MCNEWS.COM.AU - TOURING - The Gathering

The idea for the ride was conceived in the usual place the usual way, the pub over a few beers, but unlike a lot of other things conceived this way! It wasn't going to be aborted. This time we were going to see it through.

It was all starting to come together the route was chosen - Binacrombi to Hampton, date set 1-3 May, accommodation sorted, fliers were sent out, all we needed now were some riders. To get the numbers it started off "The Regulars" and then anyone who had been for a ride with us in the past 12 months or so which also included a couple of 4 wheelers for support. I was hoping for a final figure of 20 starters. As expected there were the odd few who couldn't make it but there were plenty keen, As I ran through the list of names and bikes it looked like it was going to be quite a gathering. The mix of experience matching the mix of bikes. A reflection of the times was the bikes, 90% under 2 years old. This was encouraging as the reliability factor should not be such a concern on bikes this old.

The route sheets and maps arrived from Sidetrack, all I had to do now was get a handle on the concept of reversing the route sheets, not an easy task for the navigationally challenged!

Now with the wheels really in motion, the ride needed a name the most appropriate seemed to be the one that stemmed from that arvo in the pub and the social stigma that seems attached to dirt bikes. We had been for a ride on a dry river bed, we had the OK to do this, but as so often there is always someone who has a different opinion on where dirt bikes belong. Anyway we copped a fair bit of grief over this ride, misguided as it may have been we wore it, and the tag of "damn dirt bikers”. Now I agree this as a name could be seen as derogatory or negative or even promoting the bad image, but I see it more as a statement. If people can see that we conduct ourselves professionally and organise rides such as this, following the likes of SideTracks initiatives, we may be able to show the knockers that have dirt bikes stereotyped into a group of suburban yobbo youths, who haunt the footpaths or tear up the bush on unregistered, unroadworthy buckets. This is only a very small percentage of riders, and they are unappreciated as much by serious riders, as they are by the public.

Friday evening and there was around 41 of us enjoying the hospitality of the Taralga pub. Despite the obvious blowout in numbers so far everything had gone smoother than one of my pick up lines. That was about to change.

Most would see 41 as a good number, that is unless you’re the caretaker of another bike farm in the area. If years as a publican had taught me anything, it was how to deal with drunks. I worked on him for a while and he settled down, but this was our first time in the area and our first SideTrack ride. I was still not 100% sure of what he was saying was fact or fiction. For all I knew there were two gates on his property that were locked that he wasn't going to let us through (that is without compensation). How was I to know they were actually cattle grids on a sign posted road? Maybe the ride was like a trip on the Hume Highway? (This bloke had more stories than Walt Disney) So ever the diplomat, I organised to go see him in the morning. That would give me a chance to talk to the lads, the people at Binacrombi and check the details on the maps and info supplied, basically gather a bit of ammo. And hopefully a chance for the other party to reconsider his thoughts on the situation.

Saturday morning and everyone's psyched. We've had our first fall for the weekend, Jamie Shaw was thrown from his mount on the top bunk onto the shearers shed floor, much to the delight of the 29 other happy campers in the shed. There were others also who had restless sleeps, no one more than Paul Melis. I had planned all along to give him a crack at lead rider. I knew he could set a good pace, that he was good with directions, his attention to detail was first class and he was very responsible. Perfect we had our lead rider, almost, now all I had to do was convince him. I'm not sure if he was ready for bed, but soon as I had told him the colour washed out of his face and he set off, maps in hand. He assures me there was very little sleep for him that night, rumour has it he was up at dawn and rode the course to make sure he wouldn't let us down, only a rumour, surely? I was stoked when he worked out how to get out of Binacrombi, anything from there was a bonus.

The first few kilometres had reaffirmed the selection of Paully as lead rider. I'm not sure of how much was ability or how much was adrenalin but the pace up front was frenetic, riders jostled for positions working hard to get toward the front. Obviously the fewer bikes you had to follow, the less dust, rocks and dirt you had to swallow. You just had to survive the pace. A myriad of orange and blue lead the cavalcade through the first section. It was heavily laden with rock and shale, a light rain and mist had set in, visibility was minimal at best, still no one was giving an inch. As we entered the National Park the tracks narrowed and the terrain changed, instinct and reflexes worked hard to quickly adapt to the sudden change in conditions. Front wheels skated and rears stepped out erratically. This section would see 4 or more riders sample the soil. It was slipperier than a set of satin sheets with 'armour all' on them.

We hit main road again and stopped at a navigation point to assess the damage. As riders pulled up we caught a few details of the offs and near misses, the usual ribbings followed. A quick scout through the crowd revealed Stuart Hensley and Mark Haskins the sweep hadn't arrived yet. Our lead and sweep riders wore fluoro orange roadwork vests this worked a treat and I would recommend it for anyone doing a big ride. Stu had got the last gate we figured this had held them up but some 10 minutes later they cruised through the mist with Stu favouring his right hand, the sight of blood and bandage not what we needed to see this early into the journey. We kicked off at 9.00 am by 9.15 Stu was receiving medical attention. From the knuckle up through the webbing of his little finger had been cut to the bone. It was going to be a long day in the office for Stu. A disappointment as you could be sure he would of been pushing the big 620 KTM hard all day.

The next section soon turned tight, narrowing to one lane. I got my first look at the back of BJ Barlin's WR 250, he was stylin' up. A combination of aggressive moto-x style and raw energy on the bike gave him a pace that was hard to match. He was obviously in his element; everything I had heard about this ride said it was fairly open, if we were going to see BJ again today I hoped this was true.

We then hit the first of the erosion drains, for most this would prove to be not only the most demanding, but the most popular sections of the ride, evident at every stop by the unbridled enthusiasm of riders eager to express their satisfaction after a good fast section. The boys were going off.

Stops not only gave a chance for an 'expression session' but also an opportunity to get some vision back through the goggles, by most stops riders were having to ditch their goggles as the rain intensified. Despite this, the mud, the slippery conditions and the need for navigation everyone was still hammering. It was simply awesome.

While the battle of the two strokes soared the four strokes roared, the likes of Dane Pumper, Greg Manson and John Rogers throwing the thumpers through the bush. All round it was a well matched group evident by the stops and how quick the sweep got there. You would expect 30 odd riders to be fairly well strung out but riders were rarely losing sight of each other.

A few sections on and things got tight again, BJ put a sweet passing move on me, muscling in hard under brakes, we both drifted wide, I found some good drive off the far bank and hooked up on his rear wheel through a series of tight turns and small erosion gullies. A small straight lead onto a sharp left hander off an erosion drain, I must off had my brain in neutral as I put a wheel on the outside of BJ entering this turn, naturally his style had him running hard and wide into this turn I had no option but to go with him, there was a split second of doubt and I momentarily stood it up through the turn, as I did I hit the erosion drain and speared off towards the scrub. Warding off the wilderness my line of sight was blocked by a large tree, more indecision followed. I opted to go deeper into the scrub rather than risk tangling with the timber. Time to show the boys my athleticism, a handful of front brake and a fallen tree saw me and the KTM doing symmetrical 360's, I couldn't quite nail the landing but it was still good enough to score high nines! A quick wave to the very appreciative crowd and I was off carving again.

Our next stop was longer than anticipated, the four wheel drives had got lost, doesn't really make sense does it? Guess the navigators found it hard to read with the beer goggles on. While waiting there was a bit of an impromptu wheelie display put on by a couple of the lads, the call of "mono comp" soon faded as many became somewhat disillusioned of the sight of Fabio "gettin it up and lovin it".

Hasko didn't need a lot of convincing to relinquish the sweep position for the next section a mere 2.6 kilometres later though and he had the honour of the only flat for the day. Of course he was well prepared to do a quick fix and be on our way again.

Lunch was at the infamous Kowmung River. I had seen pictures and heard the tales of the subscriber ride crossing and couldn't believe this was the same place the river was reduced to a mere creek. Lunch was an excellent spread supplied by Jason Graham of The Boardroom tavern, just as impressive though was seeing Brian Smith getting in and cleaning the lunch scraps up. The golden rule of the bush "If you bring it in, you take out".

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