Long Ride - Day 15 - Barraba to Coolah

Long Ride day 15 - Barraba to Coolah

Waking to a bitterly cold frost the intention today was to ride as far as Bathurst and get back on track, the intentions were good, but it was never going to happen.

 

We packed our bikes in the cold and said good bye to Richo, who wished us well and a safe ride, and said he'd like to see us back one day.  With his hospitality I'm certainly sure we would be back.  Then set off for Tamworth, 93 kilometres down the Fossickers Way. 

 

The air was bitingly cold which made the experience very unpleasant, personally I didn't give a crap about the scenery I just wanted to get to Tamworth for breakfast and to warm up.  Tamworth is supposedly the country music capital of Australia, I thought the whole town would be draped in that cheesiest of all music types, thankfully it wasn't and was actually quite a nice place.  The main street was as pretty as any others so far on this journey, although it was much busier.

Sitting with Slim in Tamworth.

We parked the bikes and found a cafe.  The breakfast and hot chocolate was much needed and certainly warmed things up.  Perfect.  We discussed the next plan of attack.  To visit the Golden Guitar museum and the head on for Bathurst, we might be able to make it before nightfall.

 

While looking for the giant guitar we came across the Powerhouse Motorcycle Museum, I'd forgotten that this place was around.  We took a detour and made a visit to it.  What was supposed to be a quick look around ended taking the best part of an hour and again our schedule looked like being forgotten.

 

The Powerhouse museum is one mans collection of motorcycles.  It's actually a very eclectic collection and not all bikes are significant pieces however, all have been restored lovingly and give a great insight into how bikes have changed and how different manufacturers deal with different designs.  Amongst the collection is a Honda 1000cc six cylinder and a Honda Rotary.  There's also plenty of British and European bikes.  I was a little disappointed to find there was only one Yamaha.

Plenty of Ducati's in Tamworth.

After talking about our bikes to John, the curator, we headed on towards the giant guitar.  It's a museum that has a giant golden guitar out the front of it and a was museum inside.  I was expecting something like Madam Tussuad's, what we got was a bunch of 5 foot tall statues, all based on a model of a shaved chimpanzee, and made from wax that looks like it might have come from a cheap tea light candle.  They weren't very life like.  Anyway, it did give a little of the history of country music, so I shouldn't criticise it too much.

 

We then refuelled and then headed for the direction of Bathurst.  Heading through Gunnadah and onto the Black Stump Way we took on some great roads, with plenty of sweeping corners and hilly terrain, with some magnificent views.  By now it was getting late in the day and tempers were getting a little frayed.  The thermos I had been carrying had managed to turn perfectly hot water into something resembling ice.  All I wanted was a nice warm cup of tomato soup and water I got was cold water with red powered.  Spinifex, if you happen to chance on this bloke and notice your name mentioned, your thermos' are useless.  They keep things no warmer than a plastic bottle.  The thermos was thrown in the bin, I was sick of carrying the extra wait for nothing.

 

By around 4pm we had reached and small town called Coolah.  With the temperature falling dramatically we decided to stop for the night and what better place than the pub we had pulled up out the front of.  The Black Stump Inn.

Shit!  The Thunderbirds Are Go!

We ventured in, got our room, and then were shown where we could park out bikes.  They graciously let us park them in the laundry.  We unpacked and then set about meeting the locals.  It was one of the best nights we have had on the ride so far and went on well past the time the barmaid wanted to close.

 

From this point on I won't mention names to protect the innocent but will give a count of what I can remember.

 

To start with all of the drinkers were men who had finished work for the day.  Most were shearers and roust abouts and all having a good laugh with each other, as they thinned out it was a clear than only a few would be staying on.  One bloke, short, fat and bald, approached me as he was leaving and said, "meet me here early in the morning and I'll show you a great collection of bikes."  I had no idea what he was on about but would take him up ion the offer.

As it started to get late we fell in with the locals and were made to feel very welcome.  The barmaid, as rough as guts, was F'ing this and C'ing that, but had a heart of gold.  Her pouring of drinks left a little to be desired, but I wasn't complaining, wine was filled right to the top and spirits were free poured.  This could get messy.

 

She was keen to show us her Doobie Stick.  A great metal rod used to keep the locals under control.  "Doobie Good".

 

Moving around the bar we had a bloke who was said to be the only true local.  I think he was s shearer and my god could he down a beer.  I'm sure I saw him down about 10 in the space of 30 minutes.

 

Next was the obligatory drunk.  A lady who looked like she was in her 60's but realistically I think she was probably 40.  She could barely stand, but kept on drinking and mumbling to herself.  Every now and then she would come out with an absolute pearl of wisdom.  She was harmless but ended up going home to make love with a slab of beer.

Doobie Good!

Next up was a couple.  I'm not really sure what the lady's story was, but the guy had a very interesting tale.  He was the caretaker of the pub and looked like Grizzly Adams.  He was a gentle giant of a man, who said he was originally from Melbourne and rode with a local motorcycle club.  This lead to a stint in Barwon prison (12 years) before he moved to Queensland and set about straightening out his life.  He moved to Coolah and seems to have been happy since.  He loved the fact that we were riding bikes.  The conversation with him eventually got to prostate cancer, yet he wasn't interested, he showed us a massive scar on his chest.  Having suffered 9 heart attacks, he had a different outlook on life, he has been given until September to live unless he can get a heart transplant ... he actually seemed content.

 

Next in line was a bloke who has been staying at the pub for the last two weeks.  He started off seeming alright but as the night wore on and he drank more he seemed to come down with a bad case of Turrets Syndrome.  Out of nowhere he would bang on about God and Gai Waterhouse.  It was bloody weird.

 

Then came in a guy who had lived in the area for 5 years.  He came in for some take aways and ended up staying.  His story was that he got 'glassed' by a group of aboriginals in Sydney and with his victims of crime payout he moved to the country to start a business.  He seemed like a nice guy but there was a bit more to him.

I could go on for hours about this lot.  It was one of the most interesting nights I have every had, I'm still laughing about it now.  The one thing I have to say about Coolah is that everyone is so friendly, and no one considers themselves a local, just rather a patient of a giant psych ward.  I can certainly see why.

 

We eventually headed off to bed, in a freezing cold room.  And were warned about the lady and little girl we might see during the night.  Nothing eventuated, but it seemed that this grand old hotel has a past ...

 

With all of the sightseeing done yesterday and the meeting of locals we missed out target of Bathurst and must get there today.  In total we rode 335 kilometres, which now takes us to 6,003 kilometres.