Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group

ULYSSES A.G.M. 2005 CANBERRA By Eric Eckert.

Once again, I had been looking forward to the A.G.M.,which in many ways has become my annual holiday. This time I was especially excited, since my good friend and pillion passenger Gwen was sharing the experience with me for the first time.

The A. G. M. means different things to different people . This was to be my fourth, and by now, I consider A.G.M. stands for "amongst great mates" because that's how the time is spent.

This year Peter and Sandra volunteered to make the necessary bookings for accomodation for the two nights it was to take us to reach Canberra, and for those who were to motel it on arrival, rather than camp at the A. G. M. site. They gave the route we took a lot of consideration and even did a "dry run" in their car, part of the way, when visiting family some weeks prior to the event. We were all in agreement with the route they suggested, as the closest it got to Sydney city was Penrith, which is way west of the busy metropolis.

We weren't big in numbers that year, because a large group of our members chose to leave about a week after us and tour Tasmania, we had ten bikes in the group initially. Some of us who were camping took advantage of the Ulysses on site postal depot, and sent our camping gear by post, since it was impossible to carry it all two up.

DAY 1.

At about 7.15 am, Gwen’s son, Ventry, drove Gwen to my place and we loaded up the Beemer, including Gwens back pack inside a small havasack, which we lashed to the top of one of the panniers. We had a good load on, but not much more than we had carried previously, on weekend trips. We rode to the Mobil garage in South Grafton, our usual meeting place and met up with 8 of the other bikes . It was a fine morning and we were soon on our way, after saying goodbye to a big farewell committee who had come to wish us well.

Our first stop was Ebor for a coffee and to re-group. Des and Trish, who left Grafton after us, caught up just as we reached Ebor. It was quite chilly there, so we did not hang around for long, and rode on into the day, stopping at Armidale airport service station for fuel, then on to Uralla, where we left the New England Highway and took a secondly road to Walcha for our lunch stop. By now it was a glorous day and quite warm for riding, and we were glad of the umbrellas the kerb side cafe provided, while we rested up and enjoyed our lunch.

The next section of road, Thunderbolts Way, could almost have been designed for motor cycling, with wide sweeping curves over undulating plains before dropping down in altitude through the mountains to Gloucester. We stopped for a while at a lookout to admire the view, before the steep descent, passing through several small villages, part of the Barrington ranges, to finally to arrive at the hotel/ motel at Gloucester, where we were booked in for the night. It was about 3.45pm. so after settling into our rooms, some of us took a stroll down town, admiring the many mosaic murals on some of the old buildings and set into the footpath at most inter sections.

We all met up again at the pub for happy hour and as usual, re-arranged the tables, so we could all sit down together and enjoy a few drinks to sharpen up our appetite and discuss the great ride we had just experienced. We elected to try the Soldiers Club for our evening meal and were able to occupy a private room in the Chineese restaurant there, where we all enjoyed a fantastic meal. It was only a short stroll back to the pub for a nightcap and a chat to some of the locals, who were interested in our travels, before turning in for an early night. Checking on message bank on my mobile phone [ yes I had full reception] I was pleased to receive a message from my Grandson, Jason, thanking me for his birthday present I had left him . Thus completed a perfect day with the thought of more to follow.

DAY 2.

Both being early risers, Gwen and I enjoyed a cuppa before going for an hours walk to check out the local camping ground and caravan park, which is situated on the banks of the Gloucester River. It is quite spacious, with ample camping area, as well as on site vans and is nestled in the valley below the Barrington Tops. We both agreed we would stay there one day, before we were very much older, and tour the surrounding area. Our walk continued on into the town, where we stumbled upon a mining museum. Naturally, at that time of day, it was closed but the garden displayed some very interesting mining machinery, including an old stationary engine and pump; once again we considered it worthy of a future visit. On arrival back at the pub, I discovered I had missplaced my bike keys, and, although I always carry a spare ignition key in my wallet, it meant I would not be able to gain acces to my tool box, first aid kit etc. under the seat. While having breakfast in the bistro of the pub , I let the staff know of my loss and left my forwarding address, for them to post them on, should they be handed in. I must say, they were most concerned and very obliging. I don't even remember what I had for breakfast I was in such a state, but all was well, for when getting into my riding gear, I discovered I had put my keys in my boot for safe keeping. It will be hard to live that one down.

Before departing Gloucester, we said goodbye to Des and Trish, who had other commitments, and were headed for home that day, and to Lloyd, Karl and Reg, who were touring elsewhere for a few days. This left 6 bikes, 3 with pillion passengers, 9 people in all. It was a nice clear morning, good for riding, but soon after we left Gloucester, on the Bucketts Way, headed for Stroud, we were confronted with an oncoming car which veered onto the wrong side of the road for a short time . Although the lead riders were understandably alarmed, no misshaps occurred. I guess the car driver must have dozed off. Who knows ?

From just before Stroud, we took highway 31 to Dungog and Maitland, then on to Kurri Kurri and Cessnock. I had not travelled this road for about 30 years and did not recognise any of the terrain or landmarks , but with Peter in the lead, we were piloted in the right

direction through the busy towns. We rode on through the pretty little villages of Bellbird, Millfield and Wollombi [ of Dr. Jurds jungle juice fame]to Bucketty, stopping at Kulnura at a remote quaint roadhouse for lunch. The ride had followed the rivers and creeks a lot of the way and was very winding, which meant travelling at a slower speed giving us a good opportunity to enjoy the scenery. Some of the mountain sections of the road had road signs, warning motorcyclists of the sweeping bends, and I recall on one occasion, scraping my footpeg on a tight bend which instantly reminded me to slow down.

After an enjoyable lunch, we rode through Mangrove Mountain and down onto the Hawksbury river at Spencer, winding our way around to Wisemans ferry to cross the river. Having crossed, we stopped for a breather and an ice cream, and rested in the shade for a while, as it had been a hot ride since lunchtime. We were soon getting into country I was a bit more familiar with , passing through Ebeneezer, Wilberforce, Windsor and Richmond then on to Penrith, where we refuelled and had a cold drink. John and Rosemary left us just prior to this, to deviate to Kurrajong, to visit old neighbours, before meeting up with us again at Camden that night.

Digressing a little, I had spent 6 months at Richmond in 1952 as a National Service trainee and at that time, rode around the area on my trusty 1948 A7 . B.S.A. attending dances, hanging out around milk bars and managing to keep out of trouble [most of the time] and this had now become a nostalgia trip for me. I knew we would be passing through Bringelly, before reaching our destination of Camden , but I did not recognise it at all. In the passing of time, the rich dairying country, where incidentally I had worked for 2 weeks on a dairy, had been transformed into residential area with a network of roads , many high rise buildings and all the confusion that goes with it, as it is now classed as an outer suburb of Sydney.

I was relieved when we finally finished with the heavy traffic for the afternoon, arriving at  the motel in Camden at 4.30 pm. It had been an exciting ride, and although we had only ridden 400 Km, we had experienced a lot of different scenery, traffic conditions and road surfaces, including riding over freshly laid blue metal on tar, following an escort vehicle. We were able to park the bikes under cover, which meant no need to cover them, which is always a bonus. After a cuppa and a short rest, we walked up the high street to Molly Maguire’s Irish Pub, where I enjoyed a couple of well earned dark ales. There were 5 of us in the group there, and we found the pub decore very interesting and surprisingly quiet for that time of night. Judy did her own thing that night, being picked up by her sister in law, who lived at Liverpool, and taken home for tea. We all decided to buy take away chicken, and took it back to Peter and Sandras room, where we all ate together. It got a bit noisy, so being a Wednesday night, Sandra enjoyed her favourite T.V. soapy in our room, a few doors away. John and Rosemary had arrived just before tea and were able to join us. It was not a late night, as we had all had a busy day, so after washing out my unmentionables in the hand basin, and drying them with the hair dryer generously provided, we went to bed to dream pleasant dreams.

DAYS

Today was the big day. Although we only had 180 Km. to travel before reaching Canberra. We had been looking forward to the visit for the past few months. Our early morning walk before breakfast was the order of the day, especially early, since we realised the motel was situated along the chook pavillion side of the showground, and the show was to start the next day. The roosters were crowing on and off all night. I guess they were also excited.

Strolling around the back streets of Camden, we noticed some very nice old churches, a hospital and some lovely old homes, then by way of a contrast, some modern shops in the main street. I had passed through this town three years previously on my way home from the "Snowy ride", so was not surprised at the changes that had occurred over the years, in what I had remembered as a quiet little country town we used to visit by steam train from Liverpool in the mid 40's.

We set off at 8.30am,  retracing our steps of the previous day, to get us on the expressway to Canberra. Judy decided to do the right thing and check her bike's tyre pressures before leaving and could not get a reading on the gauge , so we stopped at a garage on the outskirts of town. The valve was faulty and no one amongst us had a valve remover, so she rode to a honda bike shop across the road where an obliging young mechanic replaced it for her, free of charge. As a result of this incident I now carry a valve remover cap and spare valves on my bike.

After this short delay, we were soon zooming along the expressway, headed towards Canberra and trying to keep up with the traffic. We stopped for fuel, at a service station at the Bundernoon exit, and admired some of the many bikes that were headed in the same direction. Setting off again after a short break and a drink, we encountered lots of bikes travelling in small groups and singly, and for a while I followed an ancient Royal Enfield, with a sidecar laden with camping gear. He was chugging along quite happily and it reminded me of my early sidecar days years ago.

Our next stop was at the southern end of Lake George, before climbing over the hills into Canberra. The "lake" has been bone dry for years, but I can remember when it was full and provided an ideal,opportunity for pleasure activities for the local yachties. They even had a yacht club on the foreshores, but that has been long gone.

We had no trouble finding the Exhibition Park in Canberra [ EPIC], which was to be our home for the next 3 nights. After registering, and receiving our bag of goodies we had pre-ordered, we met up with Debbie, a friend from Lismore Ulysses, who had already been there a few days. She filled us in on the layout of the place and while we were waiting till 2 pm. for the on site post office to open, to collect our camping gear, we reserved our camp site in a convenient shady area amongst other tents. We had a bite to eat while we were waiting and soaked in the atmosphere with all the friendly people that surrounded us. I knew at that moment, we were in for a fun time there. As part of the service, our camping gear was delivered to our camp site by a Ulysses volunteer, driving a golf buggy. This was great, because it had developed into a very hot day and we had a huge suit case of gear we would otherwise of had to lug around. In no time at all our camps were set up, air beds pumped up etc, and the bikes were parked under cover in a horse stables, a stones throw away. We then spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the exhibits and familiarising ourselves with the surroundings and checking out the various food outlets. There was a supermarket on site, as there had been at the previous A.G.M. at Geelong, and we availed ourselves of the service it provided and bought food to cook back at the camp, for our evening meal, after which we had an early night. By this time, there   was a fairly strong north-easterly wind blowing and whilst it was not too pleasant outdoors, it was nice and cosy tucked up in our sleeping bags in the tent. We were soon snoring, as we were far enough away from those that chose to stay up late, listening to the live entertainment provided.

DAY 4.

I slept so soundly that I barely heard Judy and Robyn's bikes start up at 5.30am, when they left for their sunrise hot air baloon ride over Canberra. Judy told me later that being subject to motion sickness, she took some tablets beforehand and enjoyed the ride, but had to have a sleep in the motorbike shop where Robyn had her bike serviced after their ride. On our morning walk, Gwen and I wandered through "tent city" and the caravan area of the "EPIC'centre, and saw all sorts of bikes, trikes, sidecars and trailers. One that took my eye was a beautifull Goldwing, with sidecar and trailer to match. After this we had a light breakfast at camp then rode to the Australian War Memorial Museum. We had been looking forward to this visit for months, and we were so keen, we arrived there an hour before it opened. We parked the bike alongside three other B.M.W.'s, all different models , and walked across to Anzac Parade to inspect the unusual Hellenic memorial, which depicted the Greek's involvement in world war 2, by graphically displaying bomb damaged structural steel beams reaching up to the sky. By the time the museum opened, there was a big gathering of Ulysses members waiting, as well as other visitors, and a guide was designated to the Ulysses members, to conduct us on a one and a half hour tour of the museum. He himself was a Canberra Ulysses man and a Vietnam Veteran, and what he didn't know about the museum wasn't worth knowing. We spent a lot of time inspecting the rolls of honour, for those men and women who lost their lives serving their country in all the wars Australia has been involved in. Our guide had some interesting tales to tell of some of these heroes. He then showed us many other exhibits and memorabillia, including a complete Lancaster bomber named "G for George" which was in service in the Battle for Britain in W.W.2. It had been fully restored to it's original condition, at goodness knows what expense . Hell, it costs enough to restore a motorbike. This bomber display was accompanied by cine footage shown on a huge screen, of the actual battle for Britain and was complete with sound effects. When the bombs dropped the whole platform we were standing on appeared to vibrate which contributed to the atmosphere of the display.

The tour did not take in all the exhibits and displays but lasted 2 hours . We then had a snack and a cuppa at one of the caffeterias on the premises, and continued on under our own steam. I was particularly interested in examining the Japanese midget submarine on display . It was one of the three subs that had entered Sydney Harbour through the submarine nets in 1942, and had torpedoed and sunk the H.M.A.S. Kuttabel, causing loss of life of many naval personel. 2 of the 3 subs had been damaged by depth charges and the third one escaped back out through Sydney Heads. I don't think it was ever found, but I am not sure. As a boy of 10 years old ,I remember seeing the 2 captured subs on display at Circular Quay in Sydney with the water still dripping out of them. That picture has stuck in my mind for all those years, together with a display of Japanese Imperial issue survival equipment. I particularly remember the "water purification" drinking straw which consisted merely of a tube with a mesh gauze over the end of it. I guess it kept the mosquitoes out. Sorry, I am digressing again. Back to the submarines. The last time I had visited Canberra, they had been on display outside the museum and now they were housed inside, and one complete sub had been assembled out of the 2 damaged ones and was fully restored, and included the damaged hull, and looked as though they had been captured yesterday.

I couldn't let the museum visit go by without inspecting a W.W.2 1942 W.L.A. army Harley and a 1939 R 12   B.M.W. in battle grey . It was ironic to see these two machines displayed side by side , yet during the war their riders would have been arch enemies. Such is war.

Whilst on the subject of war, The local Canberra bike gang ,  the “ Rebels”, vowed to declare war on the Ulysses club members who insisted on wearing "rockers" on their jackets. "Rockers” are the names displayed above and below the club logo, and whilst the Rebels accept our old man logo, they claim that rockers have to be earned. I have heard they earn their rockers by sometimes foul and illegal deeds, and personally ,they can keep their bloody rockers. The Ulysses executive committee held a meeting with them this day, and assured them they would make it illegal for our members to wear them. I believe the decision wasn't made lightly, but as they wanted to keep the peace, and after all, for the past couple of years the club magazine has been warning our members not to wear them. Now it is official. I say, good on you Executive committee.

We returned to camp at 3.30pm, for a well earned rest, after being on our feet for hours and were told of this meeting, as the news travelled through the camping area like wildfire. It was accepted with mixed feelings but thankfully, our crowd took it seriously.

We had not booked in for the festivities that night, instead ,we had a quiet time and a nice meal at one of the many outdoor eating houses at the EPIC, in the company of some of our friends. Judy had gone to tea with her nephew, Jason, who lives in Canberra, but we ate with Robyn and Flavio, then Vicki and Woods arrived, so we had quite a gathering. Flavio told us of the many bikes he had test ridden that day, and at that stage he could not decide which one he liked most. At 9pm, the raffles were drawn in the Budawong and Coorong pavilions, where the dinner had been served. And since our admission fee to the A.G.M. included us in the draw, we made sure we were there . Unfortunately, nobody we knew won the raffle, so we lingered for a while watching the happy people enjoying themselves, until the noise got the better of us and we decided to save our energy for the following nights festivities, and were back in our tent and in bed by 9.30pm, having enjoyed another great day.

DAY 5.

This was the big day of the grand parade through the streets of Canberra. We were all up bright and early, and wearing our club polo shirts. After breakfast, we met up with John and Rosemary and Peter and Sandra, who were staying in a backpackers hostel. We joined the hundreds of other bikes, and rode together in a group to the marshalling point, at Anzac Parade. It took some time for all the bikes to assemble, for there were about 5000 of us, and we occupied both sides of Anzac Parade, from the War Memorial down to Constitution Parade, near Lake Burley Griffin. During this assembly time, we had plenty of opportunity to take photos and meet up with friends from other clubs, before the parade started.

Appropriately, the parade was led by police motorcycle escort, and wound its way through the suburbs, with police and volunteers patrolling all intersections . The streets were lined with spectators, cheering us on and as always on these occassions, I could not help but feel a great sence of pride, to be a member of our great club. At 10pm, we finally arrived at the Dickson Playing Field, where we were marshalled into rows to park. With that many bikes there, we had to take land marks, so we would be able to find them again. Unfortunatly, Peters bike stalled and would not restart, when we had almost reached our destination. We all helped him as best we could, by pushing it, to try and clutch start it, but to no avail ,so he was able to contact a bike shop, who eventually sent out a ute to pick it up and take it to the workshop. It transpired later that the problem was a faulty battery, with not enough charge to power the ignition. While we were waiting for the bike to be picked up, we watched the A.G.M. opening ceremony, listened to the speeches, and saw the apprentice of the year receive the award of a brand new bike. It was won by a girl from Townsville, where incidentally we were informed the 2008 A.G.M. is to be held.

By this time, the worms were biting, so Gwen and I bought a nice beef roll from a stall, where the girls running it had helped us, with a phone number of the bike shop Peter used. The crowd was starting to disperse, so Gwen, Robyn and I rode to the new Parliament house and parked in the underground visitors car park. We were quite surprised that there was no apparent security check on the vehicles entering the car park, what with all the problems in the world today with terrorist attacks. A timebomb could easily have been planted in a parked vehicle and the damage caused by an explosion there could have been devastating. Maybe I watch too much television.

We were scanned as we entered the building, and rightly so, and made our way to a conducted tour that was just starting.lt was very interesting to see the building from a tourists point of view, having previously only seen it during construction up to 1987, when I had attended site meetings on the project, representing the company I was with, who had one of the three window and door contracts on this mighty building. Whilst the furnishings and decor of the various "houses" were lavish, and the gallery of all the previous Prime Ministers interesting, what appealed to me most of all was the giant stainless steel flag pole, gleaming in the sunlight, at the very top of the building, flying our flag, big enough to be seen for miles around. The enormous flags, three in all, are rotated, each flying for a fortnight and are 12.8 metres X 6.4 metres [ 42 feet X 21 feet] in size. Having seen a lot and taken a few photos, we adjourned to the visitors caffeteria, for a refreshing cuppa, before moving on to our next port of call. By way of contrast, we decided to pay the old Parliament House a visit and as luck would have it, once again we were able to tag on to the end of a guided tour group. To my surprise, the building houses, among other things, the National Portrait Gallery, detailed espionage information on the Russian spies, the Petrovs, and many interesting documents and memorabillia, displayed in museum fashion. We also were told that the dining hall is hired out for wedding receptions and other important events, and we were allowed to walk through, inspecting the tables that had been set for such an occasion. The old building is a network of offices and furnished rooms, all in imaculate condition, very cleverly extended to over the years, until it finally outgrew itself, hence the new building. We "sat in Parliament" for a while, while the guide gave us a lecture on the Parliamentry procedure , and I had trouble not to doze off.

Having had enough to absorb for the afternoon, we rode back to camp at 3.45 pm, for a rest and a clean up in preparation for the A.G.M. dinner that night. We sat around camp, relaxing and getting to know our neighbours, until about 5.30 pm, when we joined the queue to the two buildings, where the dinner was to be held. It was a fantastic night, with good food, plenty of liquid refreshments and dance music to cater for all ages . We met up with some people from Newcastle at the end of our table, and soon started swapping yarns about our early bikes as you do at such occassions. Strangly enough, with the thousands of people there, I only met one couple I knew well, from another group, yet thoroughly enjoyed the evening. On leaving the hall, I managed to souvenir a flag [and flagpole] that the table had been decorated with, as a memento of the occassion. This was our last night in Canberra, so we made the most of it, but were back in our little tent by 10 pm. and soon asleep. We had enjoyed a good camp amongst friends, and the weather had been kind to us, with not a drop of rain the entire visit.

DAY 6.

There was no rain or dew overnight, which meant we could pack up the tent and camping gear as soon as we had eaten. All the gear was packed into the suitcase I had used to post it to Canberra, and at 10am, we booked it in to be sent home by courier. I also labelled my aluminium box of camp kitchen stove and utensils, and sent it home in the same manner. This meant we had a bit more room in the back pack, if we collected any thing on the way home. Gwen and I had decided to take four days to get home, via a different route to our trip down to Canberra, whilst most of our small group wanted to return A.S.A.P, for various reasons, and Robyn was riding alone to the Snowy to meet up with a friend. John and Rosemary would accompany us for the first couple of days.

After saying our goodbyes, and wishing each other a safe ride home, we met up with John and Rosemary, and left Canberra shortly after 10 am. It was a mass exodus that morning, with bikes buzzing around in all directions, but we had no trouble in finding the Kings Highway, which took us to the coast. We rode with a group of seven other bikes, very sedately, arriving at Braidwood for a late morning tea and to refuel. We had a good ride down the mountain into Batemans Bay, with very little traffic, and then rode around the foreshores, stopping to admire the pleasure craft at anchor in the bay. We finally got to meet the fellows we had been riding with from Canberra, and it transpired that they were from the Gold Coast, and also on their way home. It was a perfect day, and we all enjoyed the liesurely ride to Ulladulla, where we admired the Pacific Ocean view from Lighthouse Point, before booking in for the night at a motel overlooking the bay. We strolled around the docks, looking at the many boats moored there, and had a chat with some scuber divers that had just returned from a dive . I asked them if they had caught anything and was put in my place by being informed that it was a sanctury and no spear fishing was allowed. Gwen and I then walked around town , found an A.T.M., bought food for breakfast from a supermarket we discovered and Gwen made a phone call home, to inform her family of our progress and wish her granddaughter a happy birthday. We had been carrying our swimming costumes with us and had not had the time or opportunity to use them untill now, so we tried out the indoor pool at the motel then had a short nap. We all met up again, and walked to an outdoor café, where we enjoyed a nice fish meal in pleasant surroundings. There was still plenty of daylight, and to walk our meal down, we set off in search of the Fairy Penguins we had heard of earlier in the day, but were unsuccesfull in finding any, so strolled back to our motel to watch a bit of telly, before turning in at about 9 pm. We had a message bank call on the mobile phone from Judy, letting us know that they had reached Hexham for the night. They had witnessed the results of a nasty accident on the Putty road that after noon, where a motorcyclist was air lifted by chopper to hospital. We knew they were taking this road and had it been mentioned on the news, we would have been worried that they may have been the victims and we were greatfull of the call.

DAY 7.

After breakfast in our room, we left Ulladulla at 8.30 am, leaving the Prince's Highway at Nowra, to climb the mountain to the Camberwarra lookout, which offers a magnificient view of the Shoalhaven River and Nowra. I had been there a couple of years ago and wanted my friends to experience the spectacle, and enjoy a coffee, whilst sitting on the balcony watching the wild parrots feeding. Having enjoyed our little rest, we rode down the mountain into Kangeroo Valley and across the old stone piloned Hampden suspension bridge, then stopped at Kangeroo Valley village, for a walk around the souvenir and craft shops and admired the Colonial archicture of this quaint little village.

We then rode out of the valley, up the twisting mountain road, and stopped at Fitzroy Falls in the Morton National Park. I had not seen these falls for 30 years or so, and whilst the actual falls and their surrounding bushland beauty had not changed in that time, the

facilities had greatly improved, with timber walkways with handrails, from the car park right down to the falls and the lookout, which took in the Kangeroo Valley. We happened to spot a Lyre bird below the walkway, and soon after a small red bellied black snake slithering around. Striking up a conversation with some overseas tourists , of which there were plenty, we mentioned that these snakes were venomous , much to their surprise, and possible disbelief. At the building that now that houses the cafeteria and tourist information, the staff were very obliging, and issued us with maps and brochures of the Southern Highlands, which we found invaluable later in the day. We rode on to Moss Vale, where we stopped for lunch at a modern cafe in the main street, to enjoy a light meal and to reflect on the mornings ride. After lunch we said goobye to John and Rosemary, who were headed for Cronulla, south of Sydney, to visit old friends , and Gwen and I rode on to Bundanoon, looking for accomodation for the night.

Once again, it had been ages since I had visited Bundanoon, and I remembered an old Tudor style hotel there at that time when visiting elderly friends who had retired there. We rode through the township on the eastern side of the railway line, and I could not find the old pub nor did I remember the layout of the village. I was a bit dissapointed over this, but there was still plenty of daylight and time enough to find a bed for the night , so we rode on to the Bundanoon end of the Morton National Park, left the bike, and walked the short distance to Echo Point lookout. The view of the rugged bushland and rock cliffs to the valley below was quite spectacular, and well worth the walk.

Riding back through the village,  I remembered, on the way in, seeing a turn off to the right at the other end of town that crossed the railway line, so we took the detour and followed the railway line south, on the western side and before long came across the old pub I had been looking for. It was just as I had remembered it all those years ago, but I had quite forgotten that Bundanoon is populated on both sides of the track. We booked a twin share room for the night on the ground floor, and were told we could park the bike right outside the room if we so desired. We accepted the offer and handed the luggage in through the window into our room . We then had a cup of tea in the guest's room, then walked across the railway line to the village centre we had ridden through earlier, to explore the gift and craft shops and check out the cafes for our evening meal.

Bundanoon is a delightfull retreat, that elderly people and families holidayed at in a bygone era,when there were dozens of guests houses , before the motor car was as popular as it is today, and motels had not existed. From what I could find out, by talking to a local, most of the guest houses had been closed down, but it still remains a popular holiday destination , having a cooler climate where log fires can be enjoyed, which is evident by the stacks of firewood outside some of the houses. We walked back to our hotel room for a granny nap, before freshening up to enjoy a few drinks in the bar before dinner. Knowing that the hotel dining room was not open on Monday nights, we asked the barmaid if she could recommend a good cafe and she suggested we try the Chinese restaurant across the line, that we had seen on our walk.

We strolled over to the village at the historic railway station and were soon seated in the restaurant. This was quite a remarkable meal. We both ordered the same dish, and before

long, were given an empty plate each and presented with the meal on a larger plate placed in the centre of the table. We tucked into this, which was quite delightful and before we had finished, another identical dish was presented to us. We certainly ate our fill that night. In typical Chineese tradition, the whole family appeared to be involved in the business, with a tiny 8 or 9 year old girl in training, handing us the bill, along with the traditional fortune cookies. I think it's great to see the kids involved, and we gave the little cutie full encouragement and a small tip. We walked back to the guests room we had seen earlier, but could not get the T.V.to work, so read up on some of our brochures and then went to bed. In hindsight we could have relaxed in the main loungeroom upstairs with other visitors.

DAY 5.

These "pub stay " hotels are great value. The complementary breakfast consisted of a full English breakfast, with all the trimmings, which kept us going for most of the day. We packed the bike, and I was concerned, that to get out to the road, I had to negotiate a grassy slope that was very slippery with overnight dew. Fortunately, I managed not to drop the bike and we were soon on the road again. Before leaving Bundanoon, we rode back to the other side of the village and took a photo of the old bicycle shop, which had the entire outside wall painted in a mural, depicting push bikes dating right back to the Penny Farthing days . Incidently the shop is now converted into a coffee shop.

We left Bundanoon, and rode through Exeter, which reminded us both of Gretna Green, a small village in Scotland, that we had both visited in a former life, then on to Sutton Forrest, Moss Vale and finally stopped at Bowral where we waited for the Don Bradman Museum to open at 10 am. We spent an enjoyable couple of hours there, browsing through the famous cricketers memorabillia, watching old newsreels of the man in action, and, amongst other things, inspecting the cricket bat workshop and mock change room. There was a particularly interesting display of the way the test match players were forced to travel overseas in the old days. They spent weeks on board ocean liners to reach their destination, which is entirely different to the method of travel these days. We finally had a good look through the souvenir shop and Gwen bought a cricket tie as a momento of our visit. We reluctantly left Bowral at about midday, intending to get onto the Hume Highway, take the Camden exit, then back- track the route to Winsor, that we had travelled on the way down to Canberra. That was the plan, sadly I must have taken a wrong turn, somewhere near Penrith, and almost wound up back at Parramatta. Would you believe, I could not even find a service station, to to make enquiries as to the right direction to travel, but eventually recognised a road I had travelled years ago, and we were soon at Windsor. We refuelled the bike, and had a cold drink and an ice cream there, before encountering the next leg of our journey, The Putty Road to Singleton.

This road was developed by army engineers, during the early years of World War 2, to provide a more inland route for army convoys to reach the big millitary camp at Singleton. I had ridden it a couple of years prior to this, and found it to be fantastic now, compared to what it used to be in the 50's. It is now fully sealed, and has been widened

in many places, is generally of a good gradient with not overly sharp bends and little traffic, which all lends itself to be ideal for motorcycling. Having rested up and a bit sick of riding in heavy traffic, we enjoyed the Putty Road immensely,stopping only once near the little village of Putty, to stretch our legs and have a drink.

We arrived at Singleton, and eventually found budget accommodation, in one of the many motels in this big town. After a breather, and a cuppa that we both looked forward to, we walked to the nearest supermarket, bought breakfast necessities, a few stubbies and a healthy meal from one of our favourite fast food outlets, which we ate for tea back in our motel room. After the meal was over, we spent the rest of the evening, very appropriately, watching the Ausies flog the Kiwis at cricket on the pay T. V,  until it was time to go to sleep. It had been yet another exciting day.

DAY 9.

Early to bed, early to rise and all that, so we went for an early morning walk in the vacinity of the motel, admiring the neat cottages and an old church, then back to to our room for a light breakfast. Our toaster was on the blink, so we borrowed the one from next door, which worked OK, and were packed and on the road again by 9am. Our first stop was Scone, on the New England Highway, where we fuelled up and took a very scenic road out to the recreation area near the Glenbawn Dam. We didn't get to see the actual dam, but never the less, enjoyed the ride. I was told later that the dam is the main water supply to the many vinyards in the area.

Our next stop was at the little town of Parkland, just north of Scone where we called to see Pam and George, friends of Gwens, and had morning tea with them. They were very surprised when the bike pulled up and relieved to see Gwens smiling face, once her helmet was removed. We have surprised a lot of her friends in this way in the last couple of years. The kettle was put on immediately and Pam seemed worried about something. It transpired that she had been having some problems with a peeping torn in the area and seemed anxious to tell us all about it. After that subject was exhausted, we discussed our common interest in country music, more specifically, the Tamworth music festival, after which we said goodbye and thanked them for the cuppa and were on our way again.

We were headed for Tamworth, but instead of going direct on the New England Highway, we deviated, and took the tourist road which led us to Tamworth via Quiridi and Werris Creek. It was a beautiful day and the road was good, with plenty of scenery to hold our interest. I had not travelled it before, and enjoyed the experience. We had lunch in a neat little park in the centre of the agricultural town of Quirindi, after which we strolled around looking at the old steam driven stationary engine that was a feature of the park, before heading off towards Tamworth.

We had both been to Tamworth on quite a few occassions, but neither of us had ever inspected the Power house Museum, where electricity was generated for the township in the early days, so we thought this would be the ideal opportunity to pay it a visit. Unfortunately, it was closed on Wednesdays, so that put a spanner in our works. It was early afternoon, and not wanting to spend time in a town with which we were both familiar, we decided to ride on the 42Km. to Bendemeer and spend the night there. The ride up the Moonbi Range was as exhilarating as ever, with very little traffic to contend with. We could have quite easily ridden all the way home to Grafton that night, but were not expected home for another day, so we decided to explore Bendemeer. Since the New England Highway bi-passed Bendemeer some years ago, it has become a quiet little village with only a few craft and coffee shops and the old pub open for business. The old garage and engineering shop is still there, but has been abandoned. There is, however, a service station and caravan park, where the road out of town meets the highway. The hotel is set in beautiful surroundings, alongside a park that has a river running through it, and the view of this river from the old bridge that was once on the Highway, is quite spectacular. The river banks are lined with weeping willows, and the watercourse dotted with boulders worn smooth over the passing of time. We booked an upstairs room for the night in the old pub, and parked the bike around the back, where we could see it from the pub verandah. After enjoying our afternoon tea, sitting on the verandah admiring the view, we went for a walk across the river, and discovered an old cemetry with memorial gates dedicated to the service men and women who had payed the supreme sacrifice in W.W. 1 & 2 . I was surprised at the number of graves for this small town, but no doubt some of the fallen would have been from outlying farms.

On returning to the pub, we noticed a few bikes parked near ours, and we struck up a conversation with their Ulysses owners, who had also attended the recent A,G.M.. They were waiting for a friend to arrive from Brisbane, on an old B.M.W. he had just purchased there , and were all riding to Sydney together the next day. Their friend arrived soon after, and in true Ulysses fashion, we all chummed up and ate together in the hotel dining room that night,  after a few drinks in the beer garden before dinner. They were a friendly group of people, and I would like to think we will meet up with them again one day. After an enjoyable meal and a chat, we went to our room and before long, I was dreaming of our pleasant days ride.

DAY 10.

It had rained lightly during the night, but had stopped by the time we got up. We had our usual early morning cuppa and decided that, rather than have breakfast at the pub, we would load up the bike and ride to Uralla to eat at a popular truck stop we had frequented on many occassions. It was a cooler morning, but no sign of rain. We both enjoyed a hearty breakfast, and decided to ride to Glen Innes and down the Gibralter Range, which would bring us closer to Copmanhurst, where Gwen lives, rather than the alternative route on the Armidale Road to Ebor and Nymboida and home. It was pretty cold at Guyra, which is nothing unusual, but we did not stop to fit our thermal liners in our jackets, hoping instead that the weather would warm up. We had carried them for the entire trip, wrapped up in a canvas roll, strapped to the top of the back pack for easy access, and as we had been blessed with nice weather for the entire trip, we did not need them at all.

I was careful to travel within the speed limit on the New England Highway, which was just as well, since we did spot a hidden Highway Patrol car between Guyra and Glen Innes. There was very little traffic and we had an enjoyable ride down the Range on a dry road, stopping at Jackadgery to stretch our legs before riding on to Copmanhurst arriving at about 1.30pm.

We unpacked the bike , sorted the gear out, filled the fuel tank with a couple of litres of petrol to get me to town . Gwen put the jug on and we had a drink, while sitting on the verandah discussing the good time we had just had and thanking each other for a great holiday. We said our goodbyes and after stopping in Grafton for fuel, I was home at Braunstone shortly after, to be greeted by my little cat who would not leave my side for the rest of the afternoon.

It had been a delightfull trip, even if only ten days duration, but a good introduction to motorcycle touring for Gwen's first A.G.M., travelling 2500 Km. in the ten days. I somehow have the feeling that it was the first of many more to come.

THE END