TASMANIA PART III

There is a small town in Tasmania called Ouse, pronounced Ooze. It has always struck me as funny, but I had never managed to get there. Until today. Ouse has nothing remarkable to speak of; it's just a roadside village on the way to somewhere else.

50km of hilarity

Getting there is an entirely different matter. Tasmania was formed by volcanic upheaval consequently there isn't much flat ground. The land is reminiscent of South Gippsland but the difference is that the Tasmanians built the roads down into the valleys instead of across the ridges, like the Victorians.

So here we are at Ouse. A servo that's shut down, a river, a handful of houses that may be lived in or not and the Lachlan Hotel. Excellent.

Lachlan Hotel. Ugly.

This is a seriously ugly pub in a derelict town. Once inside, we meet Mike, the barman, and Rick & Rex, the locals. They are not as ugly as their town and provide us with a bit of history, local knowledge and a few laughs as we down a couple of quick ones. As with most of the locals we have run into they are curious as to our travels and who is on which bike. So the Abbott & Costello routine begins again.

"Who's on the Hayabusa?"

"She is."

"Really? You're on the 750?"

"Yeah."

"Jeez. How come?"

"She's faster than me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Faaark."

(Enter Sandy, stage right)

"He doesn't need a 1300." (She's bloody good for my ego. Full of shit, but good.)

"Faaark. Fast bike for a girl."

"Yeah. I've heard that."

The cans are finished, the stubby holder pocketed and Sandy is starting to twitch. It must be time to move. I have to admit that the pub did win a few points by calling its bistro The Duck's Guts.

Points awarded.

Breakfast vista

WEDNESDAY

Don't let anyone tell you that Tassie weather is crap. It can turn it on when it wants to. We woke to a blindingly clear and warm morning. The kind of sky that you can't look at for more than a second or two without tears streaming from your eyes.

Brilliant. We were off for a shot up to Richmond. It's only about 20 km's away from where we were, so we had a leisurely breakfast on the balcony listening to the surf as a backdrop to the lorikeets, rosellas and black cockatoos that congregate in the bushland around my sisters place.

It's one of those short sprints that has you chuckling and leap frogging each other along the way. Tasmania is full of these.

The main aim of visiting Richmond was to find a Teddy Bear shop that Sandy remembered from her last trip. Like a lot of towns here, Richmond really hasn't changed since the convicts put it together in the 1820s. Australia's oldest prison, bridge and Catholic church are all here.

Richmond bridge - 1823.

Yep, nothing has changed. Except that the Teddy Bear shop has gone. Well, nothing for it then but to hit the bakery. The forecourt of the old gaol is now a little outdoor eatery surrounded by various curio shops. I had a Roast Lamb & Pea pie in the sunshine and taunted the poor folk on BIKE ME! via mobile phone. What a glorious day this was turning out to be.

One of the shops in the square is the Tasmanian Sampler Shop. Oh, I could have gone broke in there. Very quickly. Basically the little shop is packed to the gunwales with local product. Jams, marmalades, chutneys & relish. Vinegar, sauces, dressings of all varieties. Wines, liqueurs and Tasmanian Whisky. If I'd had a trailer I would have got a jar of everything, but alas, our bags were already packed tight. I decided that it would be the whisky that got preference. Typically, that was the one thing they were out of.

The other plan for the day was to find a Suzuki dealer and pick up a front sprocket for my bike. It was making quite a few odd noises, not the least being a fair impression of a drill press.

We set off for Hobart, figuring it wouldn't be hard to find one. Wrong figuring, really. I rang my other brother-in-law, the mechanic and Suzuki tragic.

"G'day Pete. I need a Suzuki dealer."

"Where are you?

"We're in Bellerive."

"Hahahaha. The only one is in Moonah. It's called Bike World or something but I can't remember the street."

OK, the funny bit here is that we are on completely the wrong side of town, the river and everything. Great. So with a few hastily given directions rattling around in my head we set off for Moonah and failed to find the joint.

I have found over the years that service stations are handy for local knowledge and directions. Apparently, that was in my day before the tar levels rose. The young walking acne farm behind the counter managed to give me a look that was so devoid of intellect I actually felt dumber by being near him. Meanwhile, out at the bikes, an old bloke had wandered up to Sandy and was nodding vigorously and waving his hands about as though they were riding there themselves. I said thanks to the till jockey, which was odd because I had meant to say "Wither and die, you insipid exercise in futility, for you shall not inherit my world", and went out to see if the old bloke knew something. He was a top bloke, full of the info we needed and genuinely excited about the bikes. Yes, he knew Bikeworks (not Bike World), he'd sold his last bike to them a couple of years ago. Then came the same tale that most of us have told. He regretted selling it, lovely bike, should have kept it. It was an RG500, he said. It only took us 20 minutes to find out we were very close to the shop. I didn't mind, I kind of like hearing the stories from old war horses like him.

But to stop me from becoming him, I will cut this part short. We got to the shop, checked for sprockets. The book said fourteen tooth to eighteen tooth will suit. Don't believe everything you read, more on this later. I got a sixteen (one up from stock) to drop the revs a bit.

Sandy gave me a mournful look and said she really, really, really needed coffee. We decided we would head towards home and find a place on the way. That place ended up being Bellerive Quay. Coffee and fudge for Sandy, bourbon & cigarettes for me. Aaah the good life.

Bellerive Quay

We ended the day back at my sisters for dinner before riding over to my other sisters to stay the night. This was terribly mistimed with tinted visors, kangaroos and the causeways to deal with. Riding across the bay at water level in pitch black is an interesting experience.