I’d been wanting to do a camping trip away on the Husky for ages but it hadn't happened for one reason or another. So when Rob floated the idea of the Original Recipe Pilgrimage, back to basics camping carrying everything you need, it sounded like a perfect trip for the Husky. I did consider taking my road bike, a Monster 1200S, the thought of hammering it on the Ilford-Sofala raceway was salivating enough. But I managed to stay true to my original plan and I'm glad I did.
The BikeMe Pilgrimage camping weekend is held every year in memory of the Bathurst Motorcycle races. The motorcycles stopped racing at Mt. Panorama years ago but some hardy souls continue toasting the memory of those heady days of racing and rioting. The Pilgrimage is always held at the coldest time of the year in one of the coldest places in Australia, Sofala. The temperature dropped below freezing and only the toughest and the stupidest answer the call. And I'm not tough.
As the day approached, things started to unravel a bit though. First the Husky refused to start. I charged the battery and it started. Then 2 days later it refused to start again. I changed the Battery. It started. Then I got sick. I took 2 days off work to give myself a chance to recover in time for the Pilgrimage. It worked, I felt good enough by Friday to consider going. Maybe not good enough for a sloggy dirt ride and camping in sub zero temperatures but good enough to get out of bed at least. But if you can get out of bed, you can ride a motorcycle!
The BikeMe Pilgrimage camping weekend is held every year in memory of the Bathurst Motorcycle races. The motorcycles stopped racing at Mt. Panorama years ago but some hardy souls continue toasting the memory of those heady days of racing and rioting. The Pilgrimage is always held at the coldest time of the year in one of the coldest places in Australia, Sofala. The temperature dropped below freezing and only the toughest and the stupidest answer the call. And I'm not tough.
As the day approached, things started to unravel a bit though. First the Husky refused to start. I charged the battery and it started. Then 2 days later it refused to start again. I changed the Battery. It started. Then I got sick. I took 2 days off work to give myself a chance to recover in time for the Pilgrimage. It worked, I felt good enough by Friday to consider going. Maybe not good enough for a sloggy dirt ride and camping in sub zero temperatures but good enough to get out of bed at least. But if you can get out of bed, you can ride a motorcycle!
I’d planned my route around 2 good looking (on the map) dirt rides. The first was in the Blue Mountains from Hartley to Jenolan Caves taking in part of the famous Six Foot Track. The second ride starts past Lithgow, at a little village called Sunny Corner and takes you all the way to the Sofala campground some 70 odd kilometres away through rough bush tracks.
I was pumped (full of panadol!) and keen to hit the trails. The track to Cox’s river campground is slow and slippery going. The track is narrow, clayey and covered with those marbley little pebbles that make going doing steep downhills a real arse clenching experience. And to make it even more interesting, there were quite a few 4WDs coming the other way at regular intervals. I was super cautious. Just where I hit the 6 foot track, I overtook a couple of 4WDs, then came around a steep downhill right hander and stacked it. It was a rookie mistake. The front wheel got stuck in a little rut and because the track was narrow and I was heading straight for the edge of the cliff, I tried to turn while the wheel was in the rut and the front washed out quicker than Snowy can say “IED”. I fell on my right shoulder (and it started really hurting like a bastard the next morning!) but had the presence to keep a grip on the clutch and keep the motor going. Picked it up quickly as I knew the 4WDs I had just overtaken would be coming around the corner any second. Too late. Just as I was picking the bike up, they were there and my embarrassment was complete. Well, actually no. there was more to come. I couldn’t get back on the bike. Picture this. I’m standing on a steep, slippery downhill slope at the edge of the road with a steep cliff a few feet away. The front is slipping even with the brake pressed. The bike is loaded so I can’t just swing a leg over and need to contort my left leg straight in front of me like a high kicking Cossack dancer while holding the front brake and maintaining my and the bike’s balance to avoid us toppling over the cliff. All this under the watchful stare of 2 families worth of 4WDs. The pressure was on and I took what seemed like 5 minutes to get on, while the 4WDers waited patiently, with not some slight amusement I’m sure. I overtook them again down the road but.
Coxs river campground is beautiful though and well worth the effort to get there.
I was pumped (full of panadol!) and keen to hit the trails. The track to Cox’s river campground is slow and slippery going. The track is narrow, clayey and covered with those marbley little pebbles that make going doing steep downhills a real arse clenching experience. And to make it even more interesting, there were quite a few 4WDs coming the other way at regular intervals. I was super cautious. Just where I hit the 6 foot track, I overtook a couple of 4WDs, then came around a steep downhill right hander and stacked it. It was a rookie mistake. The front wheel got stuck in a little rut and because the track was narrow and I was heading straight for the edge of the cliff, I tried to turn while the wheel was in the rut and the front washed out quicker than Snowy can say “IED”. I fell on my right shoulder (and it started really hurting like a bastard the next morning!) but had the presence to keep a grip on the clutch and keep the motor going. Picked it up quickly as I knew the 4WDs I had just overtaken would be coming around the corner any second. Too late. Just as I was picking the bike up, they were there and my embarrassment was complete. Well, actually no. there was more to come. I couldn’t get back on the bike. Picture this. I’m standing on a steep, slippery downhill slope at the edge of the road with a steep cliff a few feet away. The front is slipping even with the brake pressed. The bike is loaded so I can’t just swing a leg over and need to contort my left leg straight in front of me like a high kicking Cossack dancer while holding the front brake and maintaining my and the bike’s balance to avoid us toppling over the cliff. All this under the watchful stare of 2 families worth of 4WDs. The pressure was on and I took what seemed like 5 minutes to get on, while the 4WDers waited patiently, with not some slight amusement I’m sure. I overtook them again down the road but.
Coxs river campground is beautiful though and well worth the effort to get there.
Plenty of water in the river and the grass is a lurid green.
From there I headed up on fire trails through the Kanangra Boyd National Park towards Jenolan Caves.
From there I headed up on fire trails through the Kanangra Boyd National Park towards Jenolan Caves.
I finally came out into civilisation on the Jenolan Caves Road, maybe 5 Ks before the caves and headed towards Hampton. From Hampton, I headed down the Rydal road and explored the coastline of Lake Lyell. There’s a whole range of bush tracks around the lake, some are well steep and challenging. It’s a very scenic area and I lingered.
I was paranoid about my fuel range as the Husky only has a 12L tank but I was pleasantly shocked to find I’d only consumed 6L for the last 100KMs, which included some pretty slow going on bush tracks. This gave me the confidence that I’ll be right for fuel for the rest of the trip.
As good as the 6 foot track was, it was nothing compared to the ride from Sunny Corner to Sofala. That is just a sensational ride.
As good as the 6 foot track was, it was nothing compared to the ride from Sunny Corner to Sofala. That is just a sensational ride.
Scenic, Remote, isolated, technical, narrow, wide, bumpy, smooth, heaps of wildlife, thick Jungle and dairy properties. It just has everything. I didn’t see another vehicle or human for the whole 70Ks except in the last bit where I saw a couple of farmers while crossing their property. I was acutely aware that this could get messy if I got lost or fell off or if the bike played up. But that just added to the adventure of it and the exhilaration at the end.
It hadn’t rained for a week around here but it was still wet enough to keep me on my toes and I had a few interesting 2 wheel sliding moments.
It hadn’t rained for a week around here but it was still wet enough to keep me on my toes and I had a few interesting 2 wheel sliding moments.
There were so many kangaroos jumping around through this whole trek, I lost count of the number that dashed in front of me. Everytime the road opened up slightly and I thought I could open it up and relax a bit, bam! a hopping rat jumps out of the bush, scaring the shit out of me.
Getting close to Sofala, the road crosses the Turon river 4 times on causeways and the water gets progressively deeper and faster on each crossing. The last one was genuinely scary with the water coming up over the front fender. I had visions of drowning within shouting distance of the campsite! But thankfully that didn’t happen and it was great to see some familiar faces as I rolled into the campsite close to dusk.
The night was cold, long and full of hugs, explosions and deep and meaningful conversations. It was below freezing of course but that's not the bit I remember. The memorable bits were the eulogies to fallen comrades, the drunken riding, crashing and near lynching, the shouting and laughing. The specifics are not important. What's important is that it was a great night, which lead to a deep and blissful "passing out" in the wee hours of the morning.
And the ride the next day was a lot less enjoyable on account of the shenanigans of the previous night. That tends to happen though. No-one goes to a BikeMe event counting on being fully functional on the ride back home. It kinda defeats the purpose.
And the ride the next day was a lot less enjoyable on account of the shenanigans of the previous night. That tends to happen though. No-one goes to a BikeMe event counting on being fully functional on the ride back home. It kinda defeats the purpose.