SATURDAY IN THE HILLS

Sandy & I were going on a Saturday morning for a run down through the Gippsland.

The morning had yet to make up it's mind as to what it was going to do for the rest of the day. Bright warming sun was changing slightly to a cooling breeze and a few clouds. Not that it mattered; we were bloody well going, no matter what the indecisive day was up to.



We had a mission.



The bikes were primed and so was I. A few stressed weeks of unemployment and heavy decisionising had taken their toll. I needed cleansing. I was positively bouncing, my mind already halfway around the imagined course, plotting straights, bends. Motorcycles, they be good for what ails ya.

The day got its shit together, the breeze and clouds fucked off to somewhere else and so did we.

The first bit was a rather uninspiring trawl down the South Gippsland Highway towards Phillip Island. The highlight was a little silver car with the plate OLCOW that toddled on by us.

We switched off at the Korumburra turnoff. This is a fabulous bit of fairly lonely, curvy highway.

Step 1 of the cleansing was about to begin.

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45k's to Korumburra. I suddenly needed to be there right now!! So, off I went attempting that very feat.

Wide, see-through corners that tempt those of low moral fibre such as me. I didn't see any children though, so it's all ok.

Way back there in the mirrors is a tiny speck of light that might be a Hayabusa headlight. Odd, thought I, what is she doing?

I lost sight of said speck and continued on my merry way out of the sweepy stuff and into the tighter bits where you can't see the next corner.

I got stuck behind a van for half a minute, checked the mirrors, nothing.

The road cleared, I moved up, ready. Check the mirror again and it's full of Hayabusa. You do get used to that happening. Eventually.

We were near the turnoff for Loch, a pissant little village with more antique shops than residents. Sandy motioned for a drink so we turned off and pulled up.

There is one saving grace to Loch, it has a road that leads to Wonthaggi that is really worth a punt when you get down this way.

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But, I digress. We had stopped in Loch for a drink. Sandy emerges from the little general store with 2 cans of Coke.

I thought she had developed massive hands until I realised she had discovered a shop that sells "throwdowns" the little 250ml cans that used to be around.

Hardly manly but it would do. My buzzing testosterone levels would not be challenged by little girly cans. Ha ha, I chortled with Flynn-like bravado.

Sandy kindly rose to that challenge (Strange, I don't remember issuing one though) and brought forth Turkish bread rolls, hommis and a selection of fruits.

I was still maintaining my levels until the wee chopping board came out to dice the mango.

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"Where's the little fold out table?" I quipped.

"I couldn't fit it on the bike. If we were in the car, I would have brought it" came the straight faced reply slicing neatly through the last vestiges of swashbuckling derring-do I was trying to project.

Fine. I chewed my strawberries and mango in a manly fashion.



We saddled up and set off again to have a look at a block of land for sale in Korumburra.

We found the notice board but not the entrance or the road that it was supposedly on. We asked a couple of locals if they had heard of Government Road.

"Nope. Lived here all my life. No Government Road here." was the answer.

We scooted back into town to the Real Estate Agency. They were closed (Oh, if only we hadn't stopped for a picnic)

Bugger. Oh well, out with the Google printouts and search the Nokia GPS thingy for a clue. As we are doing that a bloke emerges from the agency shop so we cornered him about this block.

"No. Government Road doesn't exist. The purchaser would have to put the road in themselves". Well, that explains the low price.

NEXT!!

But keep the Korumburra-Wonthaggi Road in mind too..

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On through Leongatha (nothing to see here, Citizen, move along) and out to Mirboo North

So onward, ever onward we trekked. Well, to Mirboo North anyway.

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A quiet little town with a bank, pub & bakery or two, a real estate agent and the obligatory antiques shops.

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Mirboo North is on the Strzelecki Highway. Obviously Count Pawel Strzelecki had no immediate sense of straight lines if the road that bears his name is any indication.

Have a bit of a read about this bloke. He didn't mind getting out and about. He's like Thommo & Davo, but with a horse and a Polish accent.



Right. Enough of the history lesson. We were there for other things.

We haunted the Real Estate Agency there and picked out a few likely spots.

One in particular got our attention.

It's just out of town on the highway.

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A lovely block of land. One acre, sheltered from the road by 2 stands of gums. We have already plotted the house in the back right corner. A "4 car" shed in the left (of the photo). I say "4 car" obviously meaning 2 road bikes, 2 track bikes, 2 chookies. If there is a car by then it can fucking well sit outside like a neglected, mongrel dog.

Yes, a bit of time was spent wandering about this one.



Right then, what's next? 7.4 acres near Boolarra? Why not?

This is the point I must raise with the slicked up agent when next we meet. A mud map in pink highlighter pen on a Google map printout doesn't show what two innocent wanderers might encounter.

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Yes, I realise now that there are a couple of more direct routes to take. But we were out of familiar territory without a compass or a clue.

Half of the mud map track we followed was sandy gravel, the other half was split between bitumen and what resembled a thin linear quarry.

We found it, looked, took note and left.

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A couple of more k's of dodging "gravel" the size of half bricks and burning loo rolls and we popped out on the Strzelecki again. To our relief. Me, because I fucking hate fucking dirt fucken. Sandy, because the 'Abusa was starting to get a bit flustered at having to dawdle.

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When I sighted the turnoff for the oh-so-fucking-glorious Mirboo North-Trafalgar Road I knew Step 2 was about to begin.

This is why..

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This road is hilarious.

Opening with a set-your-own-speed combination of climbing bends that have velodrome-like camber it levels off and rewards you with a view that is nothing short of breathtaking.

Verdant hills that roll over the top of each other and tumble down to deep valleys. Lush grassland and deep forest that you really have to stop and take in to full appreciate.

Our rate of travel sort of excluded any nature breaks.

Once you hit the top of the climb you wind gently down into Thorpdale.

Not much happens in Thorpdale.

I could tell that by the fading ad for McWilliams Sparkling Bodega garishly splashed across the wall of the pub.

It does have a nice little war memorial. I would have stopped for a photo but I couldn't get Sandy's attention.

Obviously the flash of light from my high beam wasn't fast enough to catch up with her.



Out of Thorpdale and things change dramatically.

The ground drops away and the corners tighten up into the realm of Twisties.



Normally a sensational run down into Trafalgar. Unless of course you happen to encounter a 4WD owner that has decided to move house on a Saturday afternoon. Arseclown!



A quick fuel stop at Trafalgar and Sandy asked if I wanted a drink.

"Yep. Yarragon Pub?" I asked.

"Sounds good to me". Settled then.



The plan was to hit the pub, ring Cricky and drag him over.

We hit Yarragon and I called out to see if Sandy wanted to go to the pub or just go and bug Cricky.

She pointed in the general direction of Chez Crick. I love it when decisions come easy.

We pulled up and I wondered if he might be home. the bikes were shut off and as I took off the helmet I heard the dulcet tones of Metallica's new album wafting delicately on the breeze at Force 7. Yup, he's home.



What followed was a quiet hour of retelling the day over a beer or two.

When I told of leaving Sandy behind on the Korumburra stretch and wondering what she was up to Cricky helpfully provided "Bolstering your ego, brother"

I know it's true, I just didn't need to hear it, not after the whole mango & chopping board episode.

We also got to meet the delightful Cricky's Mum. This amazing woman produced the Brothers Crick, and is still paying the price for it.

I think the highlight of the visit was Cricky leaping excitedly to his feet to proudly show his Mum that his lilly's had come out. Probably not a side of him many get to see. Poove.

Well, time had not so much marched as stomped off in a huff and we had to make a move.

A quick toddle down the freeway, a couple of turns and we were home.

Boots off, feet up and a bit of bench racing was done over a snack tea.

Apparently it was all a little too overwhelming for some of us.

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All in all, just on 300k’s for the day. A lazy run with a couple of stops for lunch, dreams and beer with a mate.



It’s days like these that make the grindstone bearable. As I took the above photo I was grinning over nothing in particular and feeling very much at ease.

I know it’s the bike that’s responsible for this. Is there nothing a day in the saddle cannot remedy?

I reckon many of you who may read this will nod sagely when I admit that I can’t pin down why.

Is it the freedom thing? The power, the speed?
Having your shit all come together in a neatly stacked pile as you do battle with the Laws Of Centrifugal Force through that perfectly cambered right hander?
Seeing the speedo needle point at some very naughty numbers on that long straight that bursts out of the trees like an arrow at the sun?



I don’t know why. All I do know is that when all the pieces fit then nothing else matters.

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3 comments:

  1. Poowong! Hahahaha, you have a town called Poowong!

    Congrats on entering the world of "blogging", that skinny Queenslander is planning one too. Our numbers grow.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Great stuff mate. Love your photos.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Good stuff, Leigh....
    Next time you're heading up to Mirboo Nth from Leongatha, try taking the first right turn out of town(Mardan Rd). This road will bring you back into Mirboo Nth via some more interesting roads than the run up the Strzelecki Hwy.

    ReplyDelete

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