The Longest Courier Ride

My longest ever continuous ride was a courier ride that went [VIC] Bairnsdale – Sale – Bairnsdale – Cann River – [NSW] Eden – Sydney – [ACT] Canberra – [NSW] – Cooma – [VIC] Cann River – Orbost – Bairnsdale – Melbourne – Sale – Bairnsdale all non-stop with four  half-hour sleep breaks while papers were being signed. This was done on an old magneto-ignition single-cylinder Yamaha 250 fitted with a Tilbrook sidecar. All that riding was done to set up a company that needed papers signed by people in about eight locations in two days.

This was first written out in note form a month or two after the ride working from the details recorded in my Shell Driver’s Log Book.  Years later, I found the notes and wrote it up narrative style on a computer. In 2008 I re-wrote on a computer so I could present it as a talk to a motorbike club.

It has been presented again two or three times since then. Now, on with the story:

“Go to bed right now; you are about to have two days with no sleep!” ordered my father.  On questioning why he wanted me to hit the sack at 10:00 am on a sunny day, I learned that a company was being set up.  Papers were being drawn up at Sale and would have to be signed by many people before the job was over.  I should expect to leave home about three in the afternoon and not see a bed for the next two days.  I would be expected with the paperwork all signed, stamped and completed by nine in the morning two days hence. I knew that the Yamaha was full of petrol and I had just finished servicing it that morning.

I hit the hay and snatched a few hours sleep.

Mum woke me up with eggs on toast already cooked just how I liked them.  I put some emergency camping gear, extra warm clothes, wet weather gear, and emergency rations in the sidecar.  This was a Tilbrook Tom Thumb industrial sidecar fully restored and painted in brilliant Boeing Red, the same colour used on the tails and noses of air force training jets to make them very visible, a kind of orange red that had quite a glow about it.  The bike was an air-cooled 250cc single-cylinder DT1 Yamaha two-stroke with almost indestructible flywheel magneto ignition and old-fashioned piston-port intake into the crankcase.  It had “Autolube” lubrication system in which a pump was used to pump oil into the carburettor mounting tube where the petrol air mixture was being sucked into the crankcase. This bike was the first real “trail bike” or “enduro bike” that Yamaha had successfully marketed and mine had about 30,000 miles [48,000 km] on the clock.

Dad handed me a file of addresses and expected times of arrival at each address.  He had phoned everyone to set up meeting times so that I could collect signatures and keep riding.  I would even have to meet some company director at home in his pyjamas at 04:00 am!  This was going to be a ride with a difference!

The bike started first kick and I pulled in the clutch, eased the hand gear shift lever at the right of the tank forwards, felt the satisfying “clunk” as first gear engaged, and soon I was motoring along Riverine Street Bairnsdale, headed for Main Street.  I turned right onto Main Street and headed for Sale. Not far past the railway crossing West of Bairnsdale, half a dozen cows looking over the fence seemed to be saying, “What do you think you’re up to, you silly galah?”  At Providence Ponds a green VW Kombi made into a camper van pulled onto the road from the rest area and came across to my side right in front of me.  Nothing else on the road, so I went around him.  It is a rare event indeed to pass other vehicles on this outfit.

As I pulled into York Street, Sale, I noticed I was ten minutes early for my appointment with the solicitors, so I filled up with petrol before going to the office.  The solicitor spent about ten minutes going through the paperwork and showing me where each person had to sign it, and then placed it in the waterproof satchel which would take it half way round the East coast of Australia.

Back down the Princes to Bairnsdale, confirming the opinion of those same six cows as they saw me rocketing by in the opposite direction just over an hour later.  I filled the tank again before stopping by my home to eat a meal which was already served up and steaming on the table before I pulled into the driveway.  87 miles [140 km] on the clock so far. Fifteen minutes later, I was crossing the Mitchell and headed East.  More cows near Sarsfield also seemed to think I was crazy. Up the Omeo Highway to Bruthen, then East to Nowa Nowa and then down the Princes Highway to Orbost where the tank was filled again. Just past the Tostaree Roadhouse on the right, a kangaroo attempted suicide leaping across the road from the left.  I missed the roo, but I’m pretty sure the semi going the other way probably made kanga carpet out of him.  Orbost saw 142 miles [229 km].   It was 7:15 pm and getting dark. The most comfortable cruising speed of this outfit was about 38 miles per hour or 61 km/h.  Near the turn off to Bemm River between Cabbage Tree and Bellbird, a semi was pulled up on the roadside with two flat tyres on the same corner of his rear bogie.  I stopped and asked if I could take a message, but he already had help on the way.  8:30 pm saw me at Cann River, where there was a pie and coke for the rider and another tankful of petrol for the bike. 188 miles [303 km].   Eastward, ever Eastward on that lonely road.  I exchanged a cheery wave with the officers at the border inspection station near Genoa.  The road would have more Northerly stretches than Easterly ones from now on.  It was cloudy, so it was very dark indeed.  The lighting coils in the flywheel were doing their job well and the pool of light in front was adequate considering the modest speed of this machine.  Eyes of some unidentified wildlife on the centreline of the road shone in my lights somewhere between Timbillica and Narrabarba, but whatever it was, it thought better of mixing it with a screaming Yamaha outfit, and bolted off the road to the right well before I got there.

Filled up the tank again at Eden where I also had to visit a private home one street back from the main road and get some papers signed.

As I left Eden it was 10:30 pm and 256 miles [412 km] in 7 hours 30 minutes including all stops.  An average of around 34 mph [55 km/h]; not bad for such a small motorbike.    It’s amazing how often my mind turns to calculating various mathematical figures as I do a long ride.  This is always even more true at night time, when I can’t see much of the surrounding scenery.  Mile after mile of bitumen road just races into my headlamp glow and vanishes away under the wheels.  11:30 pm and 292 miles [470 km] saw another tankful at Bega after passing through Pambula and the deserted main streets of Merimbula.

Brogo River, Murrah River, Wallaga Lake, the familiar landmarks followed each other from in front to behind.  Tilba Tilba and Central Tilba.  Beautiful cheese!  When going through this stretch during normal daylight hours there is always a mandatory stop to enjoy some delicious Tilba cheese.  Is it my imagination, or can I really smell it as I ride by after midnight?

At Narooma, I filled the bike and had a hot cup of tea at a truck stop.  It was 1:00 am and 341 miles [549 km] as I headed North again.  Dalmeny, Potato Point, Tuross Head, Meringo, one after another those skinny turn-offs on the right kept appearing.  It always seemed a long time passed before reaching each landmark, yet it seemed to have passed in no time at all when it was behind me.  Does my mind play strange tricks with time as I am riding through the night?  Or might Einstein have been able to explain it?  One thing I know for sure is that this bike is travelling at an infinitessimally small proportion of the speed of light, so its movement really should not have any effect on the passage of time.  What strange things come to mind while riding!  Who knows? Perhaps those cows had been right!

More petrol at 385 miles [620 km] and 2:10 am at Bateman’s Bay. No time for a snack.  Across the Clyde River estuary. The Kings Highway on the left: up through Braidwood to Canberra; but not tonight.  Northwards, ever Northwards.  I had a frighteningly close near-miss with a wayward owl near Burrill Lake and was still shaking as I filled up with petrol at 419 miles [675 km] and 3:10 am at Ulladullah.  The bike could have gone further on that tankfull, but I needed the break. Ever northwards through those yawning wee small hours to yet another petrol stop and legstretch at Nowra, where it was 4:25 am and 461 miles [742 km].  I could not remember Milton, Yatteyattah, Conjola, Wandandian or Tomorong, but here I was in Nowra already, so I must have gone through them.  Whatever had I been thinking about?  Had I been thinking at all? Is it possible to ride a motorbike and sidecar over such a challenging road in one’s sleep?  Oh well, back on the road!

On through Berry, Kiama and the peculiarly-named “Albion Park Rail” to a truck stop in Woolongong where it was a cup of tea for me and another fill up for the bike at 5:45 am and 509 miles [820 km].

A lot of the road now became freeway.  Traffic towards Sydney was already building up. More vehicles than ever were now passing me.  Filled up again at 6:45 and 544 miles [875 km] at Heathcote and then it was a myriad of suburban streets to my Sister’s home on Auburn Road, Auburn, where she signed papers and cooked breakfast while I slept soundly in full bike gear lying on her living-room carpet for 30 minutes. It had been 7:15 am when I had arrived and I was on the road again before 8:15. 568 miles [915 km].  Thank goodness I was now travelling opposite to the peak hour traffic and had a very good run.  I smiled inside my helmet as I observed Mr and Mrs Suburbia creeping unbelievably slowly towards Sydney.  It felt so good to be heading the other way with such great freedom.

Filled the tank yet again at Narellan at 590 miles [950 km] and 8:55.  So close to Oran Park, but not a chance of visiting today! Riding straight through Camden, Picton, Mittagong and Bowral, I make mental notes to come back and visit these historic towns one of these days.  They look to be so full of rural NSW history waiting to be savoured during some future holiday.

631 miles [1,016 km] and 10:00 am saw another tank filling at Moss Vale. Onwards, onwards, motor humming a sleepy tune, ever onwards towards the nation’s capital.  Sometimes I took the bypass freeway sections, other times I took the old road.  A man needs some variety on a long ride!

680 miles [1,094 km] and 11:15 and another fuel stop at Goulburn.  I bought an ice-cream cone and walked up and down the main street there stretching my legs for about ten minutes. Then it was back on board and pressing onwards.   A few miles out along the Hume and then it was turn left onto the Federal Highway, a major intersection in the middle of nowhere.  Skirting Lake George, I noticed that it was full of water, a very rare sight.  It felt strange to have water lapping the very road side and yet to see the tops of lines of fence posts stretching for miles across the lake.  Then it was the grin-making twisties of Geary’s Gap and on into North Canberra where I again refuelled at 736 miles [1,185 km] and 12:45 pm.

I soon found the office building on Northbourne Avenue and was shown to an empty conference room where a blow-up air mattress had been placed on the floor for me.  For the second time that day I enjoyed a 30 minute sleep while papers were being signed and stamped.  At 1:30 I was awoken by a loud knock on the door and a beautifully cooked lunch of roast beef, potatoes and vegetables was placed before me.  I have no idea where they got it from, but I thoroughly enjoyed consuming it and it was fully 2:00 pm before I hit the road again.  Roundabouts.  Long curving roads.  Sufficient police vehicles to deter any enthusiastic enjoyment of them.

Stopped at Michelago for fuel at 774 miles [1,245 km] and 3:00 pm and was given a free cup of tea, as I had known the proprietors there for many years.  They told me I was five minutes ahead of schedule as my dad had told them on the phone that I would arrive at about 3:05. Twenty-four hours had passed since the beginning of the journey and I had taken only one hour of sleep. A brief chinwag and back on the road at 3:15.

4:15 pm and 808 miles [1,301 km] saw the tank topped up just on the outskirts of Cooma.  Although I had friends there in Cooma, I didn’t call in, because that would have wasted too much time.  Instead it was necessary to push on Southwards down the Monaro Highway through Nimmitabel to Bombala where another tankful of fuel was taken on at 5:40 pm and 861 miles [1,386 km].  The bloke at the servo seemed to want a yarn, but I had no time to stop, as I was anxious to do the 56  mile “horror stretch” of single lane corrugated winding gravel road on the Monaro and Cann Valley Highways before dark.

I used up so much fuel power-sliding the outfit around those gravel corners speedway style, that I hit reserve a long way short of Cann River and was rather glad I had a can of fuel in the sidecar although I didn’t actually need to use it.  It was 7:00 pm and 914 miles [1,471 km] when I filled up at Cann River and immediately headed West on the Princes Highway.  People were obviously eating at Bellbird and Cabbage Tree.  I was feeling rather hungry, but I already knew what was ahead.  Up and over Mount Raymond and down across the Brodribb River.

Dinner was already cooked and waiting for me at Orbost when I arrived there at 8:15 pm.  As I ate dinner, my tank was refuelled and my bike checked over and the chain adjusted for me.  It was 8:35 and 960 miles [1,545 km] when I pulled out of Orbost.  Someone had all their earthly belongings laid out on the side of the road while they changed a tyre on their station wagon near Newmerella. Turn off the Princes at Nowa Nowa. Lonely, lonely roads.  Singing songs inside my helmet.  Anyone who could hear me would reckon I was a nut!  Not long now and I would be passing those judgmental cows for a third time!  Bruthen, Wiseleigh, Sarsfield.

It was 1,015 miles [1,633 km] when I filled up at Lucknow at 10:00 pm.  I went around the corner to my home in Riverine Street, Bairnsdale and slept another 30 minutes on my own bed while paperwork was being signed and stamped.  Fried eggs and bacon for supper along with another cup of tea and I was back out on the road by 11:00 pm.

While I would normally have saved both time and distance by leaving the Highway at Stratford and using the back roads through Maffra, Tinamba, Heyfield, Cowwarr, Toongabbie, Glengarry, Tyers, Yallourn North and Newborough, I knew that there would be no petrol open and I didn’t really want to be found filling my tank from tin cans in pitch darkness miles from anywhere, so I felt it was wiser to stick with the Princes Highway. It was 1,059 miles [1,705 km] and 12:10 am when I filled the tank at Sale.

At Rosedale it was absolutely freezing as I crossed the flats and billabongs of the Latrobe River, but it got warmer as I climbed up out of the actual river flats.  For some reason, it always seems to be freezing on that stretch of road at night.  The police were stopping and checking every vehicle which was travelling through Traralgon, but they recognised me and said, “You’re all right, Smithy” and waved me on my way, so I have no idea what it was all about.  At Moe, I filled the tank again at 1,109 miles [1,785 km] and 1:30 am.

At Nilma, there was another police road block, but again I was waved through when they recognised my sidecar.  Just after the railway bridge in Warragul I came within a whisker of skittling somebody’s cat which chose a most inopportune moment to scuttle across the road.  I lifted the chair while missing it, so amused myself by flying the chair all the way through town, not that there was anybody about to see me doing it.  I arrived in Pakenham at 2:50 am and 1,159 miles [1,865 km].  There I had a Chiko roll, a cup of tea and filled the tank.  I walked about a bit and noticed that it was 03:00 am.  Thirty-six hours on the road.

I left Pakenham and followed the Princes Highway through Dandenong and Springvale and then filtered through a multitude of suburban roads to an address near Doncaster where a company director had set his alarm for 4:00 am and I arrived at 4:05.  I had another 30 minutes sleep on the living room floor while the director in his pyjamas and dressing gown did whatever he had to do to the paperwork.  I had a cup of tea and some buttered toast before leaving at about 05:00 am.  I worked my way down through the suburbs, glad that I was ahead of peak hour, and again filled the tank at Pakenham after running quite a bit of the way on reserve. 1,232 miles [1,982 km] at 05:55 am.

It was a relatively uneventful ride to Moe, although the rising sun became a real nuisance getting in my eyes on the last stretches of road from Trafalgar.

At Gunn’s Gully I filled the tank at 1,283 miles [2,064 km] at 06:20 am.  A quick swig from the canvas waterbag on the sidecar and I was back out on the road.  As I rode through Haunted Hills I found myself wondering where on earth this district acquired its unusual name.  I travelled through all those familiar haunts of Morwell, Traralgon, Rosedale and Kilmany, arriving at Sale to refuel the bike at 07:45 and 1,332 miles [2,143 km].  The sun was a real nuisance for short periods spread out over most of the way.

It was about a minute or two to 09:00 am when I pulled up at home and handed the waterproof satchel of paperwork to Dad. He did whatever he did with the paperwork that day while I had a well-earned sleep. When I got up later that day, I figured out that I had covered 1,376 miles [2,215 km] in forty-two hours!  An average of 32.7 miles [52.74 km] per hour including all stops! What a courier ride!

2008 reflection. The average speed may seem slow by today’s modern standards.  The famous Iron Butt rides of today cover similar distances, but they do it in much shorter times.  The above courier run was completed decades  before the Iron Butt rallies were thought of.  But for percentage of time spent in the saddle, I think my epic ride beat all those Iron Butt riders hands down.  And for a motorbike with a flat-out top speed of a little over 40 mph [64 km/h], it was a truly remarkable achievement.