October Storms

Back from our ride just in time for the torrential downpour which has flooded half of Brisbane! Combined with the strong winds that wreaked havoc on the beach was an abundance of litter, platic containers that originally housed pont plants were the main offenders. Ironic that we plant trees to help the environment then leave the plastic to flow into the rivers and onto the beach! I am reminded of some of the beautiful beaches in Northern QLD all covered with similar litter washed in by the ever present SE trade winds and stong tides in the area. We all know of the plastic vortex in the middle of the Pacific yet I fear that is just the tip of the plastic iceburg much closer to home!

Two boys on Two wheels

Who doesn’t like a good hotel and nice things? I know a drink is all the more satisfying when served in fine crystal, and there’s nothing nicer than eating from good cutlery. The paradox for me is that most of my time in nice hotels is spent pouring over travel guides or cruising maps looking for the next adventure which will no doubt end up in accommodation, well lets just say less than five star.
The latest maps in front of me were planning a motorbike ride in the school holidays with Cooper. I had been planning a run along the great ocean road but the logistics proved too difficult so a revised ride was made out West to Tenterfield, Armidale and back down to Coffs Harbour via Dorrigo and Bellingen, great riding country indeed and especially in spring.
As the time to head off drew closer, and after several “test runs” around the South East QLD, I was concerned that I was still biting off more than we were ready for. A trip of two thousand kilometers meant riding more than four hundred km runs each day and I wasn’t sure we could/would want to ride that far each day.
The trip was revised again to cut out Tenterfield and Armidale and wind through the Mount Lindsay National Park to Kyogle, a recognized blend of mountains and scenic riding, all without having to travel on main highways.
We had never camped before and to be honest, I wasn’t sure we could carry all the required equipment. We had just figured on staying in hotels along the way, but as time drew closer we decided it would really add to the adventure pitching a tent wherever we wanted, so we would give it a go.
So, on an overcast Saturday morning, under the threat of rain but with dry bitumen outside the driveway, we climbed aboard our loaded up Harley Davidson Road King ready for five days of father/son bonding and adventure. It was nice to be on the road and the first 70km lead us out of town to Jimboomba and the gateway to country life.




One of the great things about riding is there is no screen in front of you. Especially in an open helmet, there are no blind spots, no frames or borders, just the unobstructed view of the lush green countryside and the aromas of the flowering bush land. It also means that Cooper and I can talk about what we can see, smell and feel around us. We had also agreed on a couple of ground rules; that we would not ride more than one hundred kilometer’s, or an hour without a break, and that we would not ride in the rain. Our first one hundred kilometers found us at Beaudesert and MacDonald’s beckoned for a coffee and drink. A light shower tried to precipitate but nothing could eventuate so we were on our way through the green fields hosting loads of very contented looking cows. As the road narrowed after Rathdowny, and wound up through Mount Lindsay the sound of first bellbirds then whip birds rang through the lush green mountain side, its soothing whistle a harmony over the rumble of the motorbike engine and enticing the cares of the world to melt away with each corner.
With the unmistakable Mt Warning present in the east, we eased our way to Grevillia, the picturesque countryside distracted by our still unseasoned backsides. Whilst stopping to finish off the last of the boiled eggs Eva had prepared for us, we had our first encounter with a group of pushbike riders who were peddling their way over Mt Lindsay to Kyogle for the weekend. After some good-humored banter we left them with their multitude of packs and wearied legs for Kyogle and our first campsite.
Kyogle, a country town replicated over the country with one street lined by stores and providers of food, country clothing and stock for the surrounding farms. There are no malls to get trapped into, just honest, no frills shops behind brick veneer and glass windows. Oh, and of course a pub on a corner, halfway up the street!
Cooper and I parked the bike amongst a posse of scooters and fossiked up and down both sides of the street. Particular attention was made of the second hand shop selling old sporting goods and an endless amount of antique farming and fashion items. Absent were any TVs or electrical goods normally adorning the racks of the city counterparts.
We found the caravan park on the edge of town, a comfortable if not basic park providing the necessities required. As we entered there is a sign leading you to a van down the back of the park. The park attendant was a disheveled, plumpish woman slumped in a chair with an array of native birds walking over her head and chest. She pointed us down to a spot remarking, “Give yourself room between the car and other campers, no need to be too close”!!

Our campsite at Kyogle

We dutifully picked our spot and pitched the tent without issue, picking the softest spot of grass knowing the padding we were expecting from our yoga mats.
Behind the camp ran a creek and a botanical garden that provided a beautiful ambience and the opportunity to stretch our legs in the pleasant surroundings.
Up early the next morning we cooked our breakfast on the BBQ, joining in with our new found peddling friends preparing to journey back to Rathdowny, before packing and gearing up for a big day heading south.
Our Sunday found us at Casino without having to disturb the cruise control. Sitting well below the speed limit allowing us the time to take it all in. Past Casino the grazing land gave way to crown reserve land and National Parks before stopping at Grafton, the city of Jacaranda’s, not yet blooming yet bursting with foliage shedding a green hue in preparation of turning the streets purple.
Heading south down the Summerland Way we followed our nose toward Orana, which seemed to go for far longer than I expected and after a quick drink and stretch at the quaint little town we turned off onto the Dorrigo-Coffs Harbour Road. Google maps show a continuous, unbroken sealed road, and as we began the trek up the tight windy road there was no indication of what was to come!
After around 50kms of the climb the bitumen gave way to gravel, then sand, then rutted, potholed mixture of everything, my worst nightmare!! The last 30km although very scenic took nearly two hours as we gingerly picked our way to Dorrigo. Never have I been so glad to see solid gravel!!
At Dorrigo we calmed the nerves at Del Fuego, and their worlds smallest motorcycle museum, before heading off to the famous skywalk looking over the dramatic volcanic basin.


Dorrigo skywalk
The short run down to Belligen was a cakewalk compared to the road to the summit and as the temperature dropped we pulled into meet friends and eat ice cream. Bellingen reminds me of Byron Bay 25 years ago, a little alternative and hippy woven into the thread of art and tourism.
Nine children running amok was heaven for Cooper and it was really nice to catch up with old friends who shared some local knowledge taking us to a beautiful set of deep wells in the stream with a rope swing and a series of rock pools full of tadpoles
With some sadness we left the gang at Bellingen and made for Coffs Harbour and the Big Banana before pitching our tent at Emerald Beach. If you ever want your siblings to have instant celebrity status, turn up late into a busy caravan park on a Harley. Kids came running from everywhere as we rumbled down the narrow street hosting everything from hopscotch and cricket, to touch football and tricycle drag racing to our campsite. At the same time parents were equally intent on removing their children from the evil invaders that must surely run them down given the chance. This only seems to enhance our reputation and as we made our way to the playground I could hear others buzzing….”that’s the kid who came on the Harley”
That night we slept well on Pizza and gelato.
Scenic dirt road up to Dorrigo

We woke to a beautiful morning, and enjoyed a BBQ breakfast and walk on the beach before heading south for a couple of kilometers and turning back toward Nana Glen. Just that little amount of Pacific Highway was enough, with ever improved roads providing ever more distance being able to be traveled and an ever more vigilant police force to keep everyone in check! Off the highway, and immediately the pace was relaxed with the focus returned to the journey rather than the end point.
Grafton found us following the Clarence river east along the northern bank of the river and possibly the nicest stretch of road and scenery thus far. We caught the barge over the river into McLean, one of my favorite towns with the light poles all painted in different Scottish tartan patterns. At Woodburn we stopped by the river for a break and appreciation before skirting around a thunderstorm cell and taking final refuge for the day at an old friend Linda’s home at Sandy Beach with her son Albert. A jovial night was spent catching up whilst the boys, well, did boys stuff.
The morning sun also attracted some whales playing just off the beach and who could resist a swim to cool off after kicking a football around.
Mid morning found us packed and embarking on the last day of our adventure. The ride up through Lennox Head and Byron Bay was without incident and I felt we were becoming very comfortable and at ease as we took our break at Murwillumbah with the first signs of brewing storm clouds around the mountains ahead.


I’m sure the waitress at the Flamingo Café was bemused when a leather-clad 10yr old saunters up and orders scones with jam and cream and a chocolate milkshake! Never the less they were good and we could have stayed longer but I was growing concerned with the advancing black clouds so we re adjusted our gear and headed for the hills.
I love this countryside and have driven it many times and so was a little disappointed that although we by and large missed the rain, the road was wet and greasy, so the ride was cautious all the way to Currumbin and Nerang.

The rope swing at Hidden Paradise Bellingen

Just as we entered the rat race called the Highway, Cooper fell asleep!! His head began rolling from the backrest of the bike into the middle of my shoulder blades, and most disturbingly over to the sides. I had no choice but to continue for the next few kilometers with one arm holding onto his jacket whilst attempting to shake him from his impromptu catnap. Eventually, we found a service station to pull into and have a rest and water. All the while our phone was showing building storm cells in front of us. Our journey thus far had been incident free and I was very keen to continue that trend all the way home!
Just before Yatala it hit! The heavens opened up and we were instantly drenched with greatly reduced visibility and the familiar sensation of first wet legs, followed by the trickle of water running down the back of the pants until the seat is completely soggy.
With the Yatala Pie Shop as a welcomed refuge we warmed up with a tasty Pie and took the chance to have a last history lesson. The movie cars came to mind as we looked at the old Pacific Highway, barely recognizable from its past days of glory running directly out of the pie shop, now a concrete car park and drive through into a service station as the commuter traffic powered past several hundred meters away without any thought for the piece of history off to the side!
Crossing the Clarence River to Mclean The Big Banana-Coff’s Harbour





The radar was showing a favorable break between the storms, so we set off toward home and as we cruised up the highway it began to dawn on me that in the last 5 days something magical had occurred. Somewhere between the initial naive excitement and sore buttocks on the first day and Yatala, there had grown an unspoken bond, a camaraderie that develops between males that tend to forge a lifetime trust. Was it the ride, the camping, the exploring new places, the uncomfortable nights sleep on smelly yoga mats, the adventure as a whole? Whatever it was, as I sit at home and reminisce I am eternally grateful