The only thing that got me out of my nice warm bed that Sunday was the fact that I was the ride leader. While it wasn’t as cold as the previous day, it was dark and wet and singularly uninviting. Why anyone in their right mind would venture out on a morning like this, let alone on a motorbike, was a mystery. Nevertheless, duty called so I had breakfast and a large coffee, donned double layers of woollies (including double socks) and dragged the bike out of the garage. With the handgrip heaters on full blast, I set off for the rendezvous at Cambridge.
It wasn’t actually raining when I left home, but by the time I got to the top of the hill on the Southern Outlet it had started to drizzle. And it kept it up almost all the way to Cambridge, where I was more than mildly surprised to find more than a dozen bikes already there. A hardy lot, these Hobart Ulysses types, even if many of them were nursing large take-away coffees and casting doubtful glances at the sky. By the time we left Cambridge it was drizzling again and about 15 of us followed Betty on Spook out onto the freeway to the city. A few intrepid souls led by Betty took the twisties around the foot of the mountain, while the rest of us chose the easy route to Banjo’s in Margate for the morning tea stop where we were joined by a few more riders from around Kingston and the Huon.
From Margate, the ride took the Nicholls Rivulet road. At least that’s what it looked like through a fogged up and wet visor, the drizzle having returned once again. But as we came down out of the hills it started to clear up and our spirits lifted. The further we went, the better it got and any misgivings disappeared. This is what it was all about: beautiful scenery, rolling hills, livestock dotted across the paddocks, winding roads, almost no traffic and the gentle roar of motorbike engines shattering the peace of the idyllic countryside.
We took the Gardners Bay road to double back over the hills to Woodbridge, and then followed the Channel Highway around the peninsula and up to Cygnet. The pace was (for this bunch of riders anyway) very sensible, almost sedate. While the conditions did indicate that a measure of restraint was in order, it seemed that we were all content to simply roll along and admire the scenery, which was magnificent.
We pulled in at the Commercial Hotel in Cygnet, which took the arrival of a bunch of hungry bikers in its stride and served up some very welcome hot food in pretty quick order. Once we had eaten our fill and solved most of the problems of the world, Betty took us on the scenic route to Cradoc and then Huonville from where we dispersed for our respective homes. As ride days went, it was pretty damn good, far better than it had looked at 8am. There might be a lesson in that somewhere.
Perhaps next time we venture down the Channel we’ll stop at Egg and Bacon Bay for a picnic and/or barbeque lunch, if the weather is good…
