The Getting of Alpine Wisdom - 3
The Island
Snowy, myself and a host of others would be staying at Mick's house. During the races, the back yard of his abode became 'Awesome Town', complete with huge wood fire heated shed. The front yard was affectionately dubbed 'Quiet Town'.
By the time we reached the Island I was almost dry again, though I was so cold I could barely manoeuvre the bike through Mick's front yard. I was again the shivering wreck of an abandoned domestic animal in the wilds. Fortunately, this never lasts long, and I was soon back to my smiling, mostly amiable self.
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Saturday morning |
Alternate Universe
As unbelievable as many found it, this was my first trip to Phillip Island. This had a lot to do with raising two children as a single dad. They are now teenagers, and have all life's trinkets. It was time for Dad to take a leave pass for a week, and my partner insisted that I go enjoy myself with the men and women of BIKE ME!, who are a unique and honourable group of individuals I am proud to regard as extended family. Their forums are not for the faint of heart or the keyboard warrior. Insincerity and foolishness are soon weeded out, and only the honest appear to flourish within its straight talking folds.
Phillip Island during the races was almost an alternate universe, and a stark contrast to the police state of New South Wales. In New South Wales, the police-related advertisements are tainted with slogans like:
You're going to get caught.
It's just a matter of time.
Better get a lawyer son, better get a real good one.
Although there were police everywhere on the Island, they were involved with and focused on ensuring the free flow of traffic, and Biketown, as we will now call it, was a two wheeled wonderland.
Police RBT stations were manned with smiling officers admiring your bike and asking if you've travelled far and are having a good weekend. It was not an excuse to go through your papers, check your bona fides and generally see if you can feed the judicial machine. I was never so much as asked for a license. The only vehicles I saw stopped by police cars were other cars, EVERYONE was motorcycle crazy, sections of street were designated 'Motorcycle Only' zones and I couldn't help the feeling that the only thing missing was the promo girls handing out grog and drugs as you left the RBT stops.
Note to NSW:
- Stop using shitty police dramas as in-service training tools
- Lose the 'us'/'them' mentality and
- Get back to serving the community that currently despises you.
The local IGA supermarket understood the necessity for boxes to carry goods home on racks, and a good supply of various sizes were always readily found near the front door.
That you rode a scooter or cruiser mattered nought, only that you rode. Everyone was friendly, and willing to talk about their bike. One such young individual regaled us with the story of his new 600cc superbike capable of over 300km/h. It broke the poor guy's heart that whenever another member was told of the bike that went over 300, the response was always "What, from one tank of fuel?"
Heading Home
Monday was no brighter than the previous days, and we packed and left Biketown around 9am under grey skies. Bikes streamed up the inside of cars in the lanes created just for these events and all merged into one easy moving line by San Remo.
The road gods smiled and there was no rain to interfere with our return trip. One more RBT stop near Johnsonville with two friendly police was the last I'd see of the constabulary until I arrived home.
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A brief break in the clouds and a photo op. |
Back in Orbost, Snowy was sick of hearing about shite front suspension, and utilized a makeshift driver to wind the preload on my Triumph's forks to '11'.
This had the effect of making the bike handle and track like an Exocet missile. The downside was that all the forces it had been absorbing to now were being transferred directly to my seat. The result of which after only four hours in the saddle, the seat and I were no longer friends. This was not an issue on the earlier, longer bouts. My usual stretches and exercises did not work, and during extended periods of trying to get the blood to flow in the buttocks again I looked like an old pervert humping a large yellow turtle.
THEORY 1: When travelling long distances, wind your fork pre-compression down one full turn. This will help in the seating department. Wind it back up for your known twisty bits, and back down again when you are through, and want to cruise again. Suspension is a dynamic thing.
Just North of Noorinbee I had the opportunity of tackling some magnificent road with a fully laden machine, wondering why I couldn't get the bike right down, but reaching understanding and enlightenment with a battered set of soft pannier covers.
The trip was a magnificent getaway, with an opportunity to meet new friends and catch up with some older ones. It is great to see that the passion for motorcycling is far from fading. Mates brought family to the Island, and I met some of the most switched on, funny and engaging youngsters it has been my pleasure to meet. I'm looking forward to building up my skills again (they do fade over time, but appear to be willing to return when commanded).
Credit where credit is due, and I offer my praise to the men and women of the Victorian Police Force who did a spectacular job in not trying to interfere with the atmosphere of the weekend, and who were magnificent ambassadors for their State. To the characters who made the pilgrimage interesting, the angry ranga near turn 12, the streaker crash-tackled near the car park after the event, and indeed to his tackler – well played in making the event one to remember.
The bike is back in its place after being cleaned of its mud and grime and is sparkling in the driveway. The chain is re-lubed, the tent and sheets are drying out and the panniers are about to be scrubbed and put away until the next journey. My sincere thanks to everyone who made the trip not only possible, but a thorough joy - to Anne for taking care of my children, and my parents for running Ellie back to Sydney for me, and to the good people who provided accommodation and great company along the way – thank you..
