The lucky ones: Rob Langer (R1100RS), Ray Walker (GSXR600) and Ben Warden (CBR929RR)

Ray dropped in for a cup of coffee en-route to the West Gate Shell Servo. It was a cool morning but no rain was forecast for the whole weekend, which sounded promising. At the servo we fuelled up, waited an extra five minutes, thinking that there may have been a few day trippers, then headed off down the highway, the 2750 km trek beginning.

Geelong Road is under repair and down to 80 km/h for large sections around Werribee. We took the Little River turn-off and headed for Lorne via Deans Marsh, avoiding the expected heavy traffic between Geelong, Anglesea and Lorne.

Rob Langer was waiting for us in Lorne, having travelled directly down the highway. The three of us proceeded along the Great Ocean Road to Lavers Hill and Port Campbell for lunch. The traffic was pretty hectic between Lorne and Apollo Bay but we carved our way through with great efficiency. Ray went ahead of me through the Otways. Having had a bit of a fright when the rear tyre let go just out of Moriac when I was trying to avoid an oncoming Toyota Supra with two wheels over my side of the sweeping corner, I was a bit reluctant to push it through the wet-in-the-corners sections. Later Ray explained that he wondered why his bike was moving around - he thought it was gravel on the road. Ah, the joys of dark visors.

From Port Campbell we started heading north, planning to cut up through the wine country to Keith and the Western Highway and then to Murray Bridge. Places such as Cobden, Terang, Mort Lake, Lake Bolac brought us up to the Hamilton Highway. On to Dunkeld, Cavendish, Edenhope and Frances. The sun sets at about 5.30 pm Melbourne time, but is annoyingly low for the two hours before that. We made hard work of it, often travelling directly into the sun, having to ride with one hand shielding our eyes.

Darkness came as a relief, but brought with it its own hazards -animals and bugs. The bugs were caked on our bikes and visors and we stopped more often to clean our visors. Being Good Friday, petrol was always a little chancey and we tended to err on the side of safety rather than push on.

Around Naracoorte I missed a left right jiggle which would have brought us out at Keith. Alas we ended up at Bordertown. Only a 20 km error, but every kilometre was starting to hurt. We bought food and fuel at Tintinara after 72 km of excruciating Western Highway, the end in sight. Only another 110 km of highway. But it didn't seem as bad with a stomach full of hot chips. Thanks Ray.

We finally pulled into Murray Bridge and the Balcony Hotel at 9 pm Melbourne time after 965 km. We negotiated very reasonable rates ($100 for three nights, bed and breakfast, twin rooms each, tea and coffee anytime). Pat and Brian remembered me from last time (Easter two years ago) when I was all busted up - big toe gouged, mobile phone through the ribs, etc having dumped the ZXR on the Zumsteins Road. A hot shower to ease the aches and pains followed by collapse in bed.

Next day we toured the Adelaide Hills north of the Western Highway. We were struggling with no map - or more accurately, inadequate maps, but I knew to head for Gumeracha. From there we did all the roads leading down into Adelaide including the Chain of Ponds Road, the Gorge Road, Greenhills Road, Montacute Road, North East Road, Lower North East Road, and the Norton Summit Road. The Gorge road was horn and we did it twice. There is nothing like it in Victoria. We ended up back in Gumeracha three times, from three different directions.

For a breather we headed out to Birdwood and checked out the Motor Museum. A vast expansion and improvement from when I was last there. Ray, the petrol head that he is, had owned half the cars on display it seemed, and of course knew every model of Holden, having either owned them or worked on them as part of his window tinting job. We stayed there two hours and could have stayed another two but time was marching on.. Our ticket got us into the Mill where we found Rob eventually.

We headed out to Mt Pleasant and around to Williamstown and back to Chain of Ponds for a last blat down the Gorge Road. Then back up to Norton Summit looking for a lookout to take some pictures. We regrouped at an old church and then headed to Mt Lofty, a tourist meca. The last lookout had been burnt in bush fires and I think the casino must have chipped in a bucket load of dosh to rebuild it. It is now an ocean of concrete, glass and aluminium with restaurants and observation decks and bus loads of tourists. We didn't fit in at all, grubby, haggard bikies.

Back home through Piccadilly, Uraidla and Balhanna (partially blocked due to the "Oaks" horse race meeting). Piccadilly is sensationally beautiful with the late afternoon sun picking out the gold autumn leaves. In general the roads are very smooth and well made. Around Ashton and Basket Range is motion sickness country, the road is so tight and twisty for so long, and it is relatively built up. I think my blisters started here! Four hundred kilometres of twisties for the day!

Saturday night we walked into town for a pizza and then rode to the car dirt circuit-racing a few kilometres out of town. The circuit is set in a natural amphitheatre and visability is excellent. It turned out that tonight was the night of the heats and the finals were on Sunday night, along with the smash up derby. Rob got bored and went home after an hour or so. Of course that's when all the crashes started. The main class consisted of two stroke 500 cc engines in little 4 wheelers with big wings, with some 4 strokes amongst them of unknown capacity. Another class consisted of V6 Commodore motors in these midget cars. The brutes were the V8s. Plenty of action. The commentators even claimed one of the competitors was 80 years old and he came fourth in his heat. The breed them tough in the country.

Next day we headed back towards Adelaide via Balhannah and Uraidla before turning south. The plan was to head down the Fleurieu Peninsula to Victor Harbour, but to avoid the traffic (Easter Sunday). We made our way from Crafers to Stirling and Blackwood dodging in and out of Main South Road, very high up, and just a little lost. Eventually we picked up the Clarendon, Meadows, Mt Compass route to Victor Harbour where we lunched. It also is a tourist mecca, a bit like a cross between St Kilda /Luna Park precinct and Bourke St mall. Lots of shops, grass, pubs, and restaurants. Camel rides on the beach, horse drawn coaches on rails across to the island, paragliding on the beach, people everywhere, parking a hassle.

We agreed to meet back at the bikes after 50 minutes to consider our options. Again Rob lost track of time so after leaving him a note Ray and I headed up to Myponga on the other side of the peninsula. We then worked our way down to Delamere, including that bit of spectacular palm-tree- lined rocky coastline where you could be forgiven for thinking you were somewhere in Hawaii or California. And a grouse road to boot. From Delamere we took the Parawa road back to Victor Harbour, all up a 110 km loop. It is an unbelievably good road, just sealed a couple of years ago. It has a series of about dozen 95 km/h (marked) corners followed by four 75 km/h followed by four 65 km/h corners. Great visability, great wide surface, gentle undulating hills, sensationally fast.

We found Rob, and headed back across the Parawa Road and down to Cape Jervis from where the ferry leaves for Kangaroo Island. More food and then back to Victor Harbour for fuel at our favourite BP where we at last found a really good map showing us where we had been.

We then made our way north to Ashbourne and Strathalbyn. Fifteen roads lead into Strathalbyn. Suffice to say finding the right one to get out is a bit tricky but my memory served me correctly and we did it easily. Across to Woodchester and Callington picking up our well worn back road parallel to the Highway back to Murray Bridge.

That evening we walked down to The River restaurant, about 1.5 km away. It was shut! So we walked back along the river foreshore to town and then a few more blocks to the Chinese Restaurant. Discussions of leaving at 6 or 7 am were soon put to rest. Slept well that night.

Next day we bade our farewells to Pat and Brian and vowed to return soon. After Rob's ritual packing was attended to, we set out for home. At Keith we headed we stopped for fuel, photos and food before heading south to Naracoorte. It was cool yet bright and sunny, and dry! Another sensational day in the making. Next stop Coleraine where we determined with a little help from the service station manager that there was a road across to Cavendish, despite our grotty may saying there wasn't. At this stage Rob's rear tyre was a tad worse for wear. Ray and I had already determined that it would be showing canvas by the time he reached home and it was already looking scary. Rob decided he would go straight home from Hamilton via Ballarat and the Western Highway which looked like a sensibly option. Meanwhile Ray and I would check out the Grampians, Ray having never seen them before.

At Cavendish we parted ways, Ray and I heading for some twisties across the ranges picking up the Halls Gap Road. We regrouped at Halls Gap for a visor clean and then headed up the Zumsteins Road. Ray thought it was the best road of the trip, about his fourth "best road" so far. It was a bit gravelly for my taste and the regular junctions need care. At the end we turned around and came back again. It was getting late, the sun sinking fast, home after dark a certainty. We decided to head for Ararat on a secondary road, but not secondary enough! I made a significant contribution to the Secret Policeman's Ball. One could argue that there were 2 bikes in close proximity (which one?), there were cars not far behind (that better reflect radar), and Mr Plod was driving directly into the sun and had no-idea what had triggered his gun. But we'd had a pretty excellent run so I copped it. (I've since been informed it was laser which is deadly accurate. Ho-hum.)

The idea of sitting 10 km/h above the limit on the Highway from Ararat to Melbourne didn't appeal to Ray so he went ahead, playing cat and mouse with unmarked police cars all the way home. I ran into the 5 or 10 km three lane wide traffic jam before Deer Park on the Western Highway. It was agony, trickling my way down the lanes, with not enough wind pressure on my shoulders to lift the weight off my arms and neck. And the seat gets mighty hard after 4 days riding. I could barely steer the bike. The ring road looked dismal so I headed south on it to the West Gate Freeway and up and over the Bolte Bridge and onto the Tullamarine, probably adding another 10 km of pain.

Ray was sick for the next two days, totally exhausted and sore. Rob made it home okay. My bum bones hurt for a couple of days but otherwise there were no ill effects. My front tyre was well and truly shagged and I replaced it before the next ride - Phillip Island Superbikes in the rain!

Somewhere on the first day we worked out Rob's rear Ohlin's suspension was banging because the shocker-to-swingarm mounting bolt was too small for the hole, allowing 10 mm of travel at the rear wheel before the shock spring came into play. No it wasn't going to make the bike crash, and when the bolt was checked for wear and none wear was discernible, Rob was much happier.

I think Ray and Rob enjoyed themselves thoroughly over the weekend. I know I did. All three bikes ran faultlessly and economically, Rob always putting in 14 litres when we put in 16 litres. All three were injected, a sign of the times. The BM seemed the most comfortable of the lot, Rob never appearing to be in much discomfort. Ray was generally the first to start the leg stretches and lived for the corners to allow some movement around the bike and to ease the pain(s).

The weather was perfect. A shame more people didn't make the effort, but given the price of tyres, accommodation, food and petrol, combined with family commitments, other time constraints, and the ever increasing police presence and "efficiency", completely understandable. Weekends away are dying a rapid death it seems. This may have been the last Easter Trip. Lucky us.