After a leisurely 9.30 start, we head east to coffee at Nyora. Not normally the start of the trail but recent floods have closed the earlier section. Lunch at Korumburra, here a major spreadsheet conflict ocurres, Mick heads to the bakery while the rest of the crew head to the pub for the seniors meal. After a few schooners , and a bit of car shuffling, we head off to the Versailles Palace of the south . Chateau Fitz in the hills of the Strezleckies. The next morning after a night of fine dinning and a hearty breakfast we hit the road again. Morning tea, Leongatha, Lunch at the ethical cafe in Meeniyan, a few frothies at Fish creek, followed by Curried snags at the Foster pub. We have cut short the tour, after a brief look at the weather map. Up until now the temps have been mild, with a few clouds. Perfect riding weather. Thursdays not looking good, and there’s also a huge hill in the middle of the trail. Port Albert is probably far enough. Toora has a nice bakery, Welshpool has a pub. The spreadsheet says Port Welshpool has a pub too. It’s a bit of a detour but a nice lunch overlooking some where scenic called Snake island sounds to good to refuse. Ten clicks later we are out the front of the late Port Welshpool hotel. It’s been closed for two years apparently. Just as well there is a greasy spoon just down the road. Mmmmm . Cheese deep fried in batter, an excellent addition to any burger. I think I killed about twenty seagulls when I fed them the two thirds I couldn’t eat. After lunch, we can’t ride anywhere. We jam the bikes into the back of the VW. Port Albert will have to wait for another day. Melbourne here we come.

           Federation Peak in southwest Tasmania often said to be one of the hardest bushwalks in Australia. It's generally thought that only one in three people who  start out to get to the top make it. In 1994 we tried. I took the Commodore over on the boat to cart us around. That was the way all of us were going until someone worked out it was cheaper to fly, so I ended up going with all my mates.  To get to the peak you first drive to the middle of nowhere. One you have firmly established you are in the middle of nowhere, or somewhere near farmhouse creek, you then load yourself up with 30 kilos plus of stuff. The first walk is only a relatively easy 18 km to Cutting camp. This bit was pretty boring but we where all knackered when we got there.  A quick note on the climate. South West Tassie has the reputation of being wet and cold, some people walk the whole trip in low cloud and see nothing. Our trip had good weather, it only rained about half the time. When the sun comes out the place is magic, until the flys wake up and carry you away. If you have ever been to Central Australia in summer time you’ll know what I mean.  When it was cooler thousand’s of mozzies and leach’s take their place. The next day is relatively flat, so it’s mostly a day of slogging through mud. Day 3 Cracroft crossing . A relatively short day up a thing called Moss ridge. This involves similar amounts of vertical and horizontal distances. After ten hours of scrambling up through the mud and rain looking for hand holds to to pull your self and your pack up, we hit our campsite at Berchervaise Plateau. It’s here that we got our first view of the peak. By now the sun was out, and this huge slab of rock was looking at us. It seemed so close that you could touch it, but was still a couple of days walking away. The track scrambles up and down along the ridge line. Twenty meters up twenty meters down, hours of it. Hot work in the sun along a hot dry ridge. That night we camped at the Climbers camp on the top of the ridge. It’s right beside the peak.

       When we got up the next morning and the weather had turned to rubbish.  We ate breakfast in the rain, and our little group trudged off. No need to pack up camp, all we need was food, and a bit of safety gear, if it all goes well we would be back in five hours.  We are heading to the top via the direct ascent route. The problem is none of us are rock climbers, or knows what’s up ahead. Here’s a bit of a guide I found.

 

Golf,

        a great way to ruin a good walk, and I'm not big on walking at the best of times. As for the game its self, I suck at it. A thirty six handicap after forty years of practice. Someone smarter would have given up years ago. Why once a month do I get up on my day off in the dark and drive to the other end of the universe to hit a bloody little white ball around a cold muddy paddock in the rain?

          For our trip away this year we went to Noosa, stayed in a fantastic hotel, enjoyed a bit of heat, and got wined and dined by the locals. Just to make sure I didn't get too much of a good thing I also had to play golf. First day 136, second day 145, and a award for the worst player, which consists of a trophy containing a horses arse. I also have to wear an orange safety vest on my next round to warn the general public to stand a long way away from me.  At least I only lost about 20 balls. I redeemed my self on the last day by coming third in the Ambrose. For those of you that don't know what that is, it means that someone else hit most of the shots. 

        Thanks to Cheese and Jnr for putting up with us. I can highly recommend Hotel Laguna if you want to stay in the heart of Noosa.  Also a big thanks to Burt, Timbo, and the team for organizing the torture, and the surf club for looking after us on a busy weekend.

           As for the answer to the Question posed above. Click the photo above and look at the pictures. You'll work it out.   

Cheers 007

And for you masochists, here are all the pics I took on the weekend.

“Bing“ My daughter’s turning thirty in two weeks, 268 Thorpe Rd Jackson Ga.

Bugger, 

Georgia is on the far side of the U.S. Two weeks isn’t much notice. On google flights the airfare is four grand, and did I mention trying to finish a job for four people, with only two of us.  I can’t do everything, I text my mate and politely tell him the airfare is too much. Did I mention he worked for an Airline. That’s why I’m standing here at an airline desk with no idea of what I’m doing. I sort of have an an airfare. A Buddy pass is a   benefit of slaving away at an airline for thirty years. You pay the tax, they provide the plane. Down side is you only get a seat if no one else is willing to pay for it. I get a seat request, it’s a sort of boarding pass that gets you through customs. Then you hurry up and wait. The plane is pretty full, but is it completely  full? Finally they announce standby is cleared. I change my seat request for a boarding pass. I’ve got the last seat in the  plane, back left hand corner. Still better than hanging out in Sydney for another night. Once I hit LaLa land, I’m also the last off. This means I’m at the back of a mile long customs que. Result, by the time I get through, I miss my next flight. No problems it’s standby. Back to the Delta desk. Every thing looks pretty full, but after a couple of hours in standby purgatory, I jag the last seat to Atlanta again. Back left hand corner here we come.

    My mate picks me up from ATL airport. The parties in two days. I play Sparkie, and stack esky’s with beer. We are in rural Georgia. I live in a nanny state where every thing is banned. Here every one drives 20 miles an hour over the speed limit while texting, and guns are the only thing that don’t have child proof locks. The party is a big success, Victoria is surprised when her favourite nineties band Kracker appears. We go boating on the lake, then let off fire works.

   Back to the Delta desk. After the last LA fiasco, I’ve  decided I need a bit more change over time, so I head to the airport for an earlier flight. Once again things are pretty full, but I jag the second last seat. The gate guy sees  I’m on a buddy pass, and gives me a window seat. I’m no longer at the back of the plane. So far so good. In LA I waste a couple of hours walking  to IN and OUT burger,and watching the planes fly overhead. Flight time. Even better there are seventy seven seats free seats on the plane. I’m going to make this one. Standbys cleared. There are fourteen of us, we all get upgraded. Layback seats and more movies. Ye Ha !.

        Standby travel is probably not for people who like certainty, but that probably cancels out most travel anyhow.  Thanks Mark, and Delta for the flights, it was fun.

      Our first stop is not Adelaide but Victor Harbour, a lovely little town, where the race is finishing the next day. Accommodation is at the 60’s motel in the middle of town, Maria sources dinner at the local Mexican. The next day we send Ern off to find some hills while Mick and I ride off in search of local coffee. We end up at an outside pub table five meters from the finish line. Love to stay here, but there’s work to do. Next stop Adelaide.

        Tom’s Hotel is new, and two minutes walk from the market, and the race village in the middle of town. Our food guide organises dinner at the local Indian. It’s must be good, because they have bats signed by every Indian touring cricket team for the last thirty years on display. Penfolds Estate for a long breakfast. Here we meet with some of the team sponsors to get a bit of inside info. Good things can’t last forever, and I’m finally forced onto the bike, and stupidly ride up something called corkscrew road. We see the boys do their stuff, then roll backdown into town. Dinner at the market, after a bit of rehydration at race central, listening to the riders talk about the day.

      I’d love to go riding the next day but I have to do breakfast with a friend. The others head off somewhere on the bikes, while I sleep in. Charlotte and I solve the world’s problems over bacon and eggs, 20 feet from the hotel. That arvo, more insights over beers at race central, then Maria sources us excelente Chinese at Gouger St. 

       Time to leave our home away from home Toms. Maria sensibly flies home to go partying. Ern sets off to ride up to Mount lofty. Mick and I jump in the car and drive up the hill to Crafters. It’s the last day of racing and the boys are doing a couple of different loops around the hills.  This means you can get to see the race go past multiple times from different places with just a little bit of riding. Crafters has a good bakery, with a fine vanilla slice, and an excellent view of the race. Jay Vine the Aussie wins. 

      Mission accomplished we stop in Handoff for the biggest bratwurst I have ever seen. With our Culinary guide gone our standards drop, and it’s dim sims at Horsham on the way home.

That's all folks  007

Click the pic for the photos, or try a bit of race video here, My first TDU experience is here