Sunny Corner 2002
“Gorillas in the Dust”
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Sunny Corner 2002 “Gorillas in the Dust” |
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Moving Pictures Sunny Corner Images 2002 here
My apologies in advance.
I’ve tried to write a decent ride report, but have come unstuck because I cant tell the story without using the word ‘dust’ in every second sentence. “Can’t be true.” you say?, Yeah, Right.
Somehow the thought of sharing a trail with more than 600 riders normally sends me home to watch the races on telly, but Sunny Corner is just that little bit different. There’s always that bit of drama, apprehension and eagerness to see what this year’s event will be like. If you account for the extra year off, you can understand why the Central Tablelands Motorcycle Club (CTMCC) took in 500 prepaid entries this year. Although, I think I must have been a little more eager than most of the punters when I was given my entry number, no.16 (I didn’t think I was that early.)
My dramas also started early. I found the reason my front brake was just a little weaker than normal. Weeping forks onto the brake disc isn’t normally a good sign for a weekend away, but I didn’t want to know about it.
Just to fill you in; unlike most riders, on rare occasions I’ve been known to talk bigger than I ride; and I’m pretty bloody dodgy with a spanner too. So I could see myself carefully sliding a feeler gauge under the fork seal to scratch one fork leg and slice seal on the other. With this on my mind, and Sydney City Motorcycles just up the road, I landed my tale of woe on them 15 minutes before they were due to go home. The blokes in the workshop took it all in their stride. They didn’t even mention that they don’t sell Yamahas. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road with a quick fix; didn’t even have to unload the bikes.
Steve, Mark and I spent the next couple of hours reclining in luxury, playing with cruise controls, climate controls, electric powered seat height adjusters and watching the fuel computer rapidly calculate distance to empty. As the battle cruiser Ford Explorer berthed, there was something in the air I hadn’t experienced at Sunny Corner. Dust.
Click to enlarge
The sole puddle in the compound, situated next to the DSMRA tent, was fenced off in what could have been a tribute to the years gone by, but was probably just to stop someone from roosting it at unsuspecting punters. Still, the lack of mud still didn’t stop the Sutto’s monster-ute and custom made trailer from needing to be rescued by the local Rural Fire Service as he found a place to set up shop. All this before we’d even made it to scrutineering.
Sutto’s has been a long time supporter and is perfect for those bits you thought were in the tool kit.
With this little task out of the way, we found time to stand back and have a yarn with some of the DSMRA boys. Chris and Hoo-Ray were there having a chat to interested riders. The event’s style of riding (State Forests, rego’d bikes, sweep riders etc.) closely matches the club’s rides. As we were talking, Ugly-Dave (aka brother, or bloke) came back from an afternoon run on his new 525EXC. Here was a bloke who, 3 weeks earlier had, finished 1st in the Safari’s International Moto. Division, and managed to post a better time than a lot of the F.I.M. riders. He’s an evil bugger with firecrackers, but qualified in ‘Remote Areas 1st Aid’, something he’d put to good use before the weekend was out.
Daylight was fading and it was time to retire to the Motel in Lithgow in search of hot showers, cold beer, fresh steak and old wine.
I’d caught up with some old faces and promptly broke my promise not to start another year ‘feeling poorly’. Maybe next year I’ll enjoy the morning. We listened to the rider’s brief and consorted with the KTM girlies. Every ride should have girlies trying to sell you things. It makes it a much more civilized affair.
Later, in the ‘Pig-pen’ with a couple of hundred bikes ready to go, the thumpers deafened us and the 2-smokes gassed us. So much for the civilized part.
A polite pushing match to get to the front
While everyone wanted to be out and gone, the wait was long enough for you to have a look around and get an idea of what a broad range of riders come every year.
Just under half the crowd seemed to be Orange (including Steve and Mark) with Blue, Yellows and Red making up the rest. Every so often, I’d catch sight of Green but they seemed to keep to themselves. New or old didn’t matter, nor did appearance. A pristine, white DT200 jostled with battered XR600s, TT350s and a few 450 and 525EXCs (lucky bastards).
The blue haze of 2 strokes nicely matched the scrutineering tent.
The riders were just as varied. Open face helmets, oilskin jackets and work gloves packed in with look-alike team riders with the newest of everything, and the Dubbo boys were there again in their pink tu-tu’s.
The day started with forestry trails and as expected, the dust was a shocker. More than a few times you’d be completely blinded or reduced to following the vague outline of the bike ahead while using them as a track indicator. When they braked, you did. If their taillight started bouncing around, you got ready. When they disappeared, you slowed down, and hoped the bike behind you was paying attention.
Once we were in the forest, conditions improved and you could ride to your own pace. The dust died, the track opened enough for you to pick up the pace and get around any slower punters. There was a brilliant scene as an old bloke, resplendent in a Driazabone and pink tu-tu on a battered TT350 easily rounded up one of the ‘fast’ riders in matching Orange pants, jersey and matching 520EXC (who just happened to be my mate, Steve). The fact that the same ‘old bloke’ had just effortlessly shot past me is beside the point. We got him back and blasted past he stopped for morning tea.
The cameras came out for the first Hard section. Attacking it was a matter of timing the other riders in order to get a clean run at the loose, rutted uphill. If you lost momentum, it was all against you. I saw one WR used for traction as the rider behind decided he was too close to change lines. Stopping wasn’t an option.
Climbing this made me glad it wasn’t normal weather for the event. I doubt half the riders would have made it up if the climb had to be made on the slippery muck this stuff turns to in the wet.
Great, if you could just avoid the traffic
The commonly used, but less successful ‘Paddle’ method of hill climbing
The 2nd Hard section promised to be that bit challenging and didn’t disappoint. Instead of a fairly smooth but sharp, rutted climb, this one let you think you had it beaten before showing you the real fun. That riders were coming back down the trail should have given me a bit of a hint. The traffic jam hiding the final section was the real fun indicator. When this many go-fast riders start having an attack of the ‘polites’, you know its gotta be good. I thought the bloke with the Helmet-cam on the 2-stroke was doing it tough until I saw half a dozen riders come to a halt on the hill and start digging holes as they tried to get going again. A general indicator seemed to be if you could keep going at a decent pace and keep the front near the ground, you had a chance.
The 2nd Challenge section
Some of the riders at the bottom of section seemed to be there for the show and enjoyed watching others throw their bike at the hill. One mere mortal provided more entertainment than others with his impressive acrobatics. When faced with the prospect of having his LC-4 loop out over him back down the hill, he simply parked it in closest tree and had a rest.
Not a bad job. It only took 3 of us to get it down.
There were more open roads and dust before we could think about lunch. The 3rd Hard section seemed to be made for power and was a great 2nd and 3rd gear race to the top. When the trail finally turned for home I started to recognise some of the tracks from past years. Coming in through the old pine forests, you could stay in 3rd and get into the rhythm of ‘brake, turn, power, and repeat’.
I knew it was getting close to lunch and was getting lazy as I came to the last creek crossing. Exiting the water I saw the spectators and thought, “Jeez, if I’d seen them earlier, I would have done something spectacular.” I selected 4th, buttoned on and felt the back come around to full lock. With just enough time to think, “Nope, this isn’t right” the rear gripped and promptly high-sided me down the road. So much for not spectacular. With no real damage done and an assurance from the bystanders that it really did look good I figured lunch and a Panadol would be a good thing.
Afternoon
Lunch was served by Wallerawang Public School (the best Tuck-shop in the bush) and couldn’t be faulted. They managed to feed 613 riders (and who knows how many hangers-on) with everything that could have been wanted. This was the fuel we needed to have a go at the afternoon loop.
The dust was now worse. It hid fun things like erosion berms (woa-boys) from you until you were on top of them, or later. One particular jump seemed to claim a few riders and almost got me.
Just as the dust thinned, I saw this one was steeper and bigger than its brothers. Going too fast to brake, the only option was to ‘button on and hold on’. I hit the ramp the world got real quiet. As I soared by, I noticed half a dozen bikes (maybe 3 of them sweeps) parked below me in the gutters. I can only guess they were looking after a rider who got it wrong. Mark said there were a couple of jumps he hit without seeing. One moment he’s powering down the road, the next he’s wondering what the landing zone will be like.
Once back into the forested area, the smiles returned and we could attack the next Hard section; a straight, rocky climb from a standing start at the checkpoint, that just called for more power. The 4WD tracks later in the afternoon were a ball. Loose, stony downhills, flowing corners and enough room to pass (or be passed) without having to worry too much about the other rider’s ability.
After finally getting a tricky downhill, we waited to regroup.
Our team had expanded after lunch to now include Mark and Mal (400EXCs), Steve (520EXC), Phil (525EXC) and Simon (640 Adventure). I was starting to feel left out, being the only one who had kick-start and a Blue bike. We took off, kicked off the last of the hill climbs and followed the ridge tops.
By 2.30pm we were on the home run, back in the tall pines and having fun. The race was on between Steve, Mark and myself, all trying to out-brake the others and keep the inside line. When Phil caught up, he told us that Simon had come to grief on one of the last rocky climbs and managed to break off the fuel tap on the big 640 Adventure. He was in good hands and the sweeps were going to take care of him, so there was nothing to it, but to race on home.
Approaching the creek crossing for the second time, my only thought was “I wont do that again.” as I took the steady approach. Back on the power and home in no time.
As we loaded the bikes, I got a chance to check for battle damage.
The front tyre was well on the way to flat, courtesy of hitting something a lot like a house-brick at speed. It was just as well that it happened so close to home, any later and I would have had to stop and change it. I HATE changing tyres. The fork seals, so carefully cleaned and swabbed by the bike shop in Sydney, were shot and managed to make a nice little puddle in the trailer by the time we got home. Oh, and I scuffed my bark-busters during the high-side. The Dianese body armour has been crash tested and you’d expect, passed perfectly.
The face of CTMCC, Glen Partridge, knows the potential for trouble and did the smart thing in getting the big draw under way quickly. With so many dirty faces looking up at him, he let Mr. KTM draw the ticket with the words, “Right now, I’ve got 613 friends. In 2 minutes time, I’ll have 1.”
Ray Carter of up around Bulahdelah way was the happiest bloke on the day. He got kisses from 3 of the beauties, and got to keep the fourth.
As draws for the ‘minor’ prizes carried on (everything from riding gear to alloy goodies to oil) the crowd started to go home. Bells Line of Road was thick with utes and trailers and we had a chance to compare this year’s ride with previous.
Consensus seemed to be that 2002 wasn’t as challenging as past years. Whether the drought; their last ‘dusty’ ride was in 1996; or the need to restrict the amount of single-track riding caused this, I can’t say for sure. As an annual event, it’s still a ‘must do’. With community support coming from everyone; from the local primary school, small businesses, councils and the Bush Fire Brigade; it’s easy to see how it’s survived 16 years running.
Ride the area if you get a chance. If you don’t know it that well the local bike shops and clubs (DSMRA etc..) are sure to be able to steer you in the right direction. Failing even this, you can always come along next year.
Assorted Images Below click to enlarge
daniel
(woafa)
WR-4