Ian and Snowy's Most Excellent Adventure

by Ian Buckley (and Snowy)

Pics by Ian Buckley (and Snowy)

Do yourself a favour Niggaz

A simple transport stage to Canberra started with my low beam blowing, the rain pissing down and me on knobbies on a bike I have done less than 50km on. High beam meant I could go and in any case I was three hours behind schedule. It was 7pm before I left for the three hours to Snowtown. Once I got to the toll way I immediately set myself up to play with the techno geeks who slug you $10 to escape the concrete jungle. For those who are not aware, the E-toll gates allegedly have a field of vision to capture fare evaders that stops about one metre from the extremes of the gate. If you look on the verge, you will see four or five markers and on a bike you can swing out beyond them so as not to be in the image. That’s what they tell me anyway. Image technology is there to be broken.

My fare evasion done and sweeping past Campbelltown, my focus turned to my shadow in front of me. My recently mounted tube bag pretty much blocked my headlight beam and all I could see was the shadow of the straps flapping around. But my hands were toasty due to my BMW Atlantis 2 gloves that are designed with newbuck leather, triple gortex and other shit. They kept my hands dry as after three hours in the pissing rain which meant a hell of a lot to me. My two main purchases for comfort were the gloves and Airhawk seat. Two acquisitions I would come to love over the next five days.

I would pay double for this accessory

I stopped at Sally’s Corner to buy coffee, assess my luggage and adjust the headlight. It was the last time I would drag my leg off the seat as I broke the flimsy strap Airhawk provide. This pissed me off but had little effect as they are pissy at best and the underside cover is made of a high grip material that works well to prevent slippage. I was still pissed.

I gazed at my adventure bike, tilted the headlight up and took a photo. I was so pleased to be on the road, heading into unknown territory and in the pissing rain. I could care less as long as my bike didn’t blow up. In any case, the rubber visor wipe on my new gloves entertained me no end. The headlight was marginally better and the fox that darted across the road near Canberra airport was a sign of things to come.

Love that bike

As I rolled into Snowy’s, he was holding the gate open and I came to a halt in his garage. He eyed up the Big Red Pig. I was late, and wet, and I presented him with his own set of Atlantis gloves which he quickly showed off to his son and then covered in Dubbin. We talked till it was late and his son called out to “shut the fuck up”. I lay in bed listening to the belting rain imagining what slippery challenges awaited us in a few short hours.

To my amazement, I woke to clear blue skies and Snowy in his undies. One of these I was pleased to see, the other was something I would get over in time. We adjourned to the shed, looked at the snow clouds on the mountain and prepared for an 08:30 start.

Hurry up Snowy, I want to go!

Snowy:

My preparation:

Total strip down and check over of frame suspension, wheels and tyres, new tyres, filters and oil.
Final reassembly the night before departure.

My trusty DR ran like a Japanese watch, which is like a European watch, only much cheaper and less likely to get you mugged.

Ian's prep:

Fuel bike,
kick for 10 mins,
Yell "are you ready yet"

We rolled out of Canberra until my bike ground to a halt. Perplexed as I was, the front brake had locked on. There I was stuck on the side of the road with Snowy riding away looking at my bike in the most inconvenient part of the road possible. I soon worked out that the front brake lever had jammed in the Bark Buster. I had adjusted my mirror and in doing so moved the whole assembly instead of the mirror itself. That fixed, I was relieved not to have ended my journey before it even began.

We quickly hit the dirt towards Adaminaby and simultaneously Snowy delivered a rock the size of half a brick fair onto my left big toe. Fuck that hurt, but it would have been worse had I not had motocross boots on. It was the sign of things to come and Snowy’s brand new Dunlops were just the tool to throw rock mortars at me. Cautious of local traffic, we didn’t break any records but soon settled in for breakfast at Adaminaby. The lovely old duck that runs the café was a treat and offered us Mr Sheen and a cleaning cloth for our helmets. I chatted to a couple of guys who had already lost one of their party to a flogged out wheel bearing on his MV Augusta. I pointed out if he ordered now he might have a replacement part by the Supers.

Running a tad rich

We skipped into Jindabyne and filled up ready for the Barry Way. The road starts right in the township and a chocolate bar and a crap was all that was needed in preparation for what was to come. Snowy decided his body was a temple and needed ice tea. We noted the obvious richness of my fuel mix and then departed. It was but five kays out when I had a moment that stuck with me for a bit. On a downhill off camber sweeper, I hit some ripples and had the front drift to the centre line. I was on it and banked over and had it not been for the Hilux ute also on the apex of the corner I likely would have used the oncoming lane.

I am not sure what the elderly farmer in the ute thought of it but he did move in his seat and prepare for the worst of it. Knobbies have a way on the tar and in this case I could do no more than keep on keeping on and drive through the corner. I can’t say I have had another moment where my eyes met with a drivers eyes, but we had a moment and then I turned my head into the corner and poured it on. Everything worked and funnily enough I was not panicked or scared. No racing heart (that was to come later) or even sense of luck. It was a time when experience comes to the fore because backing off or standing up would have certainly resulted in a whole truck load of bad.

Even temples have toilets

As we hit the dirt at the very top of the mountain, something clicked and we both decided that the top of a mountain was where we should power slide out of every corner. Once we passed the mini-bus and regathered our senses, we ignored oncoming traffic possibilities and took off. Snowy decided he was Jay Springsteen (one of the GOAT flat trackers) and pitched his bike into a left hander for some sliding goodness. Sadly for Snowy though, the front decided to let go and stood him upright. Normally this is OK, but at the top of a mountain where the fall is close to a kilometre straight down and the corner is blind, things get a little testy. By the time he regathered, he was on the right hand side of the road with but one option. I was thinking to myself that this was going to get interesting real fast. He either has another go or goes over the edge. He was never going to pull it up. If he has a go, then he better go NOW! All of this was based on nothing coming the other way. Well pour it on he did and to his credit, laid the most beautiful black line that arced all the way around the bend no more than half a meter from the edge all the while throwing a rooster tail of stone into the valley below.

Snowy 1, valley 0.

Round the corner he had slowed and was laughing maniacally with his legs kicking and his head rolled back. Survival does that to a man. We continued into the valley at the same pace where we would then swap bikes.

See the smile in there?