“Not quite so far north this time”

Long lifers will  recall that, about 18 months ago, I made an attempt to ride The Lakes Way, between the Pacific Highway at Buladelah and Forster on the north coast of NSW. It didn’t quite go according to plan, however (see “Sod’s Law”) and the plan was shelved for later. Well, “later” has arrived so, for the last three days I have been ticking the box.

Helena is due home on Friday and it would be churlish of me to head off on another ride as soon as she gets home, even though the weather is certainly suitable, so I decided that I’d use up my last “batching” weekend with another mini-tour. This time there WAS a plan and it also involved trying to stop often and take lots of photos. I think I achieved this goal pretty well as you will see.

After a leisurely breakfast at The City Cafe (see, “It’s a Small World”) I headed home, suited up and hit the road. Day 1 was going to involve a long transport stage so best to get it done. Mt Keira, Picton Road and out onto the Hume Highway. The M7 and the dreaded grind through Pennant Hills and then Hornsby. From here I hit the Old Pacific Highway and had a very enjoyable run up the back road to Gosford. Sticking to “just” a little over the 60 km/h limit (we have mostly ourselves to blame for this absurdity), I was even passed by a HWP car going the other way who rated me “just” worthy of a glance as I waved and pressed on. The Old Pac has not lost its allure though the afternoon sun did make finding the apexes a little difficult at times.

I wasn’t really hungry yet so the stop at Pie in the Sky was just a comfort one.

It’s been a lot of years since I did the road so it was fun to stop at The Slab and take the obligatory photo.

The dozens of motorcycle-related stickers that now adorn the armco fence were also very entertaining (see gallery)

Sticking to the back roads until I had no choice, I joined the F3 and cut out at the Western Lake exit where I stopped at Cooranbong and paid my respects to Steve Butler, a Facebook and personal friend. Over a cup of tea we again solved all the problems of the road racing world (we did this last time, how come nobody listened?) before hitting out into the evening for my first stop of the trip. The plan WAS to go as far as Raymond Terrace and so have a good “jump” on the next day but the evening and the cold closed in and I bailed at Tarro to the very pleasant Pacific Palms Motel. On the advice of the lady behind the counter I walked down into the town and found what appeared to be a brand new United servo. Inside was a take-away food place that served me up a most delicious plate of chicken ravioli with bacon and garlic sauce, freshly made, piping hot, as good as you’d find anywhere and just $10. Absolute bargain.

Anticipating a very cold and frosty night I made sure I took the usual precautions before hitting the sack 🙂

I mean, that’s why motels give you so many towels, right?

It WAS cold in the morning, but no frost. I rode down to the United and filled up, I felt I owed them that, and headed out onto the Pacific Highway. Most of you know that I lived in Newcastle as a teenager so my affection for the place is well documented. Here’s the bridge at Hexham over one arm of the mighty Hunter River.

Breakfast at Ayers Rock (remember The Leyland Brothers?) and the grind up the highway didn’t seem to take as long as I thought it would and soon Buladelah was in sight. Now Steve had warned me that The Lakes Way was pretty rough at the moment and the idea of that, combined with my still unsorted suspension was not thrilling, but, that was the plan and I was going to stick to it. The road WAS rough but still entertaining and the scenery was superb. Attacking the first lot of bends into the morning sun again meant that my progress was more stop-start than what I wanted it to be as the apexes often disappeared, but I pressed on and enjoyed it anyway. It seemed to take far less time to get to the end than when we did it last time in the Minibago so I turned around and headed west back to the highway.

Always on the lookout for photo ops I had noticed an old cemetery beside the road on the way up so, on the way back, I stopped and took a few shots. The serenity of the Australian landscape always delights me, though I did think that the people who lived across the road from this particular graveyard probably didn’t have too much problem with the neighbours!

No trip anywhere near Buladelah is complete without the traditional pilgrimage to O’Halloran’s Gap on the Wootton Way. This road used to BE the Pacific Highway and there used to be TWO speed cameras mounted on this swooping mountain pass. These days it is deserted, bypassed by the freeway, a minor country backroad populated mostly by motorcyclists who know. These days the surface is deteriorating and liberally spread with leaf litter and small branches but few things can match the sheer joy of its sweeping bands and its dramatic elevation changes.

Back onto the slab and soon I was back in Newcastle. I thought I’d go and revisit the scenes of my teenage years so a stop beside the glorious Lake Macquarie, the largest tidal lake on the NSW east coast was definitely in order. My school was literally on the edge of the lake with seeping panoramas across its ever-changing beauty visible from most classroom windows and from its playgrounds, is it any wonder I never got much work done? This photo is just a little around from where the old Speers Point jetty used to be. I spent many happy hours fishing from there back then.

And, since I WAS that close, I headed around to the western side of the lake and stopped for a selfie outside my old alma mater, Booragul High School. Renamed (much to the disgust of us BHS ex-students) to the prosaic Lake Macquarie High School, the precincts are now surrounded by the usual security fencing so I couldn’t get anywhere near close enough for a decent photo, bah!

..and, yes, I know I mentioned that I hated selfies, but at least I had the decency to leave my helmet on so that I didn’t shock you too much. A quick shot at Fennell’s Bay near Toronto (see the Featured Image) and then I headed south west out to very familiar territory indeed, Cessnock and the Hunter Valley.

In keeping with my usual wont, I checked out the local hotels and found that the Cessnock Hotel, right at the end of the main street, was not only offering accommodation that included a buffet breakfast but also secure accommodation for my bike in a locked shed out the back, and all for under $100!

As well, the hotel was running a Christmas in July event that night. I didn’t really want a big meal so I passed and just had something from the bistro. However, eating in the dining room DID allow me to enjoy one of the highlights of the night for free, the marvellous entertainment of Melody and Michael. Michael is an excellent guitarist (I found out later that he plays in the band for The McClymonts, a famous Australian country music group) and Melody has a delightful and gentle voice. Their cruisy and understated renditions of some of the famous carols and Christmas songs certainly added enormously to the ambiance of the evening.

It was a very cold morning when I awoke yesterday. The temp gauge on the bike read 3 degrees as I headed out and it quickly dropped to 1 as I negotiated out through the Broke Road (giving a toot on the horn as I passed Lenny and Pauline’s place – I’m sure they didn’t hear me, but, hey) and onto the Putty. The plan here was simple. Wayne, one of my IR mates, was planning a Putty run of his own on Sunday so we had arranged to meet up at the Grey Gum for morning tea.

The Ten Mile was very cold and, with my visor and glasses fogging up badly, I took it REAL easy until the end where the road opened out a bit and the temperature started to rise. Good thing I did, too, as a close encounter with Skippy and a patch of road that was still covered with a heavy layer of frost kept me attentive.

I pulled in to Grey Gum just as Wayne was taking his gloves off, talk about great timing. There were only a few (very) hardy souls there and I was glad of the fire pits that were already blazing. Wayne was planning to do the Ten Mile (as you do) so I sat around, thawed out and socialised with the gang while he did so. I also gave him a heads-up about road conditions, especially the big patch of frost at Garland Valley. Not long after he left a group of 50 (yes, I counted them) Mustangs turned up and the line-up at the counter was soon out the door and onto the grass.

Here an aside. Wouldn’t you think that, if you were planning a club run to ANY cafe, let alone one out in the sticks like Grey Gum is, you would have the decency to notify the cafe AHEAD of time to let them know your plans? It’s a no-brainer, right? Had the Mustang club done so? No, they just rocked up, around 100 extra people that Kim was not expecting, 100 people over and above her usually busy Sunday clientele. To say that she was unimpressed is putting it mildly.

An hour sitting in the sunshine and drinking coffee passed very quickly and soon Wayne was back and we headed south. For a Sunday the road was deserted, most traffic being bikes heading UP to GGC after their owners had waited at home in the warmth until they felt like they could face the conditions (wimps). A top-off at Wilberforce and on to Mulgoa for a late lunch at Peppercorn.

A spirited dash down the Oaks Road and I ghosted in to the driveway well before nightfall. Around 1000 kms for the three days, hardly daring but that wasn’t the object of the exercise. The Lakes Way is now ticked off, I don’t think I’ll do it again until there’s been some repair work done, but, as the old NT Tourism ad used to say, “You’ll never, ever know if you never, never go.”