The Commercial Hotel , I ’ m greeted by the publican , ushering me into secure off street bike parking , out of the weather and away from prying eyes . As I remove my helmet I ’ m told ‘ Mate , I ’ ll have a beer waiting for you on the bar when you come in .’
The Commercial is a great example of a good country pub ; warm hospitality , great food , simple yet comfortable accommodation , cold beer , and plenty of characters . Evening meals were hearty and well presented , with the conversation around the now constant rain and the likely condition of the tracks we were planning to tackle over the following day . Fuel range was another topic widely discussed , with a Husqvarna 630 joining the crew . Alcohol consumption was lower than normal with some palpable concern around the chosen route . I guess the next 24 hours would be the test of whether that concern was warranted and if the ride would truly become a ‘ Masterclass ’.
We all agreed to leave Walcha around 8am the following morning , so a relatively early night was called , and we headed to our respective sleeping quarters .
As my alarm sounded at 5am , I rolled over and thought about the coming day , it was bound to provide challenges and excitement , just how many and how much was unknown . No point in thinking about it too much , time to get on with it .
After a light breakfast , I made my way to The Royal , which was cloaked in an eerie silence . A quick text message , appropriately worded with particular reference to their choice of bike , ensured a rapid response from the sleeping Nuttas .
And so , the morning began ; packing and prepping of bikes , loading , and tightening bags , filling , and securing panniers , questions about finding bike keys and hoping it would start all seemed to lighten the mood a little . With a solid breakfast under everyone ’ s belt , Gloucester was the first stop for bikes to refuel and riders to grab some last-minute items . The ride to Gloucester was largely uneventful , Thunderbolts Way providing some entertainment and some frustration , slow logging trucks impeding progress at times , however the stop at Parsons Lookout and the magnificent view ensured plenty of smiles . A headlight failure on an F800 required a new globe in Gloucester , along with a top up of fuel for bikes and some extra nourishment for riders .
Barrington Tops was calling , a ribbon of bitumen leading from Gloucester to Barrington Tops particularly smooth and blemish free . Recent roadworks ensured a consistent surface that was pleasant and confidence inspiring . As the bitumen disappeared and the dirt began , the Nuttas began to explore their own levels of grip and confidence . Barrington Tops is a magic part of the country , the roads providing an exceptional run through the National Park to its western boundary . Passing through a large gate , the forest opened up to provide a magnificent view .
So far so good , with Mother Nature reminding all of her beauty and majesty . Views that stretched for miles , canopies of trees that blocked the sun and shrouded the ground in a night like darkness , the changes in vegetation as altitudes varied , towering gums , green ferns , white skeleton like trees and ground cover grasses and the bright sunshine broken by patches of low misty clouds .
On the western side of the gate , a couple of blokes in a Jeep warned us of the road ahead suggesting it was rather treacherous on some of the downhill sections . After the obligatory group photo , we mustered our courage and headed on toward the ‘ treachery ’ in front of us . The road was in great condition ,
TRAVERSE 48