Poker Run - Walloon to Mulgowie -
May 30, 2009 - by Michael Ross
With the day looking like a corker it was
time to don the bike
gear and head on over to the Walloon Saloon and sign in for this year's
Lockyer poker run. Where I knew the start location (very important) and
the end location (also important so I can know how to get home) but not
the in between. Except I had figured, with five cards in total and one
at the start and finish that we'd most likely be having three stops
along the way.
 Arriving
to a good number of bikes parked out front, I could hear the banter
from the street as the group gathered in the beer garden. So figured
this was the place to head to. And once headed to, the next mission
(should I decide to accept it, of course) was to find the sign-in
table. The Ado good luck voodoo doll which oversaw the table's
proceedings sent me vibes luring me to the table and the throng of
people parted to reveal where I needed to be. Patches and trophies to
the right, cards to the left, Sheriff Marmite making sure everything is
on the up and up.
Paying my money and selecting a patch (which
were all sold so
some people missed out for not getting there early) I was branded with
a number and selected my card – a King, off to a good start, but would
I finish good?
 Leaving
Walloon we headed south to the Cunningham Highway, chucked a left to
head back towards Brisbane then took a right to head into The Unknown
Lands – where the traffic is sparse and traffic lights even more so.
With only a few designated corner markers I figured we wouldn't be
taking too many corners, nor did we. Although, occasionally a corner
marker had to make their way back through the long field – which I
counted as 61 bikes, 1 bike with sidecard and 8 trikes, for over 90
people at our first stop, Harrisville (and probably over $1 million in
machines).
With such a large mob we were a sight to see
and hear. And
people came out of their sleepy shops to have a look at this lot
arriving into town. With some of them even taking a tour of the bikes
with kids and camera in tow. Cause it's not every day such a spectacle
arrives. Nor is it everyday we get to see ancient Harley's held
together with rust and love energy, as was on display inside the
Harrisville pub. Nice.
 Following
the selecting of another card and a refreshing cold one the natives
began to get restless. And so, back to our mechanical steads, back onto
the blacktop and off to our next stop – Mt Alford. If Harrisville was
sleepy then Mt Alford was comatose. The town itself consisting of a
pub, a small splattering of houses and a closed down general store come
gas station. The view from in front of the pub said it all really.
The barmaid – and I assumed the publican and
other barmen –
seemed quite surprised at our group. She even got out her camera and
took snaps of us parked at the pleasant watering hole. And captured us
as we left on our way to stop number three – after we'd selected our
cards and waited for some wayward children to arrive. I suspect her
images will be blown up and laminated and join the other image
curiosities stacked on the bar to amuse the patrons as they whet their
whistles. Away we go...
Saying fair well to Mt Alford we headed off
to Grandchester
passing Lake Moogerah on the way. This was probably the longest leg of
the ride and had the most corners. It was also the leg which traveled
the most backiest of back roads. All bitumen – and pretty good quality
too. This leg saw us get back onto the Cunningham Highway for a
stretch. The road where we encountered the Red Four Wheel Drive from
Hell. A semi-suicidal lead foot who must have been doing an old ton
(160kph) as he whizzed by our now scattered riders. I know I was
considering my evasive options has he came bearing down behind me at a
blistering speed. But he seemed to back off a tad as we turned off the
main road and hit deliverance country again.
 Arriving
in Grandchester we were forced to regroup by the railway crossing. And
managed to find some space to park in front of the pub and also in the
pub carpark. Our numbers were down a few as we had lost some due to
breakdown. But the ride spirit kept us going strong.
The shadows grew long as did the queue for
the toilet. But the
amber ale still tasted good for those who endulge in such. I selected
my card. Hmm. Don't think I'll win but I'm in the running for the best
loser. Now I'm hoping for bad cards.
This was a quicker stop as our final
destination was not very
far away. And so a smoke and drink and flip of a card and we mount our
beasts for the final push into Mulgowie, where we'd find out who won
and who won at losing.
The run to Mulgowie saw the temperature drop
noticeably. The
chill was definitely in the air tonight. And it'd be an even cooler
ride home – I came prepared and bought my rain lining, extra pullover
to wear underneath and my winter gloves (local knowledge?) and was glad
I did. Those who would be camping in tents may have wished they'd opted
for the cabins as the night grew cold – or maybe they'd abscond with
one of the outdoor gas heaters the pub had fired up to keep the eating
area warm.
 Mulgowie
saw my final card selected, a 2. So my hand was a King, 7, 5, 3, 2.
King high. Probably kept me from winning worst hand. Which,
interestingly went to Ian. So Ian got a trophy for being the most
pathetic. Makes you feel all warm inside knowing patheticness can be
rewarding, doesn't it?
Spook won the crazy frog. Buzz won a light
year. The
non-drinkers won the booze. Pinkie got a pink stubbie holder while King
James, after a heated and entertaining auction, won a Viking thing to
put on his helmet and assured Pinkie it would be looked after (it was
pink).
 Kudos
to Mouse for the ride. And thanks to the Corner Markers and Ticket
Tarts and Card Runners for all their efforts. It was a thoroughly
enjoyable day that saw other Ulysses club members, some Vietnam Vet MC
members, Easy Rider members, non Ulysses members and “too young to be a
Ulyssian” riders all join in. And at the end saw Amanda attempt to do
the superman thing – but there must have been a gravity well right
where she was as her feet never left the ground; and good thing too as
there was no-one in the mosh pit to catch her if she'd only managed a
temporary flight.
By now it was dark. And after considering
the ride back through
Grandchester and Rosewood, I quickly opted for the better part of
caution thanks to the warning of “Roos be that way”. I'll just follow
Noddy back to the Warrego instead. May be a tad longer but definitely
safer.
Unfortunately, one of the new Lockyer
members had bike trouble
as we were to leave. Spark plugs? Flooded engine? Coil? Either way, it
looked like someone else would camp the night. And we bid a farewell as
we rode off into the embrace of the cool darkness.
Other Pics from the Day...
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