Well I only got one nibble on the three day jaunt north that I posted a few weeks ago, and, anyway, by Friday, half of Northern NSW was under three feet of water. So, what to do with three days? Why not go to Southbank for coffee??? I can never sleep the night of a big ride, so I was up and on the road at 4:45am Friday. The start of the trip was not promising; just at the nice little downhill twisty section at the Lake Conjola turnoff, it suddenly bucketed down rain. You know what it's like; how long do you ride getting wet before you admit defeat and stop and put on the wets? Well, it's complicated, because a couple of kays down the road, it stopped. Goodo, ride on. err, no, because only a few kays further on than THAT, just out of Milton, still in the pitch dark, it belted down again. So, crawl into some cover in Milton and don pants and jacket, discovering that Draggins are now soaked, and the plastic pants are going to be creating a nice old sauna for a long while. But not long after the sun makes a sulking appearance, and reveals that the clouds are high, and breaking up! (I already knew that the forecast for Melbourne was dry for the three days, so I figured I was riding into good weather.) By Eden, and breakfast, the clouds have broken up to the point of disinterest, and the wets get stashed away. You've got to be brave, in those circumstances, because more often than not ten kays down the road you'll be putting them back on again. But, by the time I crossed into Victoria (DON'T FALL ASLEEP, FATIGUE KILLS, every 20 metres!!!!!!!!!!!) the sky was glorious blue and there was a good chance they'd stay that way. Keeping an eagle eye on the speedo and every stray bush on the side of the road I droned on towards Melbourne at as much over 100kph as I dared go. Which wasn't much! And despite maintaining my perfect record for getting lost in Melbourne every time I come down by bike, by ten past five I was sitting at Southbank, next to a solitary R6 and wondering where everyone was. Vic assured me on the phone that they'd be along later, and they eventually turned up. Well, about 10 or 12 anyway. I reckon Vic rang everyone and told them not to go that night! But, the coffee as hot and tasty, the Indian food was, as Jason observed, ok but grossly over-priced, and the company of Loz, Caz, Rosie, Flipper and her daughter, and lots of others, and late arrival Goosh, made it a very pleasant evening. Conversation with Flipper and Minna drifted long into the evening back at HQ, but by about 12 I was running on fumes, so I headed off to bed. Saturday morning I went round to Chef's and met up with MVRog, and Chef when he got home, and then, as usually happens to my Melbourne trips, the lure of home and the call of the road set in, and I kitted up and headed south to go north. (Who's idea was that, anyway?) I wanted to knock off a reasonable part of the trip before dark, and succeeded in making it to Cann River 30 seconds before the pub closed. Settle, I just wanted a room. My neighbour remarked on how brave I was to be 'riding these roads at night', and then proceeded to burst any bubble of pride I might be having by telling me that he was near the end of a 15,000lm 3 week trip, on an R1!! Today I called in at Mogo and saw Joel and his lovely family for a quick cuppa, and then home...1,900 kms in two and a bit days, and if it wasn't for the fact that my chain is now crying, 'nuff' I'd do it again tomorrow. Thanks for the bed and breakfast, Deb.