The weather was great, the roads relatively clear and the aim was to do a tour of the Southern Highlands endeavoring to stay off the highways as much as possible. Or, as the Patty Loveless song says, “Staying clear of the interstates, I’m seeking out those old two lanes,”
The whole thing was very civilised right from the get-go. Instead of some God-awful hour of the morning, we left at 1030 in the morning, much more pleasant.
There are some major roadworks taking place on Macquarie Pass at the moment. The RTA or RMS or whatever they are called this week, have finally decided that they will do something about the causeway at the top of the road. Every time it rains the waterfall booms down the hill and sweeps across the road as the existing drain under the road is totally inadequate to deal with the volume of water. So, in the true nature of government bureaucracies, they have chosen one of the busiest times of the year to start a major maintenance project. The road is closed to one lane while the work takes place and the one lane that is allowed to be used is controlled by a set of traffic lights. The bottom set of lights is on the double lane section, sensible. The top set is placed at one of the narrowest sections of the road just above the causeway. Watching big trucks try to fit through the narrow gap between the cliff on one side and the stopped line of cars on the other side makes you realise just how stupid some decisions really are.
Waiting at the bottom lights (after cleverly filtering to the front of the queue) we were ready for the green when we were swamped by a whole rash of sportsbikes who forced their way in front of us in the non-existent gap between us and the white line. As the light went green they screamed off into the distance giving all of us with a good reason to think that motorcyclists are registered idiots.
As we headed up to the last hairpin I was being harassed by a BMW1300 with a pillion passenger. The rider had already made it clear that he wanted to get by but there was no room for him to do so so he settled for tailgating me fore the rest of the Pass. When we hit the overtaking lane after the last hairpin, he didn’t even give me the chance to get into the left lane. Instead he dived for it and screamed up beside me. I expected him to disappear, but, in a wonderful twist, he must have suddenly realised that he was going too fast for the tight right hander and he sat up! I kept it pinned and he disappeared backwards. He soon realised that the corner was opening and gunned it again, passing me after the lane had closed off and promptly took off into the distance. Is it any wonder?
We had decided not to go to the Pie Shop, so we peeled off onto Tourist Road and the whole scene got instantly calmer. Tourist Road is bumpy but filled with corner after sweeping corner and I can forgive the indifferent surface for that.
Anticipation, how many times have I banged on about that? On the flat section I looked ahead across the upcoming right hand corner and spotted two bicycle helmets (MAMILS). I also caught a glimpse of a red F250 pickup and a quick mental calculation made me suspect that they and I would arrive at the apex of the corner at around about the same time. Off the throttle and keep lefter than usual and, what do you know? The pickup was passing the pushie right on the apex of the corner and was on our side of the road to do so!
From there, we wound around through the little towns till we hit the old Hume Highway at Bargo and made our way to Picton. The plan was to eat at Picton Hotel, but there was already an oversupply of bikes in the car park so we figured that the length of time to be served and then to get our food would be unacceptable so we moved on to a little cafe where the crowd was small, the service friendly and the atmosphere altogether more amenable.
I’d always planned to go home via the route that we regularly use on our Brekkie Rides (except in reverse). As you know, a road looks very different when travelled in one direction than it does in the other and I was secretly a little worried about whether I would remember all the twists and turns that are involved in the route! However, as the sailor said when he spat into the wind, “It’s all coming back to me,” and I managed to make an (almost) perfect job of it.
We bimbled on down Mount Keira and completed the ride in great time and without any dramas. We had hardly touched the main highway all day and, even though we only covered 200kms, it was a brilliant ride.
There is definitely something to be said for backroad touring.