THE ODYSSEY TO THE ISLAND

by Al

The planning started in January. I called BIKE ME! forum member Bly.

"Bly", I said, "I'm going down to Bairnsdale the Saturday before Supers, riding to the Supers on Sunday, going back to Bairnsdale Sunday night, and riding home Monday. Wanna come?"

0700: ready to leave Sydney

Ah, we meet again, Mr Bond

The Three Amigos, by Pete

Bly wanted to come.

I told BIKE ME! forum member rzCrew about it, and he wanted to come, too.

I sat down with Google Maps and mapped out some interesting roads to ride on, I put a new Roadsmart on the back of the Viffer, and I was ready to go.

Bly was waiting outside my home at 0655 on Saturday, and my daughter Phoebe came down ostensibly to see us off, but really to show Bly her new pet, Mr Bond.

Bly pronounced Mr Bond cool. I asked Phoebe to take a photo of us before we left. "You'll have to hold Mr Bond", she said.

I held Mr Bond, Phoebe took a photo of the bikes, and a photo of Mr Bond, and we fired up the bikes at 0702.

rzCrew was waiting on the M7 just like he said he would be. He saw us when we saw him, his cigarette hit the ground, and by the time our wheels stopped he had his helmet on and was throwing a leg over his Speed Triple.

We stopped briefly at the Narellan Road turnoff on the Hume to give Pete, the winner of Caption Competition Packer, his prize; and to admire his sparkling black Suzuki Bandit 1200.

I told Pete where we were going and invited him to join us for a while on the road. "Lunch is at Bombala", I said. "Wouldn't be a bad day run on the Bandit."

But Pete had a family birthday celebration to attend, so he said he would only ride with us to the Picton turnoff.

I led down the highway, picking off the cars one by one. When I saw the gaily-coloured late model sedan parked on the right hand side of the carriageway out in the middle of no-where for no apparent reason, I ducked in between two cars, and checked my mirror.

Ouch! Pete was in the middle of delivering a Bandit-sized load of torque to the tar just as the word "POLICE" became visible on the side of the car. The car started moving.

It never caught up to us. Pete turned off at Picton. We continued down the highway, leaving it at Mittagong. Another police car cruised past us as we stopped at the last service station in town before the highway exit.

We continued southward, crossing the eastern edge of the ACT in two places before stopping again for gas in Queanbeyan, and continued south on the Monaro Highway to Bombala.

We'd planned to have lunch with BIKE ME! member Whitey at his local, the Globe Hotel, but he'd cancelled because he had to work a Saturday shift that day. After ascertaining that he was known as Whitey at the pub as well as on the BIKE ME! forum, we decided to eat there anyway, and tell his drinking buddies outrageous lies about Whitey's scurrilous behaviour in Sydney. We didn't know if he'd even been to Sydney, but that wasn't going to stop us.

We ordered a trio of foaming ales, and dropped the name "Whitey" into the conversation. "Ah, Whitey", a couple of the locals nodded. "Know him, do you?", we asked of one grizzled veteran.

"Yes", he said. "He's my son."

Well, what do you do? You can't diss a bloke in front of his old man, can you?

So we told them we were going to have lunch and ride the Bonang road. One drinker told a story about his mate, who crashed horribly on the Bonang road.

"Aha", I said. "He forgot Rule Number One."

"What's that?"

"Do not fall off your motorcycle."

"It's that easy, is it?"

"Yep".

We ordered a trio of steaks and another trio of foaming ales, and sat and ate while checking out the renovations. The renovations have stalled, the pub is a mess, and the publican hates the council with the deep visceral hatred that can only be felt by a small businessman up against petty bureaucracy.

Across the road is a business with lots of paper stuck to the window documenting their fight with the council, too.

Bombala is a town at war with its elected representatives.

I accosted a couple outside the pub. "Pardon me," I said. "Which way to Bonang?"

"That way", said the man, pointing up the road.

"And is there a service station that way as well?"

"There are two," said the woman. Go to the second one. They're nicer."

We went to the second one.

They were pretty nice.

Stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes He star'd at the Pacific? No. Bly at Bombala.