HARLEY DAYS 2016 – AN HARLEY OWNERS GROUP EVENT.

Any owner of an Harley Davidson motor cycles is welcome to join the Harley Owners Group. HOG as it is known is a world wide club for Harley owners and consists of Chapters associated with a specific Harley Davidson Dealership.

In Australia, annual State HOG Rallies are held and a National Rally is also an annual event. Traditionally, participation in these rallies is restricted to HOG members and their specific guests.

2015 saw the Annual HOG rally conducted in Tamworth, a large regional city in New South Wales. The rally was a great  success and spawned the idea of a National HOG rally ,open on specific days for riders of any brand of motor cycles.

The name coined by Harley Davidson Australia for the event was Harley Days.

The 28, 29 and 30th October 2016 were designated for the event and the chosen site was Stuart Park in the seaside city of Wollongong, New South Wales.

Friday the 28th was designated specifically for Harley Owners Group members and the other two days were open for everyone.

In order to access the HOG member only events, registration was required and scannable tickets were issued.

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As SWMBO and I  waited outside for the arrival of some friends, it was apparent that the day’s attendances would be strong as the crowd began to increase as the 10am opening time drew closer.

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OUTSIDE STUART PARK 30 MINUTES BEFORE THE 10AM OPENING.
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JUST A FEW MINUTES LATER  FROM ACROSS THE ROAD

Once inside the park, the grand scale of the event was evident. Harley owners in their distinctive HOG paraphernalia where everywhere. Vendors of every conceivable Harley part, collectible,  clothing and memorabilia were in abundance.

In pride of place was the Harley Davidson World pavilion containing a great array of Harleys and the new most powerful standard Harley Davidson engine ever, to be rolled out on selected 2017 models.

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With our friends we wandered around the exhibits and enjoyed the ever present sound of the rumble of hundreds of Harleys as they left the park  to participate in organised rides around Wollongong  and its environs.

We were particularly interested in the world’s fastest Harley Davidson, recorded at some phenomenal speed on the salt flats in Utah in the USA.

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ALLEGEDLY THE WORLD’S FASTEST HARLEY DAVIDSON.
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ANOTHER CUSTOM STYLE HARLEY. NOTE THE EXHAUST SYSTEM AND CUSTOM WHEELS.
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OUR FRIENDS JOHN AND ALLAN HEADING INTO A SEA OF HARLEY DAVIDSONS.
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ANOTHER GREAT DRESSER WELL KITTED OUT WITH ACCESSORIES.
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LOW AND MEAN LOOKING.

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SWMBO WITH FRIEND DEBBIE CHATTING WITH A MEMBER OF THE NSW HOG CHAPTER OF WHICH I’M A MEMBER.

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NOTHING LIKE THE SPARKLE OF LUSTROUS  CHROME ON A HARLEY DAVIDSON.
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A SEA OF HARLEY DAVIDSONS.
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MORE AND MORE, EVERY MODEL AND EVERY COMBINATION OF COLOUR AND ACCESSORIES.
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THE CLOUDS BEGAN TO ROLL IN WITH A SHOWER OR TWO BUT NOTHING DETERS  A HOG MEMBER FROM A GREAT RIDE.
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MORE AND MORE EYE CANDY – OF THE MECHANICAL TYPE OF COURSE.
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A NOVEL WAY TO IDENTIFY A TOILET BLOCK IN STUART PARK.

At day’s end, the official number of bikes was stated to be a roughly 1,500. To me it seemed a bit on the conservative side as there were hundreds of Harleys and other marques parked in the streets around the venue. It will be interesting, when the event is reviewed by the organisers, to learn the final number of attendees and motorcylcles.

One of the great things the five of us noted was the large number of female riders present and participating in the organised rides.

Ladies of Harley as they are known form a integral part of every HOG Chapter and are fully integrated into the management and organisation of the entire Chapter.

As an example, for quite a number of years, the Canberra Chapter in the Australian Capital Territory elected a Lady of Harley as the Chapter Director, the HOG nomenclature for President.

Additionally, many Ladies of Harley become Road Captains and as the name implies, organise, lead and control Chapter rides.

By the time our little group had visited all of the exhibitors, viewed multiple Harleys, spoken to many, many vendors and Harley Owners, it was time to leave Harley Days and make our way home.

Will Harley Days become a permanent fixture on the annual HOG Rally program? Only time will tell.

On a totally different note, all of the above images were captured either on my iPhone 6s or my Panasonic DMC-LX100 which sports a Leica lens.

There has been no post processing except size reduction. I think you might agree that there is very little difference in image quality and it is difficult to determine which camera made which particular image.

So there we are. Another interesting motorcycle/photographic day.

Hoo roo for now

AN ENJOYABLE SUNDAY MORNING RAMBLE.

She Who Must Be Obeyed and I are members of the local U3A  walking Group. U3A stands for ‘University of the Third Age’ and offers courses and activities of those of us of mature age or putting it more bluntly,  oldies.

A month or so back, the U3A Committee decided to add Rambling to the existing weekly walking program in order to present  gentle challenges  to our walks and reintroduce us to the beauty of our bush and countryside.

The Concise Oxford Dictionary describes the word Ramble as,’Walk for pleasure and without definite route.’

Now Occupation Health and Safety requirements have crept into every nook and cranny of our lives here in The Land Down Uunder, and its presence in the U3A was clearly demonstrated to us a couple of Sundays ago on the first ‘offical’ U3A trial Ramble.

Our ramble began at a spot just out of town and next to our main general cemetery. Having regard to our cumulative age I had a bit of a laugh to myself when our leader advised that this would be our finishing point.

Off we went up a gentle incline en route to the start of a bush track to take us up to a Trig point located at the top of a stand out hill.

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THE BEGINNING OF THE U3A’S FIRST RAMBLE.

At the top of this little incline there was a dirt track leading upwards towards the as yet unseen Trig Station.

There was a nice open space at the start of the track and it was here that our leader introduced the presence of OH & S to our Ramble.

Firstly we had  to wear our U3A name tags. Secondly, sign the attendance book and thirdly agree to indemnify the U3A against any misfortune that could befall us on any ramble.

Then we were all introduced to two electronic marvels purchased by the U3A to ensure our safety and well being in the event of a disaster befalling any member of the group whilst on a ramble.

The first marvel was a Garmin GPSMAP64s. This small GPS can access not only the navigation satellites of the Unites States of America but also those of the Soviet Union.

It’s a powerful little gadget loaded with every 1:25,000 contour map of Australia and New Zealand. These maps contain particulars of every road, street, track and town and are reproduced, on command on the gadget’s colour screen with zoom available for greater detail. One of the handiest features of this GPS is its capacity to identify and navigate to  the location of the nearest coffee shop.

Next came the EPIRB. This little Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, when activated, connects with the International Standard Rescue System.  The location of the beacon is then relayed to the emergency services and help is despatched from the nearest and relevant service, e.g., Police, Ambulance, SES, FireBrigade and so on.

There is a strict protocol in place for use of EPIRBS and misuse attracts a very, very heavy financial penalty.

Fortunately, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I have navigated in the outback for many years with the assistance of our  Magellan GPS.

During our sea kayaking days we always carried an EPIRB and again, are familiar with its proper use and the penalties misuse attracts. Fortunately we have never been really lost.

Anyway, after introduction to these aids, we set off uphill through the trees following the directions provided by the leader’s Garmin GPS.

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ON THE TRACK HEADING TOWARDS THE TRIG STATION
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LOOKING BACK TOWARDS TOWN WITH THE ROCKY HILL WAR MEMORIAL IN THE BACKGROUND.
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DELIGHTFUL AND DELICATE NATIVE GROUND COVER BESIDE THE TRACK
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THE TRIG STATION AT LAST. I WAS PUFFING SO MUCH I COULD HARDLY HOLD THE CAMERA STEADY.
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OUR INTREPID LEADER CONSULTED THE MAP BEFORE DECIDING THE RIGHT TRACK TO TAKE US BACK TO THE CEMETERY.
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IT SEEMED APPROPRIATE  THAT IT WAS DOWN HILL ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE CEMETERY.

Everyone enjoyed the first ramble and I decided on the spot that humping the Nikon D810 plus its battery pack and two lenses, together with a day pack containing  my rain gear, water, a first aid kit  and a bit of tucker was a bit too much of a load for an old bloke like me.

Henceforth I’m going to leave the pack, rain gear, first aid kit and tucker at home and just slip the water bottle onto my belt.

By doing so, I’ll be able to comfortably take the essential elements of a successful ramble, to wit, my Nikon camera gear, on our next ramble.

Hoo roo for now

STEAMPUNK VICTORIANA FAIR BACK IN GOULBURN FOR THE THIRD YEAR.

On Saturday the 15th October last, the fascinating Steampunk Victoriana Fair returned to Goulburn’s Historic Water Works for the third time.

This year, the Fair’s Special Guest was Ms Tara Moss, the well known author, television celebrity and model.

The fair was well promoted by local shops displaying this  comprehensive advertising poster:steampunk-poster001

As you can see from the poster, there was something for everyone and Ms Tara Moss was the stand out attraction. Not only was Ms Moss dressed for the occasion but she was approachable, friendly and when it came time for her to judge the Steampunkers’ outfits she was particularly attentive to the young competitors, gave encouragement and personally complimented every one of them.

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GOULBURN’S HISTORIC WATER WORKS WHERE STEAMPUNK 2016 WAS HELD.
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THE PARTICIPANTS BEGIN TO ARRIVE
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A GREAT CHARACTER WHO AMUSED THE KIDS AND THE ADULTS TOO.
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THESE TWO YOUNG LADIES TOOK OUT BEST COSTUME AS JUDGED BY Ms TARA MOSS, AS THEIR PROUD DAD, WHO WAS ALSO A COMPETITOR, LOOKED ON.
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COLOURFUL COSTUMES AND CHARACTERS HAD THE KIDS ENTHRALLED.
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SUITABLY ATTIRED FOR THE EVENT.
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‘NO MADAM, HE’S NOT A DOG OF WAR.’
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MESS WITH ME AT YOUR PERIL.
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‘WHEN YOU GET TO KNOW ME YOU WILL SEE I’VE GOT A SOFT SIDE.’
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DRESSED FOR THE OCCASION
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SETTING THE SCENE.
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THE CARD SHARP.
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BEAUTY ON PARADE.
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UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL.
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NIKON ON SHOW.
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FAMILY ON PARADE.
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NOTHING LIKE A GOOD AUDIENCE.
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LOOK AT US.
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MASKED AND READY FOR ANYTHING.
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HIGHLANDER AND FRIENDS.
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HOW CAN THESE YOUNG LADIES SIT DOWN COMFORTABLY?
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GOULBURN’S MAYOR, COUNCILLOR BOB KIRK, IN THE TOP HAT,  SHARES A JOKE WITH SWMBO.
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Ms TARA MOSS WITH HER PRINCIPAL OTHER.
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Ms MOSS WITH HER VOLUNTEER CLOSE PERSONAL PROTECTION.
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STRIKING A GENUINE RURAL NOTE, THE SHEEP WAS A REAL HIT WITH THE KIDS.
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THE WOLLONDILLY RIVER MAKES A FINE BACKDROP FOR THESE WELL DRESSED LADIES.
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A WELL PUNKERSISED DIGITAL CAMERA WITH IT’S PHOTOGRAPHER OWNER.
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GRACIOUS THREE WHEELED TRANSPORT.
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STYLE AND GRACE WILL WIN THE RACE.

The weather was kind on the day, the crowd became larger as time passed and everyone

appeared to be enjoying themselves, I certainly did.

Next year promises to be even bigger and better.

Hoo roo for now.

TO WEED OR NOT TO WEED, THAT IS THE QUESTION?

She Who Must Be Obeyed holds a Certificate 4 in Horticulture. With that qualification one would be entitled to think that Cassa Creaking Bones would have the smartest, most attractive and weed free gardens with manicured lawns in our little enclave on the outskirts of town.

That is definitely not the case.  Fortunately for me, as a bloke totally devoid of green thumbs, She Who Must Be Obeyed is of the opinion that certain weeds have more to offer visually than many of the flowering specialty plants available in nurseries.

Of course, these specialty plants are in prolific quantities and displayed beautifully in the gardens of our neighbours.

I don’t envy the neighbours’ enthusiasm for digging garden beds and edging them with misshaped rocks. I’d rather be out and about with the camera or on the bike actually going somewhere.

Now over the past few months, our region in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, has, like many other parts of Australia,  experienced heavy rain and with the arrival of Spring and warmer days, our native trees and our grassed areas have taken on a new lease of life.

This has been accompanied by many, many broad leafed weeds popping up everywhere.

No sooner do they appear in the gardens and lawns of our neighbours than they disappear, often overnight. Is it a mystery? Not at all.

The answer lies in the liberal use of weed poison.

Do we possess weed poison? Of course we do. She Who Must be Obeyed is qualified to buy Roundup in 20 litre drums. We have one in the shed, been there for 1o years or so, never been opened.  Purchased as part of the Horticulture course. It even has a back pack hand pump delivery system. Its use is totally prohibited at Casa Creaking Bones.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve no objection to weeds, they have their place in the natural scheme of things. However, there comes a point when stern action could be taken.

After all, I am an Aussie bloke living outside the big cities and when it suits me, I follow the country blokes mantra, ‘If it’s growing chop it down, if it’s moving, shoot it!’

Now that Aussie mantra is a bit difficult to apply to weeds and just hopping on the ride on mower and chopping away achieves nothing as the weeds just ‘keep on keeping on’.

Accordingly I surreptitiously slipped into the local hardware store yesterday and purchased some Weed and Feed which you just attach to the hose and spray around the place and a small quantity of Zero that you dab onto the offending weed and as the name implies, that’s it. Bye bye broad leafed weed.

Last night, after a delicious roast leg of lamb, mint sauce, roast potatoes and the relevant veggies accompanied by some pleasing to the palate cab sav, I gentry broached the weeding subject with my horticulturist.

As you are no doubt aware, some family discussions can continue for quite some time where there are widely differing views held by the protagonists.

Not so in this instance. A firm, ‘No way’ closed down the discussion before it really began.

Ever the diplomat, I proclaimed that was fine by me as I found the yellow flowers quite colourful and attractive against their green background. For good measure I added that the flowers did attract the native bees.

There are benefits of course. I don’t have to get on the mower until the weeds die of old age and the whipper snipper/brush cuter can stay in the shed with the mowers.

The Weed and Feed and Zero don’t take up much space in the shed and with summer approaching, our searing summer heat will replace the little yellow flowers with prickly bindy eye. Then I’ll be welcome to dab a little zero here and there.

Here is part of the back yard with its glorious carpet of yellow. How pleasing to the eye.

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Here are two versions of the proposed cure.

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I have to admit though, the weeds do look pretty, the native birds like digging into them and they are certainly a time saver.

Hoo roo for now

 

 

 

 

TALKING ABOUT MENS’ HEALTH.

Regularly in the press and on the goggle box, we hear the experts talking about the reluctance of men to talk about their health and how we men should engage in such a dialogue , ‘for the good of our health.’

A couple of weeks ago, She Who Must be Obeyed and I attended a turnout in a local town with about 20 or so other couples. We only slightly knew the other participants through our involvement in the U3A.

As we sat in a cafe enjoying fresh, real tea in a pot ( without a trace of a tea bag) and hot freshly baked scones with lashing of cream and strawberry jam, the bloke sitting opposite me asked the fellow sitting next to him how his heart disease was progressing.

What followed was an in depth discussion about a heart disease research program they were on and how they had no idea if they were actually receiving life saving drugs or placebos.

Another bloke chimed in with a ‘very vivid’ description of his colostemy bag and how he had become used to its presence and how he dealt with it.

Another bloke  pulled up his right pants leg to show everyone the result of some plates on his tibia and fibula after a bike accident  and the trouble he was having with a bolt or two that were making their way slowly to the surface of his skin, accompanied by lots of pain.

Not to be outdone, another chap who had recently had a hip replacement regaled us all with his constipation  experience arising from a period in intensive care after his surgery.

Suddenly, one of the other blokes whom, like me, had remained mute during this multi faceted  mens’ health discussion slammed his fist on the table, jumped to his feet and angrily shouted across the table, and I quote,’ Jesus bloody Christ, they talk about men not talking about health issues, you bastards haven’t f…..g shut up about it for the last thirty bloody minutes and I’m f…..g bloody sick of hearing about your bloody issues!’

With that said, he left the table and didn’t return. Perhaps the talk reminded him about his own health, who knows.

I could see that a number of the people present were stunned by the outburst. Some commented about the use of the language and how inappropriate it was. Some others inquired about the fellow, where he was from, what he did for a living, how old he was and all the usual busybody inquiries some oldies tend to make. Privately I was slightly amused by all of by the goings on but kept a straight face.

However the open and frank statements made by the participants just goes to show that perhaps men are waking up to the need to be open about their health and are responding positively to the media campaign aimed at achieving it.

Probably though, a mixed group sitting down and enjoying a Devonshire Tea on a social occasion at a road side cafe is not an ideal time nor place for such intimate and detailed personal revelations.

On the positive side, my scones were beaut, the cream was fresh and the strawberry conserve was home made, plentiful and delicious. Didn’t make me feel sick at all.

On the way home, She Who Must be Obeyed, revealed she thought that the whole thing was like a poorly cast afternoon sitcom with a pathetic dialogue and no discernible plot.

Couldn’t agree more.

 

Hoo roo for now

 

 

RELAXING AT AN ULYSSES CLUB ODYSSEY.

Here in the Land Down Under, motorcyclists 40 years of age and preferably older can join a motor cycle club, sorry, a social club for mature motorcyclists. The club is called the Ulysses Club.

Why is it so called? That’s a question to be answered in a later blog.

There are many, many branches of the Ulysses Club across Australia with about 20,000 member motorcyclists, both male and female.

Some years back the Central Administration opened the door for the creation of  overseas branches and now a few have sprung up in Europe, Vietnam and Great Britain.

Membership of the central body gives you automatic membership of all the Branches and that means you can participate in club rides, both long and short, to places of interest almost everywhere in  Australia.

In keeping with the Ulysses theme, some Branches run what is known as an Odyssey, in keeping with the legend of Ulysses himself.

Last month, the Sydney Branch ran an Odyssey to Kempsey, a town in northern New South Wales located on the banks of the beautiful Macleay River and not far rom the coast.

Our motel for the weekend was situate right on the river bank with outside tables and benches from where we could enjoy a few coldies and observe the bird life flying up and down the river. I wonder why it’s called the Moon River Motel?

Just over eighty Ulyssians travelled from all over New South Wales, plus a few from Queensland and Victoria to the Kempsey Odyssey. For the first time in many, many years I observed more participants travelled on four wheels rather than on two, myself included.

The Odyssey organisers provided a range of activities for attendees but on this occasion the decision was taken my our own small group to ‘do our own thing.’

As a result, we ventured to some of the scenic spots not accessible by touring  motorcycles and as a result had the scenic vantage points to ourselves. Here are a few of the images I made along the way.

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This is the rear of the Moon River Motel in Kempsey on the banks of the mighty Macleay River.

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Sitting on the bench outside our unit looking downstream on the Macleay we felt at peace with the world.p1000452-copy-blog

Then, as if by magic, the motelier accompanied by his Labrador dog arrived and paused in front of us. He appeared to be concentrating on his iPad but we were in for a real treat.

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The Labrador picked up a stick and gave it to the Motelier who then threw it out into the river. The dog rushed down what appeared to be a slide near the little white pennant and swam out and collected the stick.

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Successfully retrieved, the stick remained in the dog’s jaws until the whole process was repeated, again and again to our great amusement.

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Later in the morning after a relaxing morning tea in we decided to go view the sights and headed north in our respective all wheel drives.

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Our first point of call gave us a great view looking south along the South Pacific Ocean coastline towards Kempsey and Forster. kempsey-odyssey_24sep2016_0008-copy-blog

Perhaps the cropped version provides a stronger impression of the pleasing view.

Leaving this spot we travelled further north along the coast and finally made the climb to one of the districts highest points and were provided with another spectacular view.

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Although the dirt access road was in great condition, large areas of loose gravel had been laid down and it would have been a challenging ride up on any bike, let alone my Harley Davidson cruiser or my mate’s pristine touring Beemer.

Our descent from the summit was easy going in the diesel  Landrover, we just sat in high range second gear and never needed the brakes all the way down to the bitumen. Here we are at the beginning of the way down.kempsey-odyssey_24sep2016_0017-copy-blog

By the time we returned to our motel, it was time for afternoon tea on the river bank and we were joined by a very inquisitive Kookaburra who seemed to delight in being photographed as it sat on an adjacent table and feasted on one of our precious Monte Carlo biscuits.

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As dusk arrived, many, many birds commenced their flight home to roost with a large number choosing to travel along the river and we were fortunate to observe quite a number of them in different formations as they made the trip. I particularly liked the ‘V’ formations with their pleasing reflections and this particular group seemed to be just skimming the river’s surface at quite a rate of knots.

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A short time later, we were off to a local club to join up with our fellow Ulyssians for a sumptuous meal, the usual speeches and presentations.

After a few drinks, the usual exaggerated stories of daring do on motorcycles circulated around the assembled mob. It was great listening to yarns that had grown in degree of daring do over the years and it’s a sure thing that some of the riders will become Ulysses Club legends in the not too distant future.  After all, isn’t that how the Ulysses legend began all those centuries ago?

The next day we rose just before dawn to get an early start on our return home journey of about 700 klms.  I popped outside to get one more look at the mighty Macleay just as the sum appeared over the opposite bank. My camera was close by and I grabbed this shot almost instinctively. It hasn’t been photoshopped and I hope you like it just the way it is.

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We all returned home refreshed and looking forward to the next Odyssey with a pledge to each other that next time it will be on two wheels and not four.

Hoo roo for now