Acid Rain

You may remember last month that I had to purchase myself a new battery for the R1 so that this ride could go ahead.

After the ride I washed my bike and put it in the shed, only getting it out again last week for a "tootle" to the shops to pick up some dry cleaning.

As I was putting it back in the shed I noticed some water on the swingarm, in front of the rear wheel. Now, as we have not had any rain in almost 2 months I was suspicious. On closer inspection I could see that the liquid was dripping from the battery box! Oh....no...!

 

Oh f@#k Yes! It was battery acid. I quickly whipped the seat off, had the battery out and began washing down the swingarm. But it was too late. The damage was done.

 

Fast forward to this week. I took the battery back to the store that I bought it from with the idea of chasing the battery distributors up for a replacement and restoration of my bike. I wasn't angry but I had my argument firmly laid out in my mind for when the "its not our responsibility" excuses were trotted out. Well I was pleasantly surprised. I presented the battery, explained what happened and the bike shop staff quickly nipped off to the workshop to show the "boys" the battery. He came back, rang the distributor and organised to have my bike picked up to assess it and test the voltage regulator. All without a further question asked on my part. I was impressed! I was also worried. Worried that a faulty regulator on my 10 year old bike had fried the battery, causing it to split.

 

 

I had a call from the bike shop yesterday and it turns out that my regulator was tested by the battery distributor in the bike shop's workshop and it was charging normally. Whew!

Now the battery distributor is organising for my swingarm to be repaired as well as a new battery. Or so I have been told. I must admit, with me leaving for the US on Monday I am a bit concerned with how this will pan out. I just hope it stays on track nicely, as it has so far. Watch this space....

Speaking of "watch this space", some of you may have seen this guy before but you can never see too much. I especially like his dismount at then end.

In The Clover

With zero rainfall in the last 50 days or so, it is getting dry out there in the bush and we are seeing plenty of visitors to our back yard.

This has meant that the kids lovingly nurtured little pumpkin vines are a prime target. Today we fashioned some mesh guards to protect the few that are left, but with a face like this, we can't bear too much of a grudge against these raiders.

Cross-ing A Line

The sport of Cyclocross is huge in Europe and has a large following in the US. It is much less well known here in Australia, although there is a solid following in the southern states.

The crew from Mudsters of Of The Universe are trying to generate some interest here in South East Queensland and last Saturday was the second of their two part race series. I decided to go along to have a go at the Sport category race for a bit of a laugh. I mean, how hard could a 30 minute race be?

Turning up to register and there was a very professional looking SRAM van setting up as well as the mandatory coffee truck and what looked like miles of red and white bunting. It certainly looked the business!

Not having a 'cross bike, or any idea of what was going on for that matter, I entered the Sport category. For my $10 I was given the number 2 to pin to my back. Nothing like over-seeding a bloke!

The kids race was underway so I chilled by chatting to Andrew and Emma in between still trying to figure out what was going on.

After the kids race I decided to head out for one sighting lap to see where the track went. This was probably not a great idea as an athlete is such a high state of tune as myself can't just go using up his energy willy-nilly! More on that later...

Eventually we lined up for the Sport race. There were six or seven of us with two of the racers used to being at the sharp end of things on a pretty much permanent basis. Not that I had any pretense about placing anywhere except towards the rear!

So there we were, standing on the start line, chatting with the starter when all of a sudden she says "3,2,1, GO!". WTF?!? That was the start? How about some warning? I was standing there, both feet flat on the ground. Not even one foot clipped in! Ah, no problems though. When you posses legs with the explosive power of a bowl of cold custard....well....yep, you are pretty well screwed!

Not to worry though. I soon had my legs screaming at me, my heart beating at about 190bpm(fairly terminal for an old bloke) and my vision going strangely tunnel shaped.

Coming around to the barriers for the first time I was all psyched to bunny hop them but jumped off and carried my bike over them. Embarrassing, as I am sure I bunny hop logs that high in the bush.

The thing I noticed as we went around was how the leaders were still in view. This was somewhat novel for me as a perennial back marker I usually never see the leaders after the start as they are packed up and gone home before I finish! The way the course constantly wound back on itself was the reason for this encouragement.

Anyway, in the first lap or so I passed a couple of people but as I began to fade about 15 minutes into this 100 000 year..er 30 minute race I had the favour returned, being re-passed by young Emma on her single speed weapon. I almost felt better that it was done on the tarmac straight and I was way less aerodynamic than her, but hey, I know I am clutching at empty excuses!

 

Around this part of the race I noticed that one of the noisy spectators was particularly rowdy and once my aged eyes focused through the pain, I saw it was none other than OutDoorGaz.

He proceeded to give both Emma and myself much sage advice on how us pair of princesses needed to harden up and stop weeping. You just can't do without that sort of motivation. No, really! Thanks Gaz!

Gaz also found my camera and snapped a few mementos. I have purposefully not posted any of my own pain though. Why does everyone else look so cool and collected when on the precipice?

 

 

Anyway, eventually the pain ended. I finished in ....er, well...um..yes, I finished. Not last, but I could see it from where I was! The interesting thing is that we were all grinning like idiots at the finish. Even though I spread myself thinner than a small jar of Vegemite at a Wiggles concert, I had a ball!

 

 

Yes, my chest hurt and my arm tingled a bit but Gaz said it was ok because it was my right arm and I am sure I didn't have the reddest face out there. Excellent!!

Unfortunately I could only hang around for part of the B grade race to heckle Andrew as we had a school open day to check out. Could I do the open day from a reclined position was my only thought here.

 

I would definitely be keen to build up a ghetto 'cross bike after getting at slight taste for it. The dismounting and remounting for the barriers is way easier than I thought it would be but the intensity of the race has me thinking I wish I was into this stuff when I was in my twenties.

 

 

 

 

A proper 'cross bike would make me faster....wouldn't it....?

OMG !!!

I just realised that this starts the day we arrive in Vegas!!!!! How do I snare a spot?


Will I be like a kid in a toy shop?  F@CK YEAH!!!

Am I Ready?

Well this year seems to be rolling along unabated. I am sure in reality time is a constant for most of us but it seems to be slipping by faster and faster.

Here is a quote from one of my favourite books, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller.

“Do you know how long a year takes when it's going away?" Dunbar repeated to Clevinger. "This long." He snapped his fingers. "A second ago you were stepping into college with your lungs full of fresh air. Today you're an old man."
"Old?" asked Clevinger with surprise. "What are you talking about?"
"Old."
"I'm not old."
"You're inches away from death every time you go on a mission. How much older can you be at your age? A half minute before that you were stepping into high school, and an unhooked brassiere was as close as you ever hoped to get to Paradise. Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon. Zip! They go rocketing by so fast. How the hell else are you ever going to slow down?" Dunbar was almost angry when he finished.
"Well, maybe it is true," Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone. "Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it's to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?"
"I do," Dunbar told him.
"Why?" Clevinger asked.
"What else is there?” 
― Joseph Heller, Catch-22

Well, I am not taking Dunbar's approach. Trying to be as bored as possible to make time slow down just doesn't fit here. And that is my perfect excuse as to why my training for this year's Flight Centre Epic has involved only a couple of gentle exploration rides, bookended by a few kids rides. There is just too much going on and I can't fit it all in.

This is going to hurt. A lot.

Think I might go for a ride. Have a great weekend all.

Tempting

With more time spent in Perth last week I walked past a local bike shop that has had an interesting steed hanging in the window for at least six months now.

Aaand it has dropped by 21% so far.

 

Watch this space?!

 

 



Ah Geez, Mah Knees!! (Or Touring On A Sportsbike)

Well, I had great plans to bring you a sweeping tale of breathtaking vistas, twisty sinewy ribbons of tar and gratuitous piccies of myself, all from the back of a touring R1. Alas, all did not play out as planned and my enthusiasm for writing about it is as low as Tajikistan's medal tally in London.

Leading into the ride all looked positive. I was alive. I was on holiday. It was sunny. In fact, the weather was bloody fantastic. Just as Brisbane winter weather should be with a big high pressure system dominating the country.

Yes, it was going to be clear and cool with no prospect of rain. Excellent time for a ride.

The plan was this...

View Larger Map

The ride started badly when I went to test start the bike the night before for a refuel run. It didn't. Bugger! I had an inkling the battery might not be up to the task so I put it on the charger for a top up as this had worked last month. I also popped the camera on charge so it would be ready for the pounding it would cop.

With my gear on and ready to go I thumbed the starter to be greeted with ever decreasing starter revolutions.......bl#&dy......so it was off to the friendly bike shop, still in my leathers, for a new battery. So new in fact, that I had to put the acid into it and wait 30 minutes for it to do it's thing. Dropped into the bike it really did it's thing and had the bike ticking over nicely. The down side is that it was now two hours later and I knew I would be pushing to make my overnight destination of Glenn Innes, 450km(282mi) away up on the Great Dividing Range.

I was quite excited to be heading down the Lions Road as I had heard much about it over the years from many riders, including the Motorcycle Paradise blog. I guess I would describe it as an adventure tourer road and certainly not sportsbike territory. Narrow, rough, very rough and plain nasty in places but with stunning scenery to make it worthwhile.

Now, taking this photo with the point and shoot camera, not the recently charged digital SLR that wouldn't fit into my backpack, I noticed a little red light flashing at me which indicated that the battery was about to go flat! Not again!! What is with me and batteries lately?

I managed to get two more photos before the camera turned up it's toes. One is of me at the lookout where the rail line makes a 360 degree turn to gain height to get over the border ranges from New South Wales into Queensland. You can't see the rail line though..........

So everything else was going to be from the GoPro or my phone. Great! Not that this ride was about blogging it to the world. I enjoy getting great shots of life in general, a sort of pictorial diary I guess. Maybe the kids will appreciate it one day?

This really is a pretty part of the world and I saw several campgrounds that will need further exploration on a MTB in the future.

From here I headed down to Kyogle, then Casino where I turned west and up the range toward Tenterfield. This is a very nice section of road only spoiled by the condition of the actual road surface.

 It is basically a patchwork of tar with many thousands of repair jobs done and hundreds yet to be done.

The scenery was magic, unfortunately my eyes were glued to the road so that I didn't hit a huge pimple of tar that had been pushed up and get lauched into low-orbit. This was made all the more trying as the wintery sun was getting low in the west now and my tinted visor, covered in bugs, made spotting hazards almost impossible. The only option was to back the speed right down.

Hmmmm...Adventure Bikes.....perfect for this area.

Into Tenterfield for a refuell and a stretch, then it was time for the boring run down the New England highway to Glenn Innes. Boring because this section of road seems to be Highway Patrol central. In all of my travels in Oz, I have never seen such vigilant police as I have seen in this area.

Anyway, I managed to keep it down to a sedate Warp 1 and all was well apart from the creeping cold that was infiltrating my leathers and summer, ventilated gloves.

Rolling into Glenn Innes, in true Forrest Gump style, I decided to fuel up right away as that was one less thing to worry about in the morning. At the servo (service station) I met a local on a Suzuki V-Strom and we chatted about various bike related things for 15 mintues or so. I had forgotten about the brotherhood and the friendliness of fellow motorcyclists when on the road. This was a nice little rediscovery.

Checking into a local motel I noticed a bike parked outside the unit next to mine. The owner popped out to say hi. After a few words I mumbled that I was going to warm up before seeking out a steak somewhere.

That somewhere turned out to be the Great Central Hotel. A friendly place that I had eaten at before, I knew that a great feed was in store. Entering the double fireplace equipped dining room(did I mention it gets cold here?) I spied my next door neighbour from the motel. He invited me to join him and we enjoyed a hearty meal, much chat about motorcyclin' all washed down with several glasses of red wine. 

We then adjourned to the bar to watch some Olympic coverage on TV and chat with the Publican. He turned out to be a top bloke and we chatted the night away solving all manner of ills. Before I knew it I was the last person in the place and said my farewells. If you happen to be in the area, they cater to motorcyclists with great food, cheap, clean rooms, a lock up motorcycle storage shed and a warm atmosphere.

My plan was not to be overly eager with an early departure. Being the last out of the pub certainly helped with that mandate.

A good thing too, as my bike was still covered in frost at 9am and the overnight low was -5C/23F. Brrr....

I calculated that with the 5 1/2 hours available to me to cover 450km(282mi) I wasn't going to make school pick up in time and decided to just head down the Gwydir Highway to Grafton. This road drops down the Great Dividing Range and has some sweet sections of twisty road. The down side would be that on even a clear winter morning like this, the road surface would be wet in the shadows. Oh well. Take it easy was the motto of the day.

My dinner partner from the previous night had warned me about the wildlife along the road and I wasn't to be...erm....disappointed today! I found myself using the force to root several 'roos to the spot as I buzzed past!

Apart from the wildlife this is a pretty piece of road. Just a bit wet in the shadows.

Some 180 degree bends, located in the sun were an absolute pleasure to take in.

Though, a combination of a slightly fuzzy head and wet patches had me being overly cautious. This saw a lower than expected enjoyment factor.

As the road opened out at the bottom of the range it deteriorated rapidly into a bumpy, nasty goat track. I found that I was getting kicked in the bum so hard on the bumps that my head was being driven into my helmet. This was actually hurting the top of my head . Much like these things work.

 Add to this the odd huge bump that was basically a kick in the goolies and I was wondering what the heck I was doing subjecting myself to this punishment? Sure, I hurt when I go mountain bike riding but at least it keeps me fit and I get to enjoy the bush. Applying Brandy's "what did I learn" to todays ride, I learned how bad NSW roads were(but I sort of already knew that). When I asked myself "how is this making me smarter?" I could only answer "It isn't". In fact, I think it was actually making me dumber!! These roads were seriously rough and I was over it. Add to the bumps, my knees were killing me. In fact I think my knees wanted to lure me out into a cow pasture on the premise of taking in the view, then POW, I would be kneed into a bloody pulp. I am not sure how they planned to get away with it, but rational thought was out of the window by this stage. Strangely enough, my backside was fine.....

So as I filled up with fuel at Grafton I cut my plans to shreds again. I decided to head home up the boring, over policed, over trafficked Pacific Highway!?!

This road proved to be literally falling apart as well with multiple large road work projects underway. New South Wales really has let it's roads implode. Previous governments do have some questions to answer on this matter.

A couple of hours of mind numbingly boring highway which produced a flat spot in the centre of my rear tyre and another near revolt by my knees and I was home. And I was just in time for school pick up.

So. What did I learn on this trip?

I leant that I will never again tour on a sports bike. I cannot figure out how I used to do 1000km(625mi) days back to back on a sports bike. Oh, yes, wait. I was in my twenties!

While I love my bike and it's awesomeness, I will be confining myself to day rides around Brisbane where the roads are in MUCH better condition and I can hop off every hour or so for a coffee or a pie or a photo or to get my knees back on side.......

What I found myself craving as I rode was an adventure tourer. A BMW F800GS or a Triumph Tiger 800 would be the prefect weapon for touring this country. All of those dirt roads that were off bounds to me and my sports bike need exploring.

So, to my motorcycle followers I hope you will continue to check in here despite my less than positive self assessment as I will still be riding and blogging about it. They will most likely be day exploratory rides around South East Queensland with an emphasis on good photography...........now where did I put that bloody camera charger?