ANZAC Weekend 25^th -28^th April

CBR929R Ben Warden (leader) VFR800 Bruce Saville CBR919R Liz Oliver

CBR929R Pete Weyermayr VFR800 Mike Sampson Falco Darryl Otzen

ZX9 Rhys Williams

First up the Walwa Resort was sold out – two conferences. So I tried to book the Walwa Pub which was similarly booked out. Pete and family have finally sold the lease on the pub and are moving on to run a newsagency a couple of hours north and closer to home. This weekend they were inviting all their friends up for a final fling. Eventually I found accommodation at Cudgewa Pub ($30/night/person). Orbost was fine – Club Hotel, Main Street, the better of the two it seems.

Dicky was so keen to be on the ride that he was joining us Friday night after flying into Melbourne from Seoul that morning, the plan to meet us at Cudgewa Hotel.

I was 10 minutes late at the 9.15 am Whittlesea departure, the problem in deciding what to wear and what to pack unresolved until the last, given the ominous looking weather. I ended up taking a spare pair of boots and gloves and wearing my gumboots. The weather forecast was dismal for Thursday and Friday, fining up for Saturday and Sunday. Pete and Liz said it was pouring rain when they left Wheelers Hill earlier. Much to our joy, it fined up once we were through Flowerdale, the roads completely dry. We had at least 3 days of cloudless skies and absolutely glorious weather. No rain at all.

I had agreed to meet Rhys, Pete and Liz at 10 am at Yarck, a more direct route from home for them. But Pete and Liz felt the Whitlesea, Flowerdale twisties were a more attractive prospect and opted for the Whittlesea pickup. Suffice to say we made good time after collecting Rhys, sedate on the highway to Mansfield, then enjoyed the twisties to Whitfield followed by 80 kms of boring stuff around through Oxley to Myrtleford. Then into the serious bike country on the Happy Valley Road followed by the Tawonga Gap road. Huge grin factor. We refuelled at Harrietville for the trip over Hotham. Here we encountered maybe 2% wet roads, but the wet road still provided more grip than we were able to use. Only Mike was concerned about the wet corners. The rest of us totally ignored them.

It was 10 degrees on the top of Hotham. Mike had his digital camera again and was taking plenty of shots. I look forward to seeing them. The last lot were great.

Hotham to Omeo – sustained high speed blast. Sensational. At Omeo, Rhys pointed to his tank as he headed to the next service station to get Premium unleaded. We waited a while for Rhys to return while we cleaned visors etc. Rhys didn’t come back, so we headed off, expecting to collect him along the way. Meanwhile Rhys thought he had missed us and had taken off in pursuit, ahead of us. That’s his story but beer o’clock was fast approaching. We met again at Orbost. Meanwhile we squirted down to Bruthen and the final 70 km to Orbost. $35 bought us a room each, after a little negotiating. We suspect the manager preferred to let as few rooms as possible to cut down on cleaning. 675 fun km for the day.

Day 2 started in glorious sunshine as we hit the road well before 9 am heading for Cann River and breakfast. Heavy rain overnight had left great sheets of water laying on the paddocks as we rejoined the Princess Highway. Already the animal count was mounting up: 3 dead wombats, 3 dead kangaroos, and 2 large live pelicans standing in a field near Mansfield. Later on in the ride we would see a giant echidna crossing the road, a couple of dead foxes, a live fox, a couple of red wallabies standing sentry, hundreds of Major Mitchell (white) cockatoos, and crimson rosellas in pairs or little family groups feeding at the side of the road. Then there were the cows on Granya Gap. Always exciting, always unpredictable.

Cann River saw bacon and eggs for some, salad sandwiches for me, my staple food when travelling. Pete was anticipating the Cann River Road to Rockton Junction and it lived up to his expectations. It was grouse. It was followed by the Imlay Road back to the coast consisting of 37 km of uninterrupted, high speed sweepers. The local councils have been very busy since we were last up this way (Australia Day Weekend, January) repairing much of the damaged roads, both here and elsewhere we travelled. But we all still managed to collect a set of bumps around a blind left hand corner near the end resulting, in a few serious headshakes for some, and back crunching for others.

When we regrouped back at the highway, Liz was uncharacteristically slow in arriving, her bike handling badly. I suggested upping the rear rebound damping. Trusty Pete, her personal mechanic, was onto in a flash. There was enough time for him to test out his mods on some sweepers. He eventually returned, pronouncing it fixed. We continued, Liz back to full speed, and getting quicker every day! Mike was getting more confidence as well, really enjoying his bike and the roads.

At Eden we ducked off the highway on a new (to me) road, having read somewhere that it was now all bitumen. It was, all bar 700 metres, cutting off 20 km of Princess Highway and its attendant risks and time consumption. Grouse. Even better, it picked up my other short cut, just before the really good new twisties start. Perfect. We made our way around to Wyndham where Liz needed fuel before the rest of us after Pete’s suspension testing consumed quite a few extra kilometres. Wyndham to Cathcart is another terrific back road offering twisty, uphill sections, a more open version of the Reefton Spur – the same sort of rain forest. Incredibly, all the corners seem to be of the same radius, and none tighten up.

At Bombala we lunched and refuelled, enjoying the magnificent sunshine. On the bikes again he headed north to the Snowy Mountains Highway to Nimmitabel where, instead of continuing to Cooma and then back south to Dalgety, we turned left on a link road containing a 16 km stretch of hard packed dirt road. It seemed to be a clay base, and looked diabolical in the wet, but in the dry was close to the best dirt road we had been on. It was over in less than 10 minutes, cutting off 50 km of highway and saving time – for more good stuff!

Round to Jindabyne to the Thai Chit café for refreshments. The weather was absolutely glorious, so, despite Rhys stressing about running out of daylight, we blatted up to Charlotte’s Pass and back, forking out $6 to the National Parks’ stunning (eh Bruce) toll collector. Mike was doing a good job with the camera and Bruce discovered bike mecca. I was surprised to see him pull in behind me back at the servo, with a grin from ear to ear. He runs hot and cold, does Bruce, but on this occasion he was hot!

We pressed on to Thredbo, Rhys still struggling with his special crash corner, the rest enjoying the superb road. Over the top we went, plunging down the steep, tight twisties, regrouping at Tom Groggin, formerly the end of the dirt. It is now all made. Pete reckons it is one of the most difficult downhill sections he has encountered. We hadn’t been to Elliot Way yet.

Rhys followed me on the next 70 km to Khancoban. The oncoming bikes and cars: red WRX, white falcon, etc were providing us with much to think about on the trip as we kept out of their way, giving them all there side of the road and most of ours. The road toll on this road is pretty horrendous – a rider the day before according to the Khancoban Service station owner. We all refuelled for the last 45 km to Cudgewa, ready for the next day.

Cudgewa Pub proved most hospitable, especially when a reservation failed to materialise and we were able to draw straws for the now available free room, which I duly moved into. We filled the Pub which is great, security not really an issue. Ange, the manager, provided us with fantastic meals each night, undercover bike parking, and a great cooked breakfast was included in the $30 per person per night accommodation costs. Magnificent. 680 kilometres for the day saw Mike seek an early night ready for more the next day. The rest of us weren’t far behind after a few quenching ales and Rhys regailed us with his usual starkly accurate, yet hilarious, character assassinations. He has got the best set of stories…

My near new Dunlop 207RR rear tyre, with an expected life of at least 6,000 km, had lost 5 mm (ie dead) in last 1500 km, ie two days riding, making a total life of 2,700 km. A trip to Albury was warranted next morning, after a quick call to Rhy’s friend Frank at Corryong Caravan Park convinced us what we already suspected – no “real” tyres were to be had at Corryong. Plenty of trail bike and quad tyres. Nothing big!

Bruce, along for the ride, and I, set off at 7.30 am, the frost thick on the ground in the adjacent paddock. Yep, it was 3 degrees according to Bruce’s VFR’s ambient temperature thermometer. Compounding the uncomfortableness, we rode out of early, feeble sunshine into a monstrous fog bank feeding off the river. I was down to almost legal speeds. Bruce bailed out, unbeknownst to me, stopping to fit winter gloves. He blatted past me later when I answered mother nature’s call – right now!

I was heading for the Yamaha shop in Albury which had a tyre fitting machine and mistakenly ended up at On-line Honda showroom, waiting an hour while the wheel was taken down to their mechanics a few kilometres away for the tyre to be fitted. This was after I had removed the wheel. While waiting Bruce and I strolled the main street in search of money and breakfast, admiring the passing Saturday morning shoppers and shop assistants. The wheel eventually returned with a new Pilot Race tyre fitted. Ten minutes late, with Bruce’s help, we had the wheel in and were back on the road heading for Corryong.

Rhys had lead the group around the lake from Cudgewa to Corryong, Walwa, Granya Gap and back to Corryong where we agreed to meet. Still in brain fade mode, I thought I would have enough petrol to get back to Corryong without filling at Tallangatta, despite Bruce asking that exact question. I underestimated the distance by 40 km, so when the low fuel level light came on well past Tallangatta, but still 60 km before Corryong, I suddenly realised the error of my ways. For the next 59 km I crouched down behind the tank and sat on a very modest 105-115 km/h. Bruce skooted off in glee, only to slow dramatically when his fuel light came on and I caught him up again. We both made it. My bike normally stops dead at about 51 km on reserve. This time I still had 600 ml of fuel remaining.

The group, having waited about 40 minutes, were eager to get going, as was I. We headed for Cabramurra, one of Liz’s favourite roads. In fact everyone was fairly hammering along this section, Dicky wrapped, having never ridden it before. A small regroup and then down the torturous Elliot Way: steep, bumpy twisties, regrouping at Sue City at the bottom. Once our hands had recovered from the beating, we set sail for Tumbarumba. Bruce, race face reappearing, blasted off, determined to get to the end before the rest of us. Dicky gave chase and just caught him I believe, some rivalry surfacing.

On to Tumbarumba and north to Tumut, this time avoiding Rosewood by using another shortcut, saving 30 km of dodgy highway, and placing us at the foot of the twisties entering the pine forest, Rhys’s favourite road. Dicky had just unceremoniously dumped his Falco, over-braking and locking up the front wheel before it was kicked out from under him by a nasty bump. The bike was rideable, “minor cosmetic” damage, mirrors surviving but the lug on his gear change lever snapping off. Rhys volunteered to accompany Dicky back to Tumbarumba to mend the lever by putting a bolt in the end of it to facilitate gear changing. We agreed to meet back at Tumbarumba after I lead the troops to Tumut and back.

Now on the Rosewood Road I noticed a big lad riding a Hayabusa heading in the other direction, a local out for a blast. Apparently he turned around and gave chase to the group, passing a few, shocking them with his wobbly bits wobbling merrily above the belt line, enough to distract some. Hayabusa man did not quite catch the front runners despite the following time wasting incident.

Nearing the end and heading down a steep, downhill section with a right hander at the bottom, just preceded by a fast left hand sweeper, I saw a dirt road straight ahead and thought it was the main road, missing the main road to the right due to the shadows and it dropping away. Realising the error too late for comfort I took the “spear off the road” option up the escape chute. This created some amusement for the troops, Bruce getting good mileage. All’s well that ends well, so we continued on to the major intersection, where, for something different, I took the 14 kms to Adelong along a pleasant country lane. Though a large town, and Saturday afternoon, the only service station was closed. Pathetic. Pete and I were now both on reserve but Tumut was only 15 km away so that’s where we headed.

At Tumut we refuelled on the outskirts of town before heading to the main street shopping plaza for late lunch. Those who hadn’t eaten at Corryong were really chafing at the bit for some food. We whiled away a very pleasant hour or so before taking the direct route back to Tumbarumba, Tintaldra and Cudgewa.

Rhys and Dicky had fixed the bike with the help of a local motorcyclist who provided a drill and bolt. Dicky was starting to hurt and seize up in the shoulder area so they decided to return to the pub rather than wait for us. The main group arrived back just on sunset, a very fast last blast from Tintaldra topping off the day, a modest 645 km.

We slept well that night, particularly after the “all you can eat” buffet meal for the very reasonable sum of $12. The local footballers were in the pub, the main source of income we were later informed.

Next day we were up and about around 8 am, looking for our cooked breakfast. It took a long time but was worth the wait. We finally hit the road around 9.15 am heading the 45 km to Walwa for fuel. While there were we informed by the local TOG policeman to be careful due to the high casualty rate amongst motorcyclists in the area – something like 8 fatalities since October last. Rhys tried hard not to tell Mr Plod exactly where we were going, but he was persistent. Down the Hume, according to Rhys.

We set off, appropriately chastened, on the fantastic “around the lake” road. Mind you, the water level is so low that grass is growing where water usually is. Incredibly scenic – if you have time to take your eyes off the road. Granya Gap was its usual sensational self, the deep blue sky adding to the great outdoors feel. Rhys, Pete, Dicky and I waited at far end. And no-one came. Rhys felt that Mike was not riding well – had lost the rhythm compared to yesterday. Pete was concerned that Liz had not appeared and volunteered to go and have a look. Rhys, Dicky and I took in the rays, and kicked our tyres. My front tyre would only just see out the day, and was looking pretty shabby. (Total life would be a smidge under 4000 kms. Ho-hum.)

Eventually Pete came screaming back, the rest in tow. Mike had taken a tumble on about the fourth corner on the Granya Gap, braking upright and off the road into a ditch resulting in another “minor cosmetic” and sore shoulder. Mike took the sensible option and headed home via the Hume for some tender loving care from his girlfriend Joan.

The rest of us pressed on, skooting around the Highway picking up the Omeo turnoff to Eskdale and Mitta Mitta. Another top road following a creek with occasional tight and twisty sections. Grouse. At Mitta Mitta we waited quite a while for Bruce before heading off to Dartmouth, turning right at the boat ramp sign to the dam. Unbeknownst to me, no-one corner marked. Bruce sailed merrily on, ending up at the dam wall with no-one to be seen. He waited at Dartmouth town for us to return, all apologies. Meanwhile we travelled the eight very tight and steep twisties to the boat ramp where I took a group photo with the lake as a back drop. Plenty of fishermen returning with a few brown trout to show for their endeavours. One volunteered to the group shot which we took him up on.

Back to Mitta Mitta for lunch, after a quick U-turn on the back road when I discovered that the bridge was closed due to repair. A slightly quicker lunch than normal at this milkbar/general store with mum and dad helping with the serving this time, rather than just the 13 year daughter. It must be a goldmine as the petrol bowser never seemed to stop as we sat under the pub verandah and watched proceedings. Rhys had gone, heading for Omeo over the 30 km of dirt. He had the next day off as well and was looking for some more excitement. I presume he got home, eventually.

Down to five now we made good time back to Tangambalanga along Jack’s favourite set of twisties, again following the creek. Rejoining the Kiewa Valley Highway at Dandongadale we cut across Happy Valley Road to Myrtleford for a break. Next stop Whitfield and last fuel. Bruce took off, his race face once again switched on. I waved Pete and Liz off, Dicky too, our next meeting spot Yarck. We bunched up again on the Highway, now doing battle with the setting sun and the heavy traffic, a lot of people having turned the weekend into a 4 day holiday.

We broke up at Yarck making our way home via Yea and Whittlesea in the dark, at a fair clip. Home by 7 pm. Only 515 km for the day making a total of 2,720 km for the weekend. Top weekend. Thanks to all who attended. Book you leave for November Melbourne Cup weekend now!

Ben Warden (CBR929RR)