Friday began early, with me rolling out of Lobethal at 6:30 a.m. while the village was still half-asleep and the air held that familiar Hills chill. The short run down to Woodside gave me time to settle the nerves and warm both myself and the BMW up properly before the real business began. At 7:00 a.m., I collected my starting docket and pointed the bike toward the long day ahead.
The morning run toward Ouyen in Victoria was kind to me: clear skies, cool temperatures, and the sort of easy rhythm that makes you think the universe is giving you a quiet nod of approval. A quick refuel there and I was off again.
From Ouyen it was the long, lonely stretch out to Deniliquin. The road was bumpy in places, the kind of outback seal that has “character,” but the scenery more than made up for it. Sunlight, open country, and no traffic—just the pure pleasure of being somewhere remote with nothing to do but ride. Passing the Pretty Pine Pub and then onto Deni, where I topped up the tank, grabbed a snack, and took a moment to breathe before pressing on.
The ride down through Echuca, across to Cohuna, was interrupted by a long wait at some roadworks on the road down from Deniliquin (people doing the SCDR to Cohuna this week take note). But a quick duck in at Cohuna was required to get some Panadol that to fix a mild buttache, before traversing through to Kerang for a fuel top up. From here I swept south, cutting through the Pyrenees Hills toward Beaufort, enjoying the long curves and sweeping country that makes that part of Victoria almost meditative on two wheels.
Night soon set in after Beaufort as I headed up the Western Highway towards my home state border. Shortly after clearing Horsham, I hit the wall a little which also coincided with a serious rainstorm near Nhill. This compounded my fatigue that had begun to creep in around Horsham, just enough for me to feel the wobble in a few spots. I listened, slowed down, and took the breaks when needed; nothing heroic, just sensible riding to stay in the game.
By the time I climbed back into the Adelaide Hills, the day felt almost done, until Mount Barker, where a wall of thick fog rolled in without warning. After a reasonably uneventful day outside of the expected, this last stretch demanded absolute concentration. Headlights pushing into a grey soup, visor cracked open, speed dialled back, every sense on with no shortcuts! It only lifted as I rolled into Lobethal, as if the place had decided to welcome me home properly.
I pulled into the driveway around 1:30 a.m., tired but grounded in that quiet satisfaction only a long ride delivers. Dr Google insisted I’d done just over 1,620 km; the BMW claimed 1,602 km and only after doing several extra kms at the end to get the odometer to behave. Anyone who’s dealt with IBA paperwork will appreciate that particular ritual.
A full day of clear skies, harsh bumps, country hospitality, rain, fog, fatigue, and the unmistakable magic of long-distance riding. In short: exactly what a SaddleSore 1600K should be. Subject to proper certification, that is.
The morning run toward Ouyen in Victoria was kind to me: clear skies, cool temperatures, and the sort of easy rhythm that makes you think the universe is giving you a quiet nod of approval. A quick refuel there and I was off again.
From Ouyen it was the long, lonely stretch out to Deniliquin. The road was bumpy in places, the kind of outback seal that has “character,” but the scenery more than made up for it. Sunlight, open country, and no traffic—just the pure pleasure of being somewhere remote with nothing to do but ride. Passing the Pretty Pine Pub and then onto Deni, where I topped up the tank, grabbed a snack, and took a moment to breathe before pressing on.
The ride down through Echuca, across to Cohuna, was interrupted by a long wait at some roadworks on the road down from Deniliquin (people doing the SCDR to Cohuna this week take note). But a quick duck in at Cohuna was required to get some Panadol that to fix a mild buttache, before traversing through to Kerang for a fuel top up. From here I swept south, cutting through the Pyrenees Hills toward Beaufort, enjoying the long curves and sweeping country that makes that part of Victoria almost meditative on two wheels.
Night soon set in after Beaufort as I headed up the Western Highway towards my home state border. Shortly after clearing Horsham, I hit the wall a little which also coincided with a serious rainstorm near Nhill. This compounded my fatigue that had begun to creep in around Horsham, just enough for me to feel the wobble in a few spots. I listened, slowed down, and took the breaks when needed; nothing heroic, just sensible riding to stay in the game.
By the time I climbed back into the Adelaide Hills, the day felt almost done, until Mount Barker, where a wall of thick fog rolled in without warning. After a reasonably uneventful day outside of the expected, this last stretch demanded absolute concentration. Headlights pushing into a grey soup, visor cracked open, speed dialled back, every sense on with no shortcuts! It only lifted as I rolled into Lobethal, as if the place had decided to welcome me home properly.
I pulled into the driveway around 1:30 a.m., tired but grounded in that quiet satisfaction only a long ride delivers. Dr Google insisted I’d done just over 1,620 km; the BMW claimed 1,602 km and only after doing several extra kms at the end to get the odometer to behave. Anyone who’s dealt with IBA paperwork will appreciate that particular ritual.
A full day of clear skies, harsh bumps, country hospitality, rain, fog, fatigue, and the unmistakable magic of long-distance riding. In short: exactly what a SaddleSore 1600K should be. Subject to proper certification, that is.
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