Triumph Sports Owners Association Victoria

TSOAvictoria

1997 OTWAY CLASSIC

Being a passenger in a low slung, open sports car older and much smaller than most sedans on the road and a downright midget in comparison to truck tyres can be quite an experience. As a way of coming to grips with this experience, I am developing suction pads where ever I make contact with the tan leather, bulging muscles in my left index finger and an inordinate trust in a very small metal handle firmly attached to the door. Colour the machine BRG, paint a grin from ear to ear on a very competent and enthusiastic driver and you get the picture.

Now picture the three of us, 8.00arn Saturday, 24th May beetling along the fog shrouded Eastern Freeway, ignoring the incredulous looks from the demisted windows. We are going on the 3rd Annual Otway Classic and that's all that matters! By 9.30 sharp, Paul has 21 machines cruising over Westgate and along the Princes Freeway, all armed with a most explicit itinerary and expectations for a most enjoyable weekend. The warm "camaraderie" I've been aware of before between the T.S.O.A. people on previous runs and the anticipation of discovering new places made up for the grey day.

The first detour, the loop into Werribee South, with its red soil and open fields, was strangely reminiscent of irrigation areas of the north west, except for the smell of the sea. As we headed for Geelong the clouds were breaking up, there were small patches of blue, I wasn't taking off my gloves, even!! We had morning tea at Anglesea, admiring the busy new but village like shopping complex from the park across the road. After this, we got down to the serious business of the day the Great Ocean Road. I'm sure you have all gone along this magnificent road but let me assure you, until you have been a passenger in an open sports car, you haven't driven the Great Ocean Road!

Anglesea to Aireys Inlet you have time to admire the houses, take in the gentle views. Fairhaven more adventurous "holiday" houses that look out over the line between the sea and sky then the road becomes part of the Angahook Lome State Park. The vegetation changes long leafed stunted eucalypts with such a clean smell. The gradient changes tightening bends, there are glimpses of open vistas. My faith in the metal door pull remains intact. We slide down into Lome for lunch. The arrival of all these magnificent machines is noted by interested "promenaders". Local information mentions the two wheelers that do the main drag on Sunday mornings. Roll call correct, anticipation heightens as we look down on the pier on the left, do the right hand curve past the pub, bid "farewell to Lome", cross the last flat, open bit of land and head for Apollo Bay.

The map says it's only 45 km. but by the time you have travelled every inch [excuse me, cm.] of that road, cornered with every nerve fibre, viewed the waves breaking on the rocks below through the gap under the armco barrier, dipped down to cross the "rivers" that come down from the hills behind and "delta" out into the ocean, perception has been warped a bit. We look down on the black dots on their surfboards, startle intrepid campers but not the kookaburra on the Bus Bay sign. He's waiting for the Big One. Cumberland River would have to be the most majestic setting for a camping site. Mind you, to stop and walk along any of those pristine beaches would have to do something for your soul, surely. Along the way other names painted on white backgrounds, other breathtaking views are superimposed

At Cape Patton, there's a house between the road and the sea. Imagine the sunrises! Imagine the winter! Our weather was getting better the further we went along the Great Ocean Road but I was still as multi layered as ever.. Apollo Bay is losing a lot of its beach front cyprus trees, all those many winter winds sculptured branches and canopies. Some of the shops are getting a bit smarter but on the whole, Apollo Bay is still a small fishing town with rolling hills behind and hopefully will stay that way for sometime. There is so much going for it. Walk along the beach and admire the view all around you. Paul's choice of motels was first class and I think most would recommend the restaurant we dined at Saturday night. A good way to celebrate the end of a successful day and Ron's birthday.

Sunday morning early I opened the door of the unit to hear the sound of the sea and wait for the sunrise. Graeme looked out, saw the empty road and before you could say TR4 we were part of the crisp, new day with the world all to ourselves, on the way back to Lorne for coffee. The sunrise was always the golden light just around the next point. The sheer exhilaration of being the only car on that road with the engine noise reverberating off that ancient rock face and disappearing over the edge was out of this world. The bikies, still in their leathers, heard us coming. They understood the body language, the buzz, the rush, no the surge, of adrenalin that pushing through space gives you. We were flying! As I rearranged all the cells in my left arm and gave that valiant small metal loop a polish, a mutual admiration society was being formed in the main street of Lorne. Within the space of two coffees thirty magnificent two wheeled machines had backed into the curb, including the latest fuel injected Triumph. Enough back slapping we have to return. There was actually traffic on the G.O.R. this time two bicycles and a Capri which was rounded up and left way behind.

We had breakfast in Apollo Bay before taking the shiny grey road through all the greens of the Otway Ranges, the patches of fog, shafts of light, bird calls, cow smells, tree ferns, misty rain, blue skies, grassed ridges with white farm houses and fences. Morning tea was in sunshine at the West Barwon Reservoir, the low water level a reminder of how dry it is. On the way to Winchelsea, we passed through small country towns that have stayed that way since the Great War Memorial was erected. We were most welcomed guests at Kelly's farm for lunch and then drove through those amazing Victorian open spaces, crisscrossed with roads presently in good condition, with hardly any traffic on them. Travelling these spaces in an open car is an interesting mix of sensations at different levels the noise of the engine, the swish of flashing past things and the clarity of sound in the space above the car and being able to see so much. Afternoon tea at Lara, in the languid afternoon sun was a splendid end to a most enjoyable weekend.

Thank you T.S.O.A. people for your company, thanks Paul and Peter for all the spot on organisation and thanks to whatever or whoever decided that I was going to be lucky enough to be allowed to live in this amazing country. Oh, I almost forgot - thank you to my driver and that small metal loop!

TRIUMPH ENGINE RECORDS

SPITFIRE TIPS

HISTORY OF THE TR2&3

TRIUMPHANT

RECOLLECTIONS

NATIONAL RALLYE 2001)

OTWAY CLASSIC 1997

SURREY TASMANIA 1997