Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group

LOST IN THE CLOUDS     by    E.ECKERT

Well, here it is, raining again, which reminds me of and gives me the opportunity to relate a recent incident in which I was involved.

It all started as a normal weekend Ulysses ride to Mt. Tamborine, over the Queensland border in the Gold Coast Hinterland. A phone call from John several weeks prior to the date had confirmed our accommodation for the night, and, as always, I was looking forward to a weekend of fun and excitement with my Ulysses friends.

I awoke that morning to an overcast sky with "just enough blue showing to make a pair of sailors breeches" as my old Granny used to say. My riding partner, Gwen, arrived right on time as always , parked her car at my place, and we loaded her overnight bag into the pannier and set off for our regular meeting place.

We met up with eight other bikes, three with pillion passengers, exchanged greetings and were soon on our way. We had a pleasant ride to Casino where we met up with Peter and Sandra, who came from a different direction, then we all stopped for morning tea at our usual haunt. Up till now it had not started to rain, but by the time we were all refreshed and eager to get on the road again, it looked very much as though we would be riding into rain, so we donned our wet weather togs in anticipation.

We experienced light rain to Kyogle, but it fined up over Mt. Lindsay, where we enjoyed the ride through heavily timbered country, carefully negotiating the bendy mountain road till we came out onto the undulating countryside that took us to the quaint little village of Rathdownie, where we stopped for a breather ,a cool drink and to shed our excess clothing as by this time it was hot and humid.

We were all in good spirits and spent a half hour or so becoming acquainted with those we did not know very well, before setting off again for the short ride to Beaudesert, where we refuelled, and stopped at "The Beaudesert Cafe", which happens to be run by a Ulysses member. He was pleased to see us and did not mind us taking over the joint and rearranging his tables into one long one, as we invariably do. Incidentally,  a young girl rider I met recently, referred to the Ulysses Club as "The travelling lunch club" . I rather like that description, and took no offence. One day when she grows up, she will be old enough to join our ranks.

Our friendly host took our orders and played country music over the sound system, while preparing the food and while we were enjoying it. Shortly after we entered the café, it started to rain, which was the start of what was to become a very wet weekend. The rain bucketed down, and there were frantic dashes to cover bike seats and retrieve coats etc. from the bikes. The gutters overflowed and strong winds lashed the rain up to the cafe entrance. We were all content to stay there until the weather subsided, at which time we dressed up again and headed towards Mt. Tamborine, riding in light rain.

Speaking for myself, I enjoyed that ride in spite of the rain, for it was cooler, and the smell of the wet bush, while we were winding our way up the narrow mountain road was most exhilarating. We encountered very little traffic as we passed through rain forests displaying huge tree ferns and other exotic plants, whilst listening to the bird life above the sound of the bike exhaust steadily purring away.

When we eventually reached the top of the mountain, we were looking down on the magnificent view of the valley below with the blue Pacific Ocean in the distance Just visible through the clouds, of which there were plenty.

Finally we reached our destination and booked in to our respective motel rooms, parked our bikes under cover, or covered them up, and admired the view . We just had enough time to take a photo of a house, perched right on the edge of the mountain, almost completely hidden by clouds, before it started to rain heavily, forcing us inside. The bird life was interesting to watch , including the resident peacock, who was willing to pose for a photograph , displaying his beautiful plumage. It was a dismal scene, looking down on the motel swimming pool, with the rain pelting down on the water, not the least bit inviting and disappointing, since some of us had been looking forward to a swim. It was even too wet to go for a walk to explore this mountain retreat, so we settled for a cuppa in one of the rooms and a chance to discuss the days events. Before very long it was time to wander next door to the pub, to partake of happy hour , where once again the tables were suitably rearranged and we enjoyed a few ales and nibblies, and spoke of the days events and solved some of the problems of the world. We took our hats off to Julie, our most recent rider, who handled her bike admirably in the lousy weather and hazardous road conditions. Good on you Julie.

It is rumored that the girls drank the bar dry of cask wine, and I certainly had my share of beer and stout, before sharing a nice bottle of cabernet merlot with Graham and Josie, with my evening meal. Someone suggested I write an account of this " lost weekend" and Josie came up with the title of" Lost in the clouds" and for record purposes, we all trundled outside to take a group photo with the clouds in the background. After the drama of replacing the flat batteries in the digital camera, we finally succeeded . I used my trusty old fashioned camera but have to admit that to this date I don't have any pictures developed.

We all enjoyed our meal and the entertainment, provided by a young guitarist come vocalist by the name of Jon Whitton, who played popular music and, by request, played a bracket of our Neil Diamond favourites. It was good music to dance to and we all enjoyed the festive atmosphere. Some of us behaved more disgracefully than others. I for one, vaguely remember licking the sticky date pudding plate of Gwen's, late in the night, before standing on a chair to straighten some pictures that were hanging crooked ever since we arrived there. I managed not to fall off the chair, and not long after, we turned in for the night, after making a dash back to the motel in the rain.

It rained all night that I can recall, and the downpipes could not handle the volume of water, resulting in a waterfall, cascading down outside our sliding glass

door. Clothes we had draped over the verandah chairs to drip dry, had become wetter than before, making it a dismal scene the next morning. To add to the drama, I inadvertently turned the latch on the door knob to the inside of the bathroom door after using the toilet, and we could not open the door from the outside. With all the running water around , Judy was busting to relieve herself, so I managed to remove the bathroom window flyscreen, and place a chair up against the wall and Gwen volunteered to climb in through the window. It was a bit of a worry, but she negotiated the window and climbed down onto the cistern then the toilet and opened the door in the nick of time.

We heard on the radio that there had been 180 mm. of rain fall at Mt. Tamborine overnight, and that the rain depression was mostly coastal. We had intended having breakfast at a local café, but due to the lousy weather, we decided to head back inland to Beaudesert, and have breakfast there and at the same time enquire as to the condition of the Lions Road to ride home on, a route I have yearned to ride ever since having been driven there a couple of years ago.

We reluctantly climbed on our bikes about 9 am, still in the pouring rain, said goodbye to Rosemary and John, who were visiting family close by, and would not be riding home with us, and slowly wound our way down the mountain, dodging the dislodged rocks on the road and the washouts caused by the torrential rain overnight. The rain did not ease off, in fact, if anything, it rained heavier, the closer we got to Beaudesert, to the extent that about 10 K's. out of Beaudesert, swollen creeks caused local flooding, which cut off the road, forcing us to turn around and head back towards Canungra and Nerang. By this time the riding conditions were atrocious, with water across the road in many places and very poor visibility. I had to ride with my visor up, due to fogging up, and very soon after that, could not see through my glasses, so I  had to remove them and hand them back to Gwen, who somehow managed to unzip her jacket pocket and protect them for me. From then on, as far as 1 am concerned, it only got worse. My eyes were stinging from the heavy rain hitting them, and at times, I had to ride with one eye shut , for temporary relief. To add to the drama, it was almost impossible to see the headlights of the bikes behind us and for that matter the taillights of the bike in front, which was imperative, since I was unfamiliar with the road and did not want to become stranded.

By the time we reached Nerang, I had lost the three bikes behind me but had no way of letting the lead bike know, until we stopped at a service station at the Reedy creek turnoff. We tried to dry out, but it was not possible, so after a hot drink and a snack, and having received a text message by mobile phone from the missing three, we set off again down the Pacific Highway.

It got easier after that, having cleaned my visor and glasses, and riding with the visor up slightly, it did not fog up and my eyes were reasonably comfortable , plus the fact that the rain had eased off slightly and with a feed under my belt, I was in much better spirits and enjoyed the ride. We rode very sensibly for the conditions, still managing to keep within a safe distance of each other.

One incident I do recall however, was a group of four "Harley chopper " riders passing us two abreast and very close together, travelling considerably faster than the rest of the traffic. If they had needed to stop in a hurry, a nasty accident could

have occurred. We thundered on to stop at the "Big Prawn" service station at Ballina for fuel and to try and find some reasonably dry clothes to put on over the wet ones, to keep us warm . A further text message from the missing three told us they had gone home via Murwilumbah, and were heading towards Kyogle, and it transpired later that they had made the right decision, hardly striking any heavy rain after Canungra.

Ironically, when we reached Grafton by mid afternoon, it was fine, the roads were dry and it had not been raining all day. Gwen, who had not complained once all day, did a quick change into drier clothes, and beat a hasty retreat home to Copmanhurst. Before catching cold, I jumped into a hot shower and dry clothes and after a bowl of hot soup, life was back to normal again, after what I can honestly say was a ride under the worst conditions I can recall in all my 55 years of riding. At one stage I questioned myself as to what the Hell I was doing there.

However , The good times outweigh the bad times and consequently I hope to be on the next ride, the one after and the one after that as long as I physically can. ....Mateship means everything!!!