I've been back in NZ a week now, but for the uni break (previous three weeks) I was lucky enough to be in Brisbane, visiting my dad. Dad's a `born-again', with a Yamaha V-Star 1100 with loud straight pipes. He has a great deal of fun blatting around the place with much younger women on the back. However, recalling his youth, with XT500s, KH250s and an original 900SS, he decided scraping floorboards wasn't satisfying, so he picked up a good-condition TRX850.
So, naturally, I wanted a go
Dad took two weeks off. We started off doing a few day rides out of Brisbane. First trip was 2km to Queensland Transport, where we were told that I'd be shot on sight, having the (impossible in Queensland) combination of a motorcycle license but no car license. Well, have to keep the wheelies to a minimum then
Went south to Murwillumbah, which is just over the border into NSW. After some time spent on the Gold Coast motorway heading south (5 lanes each way of 110kph concrete hell), I learned what a stupid bloody idea fairings are. Redirect the steady air from your chest, and buffett it into your helmet, giving you a headache, sore ears, and a stiff neck. Earplugs went in after the first stop. Ergonomics on the TRX850 made sense after I spooned the tank and shifted my legs further back. Bars could be a little lower.
On the inland route to Murwillumbah, there are some quite nice twisties. Unfortunately, we were told something like a dozen bikers were killed or badly injured within the space of one year, so they dropped the speed limit down to 60kph the whole way. What a shame. Easy to see the danger though -- exceedingly poor road surface, narrow, and plenty of numpty cage drivers who can't keep to their own lane.
Amongst other highlights of the first week of day rides was Mt Mee. Mt Mee is the equivalent of the Takas -- crawling with sprotsbikers trying to get their knee down, pubs with dozens of motorcycles lined up outside. I was rather excited to get my first glimpse of twisties with a respectable speed limit, and with a decent road surface. Going down the hill, the TRX850 really felt quite balanced and had Dad's poor V-Star in all kinds of trouble trying to keep up. Coming back up Mt Mee was a different story though -- was frankly too scared to twist the throttle -- normally I'd be going up a hill that steep with the throttle pinned back to the stop, but if I sneezed the TRX would leap up to 120kph in the blink of an eye. So I babied it up the hill, getting used to the unnerving feeling of the big fat round tyres and lazy steering -- and not having to shift gears. Got some pictures at the top -- this is actually from the next week, when we were returning from Bundaberg.
All in all, did about 1500-2000kms in the first week, pootling around near Brisbane. Learned a little about the TRX; how to deal with the extra weight, deal with the clumsy handling, make it stop. The brakes I found marvellous -- very progressive for a disc brake, although still with that horrible spongy hydraulic feeling disc brakes have. Exceedingly powerful.
After the warm up, we decided to pack our bags and head off for a few days the next week.
On the first day we headed west. Passed through many small towns -- this fine example of helmet-hair could be anywhere from Toogoolawah to Blackbutt to Yarraman;
North-west of Brisbane, 200kms or so out the roads became straighter, and the vegetation got dryer. Dust was a problem, even in winter -- once or twice I had to pull over, as the fairing funnelled it under my chin guard and into my eyes. One can see why crusiers, open-face helmets, sunglasses and bandannas are so popular there.
We quickly found out the TRX850 was chucking oil out at an enormous rate -- despite having next to no smoke, the pipes were black and it was using roughly a mL a km. We stopped in Nanango for some oil, where remounting I promptly semi-dislocated my knee (hey, it's a tall bike -- and the luggage rack was mounted backwards, covering the pillion seat). I've done it a dozen times before (have eight pins or so in my kneecap from a previous operation), and I decided it wasn't that bad -- it popped straight back in, and the surrounding muscles weren't too sore. I was already on the bike, so we set off to do the last few hundred kms to Gympie. Dad had to lower the side-stand and help me off the bike when we refueled in Kilkivan, but the neutral position of the pegs and the very cold air on my knees seemed to keep the swelling to a minimum, so I was walking without help by the time we got to Gympie. Stayed the night at the Victory Hotel, drank horrible XXXX Gold, and warmed our bones beside the fire.
After a rough night (didn't know my father snored that bad), set off to get a 4-litre pack of oil. We decided to head back over west to Goomeri, then head north through Ban Ban to Biggenden. Here the scenery began to turn greener, and the landscape turn more hilly. I think this is Mount Walsh in the background;
Biggenden was a shithole, but Childers was gorgeous. Starting to get back into normal holiday territory; Childers is a popular tourist destination, and is famous for a terrible fire that killed a bunch of people at a backpacker's. Lunch here, then the roundabout route through Gin Gin to Bundaberg. Bundaberg, yes -- home of the rum -- sounds exciting, but it's not, really. Basically one long straight road with houses and industry on either side. Now we came back along the Bruce Highway going south. Dad made the silly decision to put me out in front for this stretch, going to Maryborough. The Bruce Highway is a known black spot for speeding trucks and road deaths, so it is heavily policed. If you think NZ cops are tricky bastards with speed cameras, you haven't been to Queensland yet. There were motorbike cops with radar guns hiding amongst the bushes, plain clothes Toyota Land Cruisers pretending to be farmers. Very nearly ended up in major shit -- the TRX850 isn't really the sort of motorcycle that likes to sit at 100kph, and with the fairing, speed just sort of creeps up.
Maryborough was pretty, but we pressed on back south to Gympie, knowing it would get dark soon. The sun went down almost instantly at 5.30pm, and it became very cold. The last leg in the ~650km day was pretty hellish, stuck with holiday traffic on a fairly straight road, freezing cold with an aching knee. Dad forgot to put his silk bandanna/scarf thing on under his open-face helmet before leaving, and was too stubborn to pull over and get it out, so was feeling pretty miserable by the time we pulled back into Gympie. We stayed the night again in the Victory Hotel, parked next to the fire inhaling giant Captain Morgan & cokes.
The last day going back to Brisbane was the best of them all. We came down via some very minor back roads, through Kandanga, Imbil and Kenilworth. The run from Kenilworth to Maleny was absolutely stunning, with twisty winding roads for kilometre after kilometre. Apparently, good chunks of this recently were only gravel, and have only just been surfaced, so traffic is still very low. The land suddenly turned very green and mountainous, very reminiscent of home. Interesting was the large number of stretches of narrow one-lane road -- have to pull over into the gravel on the side of the road to let cars past. Dad decided with this sort of roading it was best to have me in front, and I frequently became so aborbed in trying to scrape the pegs that I had to pull over and wait for him to reappear in my mirrors. This shot is somewhere near Elaman Creek -- I think. It doesn't show quite how steep it was, but it was really quite severe. We pulled over to let the truck in front climb its way up so we could have the road to ourselves.
Maleny is a well-known biker hangout, so we stopped there for a beautiful cooked brunch and a browse amongst the markets. From there on it was a smooth run back down through Woodford; one more crack at Mt Mee. By now I was used to the power available, so I left poor Dad far behind coming up the mountain. Got home by mid-afternoon.
I think the final figure was around 1450kms over the three days. Hugely enjoyable; many times in the twisty gnarly bumpy bits I wanted to have the little 250RS with me. I think big bikes just make this sort of thing too easy; after 1450kms, I got off feeling fresh and untaxed. I spent a lot of time cruising along feeling very relaxed and looking out at the scenery (despite going faster), whereas on the RS I would be tucked in, wringing its little neck, feeling like Hailwood doing 100mph.
Had a ball with beautiful weather -- but I'm thankful for NZ roads. We really do have a motorcyclist's paradise here.
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Originally Posted by xerxesdaphat
It was Dad's bike, so it cost me nowt, and although I tried to pay for fuel as often as I could (<160cents a litre), he had a habit of paying for both pumps before I could get my wallet out of pack. When we stayed in Gympie, each night was about $70-80 for a pretty comfortable motel unit. Food is probably three-quarters of NZ prices.
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