It was suggested today that this Ride Report should start and finish with the simple words that “If you weren’t on the ride then it doesn’t matter, so bad luck.” However, being the conscientious Ride Leader that I am, I shall enthrall you with the day’s events.
Once upon a time there were two roads in NSW that weaved their way north between Goulburn and Bathurst. One was slightly to the west and one was slightly to the east of where the crows would fly. Both had the potential to be great motorcycling roads but alas, both had sections of unsealed and very rough dirt. Many brave motorcyclists used these roads regardless of the dirt, dust and corrugations. They rejoiced in the sections of twisty bitumen that made the roads a worthwhile pleasure, even if their road bikes had to do some chook-chasing along the way. I was one of them. Eventually, the two roads became fully-sealed. They are now a great deal of fun on a motorcycle.
Hands up those who have never ridden the road between Crookwell, Tuena and Perthville? A few responded by raising their hands. Hands up those who have never ridden the road between Perthville, Rockley and Black Springs? Most raised their hands. Never heard of that one, said some. How about the road between Black Springs and Taralga? Most had done that at some stage. My instruction as Ride Leader was to ride within your limits and look after each-other by ensuring that the rider behind you saw which road you took at each turn-point. It’s called a rolling corner marker and is an alternate view of corner marking that relies on everyone waiting for the person behind them to see where we were going. A volunteer TEC (Tail-End-Charlie) would keep an eye on the wagging tail. Thank you to Ian on the Wing for volunteering.
Our intrepid band of eight riders left Watson BP at 0830 on a mildly moist morning that promised either hard rain or warm sunshine. We travelled via Gundaroo to Gunning and Crookwell where we stopped for a coffee. It was an excellent start to the day. Time constraints forced a change of the circular route from anti-clockwise to clockwise. The day was to be a long one for some, and it’s sometimes good to get a short transport leg out of the way before the harder and less-travelled roads are tackled. The warm drinks were welcomed at Crookwell and a few were clearly suffering from the extraordinary distance already covered without a coffee break.
Beyond Binda the road begins to twist and tighten and curl back on itself and you are suddenly in motorcycling heaven and testing your skills on hairpin turns and steep uphill or downhill grades and numerous blind bends. Care is needed, and we took it easy. The corners are smooth. The corner radius never seems to tighten too much, so you can rely on your speed into a corner being ok on the way out. The excitement of crashing is not a desirable outcome for any ride, but especially not a Ulysses one. We negotiated the steep sections of road either side of Tuena with relative ease, but at a steady pace to keep our travel comfortable. Traffic was light in both directions. The faint drizzle had gone but the skies were overcast.
I pulled over for a re-group at Trunkey Creek, just to make sure everyone made it through the tricky bits and the faster sweepers within the forests either side of Tuena. The fast sweepers at Caloola signalled the end of the fun bits for a while. Perthville is just down the road from Georges Plains. A short sprint along good roads and we were ready for a refuel, the old Perthville servo allowing us to fuel up and do the short run to Rockley, a slight change of lunch venue. The Bridge Hotel is adjacent the old bridge in Perthville (hence the appropriate name), ten kilometers south of Bathurst. While it was the intended lunch stop, it has been a bit hit-and-miss with food in recent times, so Rockley was the new target.
I faintly heard the creaking of necks behind me as we entered Rockley, the sound of riders trying to catch a look at the ancient buildings on either side of them as we rode into the little township. It’s in such a remote location that you must wonder why it existed in years gone by and still exists today. It’s worth a look and the old Rockley pub is now part pub and part café. It’s a good stopping place. The place was jumping with bikes. Maybe a hundred riders were partaking in a charity ride but had only stopped for refreshments and not lunch, so our lunch plans were uninterrupted.
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| Ian about to get stuck in |
There was a lot of chatter about the ride just done over lunch, a rare thing for the many Ulysses rides I’ve been on. Motorcyclists discussing new roads and sharp corners? How novel. Ian’s Big Breakfast looked particularly appetising and nary a crumb was left on the plate when he finished it. All the meals looked pretty good, but were delivered sequentially and not in one batch. It was no big deal. Conversation was flowing freely. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch and then prepared for the slightly longer run home. Another new road for some, and one not to be taken too lightly. I got the impression that all were looking forward to another challenge.
I hoped that everyone remembered our corner-marking technique for the next stretch. Taking a wrong road would likely put you on to logging roads that were all never-ending white gravel and very slippery. Camping out is fun, but not when you have a dropped motorcycle and no sleeping gear to contend with. All seemed keen to embark on the next stage of our adventure and the ride across little-known roads to unusual localities called Campbell’s River, Mount David, Burraga and on to Black Springs. Some had never heard of such places. It’s funny how places that have been around forever can sneak up on you.
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| Selfie with helmet on |
We departed Rockley in high spirits, a short Congo-line of bikes ready to tackle the final stage of our adventure. The handful of fast sweepers just after Rockley are lovely and lead you into thinking that this will be a breeze. Then the road gets skinny and the pace must slow a little to avoid the tree-litter and always-possible wallabies. You get a small bit of breathing space as you pass through the village of Black Springs and then it starts again. Left, right, up, down, gear-change after gear-change and a gentle squeeze of the brakes to settle the bike, ever-watchful for the wallabies and other traffic rightfully and wrongfully using the road.
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| Former Rockley Mill |
We hit open country again near Taralga and pulled up in town for a regroup to make sure all made it through the hills. They did, so it was on to Crookwell and through to Gunning for farewell drinks for those who wanted to partake. Rob and Dean headed out to Goulburn, so our merry band was reduced to six for the Gunning coffee. Kris called it a day at Gunning and left us to have a final coffee and chat about the day’s ride and other important stuff. The two roads that started life as wiggly dirt tracks now form part of a great day on the bike. It was a good ride to lead and a good group to lead. I think all who attended had fun on this one. It was refreshing to note that the motorcycling overtook the socializing aspect for a change. Discussions about riding lines and flashing past scenic views and how great the road was were abundant.
It should be noted that riding at the posted limits on these roads can still be fun. There is no need to break the law and the roads are heavily patrolled thanks to the high number of crashed motorcycles and occasional deaths that have forced the issue in recent times. Daydreaming is verboten. The roads require full concentration. My thanks to those who attended and listened to the instructions at the briefing and along the way. Nobody got lost. Nobody crashed. We had a heck of a good ride. We should do it again.
Attendees for this adventure into the wilderness were:
Ride Leader and Scribe Mick Beltrame (R1200GSLC)
Rob Jones (Bandit 1250)
Hartmut Kehm (R1200GS)
Garry McCurley (F6B)
Dave Jones (Tenere XT1200)
Kris Jirasek (GSXR 1300)
Dean Marsnall (R1200GS)
Many thanks to Tail-End-Charlie Ian Paterson (Wing GL1800)
