The story below tells the tale of my little postie-bike (CT110) trip to Ivanhoe. All done at a few weeks notice and the ride spread over 3 days. First the photos and then the fine print. This will probably be the longest post I will ever do.
I did it all on a fairly short planning time-frame, having purchased, serviced and rego'ed the bike in less than a 2 week period. With work out of the way, I packed up the weekend before, took a test ride down the road and ceremoniously got drenched under a lone storm cloud (like in the cartoons). I took no heed, tightened the Okkies and set off lunch time Wednesday.
I took a rear rack-pack with clothes, food, tyre change gear and accessories and a smaller front rack loaded with the tools and maps face up on the top for easy reference. In hind sight the load was fine for sealed road touring but was too high for dirt roads where you tend to need to shift your weight to compensate for the looser surface. Also on a loose gravel road, any backing off for ruts or rocks would shift the high weight quickly over the front and leave you with a wash-out feeling through the bars. Next time I will set up a pair of side bags and a smaller lighter load on top of the rack. The tools over the light didn’t equate to much weight so the loading there wasn’t a hassle. I rode on road tyres (at my own peril... yeah yeah I know, but I ran out of time OK?). The tyres weren’t that much of a problem, but they did keep you on your toes at times when I could have just been taking a relaxing cruise along a dirt road. I didn’t have to deal with mud (luckily). I will go road/ trail compos next time. I carried the under-rack 2 litre jerry can and that with my full tank gave me a range of 240 kilometres (combination of tar/ dirt roads). The tank gave me a run of 185 kilometres on gravel/ sand which exceeded my expectations.
Travelled through Canowindra to Grenfell on Wednesday afternoon, just to get the feel of the load and the bike. I passed one car on the whole of the first days ride and travelled a very empty road. Had the billy in the bag and set up for a couple of cuppas along the way in amongst the roadside bush. Me brother stepped through the next morning and gave us a postie escort around the edge of Weddin Mountains national park and waved us off on the next leg from Bimbi to West Wyalong, Ungarie and then due west through to Hillston. The joy of the postie bike is that if you see a good spot coming up, you just pull up, pull-off and explore. Mostly this involved out-of the way creek crossings and old bridges for me, taking photos, having a cuppa and waving at the locals going by. Open sealed road speed sat me at around 80km/hr but I would often back her off to about 75 just give the motor a break from constant rev stresses. On a good gravel road it was 70 and loose gravel had me down to 50. Loose gravel at night with kangaroos had me down to 30. I figured that if I’m travelling slower than a roo, the less likelihood there is of one looming out of the side scrub shadows and belting me off my bike without warning. I got a stiff tail wind up from West Wyalong to Ungarie and sat on 90 with no worries. In the small town of Ungarie, a few of the locals were not about to head me out on the back-roads on such 'a small bike'. I was even told to go back to West Wyalong and take the sealed highway route. I met up with a nice old couple in their Holden ute outside the cafe and they gave me complete mud map of the route through to Hillston via Naradhan. Problem was it was all drawn on the bonnet of the ute. Mrs Nice Old Couple told me that even though not all the roads were sign posted, but everyone in the back country was very friendly. Mr Nice just chuckled to himself. This is where I took my first wrong turn.
Nothing like a Part 2. (Like the bits left on the shed floor after an engine build).
The sky clouded up on me at Ungarie and the deep tram track ruts in the dirt road became gnarly. You would ride for lengths of up to 500 metres along a narrow strip (6 inches wide) of raised dry road between two deep mud and water filled ruts caused by prior heavy traffic moving on a wet road. The moment you thought that you couldn’t hold the narrow line you were doomed and the bike would lodge itself in a muddy tyre track and spear you off in the direction of the rut.
So after a long while of this I began to wonder why my next-mapped township hadn’t come up yet. I pulled up for a dingos breakfast (a piddle and a look around) and noticed a extraordinary large amount of traffic (including road trains) passing a unmapped T intersection located 200 metres in front of me. (After-all these were quiet back-block country lanes.) Just then the sun came out of the clouds, my internal compass repositioned itself and my route across the landscape suddenly turned from heading west to south. The traffic I was watching was heading along the main highway toward West-Wyalong no more than 20 kilometres away (where I had left a couple of hours previously). I had somehow took a wrong turn at a X-road and pulled a dirty big arc almost back to where I came from. (.. happens. At least saw some different country while trying hard to keep my face out of the gravel).
I tightened the load and headed out onto the highway heading west and determined to take the next unrutted road inland again. I had a small tail wind, a main tarred road and sitting on about 85km/hr.... and a string of B-doubles bearing down on me. (It is amazing how big the front of a Freightliner looks in your mirrors). 4 of the blighters passed me in quick succession at speed and the wash from the last two was phenomenal. I could have back-drafted the tail-gunner and sat on 110 all the way to Adelaide.
I headed off the highway at Weethalie, travelled over 10 kilometres of freshly tarred road coated with ball-bearings (or so it felt.... give me back the ruts!) and found myself in Kikoira (a very happening town). On to reserve tank at Naradhan and the sun disappeared behind the hills.
Then the roos came out! Much of the road from Monia Gap to Hillston is a sandy graded track flanked by strips of bush on either sides of the road. The roos, who spend their days sunning themselves and checking each other out, get on the move come twighlight and go for the fresh pick near the table drains and wait for any dimly lit road-user to come along. I scored a face full of road surface flung from a big-fellas feet who waited to the last minute to cross the road. I didn’t see him at all. This close unexpected encounter also resulted in a dingos breakfast.
Arrived at a dark Hillston with no further dramas and awoke in the morning to wet streets. Not what I wanted with 150 km of black soil plains in front of me. The first 20 km were a little light and hairy. The back tyre was leaving a massive rooster tail of sticky mud off the road. I unclogged the front guard a couple of times before the road dried and then it was just me and the wide open places and a smooth-as-silk road to head down.
70 km west of Hillston, I pulled over, set up a spot for a cuppa and sat down to contemplate the serenity. Within 10 minutes, a fella rides out of the horizon along a barely visible property track, finally rides up to me, turns his bike off and asks if I was OK? I thought I was a picture of OKidness; I had a muddy bike, camp-stool out, cuppa in one hand and TimTam in the other. Nice bloke, good of him to ask, even though he did have a go at me steppie.
Riding a postie through the wide open places is a grand thing. With nothing but the edge of the horizon in whichever way you look and a narrow strip of road dissecting it all. I possibly took more than 5 stops in 100km just to have a look about even though there isn’t all that much to look at. The joy of the postie-bike.
From a fill-up at Ivanhoe I got a bit of local drum and chose to take the railway access road toward Menindee. Said a close G'day to a couple of brainless emus, a dozen or so wild goats and a handfull of Kangaroos set to keep in front of me for as long as they could. Unfortunately I only had to go as far as Darnick siding to get to my destination, but next time.........that road just keeps going.
The next few days were spent partying it up in back-country style. Late nights (or early mornings) yarning the nights away and rolling out the swag under freezing nights of endless stars.
I cheated on the return home. I loaded up the postie on the back of the old ute and got back home in a third of the time. Not before we spent a half day mustering up a mob of sheep out of the scrub. The postie on road tyres was not all that agile on the red sandy soil, but we gave it our best shot and had 500 of the buggers back to the shed by lunch.
Next trip I’m heading further off the beaten track on some compo tyres and a longer range tank set-up. I need to rethink what tools I really need and set my load lower. As for comfort, the bike was fine. I had a sheep-skin seat cover and standard suspension set soft. Maybe I might fiddle with the lighting too, so I can see those big reds coming in from the sides at night.
Thanks must go to Geoff who sold me his old/new bike out of the back of the shed for a good price, Pete who offered me road-side assist in the West Wyalong district (had your ph no. in my pocket mate and gladly return the favour if trekking through this way), Josh for the kit list and the friendly locals around Ivanhoe who reckoned I was mad but let me feel like a hero for a couple of days at least.
I will be back.
I took a rear rack-pack with clothes, food, tyre change gear and accessories and a smaller front rack loaded with the tools and maps face up on the top for easy reference. In hind sight the load was fine for sealed road touring but was too high for dirt roads where you tend to need to shift your weight to compensate for the looser surface. Also on a loose gravel road, any backing off for ruts or rocks would shift the high weight quickly over the front and leave you with a wash-out feeling through the bars. Next time I will set up a pair of side bags and a smaller lighter load on top of the rack. The tools over the light didn’t equate to much weight so the loading there wasn’t a hassle. I rode on road tyres (at my own peril... yeah yeah I know, but I ran out of time OK?). The tyres weren’t that much of a problem, but they did keep you on your toes at times when I could have just been taking a relaxing cruise along a dirt road. I didn’t have to deal with mud (luckily). I will go road/ trail compos next time. I carried the under-rack 2 litre jerry can and that with my full tank gave me a range of 240 kilometres (combination of tar/ dirt roads). The tank gave me a run of 185 kilometres on gravel/ sand which exceeded my expectations.
Travelled through Canowindra to Grenfell on Wednesday afternoon, just to get the feel of the load and the bike. I passed one car on the whole of the first days ride and travelled a very empty road. Had the billy in the bag and set up for a couple of cuppas along the way in amongst the roadside bush. Me brother stepped through the next morning and gave us a postie escort around the edge of Weddin Mountains national park and waved us off on the next leg from Bimbi to West Wyalong, Ungarie and then due west through to Hillston. The joy of the postie bike is that if you see a good spot coming up, you just pull up, pull-off and explore. Mostly this involved out-of the way creek crossings and old bridges for me, taking photos, having a cuppa and waving at the locals going by. Open sealed road speed sat me at around 80km/hr but I would often back her off to about 75 just give the motor a break from constant rev stresses. On a good gravel road it was 70 and loose gravel had me down to 50. Loose gravel at night with kangaroos had me down to 30. I figured that if I’m travelling slower than a roo, the less likelihood there is of one looming out of the side scrub shadows and belting me off my bike without warning. I got a stiff tail wind up from West Wyalong to Ungarie and sat on 90 with no worries. In the small town of Ungarie, a few of the locals were not about to head me out on the back-roads on such 'a small bike'. I was even told to go back to West Wyalong and take the sealed highway route. I met up with a nice old couple in their Holden ute outside the cafe and they gave me complete mud map of the route through to Hillston via Naradhan. Problem was it was all drawn on the bonnet of the ute. Mrs Nice Old Couple told me that even though not all the roads were sign posted, but everyone in the back country was very friendly. Mr Nice just chuckled to himself. This is where I took my first wrong turn.
Nothing like a Part 2. (Like the bits left on the shed floor after an engine build).
The sky clouded up on me at Ungarie and the deep tram track ruts in the dirt road became gnarly. You would ride for lengths of up to 500 metres along a narrow strip (6 inches wide) of raised dry road between two deep mud and water filled ruts caused by prior heavy traffic moving on a wet road. The moment you thought that you couldn’t hold the narrow line you were doomed and the bike would lodge itself in a muddy tyre track and spear you off in the direction of the rut.
So after a long while of this I began to wonder why my next-mapped township hadn’t come up yet. I pulled up for a dingos breakfast (a piddle and a look around) and noticed a extraordinary large amount of traffic (including road trains) passing a unmapped T intersection located 200 metres in front of me. (After-all these were quiet back-block country lanes.) Just then the sun came out of the clouds, my internal compass repositioned itself and my route across the landscape suddenly turned from heading west to south. The traffic I was watching was heading along the main highway toward West-Wyalong no more than 20 kilometres away (where I had left a couple of hours previously). I had somehow took a wrong turn at a X-road and pulled a dirty big arc almost back to where I came from. (.. happens. At least saw some different country while trying hard to keep my face out of the gravel).
I tightened the load and headed out onto the highway heading west and determined to take the next unrutted road inland again. I had a small tail wind, a main tarred road and sitting on about 85km/hr.... and a string of B-doubles bearing down on me. (It is amazing how big the front of a Freightliner looks in your mirrors). 4 of the blighters passed me in quick succession at speed and the wash from the last two was phenomenal. I could have back-drafted the tail-gunner and sat on 110 all the way to Adelaide.
I headed off the highway at Weethalie, travelled over 10 kilometres of freshly tarred road coated with ball-bearings (or so it felt.... give me back the ruts!) and found myself in Kikoira (a very happening town). On to reserve tank at Naradhan and the sun disappeared behind the hills.
Then the roos came out! Much of the road from Monia Gap to Hillston is a sandy graded track flanked by strips of bush on either sides of the road. The roos, who spend their days sunning themselves and checking each other out, get on the move come twighlight and go for the fresh pick near the table drains and wait for any dimly lit road-user to come along. I scored a face full of road surface flung from a big-fellas feet who waited to the last minute to cross the road. I didn’t see him at all. This close unexpected encounter also resulted in a dingos breakfast.
Arrived at a dark Hillston with no further dramas and awoke in the morning to wet streets. Not what I wanted with 150 km of black soil plains in front of me. The first 20 km were a little light and hairy. The back tyre was leaving a massive rooster tail of sticky mud off the road. I unclogged the front guard a couple of times before the road dried and then it was just me and the wide open places and a smooth-as-silk road to head down.
70 km west of Hillston, I pulled over, set up a spot for a cuppa and sat down to contemplate the serenity. Within 10 minutes, a fella rides out of the horizon along a barely visible property track, finally rides up to me, turns his bike off and asks if I was OK? I thought I was a picture of OKidness; I had a muddy bike, camp-stool out, cuppa in one hand and TimTam in the other. Nice bloke, good of him to ask, even though he did have a go at me steppie.
Riding a postie through the wide open places is a grand thing. With nothing but the edge of the horizon in whichever way you look and a narrow strip of road dissecting it all. I possibly took more than 5 stops in 100km just to have a look about even though there isn’t all that much to look at. The joy of the postie-bike.
From a fill-up at Ivanhoe I got a bit of local drum and chose to take the railway access road toward Menindee. Said a close G'day to a couple of brainless emus, a dozen or so wild goats and a handfull of Kangaroos set to keep in front of me for as long as they could. Unfortunately I only had to go as far as Darnick siding to get to my destination, but next time.........that road just keeps going.
The next few days were spent partying it up in back-country style. Late nights (or early mornings) yarning the nights away and rolling out the swag under freezing nights of endless stars.
I cheated on the return home. I loaded up the postie on the back of the old ute and got back home in a third of the time. Not before we spent a half day mustering up a mob of sheep out of the scrub. The postie on road tyres was not all that agile on the red sandy soil, but we gave it our best shot and had 500 of the buggers back to the shed by lunch.
Next trip I’m heading further off the beaten track on some compo tyres and a longer range tank set-up. I need to rethink what tools I really need and set my load lower. As for comfort, the bike was fine. I had a sheep-skin seat cover and standard suspension set soft. Maybe I might fiddle with the lighting too, so I can see those big reds coming in from the sides at night.
Thanks must go to Geoff who sold me his old/new bike out of the back of the shed for a good price, Pete who offered me road-side assist in the West Wyalong district (had your ph no. in my pocket mate and gladly return the favour if trekking through this way), Josh for the kit list and the friendly locals around Ivanhoe who reckoned I was mad but let me feel like a hero for a couple of days at least.
I will be back.
