Hi Everyone!
Wow ! The number of people who have been asking about the trip, what I saw, where I went, and especially those who are reading this via my Facebook profile (you guys really need to come see this in the blog format – it’s loads better !) has kind of blown me away a bit. So I’ll write aout what happened and show you some of the pics, but it’ll take a few posts to get it out there properly – I’ve been lucky enough to see (and shoot) heaps, so a simple quick post isn’t going to do it justice.
There’s a post a couple below this one that explains the basic route that I was taking. I left on Wednesday 4th November, planning on returning home on the 12th – the following Thursday, but wound up heading home a day earlier, for reasons that I’ll explain a bit later.
Day One – Blaxland to West Wyalong
The plan was to get out of home no later than about 9am, which would give me a nice cruisy day for the first day. Loads of time to get to where I was going, have a chance to do some exploring before the sun went down, and generally “shake-down” the way the trip was going to proceed.
The modifications were made to the car a couple of days in advance (basically removing the rear seat on a 3 door compact car, and building a basic cargo barrier in it’s place), most of my kit was sorted out and sitting in the garage ready to be packed into the car, the food was all sorted out, and the only thing (or so I thought) that I’d have to do would be to get my clothes together, load the car up, and voom - “Westie Way ‘|Round” would be underway.
The reality was somewhat different. A few calls from work required some last minute management, which was on the back of helping the rest of the family get underway to their respective days (the kids to school and Belle off to work). Then it was up to Blaxland, fuel up, buy ice and the last few requirements for the general shop (including some decent wine), and I was finally on my way at about 12:30! Not quite the 9am I had been anticipating.
The Blue Mountains were shrouded in bleak, smeary weather that morning. It was never sure if it should be raining or not, so the roads were slicked up and pretty greasy, road works as I headed west up the mountains. It wasn’t until I got to Mt Victoria, above most of the cloud layers, that the traffic started to lighten up, and heading down the Victoria Pass, on the western side of the Mountains, all of a sudden the clouds broke, and proof that the sky was still blue was amply available.
Getting out of the car in Bathurst was like taking a smack to the head. I’d been in air conditioned comfort so far (mainly to stop the windows from fogging up), but it must have been around 35C in the car park at the National Racing Museum, at the base of Mt Panorama.
After having a good look at the Peter Brock statue in the car park, I headed in to the relatively cool comfort of the museum, working my way past the printed coffee cups and embroidered T-shirts in Ford Blue or Holden Red (and not a pastel in sight !) into the Museum proper.
I’ve been a V8 motor racing fan (note fan, not fanatic) for many years – and I’ve been watching the big Bathurst race just about every year since 1977, but I was surprised at the rich motor racing history that this country has. If you’re into morot racing and are ever in the Bathurst area of NSW I can strongly recommend the museum, and at only A$9 entry it’s well worth it.
Naturally enough my main interest was with the V8’s, which are in towards the back of the museum. For me it was a little thrill that I got to see (and ever so . . . naughtily . . . touch) three particular cars that iterested me:
One
In 1984 Peter Brock drove a VK series Holden Commodore in The Great Race and won, co-driving with Larry Perkins. 1984 was significant, as it was the last year that the race would be to Australian regulations, and would move (in 1985) to the international Group `C’ regulations, changing the race significantly. This is the car that he won in.
And this is me “with” Brockie – the closest I’ll ever get (Peter Brock was killed during a motor race on September 8th 2006)
Two
Craig Lowndes is another favourite driver of mine. He was largely mentored by Peter Brock in his earlier driving years, and is not only a household name in Australian motorsport but is also generally considered to be a thrououghly nice guy. In 2001 & 2002 he was a driver for Ford racing driving a car that looked stunning on the track, and was dubbed “The Green-Eyed Monster” by race fans and commentators in reference to the bright green headlight covers on the car. While this car didn’t ever win Bathurst, it certainly made it’s mark in the history of Australian motorsport, and set a new benchmark in vehicle livery.
Three
1977 was the first year that I can remember watching the Bathurst race, and in that year it was won by Allan Moffat (portrayed in the media as the “arch enemy” of Peter Brock). The win was controversial, as the other team car was in better shape and would have taken the lead if not for team management instructions that required a 1-2 finish. Moffats car – #1 – had binding brakes slowing it’s progress, but Colin Bond in the near-identical #2 vehicle drove slightly behind and beside Moffat, providing what is considered an iconic Bathurst win – two cars from the same team finishing nearly side-by-side after a lengthy and actioned packed race. This is Moffats #1 car.
” … he’ll be coming around the mountain when he comes …”
Out of the museum, I’m at the base of Mt Panorama, what else am I going to do other than drive the track ?!
Mt Panorama is all public road, only closed off for santioned race meetings. It seems almost permanently patrolled by police, and the day I was there I saw two radar traps on the course. The drive to the top is tight, steep, and in my laden-down little car a bit of a struggle, and I can only imagine how hard it would be to negotiate some of those ridiculously tight corners at race speed in a car better than three times the size of mine.
A quick coffee stop near the top of the mountain (wary of how late my day was running) and then two “quick” laps of the circuit (struggling to reign in the ever-eager Storm Trooper), stopping at the top of the circuit at the freshly renamed Brocks Skyline (the part of the track running across the top of the mountain before the large descent stage) to get a shot of the Storm Trooper on the track.
Realising the time, the push was on to get to West Wyalong in time to get the tent set up and dinner underway before I lost the sunlight, so the next four hours was basically one big drive. And while I’m going to say this a few times on this blog, it was pretty boring driving too. Lot’s of very straight, no-action driving. I can see why people have accidents on sweeping roads in the countryside – part of the reason is they’ve gotten used to not having to turn the wheel !
I had decided that I’d set breaks at around the 90 minutes of driving mark, taking time for a quick leg stretch and maybe a coffee, but that idea unintentionally went out the window on that leg, in my determination to get to the caravan park I was staying at before sundown. I only just made it, though it was incredibly stupid to push for that long on a single leg, and I was pretty much buggered when I got there. Set up the tent (far too slowly – this has GOT to get better during this trip!!) and had time for one quick photo in the park – a signpost that happens to have a bunch of the places I’m going to on this trip.
I woke up with the birds the next morning – literally. It seems West Wyalong is a bit of a haven for Magpie Birth Centres, with at least three nests within screaming distance of the tent. After a complete re-pack of the car to cater for some issues I had identified the previous evening, it was back on the road, aiming for my next overnight stay . . . .
. . . Robinvale Victoria . . .
(and I learned that a larger man shouldn’t 
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