“Riding a motorcycle on today’s highways, you have to ride in a very defensive manner. You have to be a good rider and you have to have both hands and both feet on the controls at all times.”- Evel Knievel
The term Cafe Racing is not something I’m really aware of in my adventure riding group. I guess it is a term best used in cities. It conjures images of very expensive bikes ridden by trendy leather clad fit good looking people. An image that I in noway embody.
Last night I stayed with my niece and her boy friend at their home in Ashmore, we went out to dinner at the Ashmore Hotel, I had an absolute fantastic time. It was great to catch up with family again. My niece’s boy friend Hugh has a well maintained Kawasaki Ninja 300, a classic cafe racing bike. Putting Emu next to this piece of awesome machinery was like looking at the odd couple.
Although I have to admit that it’s hard to imagine that anyone would buy a bike purely for the joy of cafe racing in this part of the world, the traffic lights, congestion and general disregard of motorcyclists in this area is horrendous. Hugh assures me he mainly rides on the track and occasionally over the great dividing range. That I can understand there are some awesome roads in the hinterland that make motorcycle riding a pure joy.
Back on the road
Today is day 14 of my motorcycle tour of outback Queensland and day two of my Best Beaches Quest. It’s time to say goodbye and head back out onto the Gold Coast Highway and make my way towards Brisbane. I ride back to Nerang then onto the Gaven Bypass. During that part of the journey I get stopped at ten traffic lights.
There is a very well made access road leading onto the Gaven Way from Nerang and there’s more than enough room to accelerate to merging speed. Unfortunately, there’s no easily identifiable space to merge into.
The traffic seems to have closed up as I get closer, I have two choices, stop or speed up while pretending to slow down. I drop down a gear, then when the driver sees I’m trying to get in behind her, she slows down. Just then I accelerate and find the gap in front of her. I can tell she’s pissed at me, because for the next five kilometres she stays about three metres off my rear wheel, WTF.
If you want to know how I happen to be in this traffic hell, you can read about my journey in my blog posts: Day 13 – Gold Coast Beaches and/or Day 13 History of the Gold Coast
Living dead
I’m conscious to stay out of the blind spot of the motorist in front of me, while looking back to see where the zombie driver from hell is. I look across hoping the driver next to me will show some acknowledgement that I’m there at least. To my surprise all I see is a blank emotionless face.
Looking further across the five lanes of traffic I see more grey faced motorists, it’s like I’ve entered some sort of zombie apocalypse, the more I look the more I see. I’m thinking to myself, dam I packed for this very occurrence, but left the zombie killing gear at my parents inlaw’s place (read day one of my journey for more details Day One – packing for zombies )
It’s like a brigade of depressed motor car drivers heading to work after a lazy weekend of trying to find car parks at the beach. To be honest I’m a little concerned over what I have just seen, what hope is there for a lonely motorcyclist to be seen, and I determine to ride my own race. I accelerate into the gap then change lanes, then accelerate again until I’m clear of traffic, well as clear as I can be.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
Robert Pirsig wrote of a similar experience:
“It was all those people in the cars coming the other way,” she says. “The first one looked so sad. And then the next one looked exactly the same way, and then the next one and the next one, they were all the same.”
“They were just commuting to work.”
She perceives well but there was nothing unnatural about it. “Well, you know, work,” I repeat. “Monday morning. Half asleep. Who goes to work Monday morning with a grin?”
“It’s just that they looked so lost,” she says. “Like they were all dead. Like a funeral procession.” Then she puts both feet down and leaves them there.– Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,
Avoiding Brisbane
Pirsig’s words have stayed in my mind for all these years (although I have to admit that I had to Google them to get the exact quote). It was over 20 years ago that I read that book, I think it’s time to reread it. Pirsig writes about the concept of quality, as a way of balancing the romantic and the classical theologies. That as individuals we have to balance these ideals. In many ways this is what we do when we ride motorbikes and go on adventures.
The classical is the planning, preparation and ongoing maintenance of our bikes and ourselves. The romantic is the journey, the sense of achievement and the stories we create and tell. If you want to buy the book you can find it at the following link: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
It’s Monday morning and day 14 of my tour of Queensland. Today I’m riding to the Sunshine Coast to continue my exploration of the best beaches in Queensland. But first I must navigate around Brisbane. I want to avoid driving through the middle of town and in particular the suicidal traffic you face in major cities and if I can, I want to avoid paying the toll fees. Unfortunately, I have a very poor map and while I have driven through Brisbane a number of times, I have only infrequently tried to avoid it.
Back to motorcycle touring
Having managed to avoid most of the centre of Brisbane and after following a really sketchy map, I get to a place called “The Gap”, at which time a small forested area appeared where I pulled up for lunch. Only two and a half hours after leaving the Gold Coast. Hardly the TT Isle of Man, but at least I was still alive and hopefully toll free.
Lunch was the usual affair, coffee, tuna and pasta package and a couple of muesli bars. But it was nice just sitting at the park table, amongst nature and under the shade of the trees. I actually contemplated camping here for the night. This is where small bike swags come into play, wait until night, camouflage Emu and pitch the small swag under the seat or between Emu and the table.
Brisbane Cafe Racing Circuit
The Gap is sort of like the gateway out of the greater Brisbane urban jungle, I had found a small track on the map that looked like it would take me around the spigetti highway system and pop me out some where near the upper Marchydoor River.
But before I could get there I had to join the Mount Glorious racing circuit, and I’m not really dressed for it. The road begins just after leaving the Gap. There are two ways to get to Mount Glorious, one out through Mount Nebo and the other through the Samford Valley. Apparently, I took the road less travelled up through the Samford Valley. This is an amazing ride, through farm land and sub tropical forests.
My weight distribution was much better and I was feeling more connected to the bike. This was another bikers paradise with a good sealed road and flowing cambered corners. All of a sudden I heard a high revving engine behind me but before I could register what it was two bikes shot past me like missiles with engines red lining.
Cafe racing time
Apparently, I had inadvertently stumbled onto somebody’s personal race track. A Kawasaki Ninja 600 and what looked like an orange Honda CB900 flew past. I accelerated to catch up, but alas Emu just didn’t have the right credentials to be cafe racing as much as he wants to and they soon disappeared. At the first corner they both laid their bikes low with knees extended, it was like some sort of Gran Prix rivalry or rerun of the TT Isle of Man.
The road started to climb and twist through sub tropical rain forest, Emu responded beautifully to the corners, you could tell he was enjoying the opportunity to pretend to be a race bike. On a few corners I had to drop down a gear and straighten up, lest my panniers scrape against the ground. There was not a sign of our racing friends. Before long we came to a tee intersection, Mount Nebo to the left, Mount Glorious to the right. Just as I was making my mind up a large white BMW sped past.
Do police do cafe racing??
I only just saw a flash of the blue and red colour scheme, but it was enough for me to realise even the police like this road and while they may not stop at the cafe, they are effectively cafe racing. Better I’m behind them than the other way around, so I followed until the top of Mount Glorious came into view.
I thought to my self if the police can race up this road, then so can I. It needs to be said that “Cafe Racing” on a KLR650 is not the same as cafe racing on a Ninja 600, just so we have that clear. It’s not clear if the police officer stopped for a coffee at the Cafe Racer hangout, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she came back some time later.
A need for directions
Ok, I have to admit it but I was now, sort of lost, I knew which way I wanted to go but not where to start. Making my way towards a couple of bikers near a local cafe to ask for directions, I noticed they shifted their bodies away from me. I got the impression they didn’t want to engage in conversation, either that or they didn’t want to get any dust from my jacket on their freshly polished leather riding gear. There are so many important things to consider when your cafe racing. I guess wearing full leather racing suites in 30 degree Celsius conditions will kind of do that to you or maybe it was too many falls in the corners.
For a second I looked towards the cafe and thought about going inside to ask for directions. But as I was wearing an adventure jacket and not the usual tight leather racing suit, I would be clearly labeled as not of the “Cafe Racer” fraternity and probably just ignored, I thought better of it. Had it been a bakery that would be a different story.
Adventure riders will alway help another biker
There was a beautiful BMW Dakar 1000, fully restored over by another table with a white haired gentleman next to it. He was dressed more like me and I sat down opposite and introduced myself. We talked about bikes and adventure riding for some time and he gave me excellent directions, apparently I would have to go down the Samford Valley and up the road towards Woodford, less speed camera he suggested. For some reason the police like to stake out this area. I showed him my KLR and he said it probably wouldn’t be a problem for me, everyones a comedian:)
Fuel Station Rage
Did you know there is such a thing as fuel station rage? I’m not sure what I did but after filling Emu’s tank and going into the station to pay, I came out to see a small red car pull in front of my bike and then reverse up to the front wheel. WTF it was a 12 pump forecourt and a part from me, no other vehicles were on it. The driver was so close to my front wheel that I had to reverse Emu a metre and a half to get around the car.
Pulling up beside her, I asked why she had done what she did, there was no excuse just a sickening smug look on her face. Avoiding the desire to smash every straight panel on her car (both of them to match the other panels), I just shock my head and pulled out and onto the road to Woodford. When on a motorbike it’s important to put that stuff out of your mind as fast as you can and concentrate on the road and traffic. What possess people to be like that? Maybe she didn’t like my bike, its not designed for cafe racing and I was out of my league?
The road from Samford to Woodford goes through some amazing country side and up into the ranges in front of Mount Pleasant. You travel through towns like Kobble Creek, Dayboro, Ocean View, Delaney Creek and the town of D’Aguilar before finally coming to Woodford. The road opens up at times to some of the most spectacular view of the D’Aguilar National Park and the Delaneys Creek Forest.
Woodford and awesome country town
Woodford is a vibrant and interesting town that sits on the edge of the Glass House Mountains and bisects the D’Aguila Highway and road to Beewah. It was starting to get late in the afternoon and I was looking for a place to pull up for the night. Just out side of Woodford is Cruice Park, it is a free camping area. I stopped and had a look around, it has excellent facilities, but I thought I could find some stealth camping further up the road and allow myself more time in the morning to explore some beaches.
You know how sometimes you have a gut feeling about things, mine was saying pull up and camp. You should always listen to your gut feeling. I carried on and finally got to the Sunshine Coast highway at about 6.0pm. I could not find anywhere to stealth camp and the camp grounds along the old highway were closed. As it was getting late and dark, I made my way to Maroochydore and found the Cotton Tree Caravan Park.
Camping in a parking lot
When the young girl at the checkin asked for $50 per night I almost feel over, I only wanted a non powered camp site. So I clarified this, yep $50 bucks, I will listen to my gut feeling next time. Weaving my way through massive caravans and associated and equally expensive four wheel drives, I finally managed to find my site. I was pleased to see it was right on the point next to the beach.
I have to say the site was awesome, the facilities clean and the views spectacular. If only I could get into the shower blocks. Did I say clean, not surprisingly they were constantly being cleaned, which is great if your a OCD clean freak. Not so much fun if you have to continually walk through the carpark (sorry caravan park) to find a toilet that’s currently not being cleaned while carrying your riding gear.
I put Emu’s camo cover on and crawled into my home away from home. I have strange dreams of cafe racing and winning the TT Isle of Man. Tomorrow, I explore the beaches of the Sunshine Coast. Maybe today I’ll find the best beach in Queensland.
Safe riding……..Digital Swaggie:)
