Great Ocean Road Adventure



12 Apostles

 

  I blame this bike riding on Peter Moore whose book Vroom  detailed his travels around Italy on a Vesper.. In 2009 I happened to have four free days in the US and was looking for something to do. Inspired by his book I decided there could be nothing more American than reviving my old biking days and heading off for a free spirited adventure. So it was then that I headed off on a Harley Davidson Road King to spend four wonderful days cruising down the West coast of the USA. During that ride I got to thinking about the great riding we had back here in Australia and the top two rides were Melbourne's Great Ocean Road and basically the whole of Tasmania.
Not long after I returned I was seduced into purchasing my own Harley and, despite the Midlife Crisis jokes I endured, I loved (and still do) my riding in QLD. However the "cruising spirit" that still runs deep within wanted to explore further and as I delved into possibilities it happened that work put on a conference in Melbourne the days before Easter! That was it, I booked my bike in with bikenut transport and set about trying to put into place the logistics required to make it happen.
As I sit here in Brisbane airport, my bike almost there, my helmet and gear waiting for me at the conference hotel, and Cooper due to fly in on Thurs morning, my heart is aflutter. Another extraordinary dream is about to come to fruition and also setting off a succession of adventures for the year ahead. We are planning on spending the next four days following the wild Victorian coast buffeted by centuries of weather blown up from Antarctica. We are in the zone of the roaring forties where since my childhood I have read of mariners coping with the cold, wild winds and huge ocean swells roaming  undisturbed with only Tasmania, New Zealand and Cape Horn  to break their relentless march through the Great Southern Ocean.

Ready to leave Melbourne

Our travels will take us into the Great Australian Bite with its dramatic cliffs and sandy protected beaches. A feature is the 12 apostles, 12 giant limestone formations sitting just clear of the cliffs in defiance of mother nature herself. Sadly, four have succumbed to the relentless pounding, leaving eight magnificent structures to brave the elements.
Set amongst the unforgiving territory there stands a tough fishing fleet, hardened by the conditions but coerced by the bountiful fair abounding in the turbulent waters. This has lead to scenic boat harbours nestled into strategic points and lighthouses marking their way.
If this sounds a bit romantic and like a fairytale, then lets wait and see. I have never been there and I am painting my childhood fantasies for you to help set the mood for my excitement. During this time we plan to cover around 1100kms to Adelaide, leaving the coast at Mt Gambier on the Victorian/South Australia border and heading up through the vineyards of Coonawarra before a reunion with my American trips partner in crime!

Coffee on the Bay- St Kilda

The Day broke bright bright in Melbourne on the day of departure. With a few hours to spare before Cooper arrived I made my way to the only familiar bit of Melbourne - St Kilda. In My past days as a professional sailor racing down by the pier it was a pretty seedy part of town, but things have changed now and and has been transformed into a trendy seaside town and I had to while away a pleasant few hours at the West Beach bathers pavilion. The coffee wasn't to my taste but I enjoyed sitting over the sand listening to classical music and watching several energetic dogs doing their best to wear out their owners! 
Soon enough it was time to head out to the airport  to pick Cooper up and and head south where the bells beach bell was tolling! 
The freeway south was both busy and uninteresting. If the rain had drenched this stretch of earth it certainly didn't look it and as the traffic thinned we found ourselves on the genesis of the Great Ocean Road and the Surf Coast entrance to Torquay and Bells.
Torquay is the base for surf companies such as Rip Curl and Billabong and there is a plethora of major outlets sweating on Kelly Slater, Mike Fanning and the crew coming for signing day. We purchased our 50th anniversary competition shirts and made our way out to Bells to check out the action proper!
The competition site at Bells Beach is accessed via several tracks leading down from the cliff tops which provided an excellent vantage point to watch several heats of surfers making the most of the 2m swell wrapping around the point before smashing onto the sheer cliff face stretching North providing a dramatic backdrop to the heat of battle.
I was conscious of how far we had to travel and so all too quickly we rode off into the fading light with ominous clouds building off the coast..
As we reached Angelsea we stopped to put on our wet weather gear and just as we set off again it began to rain and never let up the rest of our ride to Apollo Bay. By Lorne, a really pretty town, the light had all but gone and I was frustrated that we were now not only riding in miserable conditions, but that we were also missing some of the prettiest coast with a great swell running.
Eventually we pulled into our booked hotel and unpacked. Our hosts kindly moved their car from their lock up garage and allowed us to park both locked away and out of the rain!!
Apollo Bay was certainly a beautiful town in the morning light and despite the intermittent rain we walk down to the cafes on the Esplanade and settled down for breakfast.
Here we had our first taste of Victorian hospitality. As Cooper went to order the lady next to us commented on what a good mannered boy he was. this lead to a conversation about or trip and possible future plans. Without hesitation Lorraine gave me her number and e mail address and offered to store my bike at her and her husbands(a bike enthusiast) house!

Apollo Bay

If the stretch between Torquay and Apollo Bay is called the Surf Coast, the next section is as aptly named the "Shipwreck Coast". In the centuries following Cook's discovery of Australia in the1700's, this piece of coast was the first seafarers would come across after 7 - 8 months at sea.  This unforgiving coast made for certain calamity to any unwary or unfortunate vessel and over the years there were plenty. With no escape from the water, most of the crew and passengers met an unfortunate end along with 

At Bells Beach

the floundering vessels.
Several key light houses and signaling posts were quickly set up to help aid ships navigation and one of those was the lighthouse and signaling station at Cape Otway.  We exited off the main road and found our way through the Eucalyptus and Gum trees littered with Koalas happily resting in their Eucalyptus leaf drugged state. Now a maritime museum we climbed the lighthouse and marvelled at the changing ship to shore communications. At the advent of the station, a flagpole was erected to display signals by appropriate flags. This was replaced by Morse code followed by telex and fax. communication now is by long and short wave radio and satellite phone.
Also of note there was also an aboriginal heritage camp their which shed an enormous amount of light on the surrounding area. The region to the north is predominantly sandstone. That changes however south of Apollo Bay where Limestone becomes the significant rock formation which provided both the fabulous formations over the next one hundred kilometers and the stone for the buildings in both South Australia and Victoria.

I liken the Otoway national park to the Big Surr in the US ride. As if anticipating the need for a break from the buffeting the coast dealt out, the highway hits the Otway National Park and immediately furrows through magnificent rain forest offering protection from the wind and giving a treat for the senses. As the aroma of eucalyptus mixes with the earthy natural mulch, it gives off a refreshing and calming change from the salt blowing in with the the heavy maritime air.



Cape Otway Koala

 Although the cliffs remain constant heading south, the waves are broken up before smashing onto the cliff face by enormous pillars of limestone. Immediately south are the famous 12 apostles followed by "London Bridge", all the more apt since half of the structure has since fallen down!
Further south again is the Bay of Martyrs, hundreds of smaller rocky outcrops littering the bay.
Our journey was constantly being broken as we pulled over, removed helmets and gloves, took photos and returned!






London Bridge



Bay of Martyrs

If Torquay is the heart of this coast, then Warnambool is its origin. It was the first bay set up for safe navigation and where supplies and cargo both human and solid were dropped off. I was looking forward to visiting this town and there was a certain amount of anticipation as we approached. In reality though, it was too big to be quaint and full of character, but not big enough to develop its own bustle and personality. We  kept riding around looking for something but alas we found nothing.  There is a laser light show at Flagstaff Pt but persistent rain and desire to get dry and warm kept us tucked in our hotel room. Early next morning we drove down to the harbour and had breakfast at the surf club watching as bare bodies braved the 14 degree temperatures to plunge into the 12 degree water! Adding to that it was the only surf club I have been into with an open fireplace as a centrepiece.
A short ride following the coast we came across Port Fairy. A small coastal town that was everything Warnambool was not. It was a Saturday morning and the town markets were humming with activity and yachts of all descriptions lined the wharfs running through the town, their wet weather gear drooped over the rigging in a forlorn attempt to dry in the weak Easter sun. We were only there half an hour but I was already besotted and vowed to stay here on the return trip.



Port Fairy

 Our next stop was at Portland, a return to the larger commercial town with a huge breakwater enclosing the expanse of water and creating a calm playground for the residents. Here, over lunch we mat John, a visitor and soon to be Harley owner. Waiting on the delivery of his Street Glide we chatted for some time before exchanging numbers and promising to share a ride when back in Melbourne. Here, as  with the whole of the trip the Road King seemed to attract plenty of attention and photographs, with no end of friendly banter and appreciation of what a father and son on a Harley were doing here!





Water frontage - Nelson



From Portland we had two options as we crossed the border into South Australia to Mount Gambier. Off course we chose the coastal path that lead to the tiny town of Nelson with its houses anchored into the riverbank but essentially counter levered over the water. An ice cream and photos and we took our first major turn west, leaving the winding coastal road and blustery maritime air for the immediately more tranquil inland air and long straight roads leading us to South Australia. We covered the 100kms to Mount Gambier in the blink of an eye and immediately came across its gem. Mount Gambier is an extinct volcano and its peak is an enormous crater filled with that volcanic deep blue water that one could only imagine how deep but gives the impression of being bottomless. Around its rim were some really pretty houses.  We were on a mission now to complete the last one hundred kilometers before darkness and the threat of Kangaroos so we left all too soon for Narracorte. The straight, flat roads made the trip pass without incident and after travelling 350km in the days run we were happy to order pizza in house.

 It was a fresh, sunny Easter Sunday that greeted us

entering South Australia

 from our warm hotel room and as we packed  there was a new energy and excitement. The quietness of four days of father/son bonding was to be replaced with lots of children and people. Joanna's children Konnor, Jordan and Elise were waiting with all sorts of balls and games and so we were now on a mission. We did however,  treat ourselves to an Easter Egg having found its way into our packs before we left.

With more long, straight roads I was able to take in more of the surroundings. Coonawarra is a famous wine region hosting vineyards from some of Australia's top drops. Penfolds, Lindeman and
Yallumba are some of the names that have helped made the region famous, and although we didn't stop at any of the cellar doors available, rows upon rows of vines camouflaged by rose bush's, willows and maples with leaves turning gold,  and green pines made for a magnificent backdrop. Approaching Adelaide we began to meander along a broad highway meandering through the green fields and verandered buildings perched on magnificent blocks of manicured gardens. The riding was easy and fun with cornering allowing good visibility and duel lanes  keeping oncoming traffic clear.
Compared to Melbourne and Sydney traffic, Adelaide is wide, relatively free of traffic and generally easy to get around. Its streets are lined with trees and the houses seemed to pride themselves with stone veneer fronts and fine gardens. It is obviously a great climate for growing roses and they adorned the fine gardens in all their array of colours and varieties and scents, making riding through them both visually and aromatically appealing. .

Blue lake-Mount Gambier



Having arrived and immediately being swamped by children, our days consisted of basketball, football, tennis, and general play. Except for some pics of the Panda's at the zoo I will leave our magnificent journey there. Four wonderful days together meeting incredibly friendly and helpful people liiving out childhood dreams and learning some history and geography on the way.
We look forward to many more opportunities on the return home,  but for now we fly back from Adelaide, happy, content and satisfied with an Easter that had a lot of everything.

















West coast USA on a Harley Davidson

The Coast of Highway 1 has it all

I consider myself more of a boatie than a biker. I am most at home on the sea and have an affinity with the water. Still, the moment you press the run button and the starter motor whines, catching the 1800cc engine causing it to throb into life, has to be one of the purest, almost sensual sounds I know. An inner spirit is unleashed and thrust into being which is I think, the essence, magic of riding a Harley Davidson.
After wrapping up four days of conference in San Francisco I was keen to explore the much acclaimed United States West Coast and I figured what better way to see it than on a Harley. I had never ridden one before, my experience is on sport bikes, but somehow the road king cruiser seemed the right choice for the occasion.
So after some e-mailing to California Motorcycle Adventures (CMA) here I was being introduced to the gleaming chrome and black beast hung low on it's white walled tyres.
My plan was not to try and cover so much distance, rather explore the most popular stretch as far south as Morrow Bay around 300 miles south of San Francisco. Ilene (from CMA) also recommended a ride home via the mountains and Californian desert would make a worthwhile round trip. I didn't book any hotels and departed on a Friday afternoon with a small bag of clothes, a suggested itinery and a head full of dreams and aspirations.

Me the bike and the open road!

My first destination was Half Moon Bay, a short drive down the coast on a fairly easy stretch of highway and scenic mountain roads meandering down to the home of Mavericks, a legendary big wave location and a sleepy working marina that a friend had kept her boat in before crossing the pacific to Australia.
As the yellow ball of sun retired over the ocean to the west I parked myself down by one of the big steel pots at the Half Moon Bay Brewing Co. With the coal fire warming the evening chill I tucked into fish and chips downed with a locally brewed beer. The full moon rose behind the mountains and the band rocked on into the night, this was going to be one hell of a ride.

A hot coffee was top of agenda as I headed south the next morning.. Otherwise sane people covered head to toe in thick rubber sat out in water chilled by the arctic currents. The air refrigerated by the cold water also known as the Pacific Ocean rushed by my face. After my morning caffeine hit I headed south, the warmth of the sum a welcome relief on my hands. Soon the traffic thinned out leaving room to open out and appreciate the desolate coastline stretching before me. At pelican point I cranked up the i pod and left my singing to be blown away with the passing breeze, I felt alive and vibrant. I was living the dream. Cruising the west coast on a hog; surely it couldn't get any better than this.
All too soon I was in Santa Cruz. As I made my way to the northern tip and natural bridges it struck me how protected we were from the stiff N/W breeze that had followed me all the way down. It was warm and the surfers and kayakers paddled around in glassy water disrupted only by the kelp and elephant seals rising slowly with the gentle swell.

When planning the railway in the early eighteen hundreds they decided to build two separate, unlinked lines, one for the common folk to Santa Cruz, the other, for the well healed further south to Monterey and Carmel. Santa Cruz is home to a playground of amusement parks and roller coasters. It is also famous for it's massive pier- the boardwalk, included in various movies and a song from under it. Off course I had to sit under it and absorb it's words, still relevant today. Lunch was a clam chowder at the end of the pier.
After a pleasant couple of hours I continued south toward it's up market neighbor. The only notable stop was at a bar frequented by traveling bikers. In the heart of the artichoke country, I lined my bike up outside “The Whole Enchilada”, a small dark bar with every possible piece of wall and ceiling covered in one-dollar bills. I took a quick lap, pushing through the sea of leather and bandanas before deciding to hit the open road again.
The rest of the journey to Monterey was pretty uneventful and I was pleased to arrive and have a look around town including a trip out to the lighthouse and a fabulous tour of the foreshore. There was some outlets in the old fish cannery and the wharf was full of tourists but I'm guessing the locals didn't spend much time there so I went in search of their hang outs.

Heading out early I pulled into Carmel for my obligatory coffee and chat. This was going to be an exciting day. Everyone I had spoken to had raved about the one hundred odd miles of coast winding through the Big Sur National Park.
Carmel was indeed a beautiful and picturesque town with lovely architecture and well maintained seaside houses. The early morning sun cast a warm hue across the beach and swells as they came to rest on the sand. Early walkers lined the tide line with their trained dogs obediently following on their leads.

No sooner had I left Carmel than the magic began, a concrete bridge spanning a cove on the cliffs introduced a day of magnificent road that hug the coast line, mainly being cut out from the cliffs that rose majestically out of the ocean and towered high above. The bitumen undulated as it wound around the headlands leaving breathtaking views the whole way. I seemed to play leapfrog with other bikers and travelers stopping to take in the vista.

Early Morning Carmel

The only break from the coast was through the Big Surr town where the coast was swapped for towering pines and forest, its aroma as distinctive as the scenery. Somewhere in the bends I found myself deep in the seat and at one with the machine underneath me.





Monteray



                                  



The Boardwalk - Santa Cruz



 



Marina Headquaters

  





                  

                                                                                        Road undulating around the cliffs                    

I also came across a beach literally covered with elephant seals. Covering themselves with sand to protect them selves from the sun, any movement meant trampling over the surrounding seals wallowing on the sandy shoreline.

San Simeon bay was another highlight. With a jetty originally build to bring in supplies and the hardware to build nearby Hearse Castle, an eccentric millionaire who wanted to replicate some of England’s castles.

Cayucos is another small coastal town just short of Morrow Bay and prides itself on its quieter pace. I really enjoyed a late lunch and local beer sitting by the bar overlooking the sparkling bay. It was really noticeable by now the handshakes and language had changed dramatically since leaving San Fran and I enjoyed sitting and observing the interactions of the
locals.

San Simeon

Still buzzing from my ride and bar experience I nudged my way the last 5 miles to Morrow bay, another pretty harbour protected by a huge rock that dominates the landscape. A local band was gigging out on the waterfront and I couldn’t disguise my pleasure from such a fantastic day.

Cool Bridge on Higway 1

                                    

Morrow Bay

After a restful sleep I was up early churning with anticipation of the day ahead. Up till now I had no exact locations to find or destinations to meet. Today I had to leave the coast and take the road less traveled back to the bike shop. In reality I couldn’t even remember anything about the bike shop having left excited and pre occupied by the prospects ahead.

If the coast road was scenic and encouraged regular stops and photo opportunities highway 25 was a riders road. As the highway wound its way up into the hills and out into the desert, the road was relatively wide and visibility clear. It was warm and there was no fog that had routinely found its way across the coast. With almost no oncoming traffic it was the perfect road to just let the bike grip the road and feel the curves. There were no stops for photos, or slowing for RV’s, just a glorious ride home.

I did stop by the Pinnacles National Park for a walk and opportunity to stretch the legs with a hike out to the caves and have lunch, but basically it was just a sensational ride on a bike that was as comfortable to ride as the seat I was parked on.

The last hour found me on the 101(N), the freeway back to San Francisco. It wasn’t the 80-90 m/h I was doing that concerned me, it was the big utilities rushing by at about 110m/h I found daunting. I wasn’t in a hurry and to be honest wasn’t looking forward to either giving this magnificent bike back, or having to try and find the bike shop.

This Guy captured my idea of California !!

Eventually I did both and now as I reminisce over the trip of dreams I must thank the crew at California Motorcycle Adventures for a beautifully turned out bike and helpful service and attitude and all the friendly people who helped make this a trip of a lifetime.