you are in the IT industry. The insurers will recover his bike from Khancoban, its future unclear, but not promising.

Rhys Williams. He swore the rear tyre would go the distance at Hallam. At Dargo, Day 1, he decided to ride in top gear only, for the return trip – to conserve the tyre! So, for two out of the last three years, Rhys has had to get a new rear tyre on Monday from his now regular supplier at Albury. He is developing a reputation!

Rhys has the driest sense of humour and a perverse way of looking at the world. Through his job he deals with the public – not just your Joe Ordinary, but all the petrol heads of this world, from the skint 18 year olds with their souped up Commodores to the extraordinarily wealthy business/sportsmen who drive different exotica each day of the week. He has to wear many hats, from the expert engineer to the “customer knows best”, from the “boss” managing staff, to best Dad in the world. One moment he is buying product and dealing with salesmen, the next moment he is selling to people from foreign countries. A four day ride with the Club is truly an escape and an outlet from the pressures of work.

He has developed an uncanny knack of summing people up, and if he knows you a little bit better, then watch out, as he’ll have your thinking, your mannerisms, and your idiosyncrasies down pat. In a joking way, he can make fun of anyone, tell you what you are thinking, impersonate your worst traits. Get a few bourbon and cokes into him and it all starts coming out. He had me in tears of laughter every night, and breakfast wasn’t much better, particularly as the weekend wore on and the “events” started to accumulate. Of course, there is enough “ammunition” from years gone by to stoke the fires indefinitely.

About the only thing that ruffles Rhys is the thought of time being wasted – time that could be better spent riding or at the bar. One day on the ride he was concerned we might have to cut the ride short to get back in time. When I suggested we had 7 hours of daylight to ride 400 km he was much relieved.

Animal watch. With so much rain about the country is lush, bird life prolific. On the last day I collected a King Parrot, jammed amongst the forks. Twenty minutes later I reduced a magpie to a puff of feathers, a sparrow met the same fate, and a black bird pulled eight gees to avoid me, leaving his signature on my jacket for good measure.

Earlier in the weekend someone else had taken out a galah. Soon after Moyu we skirted around an echidna crossing the road. It attempted to dig in as we thundered by. Earlier a large rock wallaby had bounded across the road in the Dederang Gap twisties. Day 2 leaving Cann River was marked by wallabies grazing near the corners, just sitting and watching. I counted three. Heading into Walwa around Bruce’s favourite high speed, off camber, left hander there were two tortoises attempting to cross the road, one from each side. The river wasn’t far away. Flocks of ibis and egrets were seen moving in waves across the paddocks. Ducks, eagles, magpies, parrots, finches, rosellas, swans, pelicans, kookaburras were easy to spot. Blue-tongue lizards sunbaking on the road – 20 a day, the ones with their legs pointing skywards slightly overdone. About 5 dead snakes. Plenty of road kill kangaroos and wombats, particularly on the Tumut road, the smell a dead giveaway.

Day 1 route: Orbost via Dargo. See Di’s write-up.

Day 2 we headed for Cann River for breakfast, noticing Tom and Andi out on another road ride. Then picked up the Monaro Highway to Rockton Junction and the Imlay Road back to the coast. Fifty seven km of uninterrupted high speed swervery. Then along the Princes Highway to Pambula before turning inland to Wyndham and Cathcart; simply superb roads.

We met the Red Wing guys leaving Bombala as we entered. From Bombala we headed north on the Monaro Highway, fortunately just meeting Mr Plod at the Brown Mountain intersection. We droned up to Cooma, a suspicious white car tailing us to Nimmitabel, so I pulled over to let it pass. There were a million Triumph types around here. From Cooma we headed south to Dalgety and around to Jindabyne to our regular Shit Café. Weatherwise it was hot. Then onwards to Thredbo, avoiding the National Parks entry fee as we were only passing through. Plenty of horse manure on the roads on this section around the Alpine Way to Khancoban and Corryong. Walwa Hotel home for the next two nights.

Day 3 around the Murray Valley Highway and across the sensational Granya Gap to Corryong and the Hospital, then around to Khancoban to find Trevor’s birthday watch. Then up to Cabramurra, the highest town in Australia, for a drive-by tour. While I was stopped at a lookout at the lower pondage, Rhys whistled by. I set off in pursuit. Rhys, seeing a light catching up, went like a cut cat. The idea of being passed by a local on a RGV250 two stroke shitbox is his worst nightmare. He was relieved to see it was only me.

Onto Kiandra and the Snowy Mountain Highway to Tumut, stopping at the lake lookout, noticing the kangaroos feeding on the hill. Down to Rosewood, our once secret road, now heavily signposted. Rhys, Ray and Pete allowed me to do the hard work through all the corners before Rhys and Ray blatted past, once the road opened out a bit. Two fast cars along here. Down to Tumbarumba for fuel and then bumpy roads back to Tintaldra and home, Walwa. Spectacular mountain ridge scenery.

Day 4 we headed back around Peter Doke Road and across the Granya Gap, looking damp and treacherous – a lot of green algae, but still extremely grippy. I gave it the berries along the short straights, then very hard on the brakes, playing with Rhys’s mind again. He wondered why he was losing so much ground. Around to Tallangatta for fuel, Ray thinking he might run out. Then south to Dederang and across the gap to Ovens, Myrtleford and Milawa for morning tea. Down the King Valley Highway to Moyu and around to Swanpool. Break-up at Yarck. Home to home 2,340 km.

The weather was dry and warm for almost the whole duration of the ride. I started out all wet-weather proof on the first morning but, by the time we reached Dargo, it was hot and sultry. The daily temperatures were 26, 28, 28 and 22 degrees - top riding weather. We did cop some damp roads on the first hop on day’s two and three, but the road surface was so grippy it wasn’t worth worrying about. Ray and I ran into fog and misty rain around Kinglake West, 50 km from home, on Tuesday. It was freezing and I was down to 80 km/h. Ray disappeared from my mirrors at one stage but I wasn’t stopping for anything, my very worn rear tyre sliding around enough without stopping and getting cold.

Sensational weekend. Thanks to all who attended. It has had a profound effect on some. I expect in the vicinity of 4 new bikes will result.

Ben Warden (Honda CBR929RR)