I went for a ride

[ribbert]

I went for my Autumn ride the other week. I wanted somewhere remote with a touch of adventure.

There is a road, mostly dirt, that cuts through the middle of Victoria's NE  Alpine wilderness from Buchan in Gipsland to Jindabyne in NSW following the Snowy River.

First day out we kept catching up to this weather all day but that was the last we saw of the rain for the trip.


stopping to let some air out of the tyres (not something I would normally worry about)

You wouldn't find the Victorian side on Google maps unless you knew where to zoom in and the Garmin didn't show it on the screen, even when riding it.


In more than half a day's riding we only encountered two oncoming vehicles. The road is only single vehicle width for most of the way and I was glad to be on the inside. The outside has no verge. A few feet outside the car tracks and the edge crumbles away and then it's freefall.



The roof of Victoria

If you went off the edge in some places you would have time to insure your bike over the phone on the way down.
The road surface itself offered many difficulties but once off the plateau and down to river level the road became less challenging and offered stunning views at every turn. The road is prone to weather damage and frequently i n bad shape but we were lucky.


The once mighty Snowy River

Now the Snowy River Trickle

More dirt

The dirt finally ended 20k's south of Jindabyne.  It was as if the road builders way back when had decided that if someone in the future built a bike fast enough, and they were silly enough to ride it up the Barry Way, they should be rewarded with a perfect set of 100mph curves all the way into town.
This road runs through lightly undulating cleared grazing land and every corner visible its entire length, race track like, before feeding into the next one and the next one.....for 20k's. No signage or barriers, no trees and no intersections, no white line, just a perfect strip of bitumen.  Carving through corners at 160kmh with that sweet sound of the motor at 6000rpm, feeling it pull away as you crank it on out of the exits  accompanied by the great induction noise (pods) and straight through Delkevics, what a sound!  We did not see a single vehicle.
Refelecting on this ride over lunch I concluded that after nearly 60 years I had not only found proof of Gods existence, but that he must have been a motorcyclist and at some point had dabbled in road building.
The road from Jindabyne to Thredbo was autobahn like and freed from the shackles of speed limits could be ridden as God intended, not the government and while nowhere near as fast as the previous section it was just as much fun.

Day 3 started along the Murray dipping in and out of ground fog at just above freezing before the sun burnt it off then back towards the mountains via the Granya Gap which was  a magical mix of twisties, medium and high speed sweepers through beautiful country. Each valley prettier than the previous one, each mountain more fun than the last. It was like riding through the pages of one of those pictorial tourism wall calendars. This was motorcycling nirvana.









I'm not surprised.

There are roads to choose from to suit every mood.

That evening, while sitting in front of an enormous log fire and enjoying the glow that only a terrific day behind you, another coming up, a country pub meal and a number of glasses of red under your belt can give you, I scanned through the forum posts.
From where I was sitting at the time it seemed trifling that people were still pondering how you get the same amount of oil you took out of something a few minutes earlier back into it and whether it's an '87 or an '89.
The answer to both those problems was immediately obvious, if you're out riding, neither one really matters.

There is a definable point in every ride like this where you get your 'eye in' in such a way that no day ride ever seems to achieve.  Every corner perfectly executed, the control  inputs are slick, you're going faster but without the arse puckering, you're not consciously thinking about where you're looking or what you're doing as much and it's pure fun. It's like the bike is wired directly to your brain.

The nature of the roads kept the trip distance down but probably included some 7,000-8,000 corners and 15,000 plus gear changes over four days.
I am not fit, I am not young and this type of riding is constant work yet I finished each day not tired or sore, but disappointed it was over.  Nothing I couldn't recover from with a few drinks though.

A good bed, hot shower, hearty meal and reasonable wine are as important to me as fuel and oil when travelling. My Idea of 'roughing it' is a two star motel, I am not  a camper.
We mostly did well except for one night when we had difficulty finding accommodation because of a local festival and were forced to travel on in the dark to a fly speck on the map that consisted of a pub and a public hall and a population of 2. We were the only guests and I'm sure not the first ones to make the "Faulty Towers " connection, but it was well and truly made up for by our entertaining and very hospitable hosts. The owner, in his 70's had a Vincent until recently. Our room was "Cell 3"

This is their "shop front". It was all downhill from here.



My riding companion for the trip was on a fully optioned GS1200 and while there is a lot to like about it, there was not a single moment I would have swapped (which I could have at any time)

I love my bike.

Once out of Melbourne I reckon traffic averaged about 3 or 4 cars an hour, max, for the whole trip.
I hate traffic.
The mufflers took a bit of a pounding, the pegs are no longer rusty and one more day would have seen my boots bleeding.



I missed my 100,000km odometer photo by 1.4km's but it didn't seem to matter much at the time.
Because of the the remoteness of the Barry Way and the road width providing nowhere to park or leave a disabled bike I took a spare coil, ignition unit and fuel pump.
I had a 12 litre fuel bladder in the bottom of my bag, a "Spot" satellite messenger and an EPIRB.
Despite its appearance, the weight of the luggage was barely noticeable. Tools, centre stand, fuel, oil etc were at the bottom of the forward bag and the rear bag had only clothing in it.

At one point an image flashed through my mind of the FJ all over the garage, broken down to its smallest components. Frame hanging from the roof, a cupboard full of labelled egg cartons keeping engine bits safe and in order, things shoved under benches, bits everywhere and a stack of new internals yet to come to life.
Only those of you that have done such a build know the extra satisfaction this brings when the machine you're astride at that moment is propelling you down the road at warp speed and taking you to places most people never get to.


We may knock the government but they do a teriffic job of sign posting all the good bike roads.

At some point in the ride I encountered ever combination of factors (except for pinecones) that you would be likely to find and the FJ remained rock steady under all circumstances.

What a machine!!

Now, where to for the Spring ride, hmmm........

Noel

[yamaha fj rider]

Awesome Noel, thank you.

Kurt

[racerman_27410]

Great ride report!    Everything there is to love about the FJ and the fellas (and gals) who ride'em!


KOokaloo! 

[Tiger]

WOW ...Awsome write up and pictures Thanks for sharing Noel

John.

[Bill_Rockoff]

Beautiful photos, sounds / looks like a great ride.