Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group

Ulysses A.G.M. Geelong 2004   By E. Eckert. An account of our getting there and back (also called - "In the book")

Ever since my first A.G.M. at Mt. Gambier in 2002 and then again at Mudgee in 2003 , I always look forward to riding with a group of friends and sharing in the excitement of the ride day after day. Sure, one-day rides can be a lot of fun; in fact,  whenever I ride my bike,  the adrenalin rush kicks in, but nothing compares with knowing that after a good days ride there is the same to follow the next day and subsequent days . This A.G.M. was no exception.

The format for this years ride was slightly different from previous years, in as much as there were only 11 bikes, including mine, leaving early on Saturday; 6 the following day,  then 2 more later,  all meeting up,  the closer we came to our destination.

Day 1 Sat. 13th. March.

11 bikes, 5 with pillion passengers, assembled at the Mobil garage in South Grafton at 8 A.M. It was a fine morning, a bit overcast, which made it ideal riding weather. Some of our friends who weren't able to ride with us came to see us off and wish us a safe journey. We promised to keep in touch by mobile phone.

I was amongst the first to set off, thinking I would be soon overtaken, but road works delays for the new water pipe line to Nymboida split us up for a while and we all met up again at Ebor for a coffee, after an exciting ride on the recently sealed Armidale Road. The last time I was at Ebor it was bitterly cold and windy. This time by way of contrast it was hot and the flies were the problem. I was soon to learn that although we had only travelled a relatively short distance, it wasn't without incident since Judy lost her toilet bag, at, of all places,  the Nymboida Bridge, but fortunately it was safely retrieved. As we were resting and chatting away, Terry, one of our members from Ashby, met up with us. He was making his own way to Geelong, calling in on friends along the way, and rode with us for the rest of the day. Robyn on her beloved old Ducati also rode with us as far as Armidale, then returned home. I asked her how the Ducati liked the mountain road and she replied "probably better than me."

The Waterfall way to Armidale is always an enjoyable ride with some good bends and straights and plenty to hold ones interest. We were overtaken by a group of assorted fast bikes and met up with their riders at Uralla were we stopped for lunch and fuel. They were a group of younger riders from Queensland on their way to Victoria via The Snowy Mountains and then on to Ned Kelly country. They were interested in our trip and we engaged pleasant conversation with them.

I might add that Judy wasn't the only one that lost something, as Sandra lost her scarf on the last stretch , once again safely retrieved. This incident prompted me to write it down in my diary, which I always carry with me on such rides, and when my friends were told I was going to write an account of the trip they told me the lost scarf had to go "in the book". Sorry Sandra.

Some of us donned wet weather gear after lunch as the clouds started closing in but it only drizzled and we had a good orderly ride in formation to the Moonbi lookout where 5 bikes pulled off to inspect the view, meeting up with us again at Tamworth. The road from Tamworth to Gunnedah, our first overnight stop, was a first for me, with plenty of farms set in undulating countryside, and except for a couple of K's of road works, a pretty good road surface was encountered. On arrival at Gunnedah I was soon to learn that Peters thermal jacket liner had fallen off the Triumph, but had been noticed and retrieved. He was a bit pressed for luggage space ,so I was able to carry it for him the next day, until the cold weather forced him to wear it.

The motel we stayed at had a small swimming pool, which some of us used, and the luxury of under cover parking for the bikes. After our swim we changed and strolled down to the local R.S.L. club and had pre dinner drinks followed by a nice meal with all of us eating at the same table . I always reckon this is a sure way of bonding friendships. Thus our first day on the road came to a close.

Day 2 Sunday 14"¹. March.

We awoke to a damp morning .It had been drizzling overnight but the bikes were dry having been under cover. Wet weather gear was the order of the day and we were prepared for the worst when we eventually set off for Dunedoo, via Mullaley and Coolah. It rained steadily and we were thankfull of a comfort stop at Dunedoo, where we invaded the local bakery. The only incident so far that morning, apart from hitting just about every puddle of water getting there ,was when Judy switched over to reserve fuel and stalled the motor, not far out of Dunedoo. Ross came to the rescue and soon had it going again, which was a relief, as it was still raining quite heavily. The weather fined up a bit and after refueling at Dubbo we ran into a swarm of grasshoppers before reaching Peak Hill, where we stopped for lunch, and shed our wet weather gear, as by now there was brilliant sunshine. It was a nice little cafe at Peak Hill with good food which we ate el fresco. There were some comments made when I offered the girls lollies from a bag I had bought at the cafe just prior to me being accosted by a little old local lady who gave me her life story. She had been widowed recently and was on for a yarn so I listened to her problems, however I did not offer her any of my lollies so as not to encourage her. My mother told me when I was a lad to be wary of strange women.

Right on the fringe of the town we were able to inspect the open cut gold mine which has been closed now for several years but is quite a tourist attraction with a covered in viewing platform from which one can admire the multi coloured layers of earth as the road winds its way down to the bottom of the mine which has now transformed into a huge green lake.

Next stop was the famous Radio Telescope not far out of Parkes. It is an enormous "dish", 64 metres in diameter and weighing 1000 tonnes. It was built in 1961 and is still in the forefront of radioastronomy with other countries at times contributing financially to its operation. It was a very interesting place to visit, containing displays, computers, and interactive exhibits all hosted by a well informed obliging staff willing to answer any questions and explain the intricate operation in layman's terms.

It started to drizzle lightly as we headed for Parkes, our overnight stop and we were unfortunate enough to run into yet another swarm of grasshoppers, though apart from splattering the bikes, no damage occurred. After we settled into our motel rooms, some of us ventured into the small swimming pool, which was much colder than the previous days pool and very refreshing. Some of the boys rode down town for various forms of grog and nibblies and we settled in to a very pleasant "happy hour" of which I am always a staunch supporter.

The air conditioner in Tina and Tony's room was dripping water profusely to the outside of the room where they had previously placed their riding boots to air. If it hadn't been noticed as quickly as it was it could have been an uncomfortable ride next day .

As the day drew to a close and the pre dinner drinks took effect, we decided to ring up the local pizza parlor to order take-aways to be delivered. In no time they arrived and we all congregated on the motel verandah and made short work of them. It was a good fun night with a few jokes exchanged amongst good friends and Tony had the profound statement to make that he only has one true love [after his wife Tina] and that is food and more food. More jokes were exchanged but quite frankly I could not compete with them all and shortly after, about 8.30 P.M. we headed off to our respective rooms tired but contented.

Day 3 Monday 15 Th. March.

We were all ready earlier than expected so left the motel at 8 am, riding in fine weather, which soon became overcast and cool but still good riding conditions. We cruised along flat open country on good roads, with 110 K.P.H. speed limit [ a rarity in N.S.W. ] until we came to West Wyalong, where we refueled. It was a bit early for a cuppa, so we held a meeting and decided to make Ardlethan our next stop.

Ardlethan is a small town about 80 k's from Griffith on the Burley Griffin Way and derives its name from a small hamlet in The Grampions of Scotland. It is noted for its wheat and wool and I discovered that it is the area where the famous Kelpie dog was developed and there is a monument to this effect in the park in the main street. We discovered that Ardlethan is also famous for coffee and cheese cake at "Junes coffee shop", which is set in the back of a group of four old shops, joined together to form one huge area, displaying antiques, assorted wares, and collectables. We had to walk past all this to get to the coffee shop, and I am sure there was something of interest for all of us to see whilst doing so.

Unfortunately Lynn had a slight misfortune by almost dropping her bike whilst turning on loose gravel. She jarred her wrist in stopping the bike from falling and was in great discomfort, however battled on to Griffith, leading us to the motel she had booked us into for the night. We were handed a complementary drink of our choice on arrival at the motel and some of us were soon in the swimming pool which was almost of Olympic standard. Having had a late morning tea, most of us forsake lunch knowing we were to be picked up at 1.30 P.M. to be taken on an organized winery tour of Griffith. Our first stop was De Bortelli's, where after sampling a lot of reds and whites, we got together and ordered a mixed dozen bottles, to be sent home to Grafton, by post. For some reason or other my friends weren't too keen on sending them to my address. Next port of call was Riverina Grove, where we sampled various cheeses, olives, pickled onions, dried tomatoes and salamis and bought some of these to snack on later in the trip. The third call was at a smaller boutique winery "Piromit Wines" where we saw the grapes being dumped into crushers. We had the process of wine making explained to us in detail,  by a very knowledgeable gentleman, who willingly let us sample his wares after the tour. He told us the huge stainless steel wine vats held 50,000 litres and each cost about $ 50,000 to manufacture. This winery is famous for producing "pinot grigio" a white wine made from red grapes . When asked how Bob was handling all these samples of various wines he remarked " does a bear piss in the woods". Next we moved on to Miranda Cellars. By this time we had eased off a bit on the sampling, but never the less had a good look around. I bought a bottle of rummy port to sip on at nights during the remainder of the holiday. The climax of the tour, after stopping off at the "Dudley-de-chair " lookout overlooking Griffith was a small winery "Milange Wines" where by prior arrangement we stayed for a nice Italian meal after first tasting their wines. The typical Italian family fussed over us as if we were their own and made sure we had plenty of pastas, meat balls (the best I have ever tasted} salads, garlic breads and cheeses to feast on. The family joined us towards the end of the meal for coffee and desert at which time we gave them a round of applause for their wonderful hospitality. They also had a friendly dog there who chased sticks and retrieved them endlessly. All good things must come to an end, so we said our goodbyes and were driven back to the motel, where some of us sat around outside our motel rooms chatting about the great day we had, until it was time to hit the hay. Lynn, on the other hand was nursing her wrist and treating it with ice packs to reduce the swelling.

It was nice to visit Griffith again. Although it had only been a couple of years since my last call, it holds a lot of pleasant memories with old friends way back in my early motorcycling days, but that's another story. I had pleasant dreams that night, which was appropriate for the eve of my wedding anniversary.

Day 4. Tuesday 16th. March.

We eventually departed our luxurious motel after Ross and Rod spent ages fixing the broken zipper on Judy's riding pants. She said quote " I have never had so many men at my crotch before." unquote. We had a good ride to Jerilderie passing an enormous rice storage silo 50 Ks. out and several flocks of emus roaming around the paddocks. Thank goodness they kept well off the road. We stopped just out of Jerilderie, for morning coffee and fuel, at the same servo we stopped at 2 years prior on our way to the Mt. Gambier A.G.M. At that occasion, one of our group had tyre problems on his Goldwing and we were delayed a few hours. While we were sitting around 2 bikes came in, having travelled from Queensland, They were absolutely splattered in grasshoppers, so we countered our blessings that we hadn't struck them that thick. We had a scary experience between Jerilderie and Deniliquin, when we came upon a highway patrol car with lights flashing. He was apparently booking the driver of a car towing a horse float for whatever reason, and was not concerned with 9 bikes doing 115 K.P.H. Shortly after, another police car approached us but did not pull us over. Twice lucky. Fortunately there was no third encounter.

We picked up a stray rider along the way riding a B.M.W. and he joined our ranks content to ride in the middle of our group as one of us, until we arrived at Moana and pulled in at our motel, where he continued on his way.

After renewing acquaintances with the motel proprietress from our previous stay there, most of us unpacked our bikes and rode down town crossing the Murray River into Echuca, for lunch and a spot of sight seeing. Echuca is a very interesting town on the mighty Murray River, dating back to 1853 and I was looking forward to revisiting it. Judy, Peter and Sandra and I rode down together, parked our bikes in the shade, and walked around inspecting the relics of a bygone era, window-shopped and literally took time out to smell the roses, in the garden of the council chambers. We ate in a bakery and then continued walking around admiring and photographing the old buildings, catching up on a bit of the history of the old place.

A snooze back at the motel, then it was time to get ready for the courtesy bus to take us to the Murray River, where we boarded the Mary Ann cruising restaurant, for a night of festivities, while cruising the famous river and admiring all the paddle steamers in various stages of renovation. We all enjoyed a nice meal with Tony the captain, Cathy the waitress and Paddy the barman, all looking after us. As the night wore on, Trevor introduced us to a new dance, which emulated rowing a boat. Lynne with the injured wrist, reckoned the more the night progressed, the less pain she felt. The festivities came to a close about 10 pm., and we were delivered back to the motel safe and sound, to rest up for yet another exciting day.

Day 5 Wednesday 17th. March. St. Patrick's day

We left some of our friends at Moama, since they were riding the Great Ocean Road at the bottom of Victoria, and then meeting up with us again at Geelong. It was a bit colder riding than previous mornings, I guess because we were riding south and at our smoko stop at Castlemaine, some of us rugged up more. I had a craving for fresh fruit, so bought a few new season apples to munch on. I accidentally left my bike jacket over the back of a chair in the cafe and did not miss it until it was time to climb back on the bike. Fortunately Sandra had retrieved it for me, so all was well. A lot of small groups of bikes passed through Castlemaine,  and I came to the conclusion that the Ulysses club is all about small groups of friends enjoying each others company, in many cases without the complications of formal structures.

We arrived at Ballarat at lunchtime and had difficulty in finding the motel, but never the less had a tour of the outskirts of the city whilst locating it. After booking in and unpacking, some of us headed for Sovereign Hill, which is a replica of a gold mining town of the 1850's, and is built on the site of the richest alluvial gold rush in the world.

Sovereign Hill faithfully depicts Ballarat's first 10 years after discovery of gold in 1851,  and is a complete town with people dressed up in period costume, and with shops, banks and institutions, steam driven machinery, and working plant all known to have existed in Ballarat during the 1850's. To do it justice at least, a full day would be required, but unfortunately, we were only there for a few hours, but it whet our appetite. I was particularly interested in the steam driven mchinery operating, as it took me back to my boyhood days playing with my donkey engine, which of course is the same principal. Some of the girls in our group [I wont mention names] were more interested in the young handsome steam engine operator, however. Since it was to be the last night all together on this trip down to Geelong by prior approval, Lynn and Judy had prepared a trivia night which was conducted after our sumptuous meal of take away tucker preceded by 'horses douvers' bought at Griffith. I was banned from answering questions having been taking notes since we left home to enable me to write this story, but never the less I enjoyed the friendly comments along the way. I vaguely remember John placing an Indian hat of some sort on my head and telling me to sing, and unfortunately there is photographic evidence [on the Ulysses website] of this incident. I did remember, however to apply a lesson I learned years ago when knowing the party would be noisy. That is to invite the neighbours along before the event. Nine out of ten times they will decline the invitation not wanting to impose ,but will not complain about the noise the next day. It worked well. It was nice and cosy with us all crammed into that one small motel room, but it was quite cold when the party was over and we strayed back to our own rooms. I had no trouble sleeping that night.

Day 6 Thursday 18^th March

Being very cold overnight, we fully expected the bikes to be hard to start, and sure enough, Judy's bike soon ran out of battery. We pushed it into the sun and poured boiling water over the engine . Bob said it was on old Harley trick. We helped Judy load her swag on, had her climb aboard and push started her bike. She kept it going, not stopping for fuel till the next town, to give the battery a chance to charge up which seemed to work O.K.

It wasn't long before we reached the outskirts of Geelong, travelling through fairly undulating countryside, and I could not help but notice how dry the country looked. Unfortunately there was a definite lack of signs to lead us to the registration centre, but we eventually found it and once there, the Geelong branch of the Ulysses club gave us a warm welcome . They gave us our identification wrist bands with corresponding number on a sticker to attach to the bike as on the two previous A.G.M 's I had attended. A big Ulysses guy on a Harley escorted those of us who were camping, to the show ground, where we had our numbers checked by security on the gate and by prior arrangement, we met up with the other campers from our group who had travelled down independently. Judy and I decided to camp some distance from the spot they had saved for us, thinking that perhaps it might be a tad quieter at night. It was not long before we had our tents pitched, in spite of the hard ground which bent my aluminium tent pegs. Judy decided that since we were travelling to Tasmania after the A.G.M.and it would no doubt be cold, a new battery might be in order to prevent a repeat of the mornings event. Jim was kind enough to obtain directions to the Yamaha bike shop and after we had a bite to eat, and by appointment, made by mobile phone,  Jim , Judy and I rode to the shop and left her bike, to have the battery and a new rear tyre fitted. While this was happening, we rode to a huge camping supply shop not far away and I bought some steel tent pegs to replace my bent aluminium ones. It was late in the afternoon before we arrived back at the show ground, which was to be our home for the next couple of days. We walked around familiarizing ourselves with the layout and had a quick look at some of the displays before checking out the eating houses of which there were plenty. Not far from where we were camped, one of the pavilions had a supermarket tucked away in the corner, which I believe was a first for an A.G.M. and we found it very convenient and reasonably priced. After striking up a conversation with some of our new neighbours and admiring their bikes and trailers, we turned in at about 10 pm, to rest up for the next day. The fog was starting to roll in and it had the makings of a very cold night.

Day 7 Friday 19^th. March.

It had been a fairly noisy night, with loud music being played in the pavillion close by, but I managed to have a reasonably good nights sleep, although it was bloody cold in the wee hours, when I needed to visit nature. A nice hot cup of tea cooked on my small gas stove was welcomed at breakfast time. Breakfast for Judy and I consisted of cereal and toasted muffins from a packet a passing baker had handed out to some of the campers . After breakfast we met up with Ross and Sue who had booked in for a test ride on a 250 cc. Honda scooter. We saw them off,  then looked at a lot of other bikes, bought a few items at the quartermasters store, then caught the shuttle bus into town with Peter and Sandra. Although we were jammed in like sardines in a tin, we did manage to see a lot of the waterfront on the way into town and it was a lot of fun. Judy found an optometrist and had her glasses repaired, and we window shopped and had a snack, before returning to camp at 3.30 pm, for a rest and a freshen up before the nights festivities. Alas , the supermarket had no smoked oysters, so we had to settle for cabonosi on our bickies to have at happy hour, when Woods and Vicki joined us at our camp. Since we were not attending the organized dinner that night, we ate with them for company, and then strolled around looking at bike displays before meeting up with the rest of our crew in the entertainment tent for a few drinks,  and to await the drawing of the raffle for a Honda Goldwing. Some lucky fellow from W. A. won the bike and shortly after, the crowd started to disperse. It had been a happy night and unlike the same night the previous year at Mudgee ,I decided to act my age and not over do the alcohol, consequently I was able to find my way back to my tent and fall into bed unattended and was soon in the land of nod. 

   Day 8 Saturday 20^th. March

We woke up early and breakfasted, then met Ross at the front gate at 8 , to escort us to the motel where he and the majority of our crew were staying. We rode down in a group to the marshalling area for the street parade and watched all the bikes from all over Oz assemble. There were 4635 riders and pillions in total in the parade, after which we parked on and near the promenade, and mingled with the crowd and inspected bikes of all makes. The locals seemed pleased with our presence , especially the cafe proprietors who had a field day in takings. I had become separated from our group for a while, which was quite understandable, considering the huge crowd, but met up with some of them to listen to the speeches and await the raffle draw for a Yamaha, which was won by a Victorian lady. As the raffle was being drawn by the C.E.O. of Yamaha, a helicopter flew right over the top of the stage with a Honda sign suspended from it. It raised a few laughs, but if it was done intentionally at that particular moment, I reckon it was in pretty poor taste. Honda had their turn the previous night.

The foreshores of Geelong are very pretty, clean and tidy with plenty to hold ones interest. They have introduced life sized carved wooden bollards as a tourist attraction in recent years and there was one they unveiled of Stephen Dearnley, [Old No. 1] to commemorate the Ulysses A.G.M.in Geelong. He was quite thrilled with this gesture and spoke of it to the crowd when it was his turn to thank us all for being there. It's great to see the old gentleman there each year.

Shortly after, I made my way back to the showground without much of a problem by following the bike in front of me ,after which Judy and I had a final look at the displays and she bought an anti fog mask which covered her face from the cheeks down and had a breather pipe built into it which allowed air to be inhaled and exhausted below the helmet. It seemed like a good idea, but more of that later in the trip. We had an afternoon nap, the secret of long life, freshened up and changed our clothes for the main event, which is the Saturday night meal and entertainment. While standing in the queue with our friends, which  we had met up with from the motel [we call them flosseys], it was pointed out to me there was a fellow in the next queue with the same sir name as mine, which was evident by his name tag. I introduced myself to him, to discover that he was a Wagga Wagga member, but as far as we could tell we were not related. There are not many of us Eckert's in Australia, whilst in Switzerland and Germany it is not an uncommon name.

We all managed to get seated at two adjoining tables, with a few straglers from other groups joining us . During the course of the evening Judy and I met up with a couple from Kurrajong group ,who we had camped next to at Broken Hill, after the Mudgee A.G.M. the previous year. It was great to see them; out of all these people present. They are Triumph enthusiasts and Margaret, [I think that's her name], had recently bought a new Bonnyville. I introduced Peter , who rides a Daytona, to them, and they soon struck up a friendly conversation. So the night continued,  with pleasant conversation, a very nice meal and plenty of liquid refreshments.Graham and I shared a nice bottle of Woolpunda Merlot with our meal and remarked how much nicer it was than the plonk we had suffered at the previous A,G.M. Judy's favourite sweet was on the menu and I was amazed how these mass produced little sticky date puddings tasted so good. We had to have second helpings to make sure.

The dance floor was crowded, but it was great,  just watching the dancers enjoying themselves not too disgracefully. About 10 pm, I said farewell to our group who, except for Judy, Peter and Sandra, I would not be seeing until we got back home, since we four were headed for Tassie the next day. The wind had sprung up and I was glad I had bought those steel tent pegs. I slept cosily that night, with the wind blowing some of the noise away from the tents.

One little bit of drama worthy of mention was that in the early hours of Sunday morning, I needed to relieve myself, but discovered that the portable loo had vanished. I found out the next morning that the contract had expired at midnight and that's when it left the showground. !

Day 9 Sunday 21^st. March.

_ We awoke to a very blustery wind, but no sign of rain, or even a hint of a dew, so after breakfast we were able to pack our tents bone dry, which is a big advantage when travelling. I had finished packing my bike when Peter and Sandra arrived at 10 am.  As I mentioned earlier, they were to accompany us to Tasmania, for the next nine days, and we were all excited about the ferry trip across Bass Straight. By the time Judy had packed and we said our goodbyes to old friends and plenty of new ones, it was 11.30 . and we set off for Port Melbourne, the start of the next stage of our journey. The M 1 freeway from Geelong to Melbourne was fast but orderly, and there were numerous bikes travelling with us, to keep the ride interesting. I remember passing a Goldwing towing a trailer, which is not unusual except that this particular trailer was built in the shape of a miniture klinker built boat, complete with mock outboard motor. I dare say the owner had combined his interest of boating with that of motorcycling.

We had no difficulty in finding Port Melbourne, which was well signposted, and I had taken the precaution of studying the map well before leaving Geelong and had the street names prominently displayed on the tank bag map display. We were lucky enough to find suitable parking close by the wharf, and a nice cafe where we enjoyed a light meal while waiting out of the wind for Judy's son, Daniel, to visit us. Judy had rung him as soon as we arrived there, and he and a mate took us for a tram ride into the city, to show us the sights and kill a bit of time, till it was time to board the ferry at 7.30 pm.

It had been years since I had been to this city, and I was impressed with the efficiency of the trams, which had a recorded commentary of the main points of interest along the way. The skyscrapers looked down on the old buildings, the tree lined streets, and the numerous parks, which makes Melbourne a very pretty city to visit. It was still blowing a stiff southerly,  when we arrived back ay the wharf and we couldn't help but tease Judy about how the crossing would be that night. Judy suffers from travel sickness and therefore had with her the necessary pills to combat this unpleasant ailment. We still had stacks of time to kill, so we lazed around in the sun, out of the wind, took a few photos and studied our maps of Tasmania . We went for a walk onto the wharf and familiarized ourselves with the surroundings. In so doing we met two little girls who had been fishing with their dad. They proudly showed us two starfish they had found, and with all of us liking kids, we showed a great interest in their find, much to their delight. It took me back many years to when my own daughter was a little girl. As you may have realized by now, a lot of my idle time is spent reminiscing.

The time came when we were to board the Spirit of Tasmania, a huge vessel with eleven decks, and a shipload of things to discover, including restaurants, bars, a gaming room , children's areas and souvenire shops.

The procedure was that we handed over our tickets at the boarding office, and in return were given our boarding passes and cabin keycards, before queuing up to ride on board. We waited about half an hour, talking with other Ulysses riders, some returning home from Geelong, and others like ourselves, setting out on a tour of the island state. We eventually rode onto the ferry;  up a steep ramp with narrow traction tracks ,and were ushered into position by attendants, who made us leave the bikes in gear and park them on their side stands. They strapped them down across the saddle to eye bolts set in the deck and had us remove any excessive heavy luggage and place it on the deck along side the bikes. We took note of the deck level No. and colour of the area where we were garaged, so we could easily find the bikes on arrival in Devonport the following morning.

Judy and I shared a cabin which was quite comfortable whilst Peter and Sandra had chosen to sleep in the reclining chairs which were on the deck below us. As soon as we were settled in, Judy took her seasick pills and went to bed, whereas we three had a drink and a snack in one of the bars and watched the safety procedure briefing displayed on a big T. V. screen. We didn't make it a late night but did not want to miss out on exploring the facilities on board . By the time I got back to our cabin Judy was asleep and she spent a comfortable night without any sign of seasickness.

Day 10 Monday 22^nd.March

We awoke at 6.15 am. to the departure announcement over the P. A. system , quickly dressed and packed our overnight bags, and met up with our fellow travellers in the foyer and awaited the announcement to proceed to the bikes. Once there, we unhitched our the ropes, and loaded our gear back onto the bikes. It was not long before we were able to ride off in single file over a bridge to the dock area, where we passed through customs before heading along the coast towards Burnie, on a highway that was a good introduction to Tasmanian roads. We stopped at Ulverstone at "Oliver's Bakery " for breakfast and found out from the proprietress where the 2006 Ulysses A.G.M. is to be held . Although it was early days, she had heard of the A.G.M. and the pending invasion by bikers . We assured her that we weren't a bad lot and that the Ulysses club is not so much a bike club as a huge social club with members having a common interest in bikes. On the way out of Ulverstone we stopped and had a look at the venue, which is a big sporting complex right on the coast and looked a very impressive location for such an event. We had decided over breakfast to stay at the little town of Waratah that had been recommended to us by a colleague recently at Geelong, but before riding there direct we chose to take a scenic coast tourist road to Penguin, where we stopped to admire the scenery, before continuing on to Burnie.

Burnie is a big shipping port on the north coast, the main export material we discovered later to be woodchip. I remembered the place from my previous visit 25 years ago, where, in those days, the sea was brown from pollution from fallout from the building board factory that produced "Burnie Board". Thankfully it has been cleaned up by now and is in pristine condition. The tourist information centre there was very helpful, supplying us with maps and brochures, they even tried to ring up for accommodation for us at the pub in Waratah, but were unsuccessful in raising them.

We rode on along a good surfaced ,wide secondary road to Wynyard, where we had no trouble in locating the Bischoff hotel and we secured accommodation for the next three nights. We discovered the owners of the pub to be a Ulysses couple , Bev. and Lou., [each with their own bike] to be most hospitable and informative and consequently  had a very pleasant stay in the old pub. I think Judy and I decided there and then that we probably wouldn't be camping in Tassie since it was cold and windy and we would be travellng south to an even colder climate. That afternoon after a nice pub lunch, on advice of Bev, who was to become our "tour director", we rode out along a very windy mountainous road towards the Savage River. Like many localities on the apple isle, it was once a prosperous mining area, but has now been mostly depleted of ore , although we did discover one mining company still in operation. While we were parked there, where the good road ended and the gravel road took over, we were admiring the rugged mountain view when about eight bikes arrived on the scene. We soon struck up a conversation with them, mostly about how good a bike road we had just travelled on . After a short time they all set off back to Waratah, and we followed a few minutes later to be soon confronted by one rider who had come to grief on a bend. He had snapped off a rotted guidepost, and parted company with his bike, which was severely damaged but still ridable. They waved us on and when we returned to the hotel they came along shortly after, for they were also staying there for the night. The rider who came off was a younger bloke, by our

standards, and I daresay inexperienced, although they all seemed pretty fast riders. He had not hurt himself, his leathers had saved him, but his bike was a mess. They worked on it and got it back into a rideable condition, minus a mirror and headlight and with badly damaged faring.

We went for a walk around town inspecting the old tin mining relics lying around the place . It had once been a thriving metropolis with miners huts, long gone, and a population of 4000. Now there were only 400 residents in the town . We had a few drinks in the bar before devouring a huge meal, then watched T. V. in an upstairs lounge room for a while huddled over a radiator before climbing into bed. Our first day in Tasmania had been a memorable one with plenty to dwell on.

Day 11 Tuesday 23 rd. March.

A self serve, complementary, continental breakfast was most acceptable to start off another day in paradise. Judy led the way after refuelling, and we took a very interesting road, to Wynyard on the north coast, passing through Hellyer Gorge, set in the valley surrounded by pine trees, thick undergrowth, and magnificent tree ferns. The road was twisting and winding most of the way but a good surface made it ideal for riding. Our first stop was at Wynyard Tourist Information Centre, for brochures and a comfort stop, then Judy had her glasses repaired again, while I bought myself a pair of thick woolen socks, in an endeavor to warm up my feet. Judy next did the unforgivable thing and led us up a one way street the wrong way, to a scenic view point of Table Cape. We gave her heaps, but she made up for it by selecting a scenic drive, hugging the coastline to the village of Boat Harbour. As the name suggests, it is a fishing village with a sheltered harbour and is most picturesque. We rode on to a truck stop just out of Stanley where we stopped for lunch. We have found in our travels that these venues usually supply good food reasonably priced and one stop for fuel and food saves a bit of time. Peter had heard of a place somewhere in Tassie called Freycinet Peninsular, and not knowing where it was, he asked me if I knew. He referred to me as the "tree of knowledge" but I disappointed him on this occassion. More on that later.

A little bit of trivia, Judy noticed that the school speed zones in that state are restricted to 40 K.P.H. all day during school hours, and not just morning and afternoon as it is in N.S.W.   On arrival at Stanley, although it was blowing a gale, we decided to ride the chair lift to the top of "The Nut" which is a huge rock formation set at the end of a peninsular and offers a panoramic view of the township and surrounding coastline. There is a tourist shelter at the top which indicates points of interest, and on closer examination, I was able to spot an old colonial farmhouse named Highfield, which I remembered seeing close up on my previous visit. By now it has been totally restored as a tourist attraction,and is one of the most significant intact colonial farm complexes in Australia. [ I got that out of a brochure]. Time was creeping by, so after looking through a souvenir shop , as you do, we headed back to Waratah, intending to deviate and take in 'The Big Tree " but somehow took the wrong road and missed it. We had an enjoyable ride never the less, on a well surfaced back road, and eventually found our way back onto the same road we travelled on, earlier in the day and found it just as interesting travelling in the opposite direction. This time we stopped at Hellyer Gorge to stretch our legs and take a few photos of the river rapids, from the bridge . We all agreed it would be a great camping or caravanning spot in the middle of summer, but our cozy hotel room was much more desirable, and after our return ,a few drinks followed by a nice home cooked meal of crumbed cutlets and veg. ,another early night was in order.

Day 12 Wednesday 24^th. March

We woke up excited about our pending ride to Cradle Mountain which is classed as one of the prettiest areas in the state, but the weather was overcast and misty and we were advised by Bev. to leave it to later in the day to visit when the weather may have improved. With this in mind we set off to have a look at Sheffield and Latrobe in the morning, and try our luck for clear skies in the afternoon at the mountain. We rode through rugged mountain terrain, rain forests, passes and then open country with undulating hills, with fantastic sweeping bends capable of being negotiated at high speed. Next came some small village mountain retreats, and we then came across the quaint little village of Sheffield with it's many murals painted on fences and walls of buildings. The story goes that in the 1980's the town was in economical decline and a newly formed committee , The Kentish Association for Tourism Inc., began arranging for murals to be painted on the old buildings ,which has led to the town as we see it today and it is known as the town of murals and has become a great tourist attraction, consequently saving the town from economical disaster.

Visiting the Post Office to post a card, Peter was approached by a chap behind the counter who had spotted our Ulysses badges . We were soon to discover that he was the president of the north -west coast Ulysses group and was delighted to see us . We all had a good chat about the recent A.G.M. which he had also attended. Funny thing, we didn't see him there. After a coffee break, which we took in a quaint old fashioned shop with a wondering minstrel playing soft bagpipe music, we headed off in the direction of Latrobe, intending to stop there for lunch. This was not to be. In Tasmania every highway and most secondary roads have a code No. clearly indicated on their maps. We continued on the B14 to a little town called Railton, where we should have turned left on to the B13 to take us to Latrobe . I was leading at this stage and turned right instead of left riding along merrily checking the B13 signs. It was some time before it became obvious that we were riding in the wrong direction, which necessitated a roadside meeting, whereby we decided to forget Latrobe ,as we would spend too much time backtracking, and run out of time to visit Cradle Mountain. I apologized for leading the party astray and we stopped at the next town we came to which was Elizabeth Town, where we ate lunch at a roadhouse, then retraced our steps to the Cradle Valley National Park. As a rule I like to ride a 'roundtrip" rather than retrace my steps over the same road ,but this whole day's ride was so exciting with such a variety of scenery, that I was not so concerned. We arrived at the Cradle Mountain car park and boarded the shuttle bus, which took us up a narrow winding road to the foothills of Cradle Mountain, with the beautiful Dove Lake in the foreground . It was a photographers paradise and as luck would have it a perfect sunny afternoon, with a few wispy clouds in the sky to complete the picture. We took a walk around part of the lake, admiring the scenery, and then continued on a board walk, which eventually led us back to a shelter shed, where we caught the shuttle bus back to our bikes . We made the most of the afternoon and by the time we arrived back to the old pub at Waratah, it was just on dark. Bev. was pleased to hear how we got on and told us that there are only about 35 days in the year that these ideal weather conditions occur at Cradle Mountain. A nice meal in the pub dining room, a few drinks and a spot of T.V. completed the day.

Day 13 Thursday 25^th. March.

After breakfast,  we reluctantly said farewell to our hosts for the last few days and set off for Zeehan,  on the A10 [Murchison Highway] in cool and damp conditions. We had a pretty good ride there,  after which a strong westerly wind sprung up off the Southern Ocean . Morning tea stop was at the fishing village of Strahan, after which we visited a museum, which was housed in the tourist information centre. Strahan would be one of the more popular tourist areas with river cruises , aeroplane flights over the Franklin river and sailing to explore the spectacular wilderness.Strahan also provides a variety of accommodation ,which incidentally, was fully booked out. As we were leaving town, Judy's bike was blown over while she was making a slow turn in a narrow street. Fortunately she was not hurt badly, but suffered a sore hand for a few days. We soon straightened up the rear view mirror, which was knocked around when the bike fell. I think the enormous wide load swag she was carrying took the brunt of the fall. The road to Queenstown was littered with small branches from the overhanging trees, and in conjunction with the small white gravel, scattered over the road on the bends, made it difficult to negotiate. By the time we arrived at Queenstown it was just starting to rain and we were a bit concerned about the afternoon ride, however a good snack and a warm drink in a friendly little cafe put us in a better frame of mind. It rained heavily while we were eating, but had stopped by the time we got back to the bikes, but we decided to put our wet weather gear on for the afternoon ride. This simple operation took about half an hour by the time a certain lady dragged on her "duck's feet" much to the amusement of the rest of us.

Queenstown is set in a valley surrounded by semi barren hills caused years ago by outfall from the copper mines killing all vegitation. My wife and I visited there 25 years ago and I was pleased to see more vegetation there now . Hopefully one day it will be totally recovered. The climb out of Queenstown was very steep, but a well made road with a good surface which made the ride exciting. We rode all afternoon in patchy weather but no heavy rain. We had planned on spending the night at Hamilton, but were there earlier than expected so pressed on in daylight to New Norfolk and booked the last room in an old pub for the night. This was wise choice, being only about 50 K's out of Hobart, our next main port of call. We hit the jackpot by choosing this particular hotel, The Bush Inn Hotel, as we found out it reeked in history, being built in 1815, with much of the original construction still visible. Some of the original furnishings still remain in this hotel. Like a lot of old pubs, the beds sag, the doors don't shut properly, the windows are hard to open and the floor boards squeak, but what the hell ,it all adds to the atmosphere and the complementary cooked breakfast more than made up for any inconvenience. While enjoying a few drinks in the bar before dinner, we met a Ulysses couple Judy and I had camped next to at the A.G.M. in Mudgee in 2003. We had a lot of catching up to do. We looked in the accommodation brochures and decided to ring Hobart and book our accommodation for the next night, which would save precious time and give us a better chance to explore Port Arthur. By so doing we would know exactly where to go in a big city  in peak hour traffic, and we marked the route on our Hobart city map to avoid any confusion.

Day 14 Friday 26^th. March

After our enormous breakfast we left New Norfolk and took the A10 to Gratton and then joined up with Highway No. 1 which took us right into the heart of Hobart. The best laid plans of mice and men, someone once said. For all our map marking, I still managed to get us lost in the " big smoke" . We were all parked in a no parking zone, map reading, when Judy noticed a tourist information centre sign . Sandra and I followed the sign leaving Peter and Judy to mind the bikes. We had no trouble finding it, and a lovely young blonde girl behind the counter who was most helpful,and even marked up a bigger map, gave us explicit directions and sent us on our way with a charming smile . She even called me darling. What a lovely girl she was . My immediate thoughts were ,I must buy her chocolates before leaving this fair city, but Sandra threatened to tell Gwen, my lady friend back home, so that was the end of that. We soon found our accommodation, which was a backpacker hostel, in an old building with the basic essentials. We soon unloaded the bikes and set off for Port Arthur. We negotiated the city only once overshooting the turn off to the Tasman bridge over the Derwent river. Hobart has a very modern and efficient road system and the traffic moves fast. At times it was difficult for the three bikes to stay together, what with lane changing, traffic lights etc. but we all looked after one another and had a pleasant ride to Sorell and Port Arthur.

Peter, Sandra and I took the guided tour of the convict ruins, while Judy, having been there in recent years, decided to give it a miss and was quite happy to browse through the souvenir shops, and then snooze, while we took in some of the history of this famous convict settlement. It was interesting to listen to the guide and learn some of the facts about the various buildings and how the convicts were treated. I was surprised to learn that even that far back the government tried to re educate the inmates by teaching them various trades , which apart from rehabilitating them, also assisted in the running of the settlement. On a sad note though, the hospital and asylum and solitary confinement cells told of the many hardships the poor devils encountered, and the " Isle of the Dead" speaks for itself.

After a bite to eat in the café, we met up with a group of Ulysses riders from Redlands, near Brisbane, who we had met at the previous X'mas in July celebrations at Stanthorpe . Like ourselves, they were exploring the island state after leaving Geelong. They were travelling clockwise around the island, as opposed to our anti- clockwise direction of travel and it was interesting to compare notes on what we had all seen so far. We said our goodbyes and set off for a bit more sight seeing, calling in at the Tasman arch, the Blowhole, the Devils Kitchen, Eagle Hawk Neck and last but not least, the Tessellated Pavement. These are all various types of rock formations being pounded for millions of years by the rough Tasman sea to create spectacular scenery.

Up till now we had been lucky with the weather but just as we were approaching the Tasman Bridge, heading back into Hobart, it started to drizzle but not enough to concern us and we soon found our accommodation after I had an argument with a bus whilst lanechanging. He probably saw my N.S.W. plates and backed off. The hostel where we were staying was by chance within easy walking distance of Sullivans Cove, which is the main docking area of Hobart. We decided to head in that direction on foot, to have a look at the beautiful old buildings, and the many yachts moored in the cove. It was a Friday night and a hive of activity with restaurants and boutiques ablaze with lights. We chose to have fish and chips alfresco, which we bought from a floating seafood vendor called "Flippers on the Water". We sat on a bench nearby, eating and soaking in the atmosphere, before walking around to Salamanca Place to mingle with the crowds of people queued up outside the numerous eating-houses of all descriptions, waiting to be served. We inspected some of the souvenir shops and a particularly interesting gallery before heading back to the hostel after yet another interesting day.

Day 15 Saturday 27^th. March.

We would like to have travelled further south of Hobart to have a look at the Huon Valley, but unfortunately time did not permit, but we were all in agreement that we couldn't leave without first climbing Mt. Wellington, which overlooks Hobart and the Derwent River. We packed our bikes after breakfast and rode through Battery Point and the suburb of Ferntree, before winding our way up the mountain road to the summit of Mt. Wellington, which is 1270 metres above sea level and where it was blowing a gale and bitterly cold;  we were thankfull to be wearing our warm motorbike jackets. As promised in the tourist brochures, the view was well worth the climb and among other things we were able to see the Tasman Bridge clearly, with the morning sun glistening on the picturesque Derwent River. A photo session ensued, both from the viewing platform and from within the glass walled enclosure which housed a direction marker indicating the various points of interest. On walking back to our bikes we met up with a couple of Ulysses members who introduced themselves to us. They were touring by car but showed an interest in our bikes and where we had been. We carefully rode back down the mountain and through the city and made our first stop at Richmond which is famous for the oldest convict build bridge in Australia. After feeding the fattest wild ducks I have ever seen , we walked across the bridge and were in time to witness a wedding taking place on the banks of the river. There was a harpist playing soft music , the guests were starting to assemble and the bride arrived in a horse drawn carriage . The whole scene was like something out of a fairy tale and we felt privileged to have been in the right place at the right time.

Moving on over more open country side and passing through numerous vineyards, we travelled yet another well made road which took us through Runnymede and Buckland where we stopped at Orford, a small village in a pretty little place named Prosser Bay.

Over lunch outside a cafe whilst soaking up the sunshine, we referred to our maps once again and decided to head for Bicheno,book in for a couple of nights, leave our gear there and go for a couple of day rides. A very young couple, all clad in leathers and riding a fast looking Triumph, rode in for lunch. They lived in Hobart and were just out for a day ride and they told us of a road [ the B34] which runs from just past Swansea, up the mountains, to Campbelltown in the midlands . They claimed it is the best motorbike road in the state and suggested we try it out. We thanked them and continued on our way to Coles Bay , but not without noticing the turnoff to the B 34 highway. The road to Coles Bay was a good, wide ,fast road and a prettier seaside town would be hard to find. It overlooks the Freycinet National Park, on the Freycinet Peninsular, that Peter had so been looking forward to seeing. With all the great scenery we had seen, I had run out of film, so I replenished my stock at a small supermarket, where the lady who served me, informed me she had once lived in Grafton. It's a small world. We rode the remaining 40 or so K's. to Bicheno, where we were able to hire a self contained unit for the next three nights, at a reasonable rate . Bicheno is another seaside village, with a penguin rookery, that Judy desperately wanted to visit, but somehow we weren't there at the right time for the inspection, so Sandra bought her a tiny model penguin as a memento of Bicheno.

This unit was luxury living. Peter and Sandra had the honeymoon suite. I slept on the lower bunk in an another room, and Judy chose to sleep on her air bed on the floor. There were good shops and a supermarket within walking distance, and all in all, we had a very pleasant stay there.

Day 16 Sunday 28^th. March.

We decided to take the highway the young couple had told us about the previous day, so retraced our steps back towards Swansea and had no trouble finding the B34 highway. They were definately right in what they told us, the road was well sealed, wide in most places, with good sweeping bends and only a few tight corners. The country side was pretty, surprisingly dry once we left the coast and headed inland. We headed south when we reached Campbelltown, to the little historical village of Ross, where we pulled up outside an old bakery for morning tea. The building that housed the bakery was convict built, in 1832, for a John Dickenson, a freehold settler from Notinghamshire, in England. It had been an inn for much of its life and is a magnificent stone two story building, with low level outhouses out the back, set in a nice garden. The display of cakes, scones and pastries made it hard to decide what to buy, so we all settled for something different and ate out in the garden, beneath a vine covered trellis, with native birds entertaining us with their chirping. It was a delightful spot and most entertaining. After this, we all set off in different directions, to inspect the old church and other buildings in the village, and met up before long, back at the bikes to ride to the other side of town, where we saw another convict built bridge.We met up again with the Ulysses couple we had met at Mt. Wellington the day before. We never did remember their names , so we christened them "Fred and Wilma". We walked around admiring the old buildings, which included a female work factory, a church and an old cemetery. It was sad to note that the children of the day were persecuted for the sins of their unwed mothers. Today we almost go to the extreme opposite. The mothers were only allowed to see their children once a week and and it was documented that they were not very well cared for and were put to work at an early age.

On the road again this time stopping at Campbelltown, for a "picnic lunch " by the river, that had yet another convict built bridge crossing it. This bridge was different , as it was built on dry land and when completed in 15 months, the river was diverted to flow underneath it. I have always had a fascination for bridges [ Maybe it's because I was born the year the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Grafton Bridge over the Clarence river were built] and consequently I found this method of construction intriguing. A novel idea exists in this town as a tourist attraction, being that there are bricks set into a strip of pavement passing right through the town, with each brick bearing the name of a convict who helped build the bridge.

We rode back to Bicheno in the afternoon via the A4 highway, which took us down a very narrow winding road through Elephant Pass to the coast road which we followed back to Bicheno, arriving back in time for a walk around the town to do a bit of local sightseeing. The wind had sprung up again and all the small craft moored or anchored in the bay, were bobbing around like the proverbial corks in a rough sea. That night we had the luxury of T.V. which we watched till about 10 P.M. before retiring.

I had met a chap that afternoon that was staying at the same units as us, who served in Vietnam in National Service,  with a neighbor of mine, who he had recently visited at Braunstone . Once again, it's a small world eh?.

Day 17 Monday 24^th. March.

Over breakfast, we decided to explore the north-east corner of the state ,as much as time would permit in one day. As we were leaving the servo ,after refueling, it started to rain lightly as we headed north on the A3 highway which hugged the coast,  almost to St. Helens, where by this time it was raining seriously, so we stopped at a picnic shelter shed at George's Bay, and got into our wet weather gear. St. Helens is a typical seaside holiday resort , but like any other seaside resort when raining, it was nowhere near as appealing as it would have been in fine weather. We continued on the A3, which took us through rich farming land, and, as we started climbing, we had to be careful negotiating some of the bends , as at times we were riding in the clouds, with very poor visibility. I particularly remember the huge tree ferns, as we rode through the rain forest, before coming to Welderborough Pass and then the old tin mining town of Derby, where we stopped for smoko. It had stopped raining by this time and we were able to walk around ; we compared notes on the beautiful rain forest we had just ridden through and the smell of the wet bush.

As we were about to order our Devonshire Teas, who should appear but "Fred and Wilma " . Judy asked for pumpkin scones and was put in her place by the "poofy proprietor" who didn't like pumpkin. Instead she settled for carrot cake, and was served an enormous slice so big, that we all had to help her finish it. We have photographic proof of this incident. We spent a very pleasant hour or so at Derby, before riding on to Scotdale to stop at Bridport, which faces Bass Strait. We were a bit disappointed with this town, but I am sure if we had time to walk around we would have found something of interest. We next rode the B82 back road to Pipers Way, then took the B83 towards Launceston, then the B 81 back to Scotdale, and from there on we rode the same way as we did to get there, earlier in the day. We all agreed there was no need for a lunch break, after the enormous morning tea we had, so we kept on riding.

The road down through the rain forest at Welderborough Pass had dried off by now, and without any fog, we were able to enjoy the ride even more than we had in the morning, stopping occasionally to admire the scenery. Coming down the mountain into St. Helens we admired a panoramic view of undulating hills with the ocean in the distance. After a refueling stop at St. Helens , and a Kit Kat, it was a pleasant ride south, following the coast line, to arrive back at Bicheno at about 5 pm, just in time for happy hour, having ridden 500 K's in the day. In spite of the wet start,  it had been a most enjoyable days ride . The girls were tired, so Peter and I bought take away seafood, and we all enjoyed a nice meal back ay the unit which was our last night in Bicheno.

Day 18 Tuesday 30^th. March.

This was our last day on the Apple Isle and we awoke to a beautiful sunny morning without a cloud in the sky. We left Bicheno at about 8.30 am,  after a final chat with the friendly Kiwi proprietor and a tour of inspection of the additions that were being built. We decided to head south again, taking the same road we had two days ago, that brought us out on the Midland Highway at Campbelltown. This route to Launceston was a much faster road than the previous days ride via Derby and Scotdale.

One disadvantage of staying in the one place for several nights is that you unavoidably re-travel some of the same roads , but when the scenery is so great and the roads so friendly, it doesn't really matter. The big advantage is that we didn't have to travel with a full load each day, or waste time packing and unpacking the bikes.

When we reached Campbelltown, we resisted the temptation of going the 12 K's. south to Ross, to pay the old bakery another visit We continued on,  towards Launceston, stopping at Longford for morning tea. We rode down narrow lanes bordered by tall hedges, with just a peep at the old stately homes they almost hid from view. Longford is a big country town, with a good caravan park by the river, a lot of antique shops, boutiques, pubs, handcraft shops and yet another fine bakery, and has a population of 33,000 [a local gave me this information since the tourist information centre was not open]. I took a photo of her three year old grandson, sitting on Peters Triumph that he took a fancy to. He was ecstatic, which goes to show you can't start admiring good machinery too soon.

Next stop was Launceston, where we had no trouble in finding a motorbike shop not far from the city, where Peter had a new tyre fitted to his bike. We figured this would be better than facing the busy Melbourne traffic the next day, looking for a bike shop, and ideally we were able to leave our bikes there together,  with our coats and helmets, and walk into the central business district of Launceston. We soon realized it is a very nice city, with a good shopping mall, with the traffic diverted around it, containing plenty of shops of all types. We had no trouble killing a couple of hours, eating, buying up big on souvenirs and we managed to do some good old window shopping. Once back at the bikes, we consulted our maps, but we still had difficulty in finding our way to the Cataract Gorge, on the outskirts of town, and at one stage we became separated, but eventually all turned up at the same car park. We took the chair lift across the Gorge and admired the rugged scenery. The chair lift spans 457 metres and has been operating for 32 years. The Gorge was formed by violent earthquakes millions of years ago and the South Esk River followed the depressions formed at the time, widening and deepening the Gorge, as, over the centuries, it eroded the shattered rocks. The South Esk River flows into the Tamar River, which meanders about 40 K's. to the sea at Port Dalrymple, which is one of Tassie's main shipping ports.Reluctantly, we climbed back onto our bikes for the last leg of our pleasant stay in Tasmania. Not only did we have trouble finding The Gorge, but we also had difficulty finding the way out of the area and were rescued by a friendly old bloke in a car who piloted us to the B54 Expressway and we were soon on our way to Devonport at God knows what speed , for the speedo on my B.M.W. decided to pack it in that morning, and at that stage I was not used to riding by my tachometer. I developed that skill later in the trip. We had no trouble finding the Ferry Wharf, at Devonport, as it was extremely well signposted, and at about 5.3o pm, we joined the queue of cars and bikes waiting to board the ferry. We were in the queue for about two and a half hours, which was a bit frustrating, however we passed the time by comparing notes with our fellow travellers, learning of their exploits. Fortunately it was not raining. I think the bikes would have become terribly wet if it had been, and the riders would have been drenched as there were no shelter sheds of any description at the waiting area. By 8. 40 pm,  we were on board and strolling around, familiarizing ourselves once again with the vessel, before enjoying a refreshing ale and a light snack and falling into bed.

Day 19 Wednesday 31^st. March.

Judy's and my bunks were comfortable enough,  but our cabin was in the stern of the ferry and there was a lot of vibration all night, presumably from the propeller shaft . We were awoken by the gong at 6.00 am, to tell us we were berthing at 6.50 . We were called to our bikes and we waited till 8.00,   before we rode off the ferry. This was a bit scary riding down a steep, slippery ramp , but there were no mishaps. As a point of interest,  I would recommend that pillion passengers walk off, and meet up with the riders on dry land.

Foolishly I had not studied my Melbourne map sufficiently and had relied on road signs to direct us to the M 1 Highway east to Mulgrave where we were to stay with Judy's son Daniel for the night. There weren't enough signs, or perhaps I did not see them, and we became totally confused. I had been dreading this moment as it is the part of touring that I don't enjoy. Trying to ride with three bikes in a strange city in peak hour traffic is not my idea of fun. We eventually came to rest in a no parking zone to study our map and were soon given directions by a very caring lady walking by; presumably on her way to work. After this we were soon on the Ml,  and through the tunnel under the Kings Domain and the Yarra River,  not bothering with any toll, and were soon at our destination.

We had a very relaxing day,  after the girls had done some washing, and Daniel drove us to the local shopping centre for lunch and a browse around. The rest of the day was spent in a restfull manner. By prior arrangement,   Robyn, a friend from Grafton, had ridden down alone,  on her old Ducati,  and was to meet up with us the following day and accompany us on the ride home . Judy contacted her by phone and they arranged a meeting time and place to meet the next morning.

Day 20 Thursday 1^st. April 1 April fools day

We had a pleasant stay at Daniel's place and were soon on the road again, having been given precise directions the day before. We took the East Gipsland Highway and met up with Robyn as arranged, and headed for Phillip Island. It was not the most pleasant ride,as we encountered a very strong westerly wind which buffeted us around, but at least it wasn't raining. Stopping at the tourist information centre on Phillip Island, we met a group of tourists travelling by car, who were admiring our bikes. It soon transpired that they were from Griffith, where we had stayed overnight, on our way down to Geelong and they and I had mutual friends there . I said it before and I'll say it again. It's a small world. We armed ourselves with maps and brochures, and visited the grand prix circuit, that had been in use the previous weekend. We spent some time there,  looking through the museum, which displayed a lot of memorabilia of early racing bikes and cars and we looked at the famous circuit from a viewing platform. A photo of our three girls, standing on the podium, waving a bottle of champagne around, completed our visit to the race track.

We called in at Cowes, on the north side of the Island, for lunch, as it was sheltered there from the westerly wind. A short stroll around after lunch, and it was time to head off again. We had decided our destination for the day to be Lakes Entrance or Orbost but unfortunately Robyn's bike played up, with ignition problems, and we stayed in a cabin in Cowes that night, waiting for a mechanic to look at the Ducati the next day. In spite of the delay, we enjoyed the evening, which consisted of a stroll down the street, and a nice meal, with a few drinks in a cafe. The owner of the caravan park,  where our cabin was, was himself a biker and sympathized with us. He even moved his car out of the car port and gave us under cover parking.

Day 21 Friday 2^nd. April.

A mechanic finally came to examine the bike mid morning, discovering the electronic ignition was faulty and he had no way of fixing it. We all stuck together, and after considerable time, and many phone calls, Robyn arranged to have the bike transported to Melbourne that night, where a Ducati mechanic she was referred to by a friend, would re-build the ignition the next day. Robyn spent a good deal of that day on the phone, while the rest of us "did the town", checking out antique shops and bakeries. We booked another cabin in the same caravan park, and wheeled the sick bike over there, where it was picked up, along with Robyn, that night at 8 pm, and taken to Melbourne. It was unfortunate that we had spent more time in Cowes than intended, but we all agreed we could not leave a damsel in distress, so we made the most out of an unfortunate situation, and enjoyed each others company.

Day 22. Saturday 3^rd. April.

We left Cowes in light drizzle, with the thought of The Cann River to be our destination for the day. As the day progressed, it turned out nice again, and we enjoyed the ride. We rode along good straight roads some of the day, (although Judy did find them boring after Tasmania), and stopped for a bite to eat at Bairnsdale . The next stage of the ride, that took us to Lakes Entrance, was much more interesting, with plenty of bends to negotiate. We stopped briefly at the lookout overlooking Lakes Entrance, to capture on film the beautiful scenery, in perfect weather conditions. Riding slowly out of the town we noticed a lot of wood sculptures on the foreshores, some of which appeared to be carved out of existing tree stumps. Unfortunately, time did not permit us to stop and investigate further. Once  again, we had a very interesting ride for the rest of the afternoon, arriving at Cann River as intended, where we booked two rooms for the night, at the old pub . Just like in Tassie we were confronted with big rooms, saggy beds, good food, squeaky floor boards, dripping taps and you get to talk to the locals over a drink or three. Most importantly, the price is right and for an old bloke like me and it beats camping in cold weather. By this time in our trip, we all had a craving for vegetables with our dinner, but we got the same old story "sorry only chips and salad tonight"

Robyn rang us at night to let us know that her bike was up and running with the faulty electronic ignition removed and points fitted bringing it back to standard. She had left Melbourne that afternoon, and ridden in the dark the latter part of the trip, and was spending the night at Sale. She told us if we waited for her she would be at Cann River by mid day the next day. The phone call put our minds at rest , Judy and I decided to wait for her, while Peter and Sandra, having a birthday party to attend, would ride on first thing in the morning, taking a more direct route than we intended, and arrive at their son's place at Nelsons Bay, when expected.

Day 23. Sunday 4^th. April.

We said our farewells to Peter and Sandra, and it was sad to see them leave after having enjoyed their company for the last twenty-two days, but we wished them a safe trip and waited for Robyn to arrive. To kill time we decided to go for a short local ride to the light house, both of us having a fascination for them, and having seen a few together on previous rides, but the road turned to rough gravel 18 K's out which soon dampened our enthusiasm, forcing us to return to Cann River. We waited at the service station, which is right opposite the old pub, and at the hub of Cann River, where all roads meet. We entertained ourselves by listening to C.D.'s on Judy's magic music machine, map reading, and catching up on our writing. In no time Robyn arrived, looking fit and well, to report that the bike was running particularly well, and starting a lot easier. We concluded that the electronic ignition may have been faulty for some time.

We ate lunch at the servo, then headed for Jindabyne, for we were anxious to ride the Alpine Way the next day. It was a fantastic ride up the mountain, from Cann River to Bombala, where, quite by chance, we met up with a rider we had met at Waratah, on our first day in Tassie. He knew the area well and suggested we turn off at Nimitibell, and head for Jindabyne, thus bypassing Cooma, and saving a few kilometers. He warned us there was about 18 K's. of gravel road, but assured us it was a good surface . We took his advice , had no trouble negotiating the gravel road, and arrived at Jindabyne pub at 4 pm, cold and weary, and booked a room for the night.

After unpacking, Judy discovered, although it was not holiday season, the indoor heated pool was operating, so we spent a good three quarters of an hour, relaxing in the warm water, before enjoying a lovely meal of perch fillets, with [ you guessed it ] chips and salad. Back at our room for the night, Robyn and I watched a good movie, while Judy listened to music, on her headphones . She made the comment that she could not wait to get home to "exfoliate", whatever that means.

Day 24 Monday 5^th. April.

It was a damp morning and a dismal scene, overlooking Lake Jindabyne, but with a good pub cooked breakfast under our belt, and our wet weather gear on, we set off for Thredbo Village. One of the painters working on the hotel units assured us it would be fine on the other side of the mountain. At times we were riding in the clouds,  but the road surface was good,  and there was very little traffic and by taking it slowly up the mountain,  we enjoyed the ride, stopping at Thredbo Village for a walk around and a hot drink.

Judy had never been there before, Robyn,  when she was a teenager,  but I had visited in 2002 on the "Snowy Ride " fundraiser for the Steven Walter foundation,  with hundreds of other bikes, and once again I found it to be a unique place to visit. The chair lift was operating,  but we decided against taking it,  due to the poor visibility. Not long after leaving Thredbo,  we climbed steadily, dodging piles of emu poo on the road,  as it was as slippery as hell when wet. Suddenly we were at the top of the range,  and, round a bend, just prior to descending, sure and behold,  it was sunny and the road was dry. The weather remained fine for most of the remainder of the day. We stopped at Tom Groggin,  for a spell,  and hastily removed our wet weather gear. Judy was quite distressed and overheated, as she had been wearing her recently purchased anti-fogging mask for the first time,  and not being used to it,  she fount it claustrophobic. It is called "fog off”,  but she called it something else,  with a similar sounding name.

Next stop was at Khancoban, for lunch and fuel,  after which we set off again,  taking in the magnificent mountain scenery and carefully following the narrow winding road to Cabramurra, where by which time a strong wind had sprung up . The weather changes very quickly up in the mountains,  but the strong wind had blown any clouds away,  and we were able to enjoy the view. Cabramurra is the highest town in Australia and is a popular ski resort in the winter months, but almost deserted out of season,  except for a few tourists and a handful of government employees . Judy 's bike needed fuel again, and she had to pay for it at the general store, opposite the bowser, before filling the bike. Not knowing exactly how much fuel it would need, she had overpaid, and the petrol kept coming, so Robyn and I topped our tanks up, at Judy's expense.

We rode on against a strong cold wind to Kiandra,  where we joined the Snowy Mountain Highway,  and travelled at a fairly brisk pace into Tumit. It was a great ride,  because in the cold mountain air I always reckon the bikes perform better. It was getting dark as we arrived at Tumit,  and we booked in at the first pub we came to. Here I go again . This old pub was a classic. The ceiling light did not work and one of the bed lamps was hanging out of the wall with wires exposed. Needless to say, it didn't work either. The gents bathroom was outside on the verandah and to cap it off the dining room was closed on Monday nights. After unpacking,  we had a few drinks in the bar and chatted with the locals . They recommended the Chinese Restaurant, opposite,  for a good feed,  so we took their advice. We were the only customers, and as such were a bit wary, however the service was good and the food first class. None of us had eaten Chinese on this trip and found it a pleasant change. After this banquet,  we all went for a walk downtown,  to settle the meal,  before returning to our dingy little room,  to sit on the double bed,  where the bed lamp was the only light in the room, to study the maps,  and plot the most direct route home for the next two days journey.

Day 25. Tuesday 6^th. April.                                                                                                                                                                                   

We ate a makeshift breakfast in our room,  with what we could find in the "breakfast room",  and what little food we had left,  then hit the road at 8. 15 am,  with a long ride ahead of us. We struck road works out of Gundagi,  where the road base had recently been watered down,  and we had to proceed with extreme caution on that stretch. Next hazard was cattle wandering all over the road, quite oblivious to our bikes,  and,  once again, slow, careful riding was in order, however,  there were no mishaps. Soon after that the next hazard was bridge repairs,  where new decking boards were being fitted on a bend in the bridge. They were green and slippery, but we soldiered on,  and could not help but notice, how dry the country was. One little town we rode through,  I noticed an old chap,  feeding his horse in the park , taking advantage of what little feed was available.

We stopped at Molong, for lunch and a short break,  and then continuing on,  we encountered swarms of grasshoppers, which splattered the front of our bikes, our helmets and clothing. When ever a big one hit our helmet , it sounded like a cannon going off. We had to stop several times,  to de-bug our visors, and, by the time we made Coolah, for a fuel stop, the little blighters had eased off. We held a meeting and decided to continue on to Gunedah by nightfall. We bought frozen meals ,sticky date pudding, and grog, at a supermarket, and then found the caravan park, where we booked a cabin for the night. We talked the owner into setting us up with a microwave oven. It had been a long ride , 640K's, and at times difficult riding.We were all quite exhausted. Being our last night on the road,  we finished off the bottle of Velvet Cream I had been carrying with me from Tassie and fell or climbed into bed for a good nights sleep.

Day 26 Wednesday 7^th. April [ final day]

Breakfast, in our cabin,  consisted of cereal and muffins,  and Judy forced down the remains of the sticky date pudding, rather than waste it. We were a bit later setting off,  after roughly cleaning the bugs off the bikes, but were in no great hurry, only having a short ride of 400 or so K's. for the last stage. The traffic was slow through Tarn worth, and there had been a car smash, which caused havoc with the peak hour traffic. The ride up the mountain was as exhilarating as ever, and after a coffee stop at Uralla, we were on our way again . We stopped again briefly at Ebor, after a good ride on The Waterfall Way from Armidale, which is always an exciting run, said our goodbyes and meandered down the mountain on the Armidale road to Nymboida, and home, not before passing over freshly laid tar and blue metal, just for good measure. The bikes were filthy when we reached home, and in need of a good tub . Let me just say that the alternative to the trip home would have been to travel all the expressways and highways, and we undoubtedly would not have encountered as many hazards, but I am sure it would not have been as exciting, and by taking the route we chose we saw a lot of new country.

In conclusion, we travelled 6800 kilometres in twenty six days, over some of the best roads (and a few crook ones) I have ridden, and had a safe and enjoyable holiday, with good friends. What more could you ask for?