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Ed Sleightholm’s 2005 Bonneville twin led the pack at 9.00am yesterday ( 5th August) as we started at Lyndhurst on what was to prove to be a wonderful day of champagne motorcycling. The fortunate few following Ed were Peter Cullen (on his immaculate 1971 BMW 60/5), Tom Myers (on his fairly rare 1981 BMW R100CS), Adrian Nash, soon to be promoted from his L Plate status (on his 1982 Kawasaki 250), Ian Roddick (on his “all bells and whistles” 2007 Yamaha monster cruiser ), and me (on my 1982 BMW R100RS).
Our route was a broad sweep to the north and east of Westernport Bay. Ed’s abhorrence of freeways meant that, apart from the time necessarily spent trekking to the start, and, later, riding home, the day was, essentially, spent on “old-fashioned” backroads, shared only with the typically limited mid-week traffic. There is no doubt that mid-week riding provides uncrowded pleasures (and relative safety) unmatched by week-end rides. I am always a little surprised that we don’t attract more members for these events.
For me, one of the greatest pleasures in motorcycling is when the physical demands and rewards of spirited riding on roads seemingly made for motorcycling combine with an alertness to a strikingly beautiful, and changing, countryside to produce an almost trance-like state. In that state, the provocation of powerful machinery, and the related pre-occupation with self-preservation, co-exist with, and are immersed in, exhilaration and a lucid consciousness of place. And on particularly memorable occasions, there also intrudes a recognition that these are very special moments of living, reserved for the very fortunate.
Self-preservation and consciousness of place at such times involve, naturally, the impact of imagination;
* “Imagine gravel, or a wombat, or a truck, around the next corner”
* “Imagine how this country looked before European settlement”
* “Imagine how families were raised in that small cottage on that farm”
* “Imagine a bushfire through this bush”, etc etc
And I digress to observe that imagination is a wonderful thing, an important human characteristic. Thinking about it, Samuel Johnson reputedly remarked;
“Were it not for imagination, Sir, a man would be as happy in the arms of
a chambermaid as of a Duchess!”
The sensations and thoughts of a contented motorcyclist, tearing around the Gippsland hills, are subjective, and not easily expressed. Nevertheless, I have referred to these things simply because, for me, the essence of our ride yesterday (in common with all great rides) was far more than physical pleasure, including “the lustfulness of moving swiftly”, to which T.E. Lawrence referred.
My reflection on arriving home was that I have rarely ridden on more superbly sinuous, undulating and scenic roads, in such glorious conditions, as we enjoyed yesterday. Motorcycling simply doesn’t get much better than this.
So where did Ed take us? In brief, a short stint on the Gippsland Highway to Lang Lang, followed by a wander through the hills, ultimately with stunning views of Westernport, via Nyora, Woodleigh and Kernot, to Grantville. Coffee and cakes fortified us for the next magnificent run to our lunch stop at Loch, passing through Woolamai, Archies Creek, and Bena. I defy anyone to point to a better ride than that, anywhere. After lunch, with clouds gathering, we migrated north again, via, Athlone, Bayles and Cardinia before each taking his own way home.
All-in all, a day to be remembered. An occasion when, even with the occasional promise of coffee and cakes, it almost seemed better to travel than to arrive. Your companions on the day are grateful to you, Ed.
Tony Border. |
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