The Great Ocean Road and other places tour by Matt Jones, Sol Jones and Phil Kimber - Saturday 23rd November 2019 to Sunday 1st December 2019
These images below are those taken by PK - whilst Sol and Matt have additional ones. I'll endeavour to provide a link to them if they put them up.
Many were described and used on WhatsApp - those images and chat have been emailed to the participants.
The decision was easily made. Sol and Matt described how Sol had purchased a 'steal' on a BMW 1200, and had ridden it to Sydney (from Brisvegas) with a view to a joint ride with Matt - perhaps the Great Ocean Road. Hearing of this development, and knowing of Matt's Hog (Harley Davidson), PK decided two things:
First, sitting in his office at 20 Murray St Hobart, dressed ready for a motorbike ride had proven a worthwhile investment, albeit that it scared a few clients away.
Second: he must join in the trip.
The map was produced and some hair tonic in a nice composite material hip flask donated by Nathan Kimber held the map down.
Exploration indicated that if the young boys came down via the coast from Sydney, and PK came up from Hobart via Devonport and the ferry, the ideal meeting ground would be Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula.
And so it was.
One last lunch at the Astor Grill, to fling the neck tie away, and smash the glass in the fireplace: PK was ready
Skipping a few things, PK stayed with, and was grateful for the accommodation and generosity, Jim and Jane Paltos in Melbourne. For the first Sunday night (indeed only Sunday night) of the tour, we went to a Greek Restaurant in their suburb.
Come Monday the excellent breakfast Jane made up, set a standard and a gravitational pull so that buttoning up the trowsers was impossible.
The lads from Sydney were overnight at Eden, and hopped to it to arrive at Adrian's (not his real name) accommodation in Sorrento, whilst PK had just the 2 hour ride from Melbourne. Warm but not hot weather, pleasant road conditions and few other road users - we consolidated in Sorrento around 3.30pm on Monday arvo.
Shower, beer, and detog - and we wandered the streets to discover the town virtually deserted, and even the open restaurants were shut. "No we not open" said Spiros at the Italian restaurant on main street, in direct contradiction to his opening hours sign, but understandably taking into account his list of 'staff wanted': manager, bottle washer, kitchen hand, chef, waiting staff etc etc.
It seems the Peninsula places are holiday house environments.
So we went to the main hotel on top of the hill (image above) and had excellent pub grub and a local pinot, as recommended by the engaging waiter (ress).
The Great Ocean Road was approached with trepidation. Prior knowledge indicated likely many cars, and random stoppages. The 3 Musketeers took the 9am ferry from Sorrento across the mouth of the Port Phillip to Queenscliff. As we did the weather broke up and we had 2 hours of rain, sleet and cold. Breakfast at Lorne in a pleasant little hippy shack saw the sun come out and the road dry. Well, 'Breakfast' in fact saw nothing. But it is a literary device oft used by bad writers. I'll try to stop it.
Image above: street art in Warrnambool - apparently paid for by the local council to encourage local artists. I suspect someone is laughing somewhere.
Why we stopped here in the middle of the Wimmera, the mind does not runneth back.
The bikes looked calm and strong, resting toward afternoon end, when our ritual was to attack the local pub (normally either "The Commercial" or "The Royal" - or sometimes the RSL)
After Warrnambool (try to spell that with your eyes closed tight), we headed straight up Victoria on the 143 degree of longitude - through beautiful public forests, the Grampians (mountains) and into warmth. That evening to arrive at Swan Hill and perch ourselves on a caravan park right on the Murray River - or as Matthew would have it, the Murray Darling River. So be it. No one is wrong on a motorbike trip.
After a night of Korean food, local wine, sleep came easily at the two bedroom on site vans (well, the wouldn't be any use if they were off site). Image: Matt catching up with work before showering and breakfast on day 3.
Sol sent the drone up in the air whilst we were in the Grampian mountain range and has some good images of us riding through, and the surrounding mountains. Not shown here.
PK had a particular penchant to visit Jerilderie. It being the site of one of Ned Kelly's robberies, and when (approx 150 years ago as he made himself a legend) he took all the punters in the pub hostage, and made them wait whilst he dictated a 60 page epistle of his perception of injustice to he and his men. The "Jerilderie Letter" is firmly entrenched in folklore and epitomises the Australian ethos. You can break us but you can't bend us.
For more on the Letter:
https://www.nma.gov.au/explore/features/ned-kelly-jerilderie-letter
But, as to Jerilderie, as we were about to depart Swan Hill, someone asked 'where to now boys?' and we told her 'Jerilderie' - to which she replied 'why?'.
Clearly she knew more of it than we did. We entered the Royal Mail Hotel, which was akin to a mental asylum, but without any gate-keeper, psychiatrist or even government agent. After a quick beer, we road back to the town before - Berrigan. And that is another story.
Breakfast on day 5 at Berrigan - the Blue Door Cafe came well recommended - by the waiter(ress) and was impeccably clean, tidy and food terrific.
The night before we decided to have a chinese meal at the local golf/bowls club, and just as we hit it, the power went off. Unlike the pub - run by an Indian, who was quite simply and understandably glad to toss everyone out and close down, the Chinese in the club were cooking by the light of their iPhones.
The locals, uninhibited in the dark, were an enthusiastic mob, and very funny. Perhaps we were tired, but they were very welcoming and entertaining. We declined an invitation to 'Deano's shed' for more beer after the club shut, but definitely had sufficient excellent well priced food, beer etc.
Deano profered the opinion that the power went off because a crop dusting helicopter pilot had run into the power lines. Naievity enables belief, so taking this view on board, Matt was ordering a couple of beers, and chatted to the young bloke beside him.
Matt: "powers off because a helicopter hit the power line"
Local man: "Really? How do you know that?"
Matt: "Deano told me".
Local man: "Don't believe that bastard. You can't believe a word he says. I know. He's my dad."
Anyway, the President of the club, Noel, said "if you want to have a few beers at Deano's shed, just go up the next street, and when you get to the bloke using the leaf blower, you have gone too far".
That said, their website evidences the nature of the beast:
That said, there was Salmon on the menu at the Blue Door for breakfast, but I'm pleased to advise it was de-boned.
Out of order, but this is PK's room at the Riverine Club, opening out on the huge balcony, which suffered under the stain and strain of red wine and beer on Friday night.
Breakfast
This is a painting on wall at the Riverine Club. I think it epitomises the bushfires going on in and around NSW and Qld at the moment.
The recently re-decorated Riverine Club main chamber. Our friend Duncan Farquhar of Wagga Wagga enabled us to stay there. Hopefully not for the last time.
The club removed a false ceiling and opened the clerestory, letting in natural light and repainting and carpeting. It is a terrific space.
This fox hunting caper kept the rurals happy, chasing down a clever animal with lost of dogs and horses.
Pre-dinner drinks on Friday evening at the Riverine, right on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River. No wonder there were midges/mosquitos.
After pre-dinners, we walked a couple of blocks to a 'fork and cork' gig on the park, with live bands and local wine. We saw the sun go down - or as per my first entry above, it saw us lie on the grass.
The clubs of NSW are built on the lives and blood of the punters: here is an original gaming machine from around 1909.
Back a trot, I have to admit an element of stupidity. Always take a bike for a two day ride and get used to her again, before taking on the big trip.
240km out of Hobart, and 90km away from the Spirit of Tasmania II, I called in on Kev Fagan and Viv Hale, and viewed their magnificent old house and ornamental gardens. Whilst Kev things a working bee is necessary, the garden bears the fruit of his labours.
Anyway, I left the key on whilst visiting and ran the battery down to zero pulse. He wonders, at 6pm, in need of getting to the ferry by 7pm, 'what now'?
Managed to start her by rolling down the hill and jump start. Phew.
Other mea culpa: put the bike key in my top dryrider pocket, and 'bugger me' if it didn't slip right through a hole in the stitching. I found it on the floor! Only one key too.
Kevin and Viv keep their valuables locked up in this delightful pavillion. We are hopeful for a garden/garage sale at some point, when hopeful neighbours will turn into winners if they come along with their loose change.
Kev and Viv have a magnificent forest of flowers.
Here is a turn of a century man managed tractor, which Kev and I managed to start with first go (nearly). If you need your back yard dug up, don't get Lulu, get Kev and his tractor.
What ever did they have in mind?
Your author, stretching the limits of his trowses.
Arrival at Melbourne
The deck chair room. PK found this quite comfortable, with a number of spare seats (I wonder why) and large 1st class chairs. Quiet. And cheap.
Down in the hold where the motorbikes live.
Jim Paltos's lad Steven has the world franchise on 'dug' - seen pictures on the map of Victoria (doesn't have the same ring to it as 'map of Tassie' does it?).
Use it (the dug) as a vat for 2 litre growlers, or hot food, put it in the fridge for cool drinks etc etc. The mind runneth over with ideas. Check it out:
https://www.amazon.com/Big-Dug-Jug-Insulated-Growler/dp/B07RY2JDZP
Jim and Jane's palace in Melbourne. It has a little room facing the street so Jim can make speeches, on special occasions, like the abdication of Prince Andrew.
Jim (above) and Jim and Jane (below). They straddle the continent - well, work well in Melbourne and Hobart.
This is how people used to travel our continent; in VW combi. But alas, now it is in 40 foot long caravans towing boats and small cars
She was hot along the Great Ocean Road, and when Sol and PK took the wrong turn whilst walking toward (but actually away) from the ocean, the bike gear was unnecessarily hot.
one of the 12 apostles
some more of those apostles. Lots of people were looking at them. Funny, because when we drove past them and to other magnificent parts of Australia, there were much less. Seems that if something is marketed correctly, it will attract all the blowflies, and other places can remain peaceful. Like Berrigan.
Brothers
Bikes at rest at Swan Hill.
Our River Murray. Plenty of water, but the locals complain that if you want to use it, it costs too much (paid for irrigation, and sold too widely, and now not available in enough quantity or at the right price).
The type of van Justin wants. And so he shall have it. The bloke who had it reckoned it was 'a ripper'
Bridge crossing the Murray (or, Murray-Darling) taking one from Victoria to NSW in the pace of 30 feet.
Water towers: ubiquitous.
Grain stores/silos: near all the railway silos. Ubiquitous.
Korean food at Swan Hill. Terrific deal. Listen, can I recommend these little restaurants around Australia? no?
The turn of the century architecture: every town has its old buildings, and most seem deserted. Whether taken over as 'shacks' - they aren't used as banks anymore
Matt: after Sol and I did a runner on him at Echuca. Not intentional, we just got lost now and then, and again
The verandah streetscapes are very attractive, and great to avoid the heat of the day - mind you, the flies aren't rebuffed.
Berrigan. Shelter for the 3 Musketeers.
Ring 130 276 627 if this appeals
The Masonic buildings seem to have been everywhere built and in use from 1900, but current activity seems on the decline
Lockhart: near Wagga, has a fine historical museum (superfluity)
Now this is a true story. These images were done using lambswool. True. That's why they look a bit fuzzy. I don't think it will catch on.
Pride of the local community for those who excelled, in the arts or sport
A complaint about land tax. Nothing new there.
Lockhart: the verandah town
The Lockhart Commercial Hotel. What a beauty. Very clean and tidy. Had we not only another hour to Wagga, we would definately have stayed here.
The internal verandah at the Riverine Club - Wagga. Matt at well earned rest status.
From Wagga we split, Matt and Sol via the high ground to Canberra then Sydney, whilst PK took the south road to visit Deeta, Paul (with Lelu and Tom at home) at Mt Macedon - then on to the 9pm Saturday night ship Melbourne to Devonport.
Merv joined us at Wagga, travelling down from Canberra, to ensure that we enjoyed ourselves. Which we did, once again, thanks to the welcoming hospitality of Duncan.
Apart from debating all things good until 1am on Friday night, Duncan also put on fresh eggs and coffee for breakfast, before we fled the jurisdiction.
There is more missed than told, but best it be scribbled down now.
Quick review:
What a lovely even fabulous short holiday. To take a week off work and a few ferry trips and travel about 3,000 - 3,500 km, keeping pretty much to the speed limit, finding time to explore available commercial accommodation, to task the wines and cool beers, to visit friends, and to see and think and talk about our country with great positivity - to see the locals at work, rest and play, to see the great diversity of human nature. To see and smell our rivers, mountains, the sea. To seek out the food of man nations brought to us by skilled migrants. To have the motorbikes thrashing away at 4,000 revs to run us along at 110km/hr, to hit bugs and birds. To enjoy each other's company. To want to do it all again immediately.
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