this http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&sou...91017,150.210571&spn=1.422444,2.90863&t=h&z=9 When I get to sleep late, and the alarm on my phone goes off stupidly early, I get confused. I have thought my alarm was doing many things in the past, and have tried to do many things with my phone and without exception, end up going back to bed. That is what happened this morning when my alarm rang at 5:30 telling me to get up. I'm not sure what sort of foreign object I thought my phone was, but regardless, I ended up back in bed. And then it goes off five minutes later. This time I remembered why my alarm was going off, but I decided a could have another five minutes anyway. I've had many many another five minutes over the past years, I treasure them greatly. That being so, I was out of the house a bit after 6, filled up at the local and then lanesplit myself silly trying to get to the roadhouse at Eastern Creek by 7. Which I did, and treated myself to a sausage and egg muff. There I met up with Sunite and together we doddled off to richmond along Castlereagh road, stuck behind a garbage truck. I suppose it could've been worse. Bells line of Road. It's a bit funny how sometimes, because the weather will be fine at one location, you assume it will be fine everywhere else, and will be fine instantly. Well that is pretty far removed from reality. However, someone never mentioned it to mountains that during the hottest months of the year, it is right that it should be the hottest months of the year. I know that technically we are in autumn, but that's like saying technically I'm a quarter french and a quarter albino. It's never changed the fact that I can't stand the "culture" and that all french people have herpes, or that in summer I tan like a dead cow. But apparently, technicalities are all that is necessary for the mountains to decide that they're gonna give these poor bastards frostbite. It was pretty cold. I honestly think anyone that does Bells at the speed limit is a masochist. There is not much joy to be gained from doing so as the corners are altogether too long, and the surface was the by product of Satan's own spawn. It's a punishing ride that's for certain, and in the early stages of a trip like this, one bump here counts as 20 in 10 hours time. The road was also damp, but that wasn't much of an issue, just took it a bit easier. I don't know why the sign outside the funeral home in Lithgow tells you the temperature, but it does and it did. 11 degrees, much to cold. Into maccas to warm up to a hot chocolate and a prayer session for the sun to come out. And off we went to Ilford. According to moomajoo (sp?), a new contributer to netrider, the road from Lithgow to Ilford is full or great twisties. Well, it's not full and they're not great, but there are some and they are ok. It broke up the monotony of what was essentially a transport stage. The scenery was pretty cool in places though - huge cooling towers of power stations belching steam set the background, while giant meccano cubes housed turbines in the foreground. No, seriously, the widest canyon in the world was impressive, as was the single rail track that crossed the road about ten times. Unfortunately these bends are part of a relatively quiet highway, but by some miracle the road was actually quite smooth. One Holden statesman decided to make a nuisance of himself in a long long long downhill right hander and made me frown slightly. Lets say I was doing the speed limit and he was going much slower. The corner had great vision was completely empty up ahead and I had a quick flick around him planned. As I approached, statesman had other ideas and slowly dawdled into the middle of the road. This put me in quite the conundrum as my projected line was now between his number plate and right blinker, so I changed my tack to go around the outside of him. Either he saw that I was trying to overtake much to late and wanted to help, or just got bored of the middle of the road, right about the time I was level with his bumper he decided to meander back to his rightful position on the road. This also annoyed me, but I was already commited and through before he had any clue of what was unfolding. No need to fear, there was still sizeable room to spare by the time I was passed. We kept going on our merry way. I feel I should not be hypocritical here. In no uncertain terms was what the driver did in any way dangerous. Completely open vision and no other traffic at all, it was just unnecessary and I had to compensate for it. We headed off towards Bathurst via Sofala in search of windy goodness. I hate that wind can be pronounced as wind or wind, but when spelt always looks like wind. When I say windy, I say it as in the second instance. It was decent, mainly 75's and 85's with the occasional 45 thrown in, which I really struggled to get the hang of, I find it hard to transition between tighter and sweeping corners. By now the sun was out, and we were quite warm and cheerful, looking forward to the treats ahead. I ride a bike that suits particularly aggressive cornering, unfortunately, 75's and 85's and not particularly aggressive corners, but I made do with the means available to me. Lets be honest, the surface was pathetic, and it got steadily worse the closer we got to bathurst, which is somewhat counter-intuitive. Anyway, a quick note on my bike. An earthquake wouldn't shake this thing off line. It plants itself and doesn't move. In what was probably a foolish move, I decided to test it. Up came a slightly downhill 85 left hander that just kept on going forever. Tipped in at 140 and opened the tap. ... 150 ... 160 upshift... 170, really starting to lean now... and exit. The whole time the bike going babababbabababababa bouncing over the rutted surface. It is quite an impressive little toy really. It was about 70 km from Ilford to Bathurst, but the whole escapade took us less than half an hour. Then popped into Jack Duggans for lunch.