Paul's Queensland Adventure_�
(Copyright Paul Manson - 2010)

It all began a couple of years ago now. I had come from a mainly Japanese motorcycle background but had been introduced to Harley Davidsons by a friend who was looking after his sons Softail whilst his son was suffering from a lack of license. At this time I was having a short unhappy affair with a Norton Commando and we were really struggling to get on. I had grown tired of the new breed of Japanese motorcycles with their plastic parts and their fancy graphics and felt I needed to get back to basics. The Harley seemed to fit the bill exactly, being air-cooled and a basic twin cylinder engine layout. I never really felt the need to buy what I called an image bike but preferred function over form. I started to look around for an Electra Glide because I felt that I was only ever going to get one go at buying a Harley and I might as well aim for the top model. I looked at several second hand bikes but discovered that some people's ideas of immaculate were a little different to my own. My wife realising my sinking mood at not being able to find the right bike, told me to get myself down to the local dealer and get myself a new one!

Leroy came into my life on the 14^th of October 1996 and as with all new purchases of a Harley Davidson I was given 12 months free membership to the Harley Owners Group or HOG for short. I felt like I finally belonged to the big Harley family I had read so much about whilst waiting for Leroy to come along. The only problem was I felt a bit nervous about making the initial contact with my Chapter having been a solo rider all my life. Oh sure I had ridden with mates and at one time had been a member of a small club but to actually go and join a Harley club, well that I was sure would be a little intimidating.

In the meantime a fellow by the name of Joe started at work and it turned out he owned a Harley Davidson Heritage Softail. I noticed the HOG patch on his leather jacket and secretly hoped that he was an old hand at this HOG thing and may be able to point me in the right direction. As it turned out he was even more scared of making contact with a HOG chapter than I was. We decided together that we would make the move and in hindsight was the best thing we ever did.

A couple of day rides and the odd weekend away had convinced us that most of the members of the local Chapter were just like us. Either people having a mid life crisis and trying to relive their youth or just regular people who had had the Japanese motorcycle bubble burst for them. It was now time to get out and enjoy the call of the open road with like-minded souls and actually enjoy the scenery for a change.

In 1998 it was mentioned at a chapter meeting that the National HOG Rally was to be held on the Gold Coast of Queensland over the Easter weekend in April. Joe and I were very excited at the prospect of riding with the group all the way to Queensland and started to make plans for the trip. We didn't realise how much this trip would stay in our memory.

It had been arranged that a group of about 35 bikes were going to go up the coast together. Joe and I had arranged to meet them on the road and while we waited had people blowing their horns at us and waving, (a Harley phenomenon) and little kids pointing. We had both decided that we had to look the part of the big tough biker so we had bought a couple of Drizabone jackets to wear under our vests (Drizabone - oil skinned coats usually used by horsemen but very, very cool).   These turned out to be very welcome as the morning of departure turned on a little sprinkle of rain. I cursed my bad luck as I had spent days cleaning the bike. By the end of the trip I would have killed for a little sprinkle of rain.

Paul and Leroy waiting for the Chapter to arrive.

"Let's stop kickin' tyres and get on the road..."

As the chapter came through we tucked in behind for the start of our big adventure. The first 3 hours was pretty uneventful. The rain stayed away and the pace was fairly slow. We arrived in Taree for a fuel stop and everyone had a chance to say hello to one another and share a few yarns. As we refuelled I noticed that the sky was turning a bit black and mentioned it to Joe. Riding an Ultra Classic I wasn't particularly worried about the weather as I had ample weather protection and I had noted before that even in fairly heavy rain I stayed quite dry so was sure that even though I didn't have any rain pants with me that my tough biker Drizabone would do the job. Also the Tour Pak and Saddlebags I had found to be very waterproof and the only thing I had exposed was my sleeping bag. Joe on the other hand had loaded his bike to the hilt with every conceivable thing you could imagine and had fitted them into two green canvas bags that if exposed to heavy rain were in danger of getting soaked.

We headed out of Taree and our stop for the night at Coffs Harbour. Coffs is a lovely place right on the coast and is a haven for holidaymakers. We arrived there right on dark and checked the bikes over before unloading our essentials for the night. For me that was my toothbrush and spare undies. For Joe that meant everything he had brought with him including his special breakfast packs. He even had a shave, a far cry from the biker image I was sharing with the rest of the chapter. I reminded myself to have a talk to him later about trying to at least look the part.

The stopover at Coffs Harbour

Chapter members sheltering from the heavy rain

We all headed over to the big pub and steakhouse over the road from our motel where we met up with quite a lot of members from other chapters who were heading to the same rally. We had a great dinner and a few beers and then headed back to the motel where we all sat around chatting about our ride so far. During the ride up, I had been passed by a very well ridden Road King while going through the Bullahdelah mountain range. I was amazed at how this chap was riding and decided I would try and stay with him for a while. As we leaned into the corners my bike being loaded up pretty well started to scrape a few things but it was very stable. I enjoyed watching the sparks flying off his bike. The rider turned out to be Laurie Keets who has a long biking history. Laurie works for Fraser Motorcycles, the importer of Harley into New South Wales and also writes a magazine called Milwaukee Movements. We laughed as we recalled our ride through the mountains.

Back to Coffs Harbour and after retiring for the night with the bikes safely chained up it was into bed. It was not long after retiring that I realized that Joe was a good sleeper. Me being the insomniac that I am suddenly felt that a crazed man with a chainsaw had been let loose in our room. I tried everything I could to gently let Joe know that he was keeping me and probably the whole motel awake, but to no avail.

Then it happened. A light tinkle followed by a heavier stronger thud and then the loudest hammering I have ever heard. I really wasn't sure if what I was hearing was correct so I got up and peered out the window. It was absolutely pouring down. The raindrops were hitting the ground so hard they were bouncing back up again about 2 feet. I looked over at Joe and he was oblivious to it all. The bikes were getting drowned and it was then that I realized that there was a creek running right past our motel room. I started to really worry about maybe never seeing our bikes again when all of a sudden the rain stopped as quick as it had begun. The rest of the night was uneventful and we woke to grey skies but no rain. Joe was absolutely amazed when I told him about the heavy rain that he had slept through and at first I think he thought I was having a joke with him but other members of the group confirmed it.

We saddled up and headed out of Coffs Harbour for what we thought would be a leisurely 4-hour run to Surfers Paradise where the rally was to be held. Willie G Davidson was going to make an appearance there and it was hoped that our new friendship with Laurie Keets would get us a private screening with him. It would be akin to a Catholic meeting the Pope. I was feeling very tired after the events of the previous night but was looking forward to the ride. As we left Coffs it started to rain and it got heavier as we went on. It appeared that the rain I had seen during the night was hanging around and was going to challenge us all the way to Surfers. As the kilometers rolled by and the availability of shelter became less apparent the heavens really opened up and it became increasingly obvious that this was going to be a bit more than the leisurely 4 hours in the saddle I had hoped for. I have never experienced rain like it before or since. It was so heavy that even the cars were having trouble staying on the road and most were pulling up and stopping.

Taking cover during the rain

Laurie Keets and Joe at Ballina

Just staying on the road at times was a major problem as most of us were wearing open-faced helmets. I was wearing clear glasses which were next to useless and wished I had packed my full-face helmet even if it was Yamaha red and white! The rain got heavier and heavier and soon I found myself at the head of the pack the normal rules of road Captain front and rear going out the window and everybody taking on an every man for himself type attitude. I had to quickly make a decision as to what to do as I realised that to continue was extremely dangerous as visibility was down to about 5 feet. It was about this stage that you start to question why the hell you are doing this. The traffic coming the other way was mainly large trucks and as they passed by I was getting a wave of water thrown over me that threatened to drown me, literally. Some of the guys were wearing balaclavas and told me later that as they got soaked with water they stuck to their faces making it very difficult to actually breathe. At one stage a maniac in a four-wheel drive overtook me and the wave of water he poured over me was making me have to actually drink the water to breathe. I have never seen or felt anything like it.

The first available shelter we found was a service station and I rang my brother in- law in Brisbane who assured me that the sun was shining and thought I was joking when I told him that we were in the middle of what turned out to be a major cyclone. We sheltered under the cover of the service station forecourt and were reluctant to leave but in the end decided it would be better to go and try and outrun this wretched storm.

As we travelled through the sugar cane fields of Northern NSW I was just starting to think that maybe the rain was slowing down when all of a sudden a huge gust of wind was spotted blowing through the fields. The trees were blowing sideways and if I had been smart I would have stopped until it passed but having nowhere to shelter decided to keep going. Big mistake. The wind caught the fairing of the Ultra Classic and as it is mounted directly to the handlebars reefed them to the left pushing me completely off to the side of the road. I managed to get my sidestand down on the move (thankfully I had fitted an after market sidestand extension prior to the trip) and was just able to stop the bike from falling over with me underneath it. The other bikes behind me had been mostly bikes with no fairings and thought I had just pulled up because I could not see.

We stood on the side of the road incredulous as to what had unfolded before us and vowed and declared that if we made it in one piece we would arrange to have a special patch made up as a memory to these most extraordinary conditions.

It was while we were standing on the side of the road contemplating our fortunate survival so far that it happened. It started as a distant raw and got progressively louder. It was definitely a Harley Davidson no mistaking that sound but boy was it on the move. Everybody looked at each other with a look of amazement on their faces and waited for the mystery rider to come by. The rain was still bucketing down and yet this guy was flying. He came into view finally and what a sight. The rider and bike were all black. No chrome. He had a huge set of apehangers on his bike and he was almost in a reclined position. The throttle was pinned to the stop and there was a rooster tail of water shooting 30 feet into the air off his rear tyre. He accelerated past where we had stopped, around the next bend in the road without backing off and disappeared into the distance. It was like the rider was saying catch me if you can. I was sure we would catch up to him at some stage down the road but never did. I often think about that guy and a few of us think that we may have seen the devil that day tempting us to have a go. I know I wouldn't have been able to keep up with him if I tried.

The rest of the trip was taken at a very slow place with the uppermost thought being the preservation of life and limb. Just when I thought this dam weather couldn't get any worse it started to hail. Not big enough to do any damage but as I lifted my glasses copped a stone in each eye. Aarrgghh!!

By the time we arrived at Tweed Heads it was still hammering down and in the confusion some bikes, including Joe, took the coast road instead of the short cut to the rally site. It would be even longer to get to the rally site for them but at least the sun had started to come out.

The Gold Coast Chapter had sent out a couple of riders to escort wayward members in to the camp site and when we met up with them they were wearing the customary Gold Coast bike gear of shorts and T shirts. On arriving at the rally site a few of us were asked by the local media why we were so wet. I turned and pointed to the big black cloud that had turned left and was disappearing out of site.

The Gold Coast Bulletin decided to take our photos for a story they were doing on the rally and it wasn't until I saw it later that I realised how swollen my eyes were from those dam hail stones. The reporter told me he thought we had the look. By this stage I didn't give a stuff about the look, I just wanted to get dry and have a good sleep.

Joe and his load

Picture from the Gold Coast Bulletin

My bike and Joe's prior to the Thunder Run

Waiting to be escorted into Southbank, Brisbane

Myself and Joe on Tambourine Mountain

After unpacking everything the only thing which had gotten wet was my sleeping bag. The Tour Pak and Saddlebags had done their job even in those terrible conditions. Joe was not so lucky. Everything he had packed was saturated and after setting up the tents we made a hasty retreat to my in-laws to dry off and get a decent nights sleep (thanks Lydia and Dennis).

The rally turned out to be a great weekend and I never did get to meet Willie G but knew from that point in time that I would always be a HOG member.  It truly was a memorable ride and I wear my Water Hog patch with pride. Leroy and I had finally bonded. He never missed a beat even though at times the water was so deep that the exhaust pipes were under water. I felt like we now know each other very well. We had been to hell and back and survived intact.

Would I do it again? In an instant. But hopefully that type of weather is a once in a lifetime experience.

Paul Manson

Footnote: That storm front turned and headed for the City of Ipswich where it caused major damage and killed two people.

Copyright text Paul Manson (2010).  Copyright images Ms Pamela Anderson (2010).  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.