Beware the NRMA

Frigging hell; what a day today turned out to be. I called the Honda dealer in Bathhurst to buy some clutch plates, but he was unsure if he could get them as the freight plane had failed to arrive that morning. So we decided to ride on and see how it went, after calling in at Autobarn to get some oil and an angled ring spanner for adjusting the clutch.The bloke who served us (Austin) was really helpful and phoned his wife to find a garage on our planned route from whom we might get some plates. Actually, he did more than that and found us a garage and a mechanic about half way who would be able to help us.

Which was just as well, as we needed him. The clutch quickly deteriorated and although I could change gear, the poor old  bike gradually lost speed until by the time we reached Junee, it could only just top 40kph. But as the mechanic Austin had found us was in Cootamundra, about 40 kms further on, we decided to ride on to there.

However, about 10 kms out of Junee, as the clutch needed adjusting, we stopped. Big mistake. The Honda mechanic from Wagga had not only done it up with an air compressor driver thing so that we couldn’t loosen it by hand but had also stripped the screw head. So we couldn’t move it. 

It's funny how you don’t really notice stuff around you until you get stuck. And there we were, stuck in the middle of nowhere, where there was the little shade and the most snake concealing grass. 

It was 39 degrees. But we had water and food so it wasn’t all bad. And phones with full power.

So we called the Cootamundra mechanic to see if he could help us; he could but would need to order the plates, which would arrive tomorrow. And that of course, meant we would need help moving. But we’re NRMA members, so we belled them. And that’s where things started to go downhill rapidly.

According to them, I could only be towed back to Junee, where there was no motorcycle mechanic but not to Cootamundra where there was. But they had no means of getting me there because they weren't equipped to move motorcycles. But they had sold me a motorcycle policy on the basis that they could. So the NRMA, the main roadside rescue people in Australia unable to rustle up anything capable of moving a small bike not very far.   Surely that couldn't be correct - could it? Yes it could.

But we needed to get on, so they undertook to find one of their approved service users to lift my bike, providing that I paid.  Not great but if that's what it needed to get going. And they promised to call me back with a name and a price.

But of course they didn’t, and I phoned to see how things were going, the new bloke told me that according to their computer record of my earlier call, I had put the phone down. WTF? Why would I do that when I had called them for help because I was stranded and unable to sort things out for myself?  I was waiting for their call but was in the middle of nowhere, but nobody had considered that the connection may have dropped out or that I may be in real trouble and passed out in the heat, been hit by a truck, bitten by a snake or whatever. Nor apparently had the first operator tried to call me back, despite having asked me to repeat my contact number twice. Idiots.

The second operator was more helpful but also insisted I could only go back to Junee, despite the lack of a mechanic etc. So after much wrangling which got me nowhere, we were even more stuck, and NRMA still insisted they could not help. It was very hot and it was too far to walk in either direction. We were very stuck. But despite the long grass, no snakes had yet appeared, so things were still on the good side. Just.

Nadine called the Cootamundra mechanic and he agreed to come out, and he would take about 45 minutes. But then she  tweeted about the NRMA  while we waited - and suddenly they were back on the phone wanting to help us. Turns out  I had ‘ been misinformed’ and of course they could get me to Cootamundra as that was the nearest mechanic, and of course they could find a way to get me there under my policy. Funny; wasn’t that the opposite of what they’d been telling me for two hours?

But hang on, Cootamundra man was already on way, so why couldn’t they use him instead of looking for somebody else and making me wait even longer in the stonking heat? No they couldn’t do that as it was against policy. But you have a member stranded, you’ve failed to fulfil what you offer on your membership deals, you have given out the wrong information, and now you’re trying to make things more difficult for me by refusing to use somebody who can help and is already on way, when you have no alternative to offer? Best we do a bit more tweeting then.

Cootamundra man arrived shortly afterwards, loaded my bike onto his ute, Nadine and Gordon kitted up, and we all set off. 

Then the apologies from NRMA started. But too little, too late. Apologies are no good, although they did agree to use Cootamundra man’s towing services.

What a bunch of clowns. None of them had any idea at all of what they were doing, and their service was appalling. The operators were clueless, although one did try to help, and it took a bit of adverse publicity to stir them into action. And this is Australia’s roadside rescue service. What a rubbish outfit they are. But they still have my money.

Cootamundra man, who is actually called John dismantled the clutch and found that yesterday's  Honda mechanic had buggered it up a treat. Not only had he stripped the screw as we suspected,  but he had done them so tightly that the plates were unable to move. And the oil that he had apparently changed was as black as black; curious, given that it was allegedly new late yesterday afternoon.

We always do our own servicing where we can and we look after our bikes. But sometimes we can't  because we don’t have the tools or the bits. And that is what happened here, and that is why we sought professional help, but it turns out that both Honda and NRMA shafted us.

Wagga Wagga

Well, the day started well enough; hot and sunny. Even Nadine conceded that her thermals were  and consigned them to her bag. That’s the first time since the Kazakh desert  I think. 

We were up and out early, went into Albury, met Rob the postie who took our pics, but then on after, things started to go a bit pear shaped. 

My clutch started mucking about again. It was OK for a few miles but then fourth gear and third gear made no difference. I adjusted it again at Culcairn, by the roadside, and that repair was good for a few more kms, but it was obvious that it wasn’t going to last, and it didn’t, dumping oil instead.

By the time we reached Wagga Wagga, I was limping badly with the engine stuck in one gear  and had to assist it along with my feet each time I stopped at lights. And fully loaded, in full motorcycle kit in 37 degrees celcius, that was not fun.

But like they always do, things turned out OK. There was a Honda motorcycle dealer in Wagga who was happy to take a look, despite already having a full workload, and the nice people in the plant nursery next door let us use their tables and chairs ( which were for sale) to eat our lunch on. 

But after a few hours, it was good to go. The metal clutch plates were glazed, which is what we suspected and why the adjustments made no lasting difference ( eg they’d worn smooth and so would not grip the fibre discs) so the mechanic roughed them up so they could grip, and I was good to go.  But rather than risk being marooned in the middle of nowhere at the end of the day, we stayed in Wagga for the night - in a suburb called Gumly Gumly. What a great name.

I think I will get some replacement plates and carry them as its bound to happen again again, and at least it means that all I need is a mechanic to change them, and wont have to wait for parts. That’s what Nadine and I did on our trip to Mongolia, and buying a new clutch unit in Turkey proved to be a wise decision as going eastwards from there meant we were moving towards terra no spare partica. And we did need them.

In general, the bikes are running fine, although its quite obvious that the pre trip service that the mechanic allegedly did on all of them, wasn’t done properly, and that clearly wasn’t checked when the bikes were returned. Unfortunately,  there was no time for any of us to go over them either, but that is just the way things go sometimes. Evenso, I doubt  that we would have picked up clutch problems because evenso, on the short rides that we managed, we were riding unladen which of course would not have replicated the conditions we are riding in now.

Were I to allow somebody else to spec a bike for me again, there would be a couple of things that I would make sure they checked; the clutch, the electrics and the wiring, the latter more for chafing and break points, which are mush easier to protect before leaving, than fix on the road. To be fair, so far, the electrics have worked fine but the wiring is a bit of a state. The cables are very tight, having been replaced or re routed by somebody and have been cut quite short, which makes things a bit awkward and doesn’t allow much flexibility. But as mentioned before, I will be stripping it all down over Christmas anyway, so that is now on the job list.

The crossing was smooth last night, just a few minor bumps and shakes but that was all, and arrival in Melbourne was uneventful. 

We met Moira from WIMA at a cafe in St Kilda beach for brekkie. Cool lady and great talking to her. Unfortunately, we were unable to take up her offer to stay at her place as we had a good few kms to stick on the clock today. That is one of the things with OZ - distances. There is no nipping anywhere because everything is just too far apart. People kept telling us to follow the coastal route from Melbourne as its such a great road. But we need to be up in Port Macquarie by December 20th, so the fastest route is the only viable option

But not before we’d headed out to the Doncaster Apple store to pick up a new Macbook Air for Gordon. By the time we actually got underway, it was nearly 1300hrs and unlikely that we would get right across Victoria and reach Albury afterall.

However, we did, and with a couple of stops too, one just a regular fuel stop with a bit of a bike tweak near where Ned Kelly  lived and another at Glenrowan where he made his last stand. 

I’m not quite sure why he is such a folk hero given that even the info boards in Glenrowan flag him as a thief and a murderer but not much else; no other content about his life other than his father died early leaving a large family, and young Ned took on the role of ‘man of the house’ when he was just thirteen. But that wasn’t uncommon back then anyway, and the same info boards say his father was a heavy drinker and a bit of a git himself too. He doesn’t seem to have had any Robin Hood tendencies and the ordinary townsfolk seemed to have lived in fear of him and his mates. So who knows; a bit more of that convenient romanticism that now shrouds the convict era perhaps.

The weather changed on the way up the freeway too, going from cool but pleasant down in Port Melbourne to very warm once we’d crossed the Dividing Range. Lovely, and a good 10 degrees warmer than Tasmania. And the grass got progressively more ginger too, a big change from the lush meadows and verdant roadside vegetation of tasmania. Its funny how your brain gets used to surroundings and then catches you out when things suddenly change. Its a bit like that feeling when you’re in the cinema watching something set in the desert or something, and you come out into normal urban surroundings with buses rather than camels and ‘normal’ weather.

Last day in Tassie

We’re on the boat tonight after a full month in Tassie, and it has been an excellent trip. We covered most of the island, saw most of the sights, rode the dirt and the tarmac and met some very nice people. Its definitley a place to come back to, but for now, we will be heading back up north into New South Wales.

Because we wanted to go back to Latrobe, a place we’d passed through four weeks ago on our way to Cradle Mountain, we took the highway straight to Elizabeth Town before turning off along a quieter road to Railton and finally Latrobe.

It was quite a buzzy little place when we passed through before but it was quieter today. By accident, we found a superb little cafe, La Dolce Vita on the main street, and had some food in there before wandering along that street, chatting to people and not doing very much. 

Then we headed off down a dirt track to the Warrawee Nature reserve on the Mersey River where there was an outside chance that we might spot a platypus. But it was too early and we failed miserably. However, we did see a Tiger Snake, a fully grown one which Nadine nearly trod on as it was sunning itself on the path.  It slipped off into the grass before I could get my camera out, so no pictures, but it was our closest encounter yet with one of the buggers.

We spent about sitting on the riverbank in the sun shine, chatting and watching people splash about in the river before heading back to buy some food for the boat tonight before saying farewell to Hannes. He was heading back to Launceston then on to Huonville tomorrow. It was really nice to ride with him over the past few days and we will catch up with him again, probably in South Australia in a couple of months. 

We’re on the boat now, its calm so far, and Tasmania has just about slipped over the distant horizon. We’re meeting somebody for breakfast in Melbourne in the morning, then heading up towards Albury and new South Wales.

Launceston

As the tyres I had ordered had arrived at the Honda dealer in Launceston, we rode down to collect them this morning. However, they wanted mega bucks for changing them, wouldn’t do a deal for three, and were a bit up their own arses, so we took them to do ourselves. But not before we had a look around the city, which was surprisingly small. Tiny actually, although it does sprawl quite a way.

We had planned to ride with Hannes again today, but he had a flat rear tyre which he had managed to reinflate and was on his way to a local garage that he uses. So we met him there. There was no nail or anything visible, so we reckoned it could be a valve problem, and that’s what it turned out to be. The tube inside had started to slip and the retainer nut was too tight, so the rubber had started to rip away from the valve stem, and lose air. So that worked out cheaper for him than a new tyre.

And as we were there and it had started to rain, we got the mechanic to fit our tyres too instead of doing them ourselves. 

However, they didn’t seat my tyre on the rim correctly, and the beading bulged a bit in one section, so when I rode it away it rubbed. But they sorted it out and now it rides well, and doesn’t slide on dirt because it has some grip. Hurrah.

By the time we’d finished with all that, the rain had stopped and the sun was out, so we reverted to Plan A and went to the Cataract Gorge which is about 2kms outside the city centre but still within Launceston.  It’s on the lower section of the South Esk River which flows into the Tamar River - the same old Tamar River that flows under Batman Bridge further upstream and out into the sea at Low Head. It flows through a very steep sided gorge here, which is not navigable as it’s full of boulders. 

The river used to be much deeper though and have a greater flow but was harvested for energy production, using the daily flow of the river to provide water for generation. An 850m tunnel  supplied water from Deadman’s Hollow, dropping straight down the hill to a power station, where it turned turbines.  By today’s standards, output was a bit weedy, with 5537 litres per second entering the turbines at the Duck Reach plant, and producing 1 megawatt of electricity. But this was between 1895 and 1910, but as the demand for electricity grew, particualrly when an electric tramway was built in Launceston, and an increase in capacity to nearly 2 megawatts, it still couldn’t cope. However, it carried on doing its stuff until the 1950s when a newer and bigger plant and dam took over elsewhere. The buildings became derelict but reopened in 1995, on the centenary of it first opening.

The chairlift which now spans the gorge is the longest single span chairlift in the southern hemisphere. We didn’t go on that but we did wander across the Alexander Suspension Bridge, which swayed with every step. And it wasn’t just to do with all the food we’ve been eating. 

The little teahouse near the bridge was very quaint, an Edwardian wooden affair with a verandah and a whole gang of peacocks and peahens strutting around. There were some peachildren too (peachicks? Not sure what they’re called) but we couldnt find them. The peacocks and hens have apparently become very bold and pinch food of tables, as Nadine found out when one pecked her carrot cake. 

Everybody knows that peacocks are spectacular and that they show off their feathers and strut around crowing.

But the peahens (lady peacocks) are really pretty too, something that I’ve never really noticed before. OK, so they’re not as colourful but their feathers have very subtle patterns marked out in browns, greens and greys, and blacks.

We’re  staying at the same place again tonight, so that means we can go back to the boozer we found last night. Good grub, and walking distance home; how good is that?

George Town

It was super windy again today, almost to the point where if was hard to walk in the gusts. A bloke told us that they're always worried about small tents parked there as they do get blown away from time to time. Just as well we'd opted for a cabin 

then. 

But in a bid to help the poor old campers, the owner put a proper metal fence along the wind side of the site, only to have it blow down within days. So they called the insurance company who were going to send assessor to sort out the repairs. However, before they could, it blew back up again and has been standing perfectly for a few months. Still glad we were in a cabin though!

Hannes met us where we camped and we went riding together, albeit only for a few kms before we spotted Belle's tea shop don a side street, which was just begging to be tried out. It was pretty good and the date scones were excellent.

But we eventually got going again. Hannes was on his Transalp but didn't seem to mind our stately pace, and sped ahead to set up photos of us plodding along.

I was quite surprised by George Town. For a seasoned settlement of 200 years with quite a bit of certified history, it was a bit vague and soulless. 

Governor Macquarie camped on the beach with his wife in their official tent, having been fed and watered by the crew of their ship, Sea Force One or whatever it was called, on December 18th, 1811. It didn't say whether they had a windy night or not, but they did toast the prosperity of the town soon to be built - George Town.  And one more claim to fame - John Batman stayed at the Waterloo Tavern there in 1835. He was the bloke who founded what later became Melbourne, although he called it 'Batmania'.

There were some pretty cool pavement mosaics dotted along the main street which brightened the place up a bit, and offset the feebly inconsequential Christmas decorations. 

And a mermaid statue opposite the tea place. 

After that we rode on to Batman Bridge, the major bridge over the Tamar River and of course named after Mr Batmania. Built in the 1960s, it was for a while the biggest bridge of its type in Australia. 

It's actually quite a feat of engineering but a bit scary in the wind, with trucks going by as it wobbles. And the wind whistles up through grates in the tarmac, making weirdo ghost noises.

The wine route winds up through the Tamar Valley, probably giving good views as it does. But we were too busy hanging on to take much notice, although the winery at Goaty Hill did stand out as a notable point, if only for its superb name.

We suddenly turned up in the middle of Beaconsfield, which we had been to several weeks ago and had suffered some dreadful coffee. It's another if those quiet country towns where life is pleasant, and nothing much happens, but as we sat at the side of the street, a battered old car driven by an equally battered old man drove by, pursued by a copcar with lights flashing and sirens blasting, trying to stop him. 

But did the old bloke in the old car stop? Nope. He just kept going, completely oblivious to anything around him. It was pretty funny, especially as we could still hear the sirens as they followed him around the town. 

After that bit of excitement, we continued into Greens Beach at the top of the valley. It was a pretty nice beach, looking out towards Low Head and the penguin colony.

The plan was to sleep that night in Launceston, so we headed back in that general direction via Grindelwald. We had to go there because back in the summer,  we had been to Grindelwald in Switzerland on a ride up the unpaved roads in the Alps. 

The Swiss Gridelwald was ridiculously expensive, catering for wealthy Swiss skiers. This Grindlewald, a resort with a golf course, hotels, and shops was created in the 1980s as a reminder for a Dutchman who had been to the Alps on holiday. It was also pretty pricey but as we only wanted food and not a house, it was ok. However, it was a proper alpine village, complete with alpine chalet houses but in Australian surroundings. Very odd but quite nice.

Having finally reached Launceston, we dumped out stuff and went out in search if food. Hannes joined us, and Lordy be, we found a proper British boozer, complete with good pub grub. 

Penguins

There was a cockatoo conference right above my head this morning. It sounded like all of the bird gangs in the southern hemisphere had  assembled for a major  squwark off. But in reality there were only about half a dozen. And as it was raining I just lay there in my tent and listened to them. 

By about eight o'clock, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Lovely lovely sun. And it stuck around for most  of the day despite the wind cancelling out most of its warmth.

We headed for Georgetown today. We have a penguin tour booked for tonight. If was only about 200 kms on good roads with a few spots of roadworks, which turned the highway into gravel roads.

But it was exceptionally hard work riding into the cold headwind all day. The posties aren't speed machines at the best of times but today it felt like somebody was physically pushing me back. 

Our first stop was Scottsdale where we headed to the first warm cafe we spotted for lunch. As usual, the bikes attracted attention and before we even got off, somebody came up and chatted to us about them, us, the world, travelling and all that sort of stuff. I love it that people feel comfortable enough to approach us and just started talking. I wonder if they would with bigger bikes or sports bikes? Some would but not the range that approach us. I particularly like the sneaky picture that people take when they think we're not looking. these bikes are very common here and many people ride about on them, to work, for work and just because they can. But for some reason, our arrival is a bit different.

A chap came up just as we were kitting up to go. He was a builder and a biker who rode all over, but had never been out of Australia, on a bike or otherwise. He'd been on the toy run in Hobart last weekend, but he was clearly mulling over going further afield as he was very interested in our kit and how we got along wandering from place to place. I think some people think that you need permission, or a specific plan or accommodation booked in advance as you go. We don't have any of that, just a vague direction of travel, an idea of what we want to see, and a rough idea of how much time to spend in one place. That's how we do it, and we fit things in an a daily basis with regard to that.

Because of the wind and the penguin tour, we decided to do GeorgeTown in one final bash, and arrived at about 1630. That gave us some unwind time, time to wash ourselves and some clothes, find some food, and get ready for the penguins.

Fairy penguins ( Eudyptula Minor) are quite common along the Bass coastline. Thy live in colonies, breed in pairs for life, usually using the same burrows, and lay two eggs in one go, sometimes doing that several times over the year. The average age is 7 -9 years, but there is known to be one fella in Low Head ( near George Town) who is 18 years old.

They come ashore in the last two hours of daylight, popping out of the water and onto the beach. Sometimes that happens in groups, sometimes individually, but they wait for each other on the sand  and then make for their burrows en masse. That's because they are vulnerable on land, so its a safety in numbers job.

The chicks stay in the burrows all day, waiting for the parents to return from sea. You can hear them squeaking in the bushes as the parents land and they only stop when the correct parents find the correct chicks, and feed them dinner, usually regurgitated squid. Only penguins two years or over go to sea. Juveniles stay on shore until then, getting fat.

But before they go to the chicks, they preen themselves. They have an oil gland at the base of their tails which they prod with their bills to release oil which they then spread through their feathers, ensuring watertightness. Its a bit like getting ready for work the next day.

The pictures are ropey as the only light is the orange light the guides have, and flash is forbidden as penguins have no eyelids so bright lights phase them. But they'll do.