The song from which my article’s title today derives was recorded by Otis Redding not long before his death at age 37 in a plane crash. Otis was one of far too many great artists who lost their lives at a far too early age flying small, unreliable planes between music gigs. I remember the song well as it was a huge hit here in Australia during my final year of high school (1967) and also because it was a favourite practice number for many of us in our early years of guitar playing.
My article has but the most tenuous connection with the song though the header photo does show Rhonnda near a dock at Batemans Bay on the South Coast. I didn’t stop for any amount of time nor did I sit but that’s where the connections starts and ends. I did, however, meet and talk for a few minutes with a couple who WERE sitting on the dock and as is so often the case, we exchanged greetings and motorcycle-related chat. He thought my bike was a Ducati, a not uncommon occurrence. He was also amazed that Rhonnda was 24 years old, also a not-uncommon occurrence.
It all started when I looked at the forecast a few days ago and noted that the predicted weather looked to be very motorcycle-friendly indeed. I did post up a Clyde ride on my local rider’s group page but, being midweek, I wasn’t surprised to receive no takers. Nevertheless, I headed off down the Princes at the appointed time, the goal being Batemans Bay, a blast up and back on the entertaining Clyde Mountain road and then back home in the afternoon.
This was no poker run, rather an easy cruise with as many stops as necessary for happy snaps and admiration of the glorious south coast scenery. So, first stop was the lookout at the end of the Kiama bends with spectacular views over Werri Beach and Gerringong.
As I turned to leave, however, I noticed a black container sitting in the grass. On examination it proved to be a lunch box with some personal effects as well; obviously some workman had dropped it or left it there inadvertently.
The problem was that I had no way to carry it to the local police station so it looked like I was going to have to just leave it there and hope. Fortunately, a retired couple, obviously on holidays, 4WD and caravan attached, arrived and the gentleman volunteered to drop it in at the next town. I felt much better knowing that someone was taking care of it, the fellowship of the road.
As I said, this wasn’t a fast run today so I just cruised down the highway. Pit stop at Milton was next, though there were no monsters to be seen. The local park is dominated by the most magnificent Moreton Bay Fig tree and I took the opportunity to document is before heading off again.
A brief stop at Ulladulla (anything but dull) to admire the picturesque harbour and then back on the road again.
I stopped at the Bay to get the title shot and then headed up the mountain. The run up the Clyde Mountain is sublime and loved by all motorcyclists. Unfortunately the run is presently punctuated by numerous road works to repair the accumulated damage of many months of heavy rain. Numerous red-light stops for that plus a long 40km/h section as the duplication of the Misty Mountain section meant that the ride was a frustrating, stop-start affair.
I am encouraged after yesterday to see that the various government instrumentalities are making excellent progress with repairing our roads. Some would say that it’s not before time and I would agree but it is good to see that something IS being done.
By the time I had reached the top of the mountain I had already decided that a return pass was not going to happen. Instead I elected to push on to Braidwood and come home via Goulburn. Now I knew that this WOULD mean taking the Goulburn Road past Wakefield Park and I had been advised that it was in pretty poor shape after the rains, but, there wasn’t any other choice other than going well out of my way so I decided to go and just take it easy (I was going to do that anyway). A comfort/photo stop along the way pointed out how deserted country roads could be and also a reminder that every picture tells a story.
Much to my surprise, there are huge sections of the road that have already been repaired and the sections that are not yet fixed are well sign-posted to give you plenty of warning about the rough bits. I made very good time on a road that was totally deserted and pulled into Goulburn very surprised indeed with how easy the run had been.
I did pause to take this very sad photo of the locked gates of the Wakefield Park raceway, I doubt they will every be re-opened.
Of course this choice of route inevitably involved me in a run up the Hume Highway, not one of my favourites, especially on a bike. Just after Marulan I cut east and wandered home via the much less trafficed and much more enjoyable road through the little highlands towns of Tallong, Wingello and Penrose.
By this stage the munchies had set in so it was a pleasure (as it always is) to call in at the Wingello General Store and have a late lunch. Grilled chicken, lettuce and mayo on a bun accompanied by an old-skool made chocolate milk shake. Excellent.
Then it was Bundanoon, a pit stop at Fitzroy Falls..
…and Robertson, down Mac Pass and home.
The traffic on the pass was awful so I pulled over at the bottom to let it clear. Just as I was getting ready to leave I heard the distinctive rumble of a V-Twin motorcycle and an Aprilia 1000 pulled up. I had seen the bike at the Pie Shop so I went over to say hi to the rider. Amazingly, it was the one person who had responded to my original EOI about the ride but who found that he couldn’t go with me because he was tied up with appointments till 1030 in the morning. Even more annoyingly, both the persons that Phil was supposed to meet had not showed for their appointment so he could have come anyway. Grr.
I arrived home after 5 having covered about 470kms for the day. Even a bad day in the saddle is better than mowing the lawn but a good one like this one is priceless. Here’s my video recall, enjoy.
Catch you next time.
