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The Journey - Melbourne to Sydney and Back
By Matt Allgood

Day 1 - Melbourne to Bombala.

The day started looking fairly average, cloudy skies with the hint of rain and bloody cold. Typical Melbourne weather for this time of year really, so why am I complaining? I had filled up the previous night, so at 8:00am, I stepped over the bike and was off on my journey of discovery...

The early part of my trip was fairly uneventful, except for the bank up on the Monash Freeway (freeway, ha!) Between Wellington Road and Springvale Road, someone had decided to have a much closer look at the flora that runs along side the freeway in the median strip. They looked so close that all I could see of the Corolla was a little bit of the rear, buried as it was amongst the trees. This of course had all the tin top drivers fuming. It didn't bother me overly as I was able to cruise along between the cars and just add to their misery.

Once past this, the traffic thinned out and started to move at a reasonable pace again. My first stop was an unscheduled one. I had left Melbourne without putting my insulated wet weather pants on. This wasn't a problem until I got just out of Pakenham. Dropping down in altitude brought with it the temperature, and I soon found that I needed to put my pants on. This really became apparent when I could no longer feel my knees! During this stop, a guy pulled up who had seen me going through Pakenham and made sure there was nothing wrong. What he really wanted to do was have a close look at the bike and a bit of a chat. Turns out he was a Bridgestone rep who was on his way to Bairnsdale for the day. After a bit of a chat, my wets now on, I headed off once more for my first scheduled stop, Warragul.

I did pull off the highway here, but I still felt pretty good and the bike didn't need the juice, so I pulled back on again and head up the road to Morwell. The first Servo you come to when entering Morwell was my first fuel stop, some 180km from Melbourne. A smoke, something to eat and a hot cuppa were in order before once again hitting the highway. Riding through Morwell is a strange experience. I had been there many years ago with my parents to see an old family friend, and the sight of the power stations is one that still amazes me. These huge funnels, rising high into the sky. Definitely worth a look. By the time I hit Morwell the weather had also improved. Gone were the heavy ominous clouds of Melbourne to be replaced by blue sky, sunshine and a few white clouds dotted around the sky.

My next scheduled stop was Sale, and once again, while I needed to refuel, the bike didn't. A stop, a snack, a smoke and about 20 minutes on the phone returning the calls I had missed while I was riding and once again I was on my way. My next stop was another unscheduled one, this time Lakes Entrance. Fuel for the bike was required, as I did not know if I could make it to Orbost on what I had left. The Buell only has a 14 litre tank, and while it is pretty frugal on fuel, I certainly didn't want to run out just for the sake of a few minutes. The entrance into Lakes is not a bad run, twisting down hill for a few k's, the ocean away off to your right, a cliff face to your left! The run to this point had taken me almost 5 hours, which is a fair amount of time, but I wasn't in a hurry, and with a bag strapped to the bike and another strapped to me, I didn't want to end up on the tarmac just yet (or at all for that matter). My stomach got the better of me as I fuelled up the bike and a hamburger helped to fuel me for the next leg of my ride, from Lakes to Orbost.

The run from this point was generally nice. Good roads, clean surface, long sweepers and not a lot of traffic going either way, the gods had smiled on me, or so I thought. We all know that the gods of motorcycling have a warped sense of humour at best. It's been a long time since I have ridden where there are a lot of trucks... Big trucks! I got caught twice, the first time I just didn't think, sitting up, trundling along at about 120km when a truck when past. WHAM! I thought I'd been hit with something; such was the force of the air that the truck pushed forward and into me. Glad I had a tight grip else I would have been pushed off the back. The second incident was a little less unexpected. A long sweeping right hander, a sign that told me how far to Orbost, a truck appearing while I was reading the sign. WHAM! Again. The third and subsequent trucks I saw well in advance and made sure I was low behind the screen as they went by. Orbost arrived and after a quick check to make sure I knew where I was headed, I continued on with nary a glance. The road from Orbost to Bombala is one of surprises. A lot of surprises. It starts of fairly gentle, nice long bends, good surface once again. Then it starts to get a little nasty. The bends tighten up; the visibility is dramatically reduced by the tightness of the corners and vegetation that grows so closely to the road. Still, I was on a bike that revels in the bends, and I was having a ball. That is until... Hard through a left-hander, nail it out and roar up the hill, hit the crest and FUCK! DIRT!!! Yup, that's right. No warning, no sign, no nothing but the asphalt being replaced by hard packed dirt and gravel. This is a logging truck road, and the trucks have done a masterful job of compacting the road surface, what there is of it. But a little warning would have been nice guys!

Following this I started to think maybe I had made a wrong turn somewhere, or I hadn't turned where I should have, but a sign I passed at about 40k's told me otherwise. This was definitely the road to Bombala. So I pushed on, gently, the Buell is a bit skittish on the gravel, and so was I. Sitting in the centre of the road, amid the wheel tracks of all the other cars and trucks, I surprised a guy in his XF falcon as he came flying round a bend. I didn't hear and crunching of metal after he went past me, so I just continued on. The gravel does turn back to bitumen, after about 40-50k's, so I thought "Excellent" and started to press a little harder once more. That was until I did actually cross into NSW. You know you've hit New South by a couple of things. One, the great bloody sign that tells you you have, two, the road goes to shit again. There is a bridge just after you cross into NSW, a simple thing, a few slabs of redwood that have had some bitumen thrown over them... Yup, a joy to cross at about 25k's, not 95! Not far after this bridge (and the blink and you'll miss it town of Delegate) the road once again turns to gravel. At least NSW have put up a sign, letting you know this, and also just how long you will have to deal with it, in this case, 7km. That would have to have been the hardest 7k's I rode all day. Gravel, small and shifting over a very hard base. Built up just on the wrong spot on every bend. Guys on trail bikes would love this road. Some great corners to get the back stepping out, even when you don't want it to. Once again, I hit the bitumen, and was starting to worry. The next town I entered had a servo, but like all good country towns, it closes at 3pm, Monday to Friday, and I was beginning to worry that I would have enough fuel after crawling through all the gravel. My fears were unfounded as I reached the next town with fuel and only put in 8 litres. That was after 188km of riding, almost a third of it in no higher than 3rd gear at 40k's. Bombala was only another 35km up the road, so I arrived in no time. My accommodation for the night was the Bombala Caravan Park. I think I should have spent the extra and stayed in the pub. The park has only one onsite van, and while it is quite a nice van, when I booked it I did say I would be on a bike, so could they make sure there was a blanket handy. Well, arrival at 3:30pm saw me calling the staff (there was no one there) who told me to go see one of the other sites and they'd book me in and get me the key. We got this sorted no probs, but in the process, they old gentleman who was booking me in told me the owner would be down later on so I could fix up payment with him. I got into the van, and needless to say, no blanket, and it looks like it's gonna be a chilly one tonight. Good thing I have my thermals, and at least there is a heater in the van, warming my feet as I write this. I could hear a beer calling my name so up to the first pub I could find. A quiet cold one was exactly what I needed, and a place to sit where my legs weren't spread over a frame. Ok, beer done, now dinner. Wandering up the street, a young lass was getting on her bike to go home after work, and she advised that Café Cosmo was the best place to go. Good food and cheap. She was right, a Steak Sandwich and a milkshake, all for $11. And it was good too. The park owner did turn up at around 7:30 and while we chatted he made sure he got me some blankets, pillows and so on for the van.

All in all, I've ridden 547km, with a few rest stops along the way. I'm very happy with the way the Buell has handled everything that has been thrown at it today. I also very happy with the way I feel. Though I am tired, I'm not all that sore, but I sure am glad I can sit down for a bit and rest. The sign in town tells me it is 90km to Cooma, my first stop of the morning, then a further 110km or so to Canberra. Sydney is 520km away, so it will be another long day in the saddle again tomorrow. Hopefully I will be in Sydney around mid afternoon, and then I am going to have a long hot shower, followed, I think, by a long massage. I get the feeling my legs won't hold me up if I don't.

Day 2 - Bombala to Sydney.

After sleeping for nearly 12 hours, morning broke over the sleepy little town on Bombala. Well, maybe broke is a little strong a term. It was more like morning opened one eye, took a look around and said, "Bugger it." As I stumbled out of the van, I could barely see anything. The fog was thick, and everywhere. Hoping to grab a coffee before I headed off, I rode slowly into town, but as luck would have it, nothing was open at 8:30, so off into the fog I rode, heading up the Monaro Highway from Bombala to Cooma. With the sheer amount of fog, I had to ride with my visor up, which of course, let my eyeballs freeze, or so it felt. The cold managed to seep its way into my fingers and toes, but at least the rest of my body was warm, thanks to the thermals and Scott for providing me with his turtle fur neck warmer. What a god send! I knew that it was cold, as I had ice forming on both my visor and gloves as I rode slowly up the mountains, but the sight I received as I cleared the fog was well worth the pain. Cresting a slight rise, I left the fog behind for clear skies, dry roads and sun. While it was still cold, just the sight of the sun warmed the blood and the roads ahead were a joy to behold. I'd been told that the road to Cooma was one where you could go as hard as you liked, as the cops very rarely patrol it. This was definitely the case, as I did not see a cop the whole way to Cooma. If you have the chance, I highly recommend the run from Bombala to Cooma, it is a great ride.

Arrival in Cooma was around 10:30am, and it was at this time that I found out just how cold it had been. Fuelling up in one of the servos, the attendant told me that it had been -9 degrees that morning. GOD, no wonder I had ice on the gloves. After a quick coffee and muffin at the local golden arches, I headed off once more on the next leg, Cooma to Canberra. Now I had been told to stay on the speed limit on this section as the cops did patrol along this part of the Monaro Highway. I spied a couple of cars; one with his revenue raiser mounted to the front bumper, but all in all, not a great presence. It was an uneventful trip down the mountains, and as I entered the outskirts of Canberra I decided that another fuel stop was worth while, as Goulburn was a further 90 odd k's up the road. Pulling into Fyshwick (yes, that is the naughty part of Canberra and the only bit I know, no surprises there), I spied a Harley dealership. So after filling up, I pulled in for a bit of a chat and let them feast their eyes on the new Buell. Needless to say, all the guys were impressed; so if you are in the area, and on a Harley or Buell, drop in to Robbo's for a chat. Heading out along the Federal Highway, I got onto the Hume and headed northward for the final leg of 300 odd kilometres to Sydney. Now we all know that the Hume is a boring ride only made interesting by trucks and wind, nothing has changed this at all except for the odd road works along the way. There are a couple of awesome bridges that you cross, with some great views of the surrounding country that are worth a stop just to look around, but when there is nowhere to park safely and trucks thundering past you, I don't recommend getting off the bike. One last stop to stretch the legs and grab a bite to eat at one of the many roadhouses along the highway, then back into it once again. I arrived at the outskirts of Sydney around mid afternoon, pretty much as I had anticipated, checked in to my hotel room and had a long hot shower. 2 days of road grime and sweat washed away as I stood there, letting the water do its job. Food and slept then waged a war within me, and I must say, sleep won out. A short nap to recharge the batteries and then off to dinner at the local Chilli's, then, with a bottle to keep me company, I headed back to the room and crashed out, TV on, one drink in hand. Sleep claimed me in its embrace not long after.

Day 3 & 4 - rest days.

I sit here this morning, looking out my window after a golden arches breakfast, thinking back on the last 2 days of riding. I know I could go further, the body is holding up well after so long out of the saddle, but, better not to push it too hard. Today and tomorrow will be spent contemplating my navel I think. Though, as I look out the window at the blue sky and sunshine, I can hear the call of the road. Well, maybe just a little squirt today, without the baggage. I think I can handle that, I know the bike sure can. I just hope the weather holds out till Friday when I head for the coast and the return trip.

Day 5 - Sydney to Cann River.

Leaving Sydney a little later than anticipated (due to a dinner the previous night), the weather wasn't the best to be out on the road. While the sun was out, it brought a friend along to play - wind. My direction this morning headed down the Hume to begin with, and turned off a few k's past Campbelltown along the Picton/Woolongong road. Once off the Hume, the wind did drop, only to pick up with greater force the closer I got to the coast. Picton Road is a good ride, lots of long open corners all on good surface. Once I hit the Princess Highway, I followed that down the coast, through Nowra, Bateman's Bay, Bega, Merimbula and Eden, making fuel stops in Nowra, Bateman's Bay and Merimbula. As the day wore on, battling the ever present wind was taking it's toll, but it was also bringing the clouds in with it. I made it to the Victorian boarder late in the afternoon. Great to be back south, but the sunshine I had enjoyed so far soon disappeared to be replaced by spots of rain. The spots came and went a number of times, and each time I continued heading homeward. My original destination was to be Mallacoota, but as I neared the turn off, the rain leaving me alone at the time, I decided to press on and get some more k's under me. With the sun going down, and me feeling tired, I knew that it was time to start looking for a place to stop for the night. A quick stop, to stretch the legs saw the rain start again, and much harder than previously. With Cann River only about 15k's further on, I reached it without further incedent. Dinner at the Cann River Hotel, then off to bed I think. After over 630k's covered, I am absolutely stuffed. Thankfully, it's only just on 100k's to Orbost, so tomorrow should be a little easier, at least I will have ridden the roads recently.

Day 6 - Cann River to Melbourne.

Saturday morning was cold, as you would expect up in the highlands. There was a bit of cloud cover, though things looked like they would turn out reasonably. I filled up at the servo just across the road from the hotel after checking out and sipped on a cup of coffee as I tried to come to terms with the fact that my odessy was almost at an end. Leaving Cann River at about 9:00am, I knew that this day would be a little easier as I had only some 400km's to cover, and not the 500+ that initially I would have had. The road leading out was in pretty good condition, though as with all mountain roads, care had to be taken this early in the morning as there was still a lot of dew on the road, particularly on the corners where the sun had yet to penetrate. Taking it easy, I managed to get to Orbost without any troubles, but I am sure that a few of the cars that were behind me for a time were wondering what the hell I was doing, coming into the corners a lot slower than they would have expected. As the sun rose higher in the sky, and the road dried out further, I began to push a little harder. There are definitely some great stretches to be had, mingled with some not so great, but what can you expect from a road that carries so many trucks.

My first stop was at Lakes Entrance again, a quick stop for a bite to eat, then off once more. Having ridden these roads on Monday, I knew what to expect, so I won't bore you all with the details, except that a number of the corners were quite bumpy mid-corner, not a huge amount of fun at all. My next stop was Bairnsdale, for a fuel up and a drink. My third stop was Traralgon, for fuel and another coffee. This was the same servo I stopped at on the way out. From there, I knew I only had about 160km's to go till I got home, and they were covered in short order. Most of this day was done at around 120-130km/h, which is a comfortable speed, eating the miles up and spitting them out. It also meant that for a change, I didn't end up with a sore arse anywhere near as badly as the previous day. That could have something to do with the fact that my arse was still somewhat numb! One thing that did take me by surprise was how much more obliging the car drivers in the country are. The number of times that a driver would pull over to let me pass them was rather amazing. This is something that I think the city drivers could take note of, not that they would ever do it, but we live in hope.

On this journey I discovered a great number of things. First and foremost, the Buell is an amazing motorcycle. It handled the roads with great aplomb, at times much more than myself. The distances covered, some 2100 kilometres in 4 days of active riding, were not a problem for the bike, for me though some of the stretches were tough going. I did this ride on my own, with no one else for company and that is something that I don't think I will do again. The next time I take off on a long trip, I will try to have at least one other person along for the ride, as company was sorely missed. Having someone to talk to about a particular bit of road, or what you have just seen was something I wish I had the opportunity to be able to do. Even over a beer of a night time.

As for me, well, I proved to myself that I had the will, the skill, the nerve and the sheer bloody mindedness to take whatever the day and the road threw at me and just keep going. I guess I also realised that even though I have been out of the saddle for 4 years, there is no better way to get back on, than to do something that forces you to learn and deal in this way. I have learnt a great deal about he way the bike rides and handles, what it likes and doesn't and what I like and don't. I feel I am much more in tune with the road and bike now, something that only comes from time in the saddle. I have heard it said that it takes about 4000km's to get to know your bike. I think that in most cases this is true, but you can cut that by taking a ride like this one.

In the end, I am glad to be home, able to put my feet up and know that I don't have to get back out there, and cover another 500k's or so. I did what I set out to do, I made the trip and that sense of achievment is a wonderful thing that will stay with me forever. But also, I feel a sense of loss. The trip is over, the ride is done and now all the experiences are but memories. This is not to diminish them in any way at all, just bringing them back, able to be re-called is a wonderful feeling.

And finally, would I do it all again. Yes, without a doubt! I look out my window, at blue sky and sunshine and think... How far is it to Adelaide...? Hmmm... I have learnt, experienced, hurt, smiled, laughed and enjoyed every and all aspects of this trip. Should you feel the need for the open road beneath you and the open sky above you, then pack a bag, kick the bike to life and head in the direction of your dreams. But a keep a lookout on the road ahead, cause you may well see a Battle Blue Buell on the horizon, chewing up the miles and spitting them out. If so, then please, don't be a stranger.

Till next we meet on the roads of our destiny, keep it black side down.

Matt Allgood