She huffed and she puffed...

...but mother nature couldn't blow my house down.

Day two started much as day one had ended, in other words in the dark. It was dark, very dark when I awoke to the suffocating yellow claustrophobia, that is sleeping in my one man tent surround by motorcycle clothing. After managing to convince myself that even in the strange lands of the east coast of Australia, the custom isn't to get out of bed when it's dark, I went back to sleep until the sun deigned to grace the scene.

Batemans Bay rhymes with 'grey' and indeed it was

After a hearty breakfast consisting of the pie food group, we hit the road and mother nature let us have it with whatever she hadn't let us have the day before. More of the same insipid drizzle and gusting wind kept us awake and on our toes as we threaded our way south, interspersed with the occasional blush of sunshine to remind us what we were missing.

Despite the less than enthusiastic weather though, the highway was proving to be quite interesting to ride with plenty of scenic views along the way, provided you could squint between the water droplets on the visor. We swung west towards the Great Dividing Range (it divides things and is pretty good at it too) just outside the small town of Bega, apparently famous for cheese. Not sure if that's all cheese or just a specific type, but if it's cheese you're after then Bega is the place!

This BMW is cheese coloured, hence its inclusion here

As we progressed into the Dividing Range, threading our way along the narrow roads climbing higher every minute, the temperature did the exact opposite and legged it downwards. A brief stop to don an extra layer or two gave us a chance to look around the forests we were riding through. A mass of chlorophyll, abundantly green thanks to the rain that had been on the scene earlier. This wasn't just green, this was green with a point to prove.

The route twisted its way upwards, tight hairpins, sweeping bends, dips, rises, any number of motorcycle riding clichés were encountered along the way; the road was obviously built for bikes... and the truck carrying a lot of aloof looking horses I got stuck behind, but that's beside the point.

Once I was done examining the relative merits of the equine bottom, we emerged over the top of the mountains and threaded our way down through some vast, rolling grasslands. I was half expecting to have to slam on the brakes to avoid a herd of buffalo / bison / cowboys. The road stretched ahead for as far as the eye could see, gently curving to accommodate the hills on either side and even the sun came out to shine on our little three bike parade. Good times.

The addition of waterproof liners / over trousers or any form of waterproof garment to a bike rider, is a guarantee of good weather.

The last quarter of our days ride to Jindabyne was essentially perfect motorcycling, even rated on my somewhat dubious quality standard whereby 'perfect' basically means not falling off. Good weather, better roads and some pretty damn impressive scenery (and not falling off of course).

Despite all threats, Jindabyne the Great Dividing Range and the Snowy Mountains have so far elected to remain above freezing, although the metal chair I'm currently sitting on in a camp kitchen by the lake is probably approaching zero degrees C as I write.

There are plenty of pictures and even a whole load of video, but I'll have to deal with the majority of that when I get home, that's assuming survival of course. So for now you'll have to be content with the few scattered photos herein.

Tomorrow we're delving deeper into the Snowy Mountains, threading our way towards Thredbo (see what I did there?) and the delights to be encountered along the way. For now though, my yellow wedge of a tent and the interior of a sleeping bag is calling. Actually it's getting pretty damned cold now, wonder if the BMW has a tent heater on it somewhere.

Nope, they can't find the tent heater either