Lunch at The Bodalla Dairy Shed.

"It was easier than this a quarter of a century ago" the old rider mused as he struggled to throw his leg over the tall beemer, at the same time reflecting grimly he had not thrown the leg over anything for quite some time. But the day was destined to improve, not least thanks to the new-fangled electric starter button that removed the swearing and risk of a broken ankle of the good 'ol days.

It was the old rider's first outing with Ulysses and the morning was already warm as the beemer purred its way up Northborne to the rendezvous at BP Watson where facial hair distinguished the day's riders:

Ian Paterson, Honda GL 1800
Shane Chambers, Honda ST1300
Michael Winters, Triumph 1050ST Sprint
Peter Arday, Honda ST 1300 (no facial hair)
and the author with his brand new pre-loved BMW R1150RS and Movember stubble.

A few introductions, a quick briefing from Ian, then it was throwing the leg over time again...which turned out to be less painful than the dismount when aging limbs had frozen into some contorted boy-racer's crouch, but more of that later.*

A quick blat up the highway and along Mac's reef road towards Bungendore and the first corner the old rider had seen over a pair of bars in quite some years. Now what did the Stay Upright boys say? Look, lean turn? Or was it turn, look, lean? Thank cripes for better brakes than yesteryear, when stopping was jamming a Volley OC sandshoe on the front wheel and applying pressure.

The old rider assumed his position at the rear of the pack with a lovely view of the triple pipes (and throaty sound) of the blue Trumpy. (Do they still call them Trumpies?) They've apparently cured the monsoonal oil leaks and diabolical electrics of the old bikes. No challenge at all, really.

By the time we pulled in at Braidwood and monopolised the parks in front of the bakery, the day was really starting to warm up. Nothing a pie couldn't fix though, and after coffee Peter peeled off and headed home for a prior engagement while the rest of us kitted up and headed east into some fairly heavy traffic. The "lemmings", as Braidwood locals are wont to call Canberra coastal weekenders, were on the move.

Nevertheless, with some judicious passing maneuvers, we crested the Clyde in short order only to be overtaken on the wrong side of the road by a maniac on a large bike and another maniac on a smaller one. Apart from that the corners were fun with one rider reporting scrapage. As the day got hotter and hotter, the best part of the run to Bateman's Bay was
the almost constant shade cast by those big gums along the road. Nice. But the run from Bateman's to the refuelling stop at Moruya was as hot as hades, like that scene from Laurence of Arabia where he is dying of thirst in the Sahara. Except he's riding a camel.

Just 25 ks later and we were burbling into the car park at "The Bodalla Dairy Shed", Bodella, which looks and feels like a shed and, in fact, is a shed. But they did have free coffee and milkshakes for Ulysses members and damn fine steak sangers and burgers. Recommended. Michael took a quick detour to check out the Bodella cheese factory which was unfortunately closed while the other three relaxed on the deck and told lies about our bikes and skill levels.

On the run back to Bateman's the sun was even hotter, so hot I can't even think of a movie where it was as hot. We were passed by numerous riders heading at high speed north - presumably they'd been at the Snowy Ride. But relief was on the way...the clouds rolled in as we sedately (because of traffic) wound our way back to the mountain. About the only excitement was a gusty westerly that buffeted the poor beemer all over the road and a bushfire just on the great divide...which doesn't seem to have come to much.

The beemer - which I've christened Leni Riefenstahl - and I will be saddling up for another run, that's for sure - as long as I can still throw the leg over.

* No more of that.

J Thompson