Solo single touring in 1996...Part 1
I wrote this about 10 years after the trip itself. There no doubt the trip changed my life. See what you think. I have edited some bits out as on reflection, they were not my best stuff. I'm a better writer than I was in 2006. I hope.
In about mid 1997 I had a bit of a let down romantically and this led to a bout of introspection and examination of my life, at the time mainly concerned with working, playing the banjo in a band, and riding my newly aquired SRX600 - having passed my test a few weeks earlier.
So I was feeling a bit down and wondered what to do about it; the truth probably was that I had been a bit down for about 3-4 years, but had not noticed it creeping up on me. Maybe a bike trip, my first ever, would be a good idea.. The SRX is primitive kind of bike in these days of electric starts, water cooling and multi-cylinders. Although I had only had her a week, the Thumper and I seemed to get alone quite well. She only threatened to take my leg off once in the first week of ownership, and thereafter I never had a problem starting her. So what to do? I know what I'll do, I'll go on a tour, but where to? Out west? Not for me; Orange was as far west as this coastal boy ever wanted to go. North? Well I did have a mate up there, but I had been there before, and further north into Queensland did not appeal. So what about south, down to the high country of the Australian Alps? I lived up pretty high myself for Oz (860m above sea level), liked it, liked the look of the semi-alpine landscape, the lack of major population centres, and I could stay with my surfing mate Peter on the first night, and the ride down would be easy on the first day. That was it! I would head to Moruya and Pete's place the first night and make it up from there on...
I cleared it with the boss and then about a week later was ready to set off. My travelling gear was minimal; 2 throw over saddlebags and a magnetic tankbag, 5 sets of underdaks and socks, 5 t-shirts, 1 jumper and 1 pair of jeans. 1 sleeping bag. Riding gear was poo-brown leather jeans bought for 3 bucks from a charity store, and a bike jacket made by Walden Miller in Melbourne that would have been cool in about 1985. Steel capped work boots and a Kiwi helmet and that was about it.
I kicked her into life and set out for the south. First I headed down off the high plains to the heat and dust of Cowra. The heat hit me even early in the morning...Then along the Olympic Way south towards Canberra (our nation’s capital). Miles and miles of wheat & sheep country, just blatting along....There are signs that the bush was having a hard time of it, there were a few abandoned farmhouses on the way, and derelict barns. Family farms doing it hard...Just near Murrumbateman stopped for a bit of lunch and then skirt Canberra onto Braidwood, the place with one of the best second-hand bookshops in the world, they also did nice food. Then east from Braidwood and the hills loom up, it’s the western edge of the Great Dividing Range that runs from Queensland to Victoria. The trees are getting bigger, the grass is turning green rather than the brown I have been riding through for a good few hours. Then the climb onto one of the best stretches of biking road in Australia, the Clyde Mountain Road. Nice curves, lush forest with majestic trees, and me and the bike are doing really well on this road. This road was made for this bike, the easy and sure handling (not nervous, more "steady") and the wonderful torque from the 600 thumper. During some bits I just had to shout out with joy - so must have looked a bit mad, but I did not give a damn!!! I pass a few bikes going the other way, and they are loving it too.
After about 40km of this or so we come down to the coastal plain at Nelligan, a pretty small holiday place on the river Clyde, and then 20 minutes or so later into the outskirts of Batemans Bay; McDonalds and all, and traffic and people and I don't really like it very much....Speed on to Peters place a bit down the road at Moruya and Pete and his kids greet me with a smile, and his wife is laughing and say I must be mad. Pete says "yeah of course he's mad, he's a kneelo (kneeboarder); now let’s have a beer”. What a great idea.
A barbie and a few beers later the maps come out and I plan the next day. It would be unknown territory for me - the last time I was in Victoria I was 7 years old. My late Dad called the Victorians "bloody Mexicans" and the game they are obsessed with (Aussie Rules football) "aerial ping-pong" and not a mans game like League, which is according to him is "the working mans game". The plan is to head south on the Princes Highway and stay in Orbost, a place I know nothing about!
Total distance - only 500kms...
After a nice breakfast (maybe too much) I say goodbye to Peter and family in Moruya and head off down the road towards my next destination, decided the night before, to be Orbost.
This is a main highway, but as they say on Star Trek "It's a highway Jim but not as we know it". The Princes Highway is definitely NOT a faceless bland dual carriageway of a road, for a great deal of it's length it is just one up and one down, with extra lanes to pass on hills sometimes. Passing through Narooma and Bermagui the Pacific Ocean looks magnificent, and there are fishing boats in the little harbours, not pleasure boats but working boats. My own home town used to have these when we first moved there, but they were now long gone. Here, fishing for a living was still a viable job.
The road goes through lush green forests with huge eucalypts, and the scent of them is lovely, so yes I'm sucking it in like its the best smell in the world. It's the smell of Australia, before the white man came and cut down 85% of the forests...Then the road comes close to the ocean again, and that too is such a fresh taste...I'd like to go for a surf but of course not on this trip. Stop for petrol in Bega, and have a coffee and a walk around to stretch my legs. I'm feeling very pleased with myself.
Back on the bike passing through Merimbula, such a lovely place, and the SRX still beating on perfectly. And I'm feeling cool...maybe a little too cool, especially in my nether regions. What’s this? My bloody fly zip has broken and it's being well ventilated...I'm taking these $3 trousers back!!! Decide to get them fixed in Eden and have lunch there. Find 3 places, all closed at 1pm on a Saturday, must be a 1950s time warp around here, but I at last find an open place and they repair them for 15 bucks while I wait in the shop wearing my undies. Trying to be inconspicuous....Then head off down the pub and have a counter lunch, and sort of laze about for an hour. Riding naked bikes with bloody loud exhaust and a fair bit of vibration can be tiring, so it’s nice to have a rest. Eden is aptly named, it has forests around it (it's a logging / fishing town) and a remote feel - halfway from Sydney to Melbourne (roughly). My parents used to come here before I was born.
Eden also was as serious whaling town, so I go and check out the Whaling Museum, which is good. I don't judge those blokes in those days; I probably would have done it myself. I make a note to myself that Eden is the nicest place I have ever seen in my life..and I'd like to live there one day.
On the road and the Victorian border is approaching. A sign says I am not allowed to bring fruit or grape vines into the state. So I dump my 5000 plums and pinot noir vines by the side of the road.....On through the forests and I'm well away from the sea now, going through Genoa which has a faded air, like a sepia photograph, dusty...then stop in Cann River for some petrol and a cuppa. A man asks me have I come far, when he learns I came from Orange he says "that’s a long way" and I say "nah not too bad mate". I now feel like Captain America, and a real hip touring dude. Cann River has a proper Aussie pub; 2 storey 360 degree double balcony with a corrugated iron roof, a tea house, an antique shoppe and bugger all else. And a cafe truckies seem to favour. It's starting to rain.
On the bike again and finally I turn up at Orbost, go into the first big pub I see with accommodation, I'm a bit wet through but they are OK with that and I get a room. Looking at the map I could scoot down to where the Snowy River hits the sea, but it's spitting outside and I'm knackered, so I have an hours sleep then have a shower, get changed and go down to the bar.
Orbost is built on logging - timber jinkers roar up and down the streets at regular intervals. It's only the barmaid, me, and 2 other guys at the bar and it's 7PM. Maybe the rain is keeping them at home. I dunno. The barmaid and the guys know each other well and they are a friendly bunch, so we have a good old chat. They are intrigued as to why I would want to do this trip, so I tell them "A woman was involved". They understand. They ask about the bike - why didn't I get a big bike like a Japanese 4 or a Harley? I just said I liked simpler, lighter things, that’s all. And my father rode a pre-war Norton International, so thumpers are in the blood. I have a steak and chips, and only 1 more beer (I can't hardly drink at all - the hangovers turn into migraines..) and we talk until closing time. Stuff about what they do, what the want to do. The girl wants to leave the town as soon as she can and go to Melbourne....I say "If I come back down this way I'll take you on the bike". She is not sure about that...the old story...bikes are dangerous etc etc. But she has a sweet smile, and I don't argue with her. I just say "It's not for everyone..no..". She has the bob hairstyle that is very attractive....but oh well. The guys work at a sawmill and have families and OK jobs, but the trees are getting thinner, and maybe the jobs won't last forever. I talk about saving the forests a bit (I used to be in the Green Party) and to my surprise they agree!! It's been a good night.
Then it's off to bed to the sound of rain falling. About 2 minutes after hitting the pillow I'm asleep.
To be continued......
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