THE BATHURST EPIC To the doughnut ring
WAY BACK IN TIME, when I was 19 years old, two mates and I decided to ride to Bathurst at Easter time. Obviously, this could only mean that we were intending to attend the annual bike race meeting and camp on the mountain. Yee-hah, bring it on!
This story is penned by one of those mates, a bloke called Kim (who now lives on Thursday Island).
Phil
Salt mist veils the sleeping sea-side town of Lennox Head. Nothing disturbs the tranquil pre-dawn serenity except the soft burble of a red Honda 400/4 as it smoothly glides along the deserted main street, through the darkness of the sugar cane farms and into the hills as it makes its way to the appointed meeting at Alstonville. All the pre-tour feelings of excitement and apprehension are present as I direct my new (second hand) Honda through the corners with slight body movements. A gentle nudge with a knee, a small movement of my right wrist, I feel good.
The impudent crackle of Phil’s Hanco equipped Yamaha XS650B joins us at Alstonville and we wind our way to Lismore to meet up with Michael as the early morning sun flickers eerily through the fog in our mirrors. Michael stands on his dew damp driveway beside a mountain of gear.
“Why haven’t you packed your bike Michael?”
“I did ... yesterday. Then I gave it a test run to see how it would handle the load and it blew up on me!”
So, the Yamaha XT500 sits forlornly in the shed as we ockie strap the extra gear onto the 400/4. Two ton or so of it! Including a gas bottle, ring burner and enough tools to dismantle a bulldozer. All this is strapped on, Michael clambers onto the back of the XS and finally we are on our way. Our first trip to Bathurst!
A narrow ribbon of rough bitumen stretches in front of us as Tenterfield gradually draws closer. We play race through the mist shrouded ranges, climbing higher, sweeping around cliff bound corners, plummeting into densely forested gullies and catapulting out again. The rorty note of the howling Honda blends with the crisp mountain air. Smells, sights and feelings to produce a sense of euphoria. Onto the New England Highway and we meet many other bikes. Some we pass, some pass us. Hard chargers, cruisers, posers. Some alone, others in groups. Most with Queensland rego plates. Most heading south to the same place.
A fuel stop reveals 22km/l for the Honda and 23km/l
