Euroa via my favourite roads

For years a string of empty roads have been my sanctuary. If you draw a line from Yea to Seymour to Euroa then Merton, and back to Yea, you draw the boundaries of a space wherein few people go. A patchwork of forests and paddocks, tall granite hills and low-cut creeks. With its old church, stone formations, its empty air blowing through craggy pines, this place has entered my soul, and riding through it gives me peace. I take my time, through the sweeping lanes with their constant lashings of gravel and fallen limbs. There's never anybody behind or in front; just the road, myself, and sweet solitude.



Yesterday I could have gone in any direction but I chose my sanctuary. I travelled via King Lake to Yea, from where I made to Highlands and on to these roads. Exiting them at Longwood I rode the Hume to Euroa for tea, then re-entered the magic near Creighton's Creek. When finally I returned to Yea, I rode the Melba Highway to Yarra Glen and home via Kangaroo Ground.

But let us stay with these quiet roads.






I feel invigorated by the purr of my big twin. The W650 is a Rolls Royce. Usually one begins to notice faults as the miles are added to a new bike, but the more time that goes by, the more enamoured and admiring I become of this machine. The W650's engine is superb, wonderfully suited to this area. When I feel like thumping away I ride at low rpm and the engine has so much vibrating character. On these sunlit roads the bountiful torque allows me to sit in one gear - usually second or third - and merely roll the throttle on and off.






While resting in quiet moments, I chanced to meet the odd friend.




I also sought to call up the magic of this place so that it might enter my self and my machine.



But such techniques were unnecessary. By simply being in this place, lovingly, and spreading my body over its spaces, I had absorbed something precious. Without giving it names I contemplated it as the day ended.