Bright-en up the sky...

Mother nature, ours and every other motorcyclist constant companion, nemesis and sometimes ally, had her metaphorical tail between her legs today and was obviously apologising for the less than ideal weather we'd experienced yesterday. Day three began in blazing sunshine, and continued much the same for the entirety of the fun had today. If you thought I was done with motorcycling clichés yesterday, then prepare to be disappointed. (There is no escape)

We climbed up through the Snowy Mountains along twisting roads which kinked up and down as often as they jinked left and right, with minimal traffic to hinder our progress as it's the “off” season in the Snowies. Famed for its skiing, there wasn't much of that to be had thanks to there being no snow, and an awful lot of sunshine. All the small towns and chalet complexes we passed were eerily deserted, their sad looking chairlifts glinting in the sun as if being shiny would somehow be enough to attract the long gone skiers back.

Ski resort, no skiers but lots of bikes

The road, I know I said this before but there are lot of roads like this in these parts, was made for motorcycling. Nobody would string together that many hairpins, sweeping curves, tight bends, crests and troughs unless they had a penchant for all things two wheeled. Or they got hammered one day down at the local highways agency, either way it all worked out nicely for us.

The big BMW, who I'm on the cusp of christening something Germanic like Helga or Broomhilda, had apparently gone on a crash diet. She seemed to weigh half the amount she had yesterday, far more nimble and much more manoeuvrable. Somehow energised by the sight of the fantastic roads, the BMW flicked through the bends and curves, stitching together the alternating left and right varieties with ease and apparent relish; despite what the muppet in the saddle thought he was trying to make the bike do. It's surprisingly 'me' friendly that R1200GS, must have some sort of idiot autopilot button that I hit by accident.

As we descended from the physical and metaphorical high point, the scent of Eucalyptus which had filled the air as we rode through the forest, was replaced with the altogether less appetising aroma of hot asphalt and melting tar. Temperatures were rapidly rising as we descended towards the plains on yet another great road, and with the sun high in the sky, sunglasses on and a tank full of fuel, it was all in danger of becoming another cliché.

High up in the not-so-Snowy Mountains

We sped along through velvet textured grassland, liberally interspersed with vegetation covered hills and mountains which, from a distance, gave the impression that someone had draped a huge felt blanket of trees over the naked bumps on the earth. The first few hours of the day had been spent in frantic pursuit of the perfect cornering line around the bends, transitioning from one to the other with little gap between. But now, now it was if someone had turned up the wavelength on the corners and dialled in the calm.

The road stretched far ahead towards the southern horizon, the languorous bends clearly visible for an age before encountering them and everything about the place said 'relax'. Instead of the rapid succession of tight corners, it was now as if the bends had decided to chill out a bit. They had a lot of ground to cover, so why bunch up? Time to just sit back and enjoy the smooth ride and lazily meandering road. So we did. Although sitting back and enjoying the ride is easier said than done on that motorcycle seat. After a few days in the saddle, you start to appreciate the benefits of a sofa, or possibly a concrete bench.

Somewhere along the way on that route a pie leapt out from nowhere and landed in my mouth, then I think it either died, or it was dying beforehand. The less said about that the better to be entirely honest with you, sometimes eating on a budget just doesn't cut it.

This man wants lunch, pray it's not a pie

Tiny communities, isolated in every way dotted the landscape. We passed a few one horse, no horse and 'someone stole the horse and ate it' towns, each one just as inexplicably friendly and welcoming as the next, before we finally turned west at the settlement of Mount Beauty. From there we were treated to a repeat performance of the sort of roads encountered in the first part of the day, only these were possibly better. I just let Helga / Broomhilda get on with it and enjoy herself, I was just along for the ride after all.

I'll tell you this though, for a big girl with a lot of plastic on board, she can be quite graceful when the occasion calls for it.

The town of Bright, marvellously fragrant with the scent of pine trees, is where we've ended up for the night. I'm hooked on the place already, but then pine trees do it for me. Sleeping on a bed of needles tonight, couldn't ask for a better end to a pretty damn good day.

Possibly 500km or more to cover tomorrow, so it'll be a long day. If it's still Thursday when we finish, I'll try and post a few of the better photos we've got so far. For now though, a fragrant bed of pine needles is calling.