Ride The Clyde...the sequel

I woke way before the alarm went off, vaguely aware that it was raining. Well, one thing is being blessed with autumn holidays, another is having it washed out day after day, after day. By the time I joined the here and now it was more of a constant sprinkle and birds were heard amongst it.

"That's a good sign...it won't last", I thought.
Funny how we cling to a tiny scrap of hope when drowning...

The phone rang and a couple of my friends cancelled. Too wet.

As always, I should have got my gear together the night before. By the time I was dressed and ready to go I shrieked seeing the time had got away from me. 7:29am. Take off is at 8... One minute to meeting time, which is 45km from here. I'll never know why I continue to estimate a misely half an hour to get there?! So I get on the bike and guess what? Just enough petrol to get there. Now I contemplated..get there just before we leave and say..."ooooh sorry, but I still have to fill up"....bad form! Or fill up and risk chasing the mob?

Arriving at an empty carpark made my heart sink a little. Have they gone? Was it canned? Terry, our currently 'disabled' (a very sore ankle) rider had seen me take off from the Servo and turned back in his car to tell me that they had left only a couple of minutes ago. Bless you!

I chased the mob to Bewong Roadhouse... Getting to Bewong was patchy, but mainly dry and there they were! A happy smile on all their faces... we're riding, yeeehaaa!!! There were the good 'old' mates and some newies as well. I felt right at home.

Bewong Roadhouse...some 80+km down the road from our meeting point.


A few minutes of chat, many friedly hello's and a top-up later we were hitting the road. Together.

Turn right at the round-about just before Bateman's Bay and that's the King's Highway where the Clyde Mountain is situated. It's a fair bit of road with some nice twisty bits. Unfortunately the fog and the rain made it a bit of a grey old trip, lacking any idea of vista and elevation.

Braidwood's latest parking lot...nice to find a dry spot.

As we drew closer to the township I distinctly remember approaching a mighty alley of poplars, best dressed in the autumn colours of yellow, orange and browns. Our view of the plains had opened out, but the fog in the distance was veiling an invisible horizon and the consistant sprinkle of rain drops reminded me of Germany. Random clusters of moss covered rocks, simular to those encountered on the Snowy's plains (looked like roo-droppings to me!), brought me back to Oz.

There was that moment when we passed the vineyard on our left. Dark clouds in the background and just as we got a glimpse of it, the sun broke free and highlighted the glistening golden leaves on neatly arranged rows of manicured grape stocks. I could have sworn that I've seen this moment on a poster somewhere...

...and then there was that horizontal rainbow, which stunned me momentarily and I thought that maybe there was something wrong with my visor. Did I wipe it with something I shouldn't have? No it was just the top part of the rainbow. Somehow the curve was just obscured by trees. Then there were the trees...liquid amber...stunning colours. Many other species had changed to a dark cherry red or a radiant candy apple red. The landscape, especially against the dark clouds, looked just like an artist's pallette. A little orange blob plonked right next to the most lushest greens and all the while my face was being splashed with cool, refreshing rainwater...

It was not long after that, when I felt my left wet sock and what was worse... my wet weather gear had sprung a leak right there ... where it counts!


However, we arrived at the 'Braidwood Deli', a coffee shop run by Scotti's relatives. The service was prompt and friendly. They even brought us an extra pot of tea... nobody 'dared' to own up to. (You cafe racers!...You Latte set!)






Crazy, thrill seeking doggies.




One of our friends, Phil, is a commentator at Wakefield Park race track, near Goulburn and we had intended to pay him a quick visit. However, the smiling assassin at the gate did not agree with our get-in-free proposal and we were turning back in no time at all. The closest we got to Phil that day was the sound of his voice over the track speakers. Fair enough. He should have had our names at the gate...'I'm with the band'-style...there were only 15 of us...lol!

Goulburn fill stop (Swoop's blingbike)

The return trip was all about avoiding the Freeway, so we got off at Marulen and made our way to Robertson on backroads. I overheard Zippa talking to one of the guys who'd asked what it'd be like. He smirked a little and i thought for a moment that he gave me a sideway glance as he answered quietly "it's a backroad...bumpy, a little bumpy..."

It was bumpy, but there was a stretch of soft stuff that reminded me of clay, in terms of colour and slideability. As soon as I felt the rear wheel doing its own thing, I flicked it straight into 5th gear and slowed to a manageable pace in order to gain some control. There were only a couple of riders ahead of me and they quickly disappeared out of sight. I was glad in a way, as the last thing I wanted was to have mud flung into my face. Eyes wide open and I practically chanted the f-word with every quick breath I took... it was a miracle that I did not hyperventilated... and that I made it through!

It was a credit to all riders to get through that mess...especially those with plenty more power on the rear and of cause our P plater, who almost came undone, but managed to save it with both feet on the ground going sideways. Had I seen that, I would have stopped and refused to go on...maybe not...

We stopped at the 'Clubhouse' The Famous Robertson Pieshop, where we were met by Terry and Noeline and we also ran into Joel, who lives up North, just like me and made my usually boring home trip much less lonely. In the end Damien came along as well... how nice it is to belong.

I included a photo of 'The Photo', a picture I took at the last Breakfast Ride to Huskisson, which made Photo Of The Month March (thanks to all who voted!) and is exhibited on our message board at the Pieshop.



It was not the trip I had imagined, but a rare chance to challenge my ability and endurance. At the end of the day there was little energy left, which made the trip down the Pass a 'careful' one. (Nice choice of words, Zippa!)

A nice big glass of red and a hot shower wiped me off the face of our beautiful planet.