Morning light at the Mountain is something special. That place has soul. It belongs to the pinnacle of world class racetracks. Tv cameras do not do it justice. Not even close. In its honour we do some laps and act like typical tourists taking photos at every corner. Dan drinks coffee instead. He’s old. Meanwhile we meet a rider with some sort of ugly vehicle he tries to tell us is a motorcycle. We disagree. He tags along for the day.
We head down to town and the boys have some breakfast at a local bakery before we head south staying away from the road to Oberon, opting for a road that runs parallel just to the west. We hit the first jackpot of the day. After a fast flowing initial section the twisty hills make an appearance and it’s a cracker. No traffic, great weather, good tarmac and corners. Bliss. Our new friend’s titanic is bottoming out on the corners and sparks are flying from his centre stand. It’s quite entertaining to watch. To his credit that doesn’t slow him down much.
We get to Goulburn and try a local Indian restaurant. Namaste. That shall sort Ron’s intestinal incontinence. From there we endure a few kms of the Hume heading east to the turnoff to Kangaroo Valley. Just at the top of the mountain the road is closed for repairs. It will reopen in 15 minutes. We shall wait then…
We filter to the front of the queue so we can have the road to ourselves. They finally start removing the cones and Dan goes. Ben is putting his make-up on and I’m stuck and have to wait for him. A mountain of cars goes through and we endure dozens of tight corners on a steep descent behind traffic. The boys get restless and attempt a few overtakes of doubtful quality. Ben shits his pants again. I wonder if he has enough underwear.
I finally manage to overtake the pile of vehicles and enjoy the second half of the descent. The boys are waiting for me at the bottom of the hill but I’m not stopping. I know there is the climb at the other side of the valley and there is no way I’m letting the cars pass again. The climb is all to myself. Bliss again.
We get to Nowra and Ben tries to find the supermarket. He does… and manages to not see it. He’s good like that. We buy some supplies for our night at Corang and try to pack them on the bikes. We head off and Ben gets lost listening to the G maps lady. I spot a trend here. A few kms out of town the road opens up and sweepers galore ensues. We can’t believe what we found: no cars, perfect tarmac and fast flowing sweepers one after the other. We make them justice.
We turn off to the b & b on a little dirt road that turns into 2 kms of full 4×4 challenge. The duc complaints that it broke a finger nail. And asks for coffee. The guest house is nothing short of amazing and so are our hosts. They even offer to drive us back to Corang, 15 kms up the road, so we can buy some booze from the local. They wash Ben’s underwear. And our plates as well, after chef Ron cooks a large bbq with the lot. Ron snores now. Nothing new.