The Short Long Weekend: A Coastal Loop

All plans made, all comers advised, all bags packed,
Saturday, the traditional drawn-out rendezvous, then into
the traffic to Bungendore, and from there, the through
travellers streaming to the coast.

Over the plains to Braidwood and beyond, the hills
thickening, lots of traffic, and passing opportunities
shrank as we approached the forest, the twisties, and the
gridlock down the Clyde. We mostly kept moving, had plenty
of chances to enjoy the views and the forest and some live
animals for a change, and ponder the mysteries of the
great metal cavalcade, as we crept down the face of the
range.

The traffic opened out a little until we reached the new
section above Batemans Bay, a huge line of hundreds of
vehicles stopped dead. Urged on, I split the trim and
nimble little Beemer the last few km, right to the first
roundabout. Across the bridge, the coast at last. We
regrouped at the i-bay on the corner of the highway and
the beach road, then we clung to the coast to Malua Bay,
where we lunched from the supermarket on the beach
reserve, huddled in the lee of an onshore bluster pounding
the shoreline.

From here we followed the coast and the estuary, rejoining
the highway at the Moruya river bridge. More highway, but
it is beautiful everywhere on the south coast, and we
smiled at the miles, despite the gathering cold. We paused
for refreshments at Central Tilba, dazzled by our first
view of its living history, as the sun struggled to clear
dark clouds, and bursts of southerlies buffetted the town.

Here is but a short ride through a lakeland reserve, one
of many in this part of the coast, to our destination,
Bermagui on Horseshoe Bay. We quickly settled into our
accommodation, then strolled to the club, where we signed
ourselves in, relaxed over drinks, and discussed the next
move. The next move is the next key decision - dinner. We
just missed the Fishermans' Coop, which closes at 5:30, so
no grilled fish or BBQ prawns - this time. The club's
restaurant is moving up-market, with prices in tow, so we
resolved to continue our tour.

We strolled further into town, the inevitable foot patrol,
briefly, dark by now, of the abbreviated main drag. We
browsed more restaurants, and then, at the edge of
darkness, we settled on the pub's $10 meal deal, possibly
the first time in my life I've drunk from a middy. A
pretty ordinary pub meal, but the calamari was as tender
as I've tried, and the schnitzel was juicy and generous.

Very laid back after dinner, we relaxed around a few
drinks and buzzed along at the big night out in Bermagui,
a bar full of youngsters digging a garage band from
Canberra doing diverse covers, with a sub-plot of artistic
differences to spice the night; I hoped they'd play "she
don't allow, that kind of behaviour..."

Eventually the night bested tired bikers, and we strolled
back to our flat to stretch out on our little patio with a
cuppa, the finding and making of which capped the
snowballing serendipity that adds up to a drama-free day
well spent, another complete high, the day done, the tea,
the company, the sea breeze, the cosy, comforting ambience
of a small, friendly town wrapping us like a lover's
arms... it doesn't get much better than this. But of
course, one by one, we slipped away to bed, leaving the
cackling crew in Unit 3 and the waves booming just down
the hill.

Then the creeping sun cracked open the new day, and in
reverse, we slipped out of bed, fumbled with breakfast,
enjoyed the advice in the mandatory chat with the owner,
studied our maps, re-packed, and took off for petrol and a
loop through town; at the servo we bumped into a bunch of
Viragos on a big weekend out of Griffith.

So we quit Bermagui, memories fresh and glowing on the
south road to Tathra. It was both a relief and a
disappointment to see a sign advising 3km of dirt. I don't
think I'm any better on the dirt than I was when I started
riding, but I'm less nervous; maybe familiarity breeds
confidence (not competence). But it is clear now that some
of Australia's best country is to be found by mixing dirt,
distance, and determination.

Some farms, several short sections of twisties, more
charming rustic scenes, and the Mimosa Rocks NP with some
more forest and twisties, little tracks heading off
towards the coast, there is camping here, walks, fish...
before we burst out of the park onto the bridge at the
mouth of the Bega River, with the Lions Park close by. We
pulled into the parking bay and faced the wind. A huge
sand dune hundreds of metres long and several metres high
hid the shore from us, but couldn't hide the spray
splashing over the dune, or deflect the deep roar of the
crashing waves.

From the river mouth, it is a short ride into Tathra, an
interesting height-varying town with the rocks pressing
close to the sea. From Tathra it is possible to go further
south to Merimbula and the highway at Pambula, but this
time we turned away from the coast for Bega and the range,
where dark and tangled clouds gathered ominously. We
turned to the west just out of Bega, the foothills of the
range gradually crowding the lush green farms around some
exquisite high-speed sweepers, until we stopped at Bemboka
for a spot of lunch at the pie shop. This deserves to be
as famous as the one at Robertson, and possibly is, but
doesn't see near as much bike traffic; the loo with a view
north to the ranges of South East Forest NP makes the stop
a must.

Bemboka sits in its own river valley, ringed with the
great green wall of the Snowies, which closed around us as
we headed up another twisting face of the range, the
frantic grey clouds chased each other across the sky to
blot the blue, and the forest crowded the road as we
enjoyed the sparse traffic mid-weekend, pushing into the
twisty trance climbing Brown Mountain.

Too soon, we climbed to the top of the range, joined the
Monaro from Bombala, and crept into Nimmitabel in sight of
the blaze of lights from someone else's booking. We
stopped for a brief discussion, deciding we weren't hungry
enough for another round of lunch, but we were cold
already and nervous about the weather, so we continued
north through the open rolling plains to Cooma, more than
one fearful eye on the sky.

Minutes later the sky came right down on us, and it rained
a little or a lot all the way to Cooma. It was just
intermittent enough for us to press on in hope, but damp
enough for a few urgent passing manoeuvres to dodge
intense spray from the occasional traffic that could yet
drown us.

In Cooma the Yam needed fuel, so we took the Polo Flat
bypass (from the south, turn right at the saleyards, a
couple of hundred metres, right again), and fuelled at the
Caltex truck stop. As the wind blasted down the Snowies
from the still-threatening sky, ripped across the rag-tag
industrial estate and huge driveway, and slashed our
slightly soggy shapes to ribbons, today, this must be one
of the bleakest servos in Australia.

From there the Polo Flat road took us back to the highway,
on the corner close by the untidy wrecker's yard, and once
more the Monaro home. It is dull, straight, and heavily
patrolled (I saw three cars going the other way), but it
still has attractions: diverse farms, rolling hills near
and far, interesting ruins, we saw this day an outing by
gliders at Bunyan, and we had several more showers to
relieve the tedium of the focus on instruments and
mirrors.

Soon enough we turned at one of Canberra's border
roundabouts, on to Drakeford Drive, and waved goodbye to
Mick and Corinne as we disappeared towards the Parkway.
From there it's the best part of 20km to Belconnen, where
Jenny revived us with a cuppa, and I toddled off home for
a soak in the shower, but not before one more splash of
angel tears from the ragged sky. And then I was home; out
of the weather, out of the motion high, off the
motorcycle. Until next time.


Gary

 

I was surpsised when mum said it's only 3Kms ... last time I was along
it it, it was muc more ;-) Though I not really that confident. I
really should get some more practise I guess.

Love all of this valley but I might be a little bias (very bais about
Tathra)

Great story. Sounds like you had a fun time.

__



Cheers
The Happy Drunk

Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for
thou art crunchy, and go well with Tomato Sauce.

 

loose on an internet connection and the unfortunate result
was...

Yup - thanks for the company Gary - 'twas certainly a great weekend for
a ride.

The accommodation at Bermagui was prtty bloody good value too I reckon.
I'll be planning a return visit at a later date.


--
Mick

**IMPORTANT**
E-mail replies MUST have 'SPAMTRAP' in the subject line
to avoid my spam filter.

 

Yeah, we were lucky I think... 3 bedrooms, separate
kitchen/dining/lounge/bathroom, beds for 6, $60 per night.

Blue Pacific Holiday Flats
http://www.travelhero.com/prophome.cfm/id/118073/hotels/reservations/

Gary