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EAGLE`02 wrote::laugh: SHIT A BEAR ????
That isn`t real fair ????? 😆Looks sweet all of that vid,,,,, Thanx a lot :S
Cheers
Arw you SURE you’re not coming Eagle?
I see what you mean TB. That red clay looks slippery. In fact I know it is as I binned my Transalp on a track on a mates property out the back of Cumnock once.
So definitely new tyres for this one.
Don’t want to scuff up my new jacket.
Wigster
Got the new jacket (and pants, and boots). Thank you, Long Service Payments Corporation (your taxes at work).
Seriously contributing to Wolfy’s super fund this week.
Looks like a belter. New tyres required methinks.
Six inches of snow would make some of those tracks very interesting.
Wigster
If it half as good as the previous two rides it will be a stunner.
Don’t wipe yourself out on the pre-ride TB.
Very familiar with the Cumnock pub. Spent quite a few christmas’s in the area. Can’t wait for this one. The colder weather will give me the excuse I need to get a new jacket.
Wigster
Count me in TB.
Wigster
A music thread! Now you got me started.
First album bought, Never Mind the Bollocks, here’s the Sex Pistols. Even now when I here the opening riff to Pretty Vacant it takes me back to 1977, bouncing around Barbarellas club in Brum with my hair spiked up and dyed pink.
I was in to all the punk bands at the time. The Clash, The Stranglers, The Ruts, The Skids, Boomtown Rats, Generation X, X Ray Specs, etc etc.
Then me and me mates went all modernist. Largely due to The Jam (remeber All Mod Cons?) Got a tidy Lambretta 125 (the most unreliable form of motor transport ever manufactured) and a Parka. Got well in to the 60’s (The Kinks, The Small Faces, The Who) as well as The Chords, Secret affair, The Lambrettas. My girlfriend at the time had a beehive several feet tall. I remeber going to see Quadrophenia at the Picture Palace in Stafford. There was a big fight afterwards beteeen the Mods and Rockers, just like Brighton beach in the 60’s, except this was a small industrial town in the north and it was 1979.
Then we got all sad and beautifull, though unlike some of my mates, I stopped short of borrowing my sisters make up. Ultravox, Gary Numan, Bowie. I will even confess to buying a Smiths album later on.
Sometimes I really wish I was 19 again.
Wigster
I forgot to thank the guys who helped me get the Tiger back upright on Mt Irvine. Farrier and James. I think it was you, so thanks!
Wigster
Great footage TB. It’s a pity you weren’t looking over your right shoulder a bit more when PTW had his lie down. We missed the finer details. Oil on the road indeed!
When’s the next one?
Wigster
The last ride was a massively steep learning curve for me. I thought that curve couldn’t possibly get any steeper. First schoolboy error of the week end. It could and it did.
A slightly later departure from the northern beaches due to a last minute decision to get some fresh rubber fitted saw me nicely ensconsed in a traffic jam from Brookvale to Mittagong (or so it seemed). Took five hours (I normally do it in two).
Not to worry, the anticipation of the ride and beers at the Mittagong Hotel had me grinning from ear to ear.
I arrived to find TB in residence in serious pre-ride fuelling mode. The garlic prawns and sausages never stood a chance. The Old Bulls were even still talking to me after the Bathurst week end. Things were looking up.
As the beer and the banter started to flow, the promise I made to myself of an early night evaporated and it was a slightly dusty Wigster that emerged in to the early morning light.
Flying Fish, my previous ride partner was off the leash for this one, up the front duelling with the greyhounds (TB and Pete the Wulf as a greyhounds? Now there’s an image!) so I was teamed up with Ace and Eagle for this one. Two great blokes who shepherderd me around the course with a mixture of encouragment and jelly snakes.
It started off in familiar territory, with the road to Woollondilly, where the main danger is being cleaned up by oncoming family campers. Things soon started to get interesting on the fire trails and I felt my pace had picked up a bit from the previous ride (as it needed to).
The first challenge was a steep hill that Ace spotted was on the route, just off the main track. It look steep but Ace made it look easy. I made it look less so but I gave the Trumpet her head and she powered up with that lovely whining turbine sound (well I like it).
There were some really steep descents after this that had me a bit worried but I stayed upright and for the first time began to enjoy the technical challenges rather than hanging on and hoping for the best.
I rather embarrassingly stalled in the middle of the Kowmung but managed to get her over with plenty of outrigger action.
There were some slippery off camber trails along power lines and some loamy bits but still upright so so far so good.
We realised we were not going to get fuel at the dam, so went via Cowra for fuel and back to Woodstock for the evening festivities. Great pub and feed, re-living the events of the day but I was pretty tired so it was a relatively early night, like the one I should have had the night before. Couldn’t be buggered to put the tent up so it was on the pool room floor for me.
The second day was a ripper. Mainly fast open trails with some great twisty tar for us former road bikers it was all brought to a grinding halt (for me) by the ascent of Mount Irvine. Steep and badly rutted I was harving a hard time with the bike as it had developed an idling problem and kept stalling (that’s my excuse). One time I went to put my foot out for a judicious dab and I felt nothing but air as I fell sideways in to a hole so big it seemed to swallow the Tiger and leave her wheels pointing uphill.
There was no way I could lift her out of that so I waited for another couple of guys and we managed to get her out and the right way up.
I was still only half way up, but decided to adopt a more aggressive approach. Doing it “properly”up on the pegs with plenty of momentum I bounced around like a pinball, sometimes getting the line wrong and thinking there is no way I’m going to roll over this hole/rock, but she did and I made it to the top without further mishap.
I stopped for a breather and Ace swept by on his Latte machine. “Too easy” he yelled. He was being ironic. I think.
So more fast open trails. I was in the lead for a bit and I really gunned it, revving the Tiger out for a good twenty minutes of fast riding. Surely I’ve put some distance between me and the boys now I thought. But no, I looked in the mirror and there they were, Ace, Eagle and the Boulders, line astern, right up my clacker.
I tell you what, If I had pulled a bank heist I wouldn’t want to be chased by that lot. For a number of reasons actually.
Anyways, it was over the ferry and on in to Wismans for the end of the ride and a celebratory beer.
What an absolutely outstanding week end.
I can only echo Wolfie’s comments on saturday night regarding TB. There are people out there charging hundreds of dollars for what TB does. And all he gets is a couple of apple ciders and a rum or three. He deserves a gong, and next time I talk to the Queen I’ll make sure he gets one.
Massive thanks to you Sir.
Thanks to Ace and Eagle too. Hope I didn’t slow you up too much. I’ll bring the snakes next time. And Chicken for driving the ute!
See you all on the next one.
Wigster
Hey Amy, presume you have a spot tracker because I don’t!
Challenging nav. Zooming in, zooming out, what’s all this? I might bring my sextant and almanac. That’ll make me even slower (if that were possible).
Sounds like I should be shitting bricks as well as sweating bullets.
Bloody lunatics the lot of ye.
Wigster
Oh No, another Old Bulls nav ride!
During my first (Bathhurst) Old Bulls ride, my mental state varied from mild apprehension to outright petrification.
I was woken at some ungodly hour on Sunday morning by a rum hangover that would have killed a large pig.
By late Sunday afternoon, I resembled an asthmatic ant with a bag of heavy shopping as I tried to wrestle the Tiger around the trails.
I was as physically spent as I have been in a long time as I rode home, this was only partially remedied by the consumption of two extra large double shot butterscotch milkshakes at the servo at Kulnura.
It was pure luck that my brand spanking new unmarked Tiger escaped unscathed.
So, TB, if you imagine for one second that I’ll be putting my hand up for another ride with you and your lunatic mates……….
See you at Mittagong!
Wigster
It was all Flying Fish’s fault. “I’m going on an Old Bulls ride next weekend, why don’t you come? They are a great bunch of blokes and it will be good for you”.
About the former she was certainly right, the jury is still out on the latter….
As a fairly recent convert to off road riding my dirt experience (or lack of it) mainly consisted of reasonable gravel roads and fire trails. About the most technical thing I had done was getting in to Thrashers for the TTT rally in the wet. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself until a dude rode in just behind me on a Kawasaki Vulcan.
Anyway, I was keen to hear all about her recent APC exploits. I thought I would get some decent rubber on my brand spanking new Triumph Tiger and give it a burl. What could possibly go wrong?
So I rolled in to St Albans on Friday arvo to be greeted by the chief Old Bull himself, TB, who thrust a cold one in to my hand and soon had his Onkaparingas all over my GPS, downloading the route.
It soon became apparent, as the other riders started arriving and the beers started flowing, that I was amongst a hard core group of men and machines. As the old war stories started to to be recounted I felt a bit like a fourth grader running on with the Wallabies at Eden Park to face the All Blacks in a Bledisloe cup decider. Surely some mistake! Is this a dream or a nightmare! TB’s sage advice “take it easy and you”ll probably be OK”Gulp!
After several beers, a steak and a rum or three I started to feel a bit more confident. I camped next to Lefty who was to do a more than passable impression of Gaston Rahier out on the trails and with his flying mounts and dismounts.
So the next day passed in something a blur. It started off reasonably easily but the pace was something I was struggling with, and trying not to hold Flying Fish up too much I was often riding at my limit (though It might not have seemed like it to other observers!)
It was the tricky rutted and rocky steep decent in to the Gardens of Stone that had me really worried. I had never done anything remotely like it, and for the first time I thought a Kawaski Sherpa might have been a better buy than the Trumpy. Anyway I managed to get down without binning it, more by luck than judgement. The bike looked after to me really well there. Steers nicely on a line and seemed pretty stable for a biggish bike, good feel on the brakes when you need it. First gear perhaps too tall for that type of terrain (oh, suddenly I’m an expert).
As the day wore on I got a little more confident, though not any faster. I had one really arse puckering moment when MT and Jeffro came thundering past just before a long patch of sandy bulldusty stuff, thowing up a cloud so thick I coudn’t see much more than an arms length. Just then I hit the sand and all sorts of weird things started to happen to the front end. I gassed it hard and the front lifted and straightened, and off I went in to cloud. I suddenly emerged amazed to find not a large cow or a sturdy fence post to hit but clear open road. Oh the relief!
Amy was great and while clearly champing at the bit to mix it with the bruisers at the front of the pack she always waited for me at intersections. I did get my feet wet and helped her walk her bike back out of the swamp she found herself in. Up periscope! It was easy to see why she did well in the APC. She took one look at that disgusting swamp and charged straight at it while I watched from the safety of the bank, encouraging her with the words “I am NOT taking my bike through there”.
So after the most challenging and best day of riding in my life thus far, a great night was enjoyed with a trillion beers and more rums. I slept the sleep of the just and woke feeling like I used to feel fifteen years ago on a sunday morning after a game of footy the previous day, but strangely without the hangover.
Day two started with a trip around Mount Panorama. Why don’t they race bikes there anymore?
The Bridle trail was really enjoyable, despite my extra wide Andy Strapz panniers wedging me in the gate and having to be bounced free by a couple of the boys. As an ex rock climber steep drop offs don’t worry me so much so it was fun to punch through the narrow gap where the trail had washed away.
A bacon and egg roll and coffee and Rylstone had me fueled up for the day. Turon Gates was fantastic but the trail started to get very rocky and dusty. Tiring riding for me after the previous day. My centre stand, which I had meant to zip tie in place, was clanking up and down, sounding like an AK47 on short burst on some sections. Could I be bothered to stop and do something about it? No, I could not.
A longish tar section followed and then a more dirt. I think it was Apple Tree Flat, the Commission Rd leading to Howes Track (I don’t have the ride notes in front of me).
By now I was sarting to get quite tired, it was hot and the riding was still rocky with many quite steep hills, and my worst nightmare SAND.
There were quite a few patches of deep loose stuff and my concentration was started to wane. I stopped for a drink, though my water in the bottle holders in the back of my panniers had been heated to just under boiling point so hardly provided any relief.
I kept going, thinking I would be able to tell TB that I got round without falling off when on a sandy narrow bit of trail I got caught in the wrong gear going to slowly. Even the Triumphs triple torque couldn’t get me out of this one, and despite twisting the right hand hard, very little happened other than the front wheel went one way and I went head first over the right mirror mount.
I landed in the sand was was perfectly OK, just pissed off that I had crashed. The problem was the Tiger was wedged between the two banks, so I couldn’t turn the front wheel for a better angle to get a lift on the bike. It just wasn’t going to happen until after a massive hernia inducing heave I finally got her right way up, claws in the sand. Now I was very hot and the Howes Track seemed to go on forever. There was more sand and I came close to binning it several more times but was careful not to get in too high a gear so stayed upright until I caught up with the group on the tar intersection near Laguna.
I shot back to Sydney on the tar, only stopping to have two butterscotch milkshakes and a litre of water at the bikers cafe.
All in all a brilliant week end. A massive thanks to TB for organising it and having me along. Great to meet all the guys. Talk about a steep learning curve!
Cheers
Wigster
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