Fully Sic - gone, just like that.

A friend posted this pic on Facebook. I'm not sure where it came from, but I'm hoping it's in the public domain.

I can’t stop crying. A couple of hours ago it was announced that Marco Simoncelli – he of the crazy hair and the wild, give-it-everything-you’ve-got riding style, had ‘succumbed to his injuries’ after a dreadful, dreadful crash at the Sepang circuit in Malaysia. The image of his helmet bouncing across the track will stay with me for a long, long time.

I feel as if I’ve lost a friend, even though I’ve never met him. Marco, aka Hair Bear, Fully Sic, Super Sic and probably a host of other names, was a regular visitor to my lounge room throughout the motoGP season, via the magic of television. Last weekend my friend Tali was his grid girl at Phillip Island. I felt a vicarious connection with him because of that. Tali’s feeling pretty gutted right now – as are all my motorcycling friends - as am I.

We all know that motorcycling is dangerous, but we love it anyway. And even knowing how dangerous it is, we are still shattered – and, I think, kind of surprised - when we lose someone. Especially someone like Marco, who was one of the young gods of motorcycling. When they are on the track, they seem protected somehow. High speed 'offs' that would kill lesser mortals seem to have little effect on them. These young blokes achieve the impossible, race after race. They crash at horrendous speeds. They slide, they get up and more often than not, they walk away.

But not today.

Marco Simoncelli, you crazy charismatic gutsy young man - you will be fondly remembered by more people than you could imagine, and you will be sadly missed.

My heartfelt thoughts go out to Marco’s family – and to Colin Edwards and Valentino Rossi, who were drawn into this awful, awful accident of Fate through no fault of their own, and who will be burdened with the memory of it forever. Hugs all round.

If you haven't yet, but would like to leave a condolence message, or read the tributes of other fans, here's a link (thanks Andrew).

Pilgrimage 09 - Phillip Island MotoGP Part 4

Day 4 – the Big Race

I actually beat Clem et al to the track on Sunday – amazing! My transformation to racing fan is now complete, ha ha!

I fall off my bike a lot – this is a well known fact – so it does my heart good to know I'm not the only one – but seeing racers flying through the air or sliding in the gravel still unsettles me.

There were some fairly scary offs at the track on Sunday morning. Chris Knox cartwheeled along the Gardiner Strait and lay motionless on the track for a moment as other riders whizzed past him, which scared the hell out of me. I nearly cried with relief when he actually moved. When the riders come off at off at such high speeds it always amazes me when they actually move again. Even more so when they get back on their bikes and finish the race! Chris was in no condition to get back on, on this occasion, and was ferried away in the medical car. I bet he's pretty sore right now.

Race Day brings a lot of day-trippers to the Circuit, so the crowds were enormous and the atmosphere was festive. I wandered around, met up with my friend Tempo, checked out Gaye's Earmold stand and the Judd Greedy memorial display, then headed back to the stand to settle down to a serious day's entertainment and race-watching.

(Casey's bikes, with new white livery, during Sunday morning's motoGP practice session)

(Casey Stoner in the drive past)

(Alex de Angelis - I love how his beanie matches his helmet - nice touch, Alex!)

Casey Stoner, you little beauty! The battle between Casey and Valentino was monumental, with the gap as low as .3 of a second at times. Our eyes were glued to the pit-boards each lap – what a nail-biter!

Lorenzo's Luck was all bad, unfortunately, and Nicky Hayden had a gutsy ride, giving it everything he had, despite running off the track when Lorenzo binned his ride at Turn 1 in the first lap.

(The crowd starts to spill over the track to the podium, awaiting the conquering heroes...)

(...and still they spill...)

(...to see this - (1) Stoner, (2) Rossi, (3) Pedrosa...)

My Queensland ride buddies departed straight after the podium presentation – see you for Superbikes, folks - and I found my Housemates for the trip back to the House.

The exodus after the race is pretty spectacular – imagine about twenty thousand motorcycles all trying to get off the Island at once (the other half will leave in the morning). The roar of the engines is a low thundery growl that continues for hours after the race. The police and SES do a terrific job of moving so many people with as little chaos as possible.

(The exodus begins)

The final night at the House was very low key and relaxing – a BBQ, a few quiet drinks, some TV and an earlyish night. Johno was leaving for Adelaide at around 2am and my aim was to head off at 7am, to try and find my way back to Canberra by myself.

Pilgrimage 09 doesn't end till I reach my front door, and there are sure to be more adventures between leaving PI and reaching Canberra (hold that thought – there's one more instalment to come!)

Pilgrimage 09 - Phillip Island MotoGP Part 3

Day 3 – A Day at the Races, a Night at the House

Phillip Island at motoGP time means different things to different people. For me, going to Phillip Island means many things – I love the long ride to get there, and the physical and mental challenges it involves; it's a social event where I catch up with many bike friends – and most of all, it's about the racing.

People create traditions at PI. The crazy people at the House do a Beer Lap of the circuit on the Saturday. That means a beer at each beer tent around the track (they take all day to do it).

I (occasionally) know my limits – so I left them to it and went to find the Queenslanders and watch some racing. Hmmm. I was still a tad seedy after the excesses of Friday night.

This year we had seats in the Gardiner Strait stand, with a view of the Start/Finish line and the pits. The noise! The colour! The atmosphere!

gNat took me for a walk to the Support Paddock to view the 'man-candy' (her words, not mine!) That girl is wicked! She was quite correct when she said there was lots to see, heh heh.

(gNat: 'You want to come and see some serious man-candy, Sue?'
Sue: Oh, if I must...)

I rejoined the (somewhat tipsy) House people for the trip back to the House and BBQ night. We were joined by Ausmoto folk Slej & Leah, Nev & Jo, and my mate Katt (of Terrible Trio fame).

(Katt & Sue meet up again)

('Hey Smack, your fly is undone!' Slej & Johno helping out a mate)

Johno was in his element, wearing his special hugging shirt (oh my eyes!) and hugging as many people as he could get his hands on, including Smack. What a night!

(Johno hugs Jo)

(Johno hugs Leah)

(Johno hugs Smack)

Pilgrimage 09 - Phillip Island MotoGP Part 1

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The odyssey begins...

The Queensland contingent – Leon, Clem and gNat, arrive shivering in Canberra on Wednesday evening, and on Thursday morning the intrepid adventurers leave Chez Betty under gruesome grey skies. The forecast for the next few days is a bit grim. Meh.

At Yass I put on my wet weather gear 'just in case'. At the very least, it'll keep out the chill of the wind.

'Did you bring wet weather gear?' says I.

'No,' says Clem. 'We don't need that sort of thing in Queensland.' Uh-oh, think I, eyeing the evil dark clouds with a sense of impending disaster.
(on the Gocup Road just outside Gundagai - 'What wet weather gear?')

So – by Tumut it's raining properly, and the jeans of Clem & gNat are starting to look a bit soggy.

In Batlow it's raining. Clem keeps lagging behind, and thoughts of hypothermia loom large in my brain.

There's freezing rain in Tumbarumba, but there's a shop in the main street that sells waterproof pants. Poor gNat huddles by the heater, looking totally miserable. 'I want to go hoooooome!' she wails.


More suitably attired (and looking extremely stylish, heh heh) - and with bellies warmed by hot soup, we press on to Jingellic. It's raining there. We cross the Murray River into Victoria, and it's raining there too. There's rain as we head through Granya Gap, and on all the lovely sweeping roads along the Murray Valley Highway to Tallangatta. But it's not raining in Tallangatta!

Unfortunately, the brief spot of sunshine there is very fleeting. Some serious rain starts, and we head to Wodonga. We last saw Leon as he rode past us in Tumbarumba, where, by the way, did I mention it was raining?

Clem's XJ750 has started misbehaving. Uh-oh. Surprise surprise, it's raining in Wodonga. We pull over so Clem can drain the carbies, then head down the Hume Highway – we need to get to Warburton before dark, and with all this rain we seem to be taking a very long time.

Leon appears at the servo outside Wangaratta. This is fortuitous. The sun, incredibly, comes out. This is also fortuitous, because when Clem manages to get the XJ started, he daren't stop, and he roars off into the distance just as my gear shifter falls off at the servo exit. Yes, falls off. Completely.

Leon performs some quick roadside surgery as the next bank of black clouds approaches, and the rain holds off until we are back on the road. Clem & gNat are waiting for me at the Euroa servo, and we bid Leon farewell as he heads to his Thursday destination.

If you think things have been intense thus far, think again – the worst is yet to come!

The rain somehow gets worse, and colder. Clem has the bright idea of taking a shortcut through Marysville, which was almost wiped out in the bushfires last summer, and beyond that, the Reefton Spur.

Holy dooley – the devastation is terrifying. Dead trees and bare rock are all that's left, and the high narrow road that snakes along the Spur is littered with bark and twigs – and at one point, a fallen tree that has to be cleared from the road before we can continue. I'm so cold that I can't feel my hands, and my anti-fog visor insert has failed me completely. I ride with the visor up, frozen rain needling my face, and try to fight the rising tide of panic.

It's just another road, say I, over and over, which, coincidentally, is exactly the thought that Clem is apparently willing me to think. Spooky!

Leo & Di's place in Warburton, with its roaring fire, is a haven for we three Icicles. Clemsicle's clothes are still wet from earlier in the day, and gNatsicle looks like a tiny bedraggled pixie. Betsicle's circulation is finally restored by the warmth of our hosts and the glass of red that Di hands her (you know me so well, Di! (chortle)) and we call it a night, relatively early, and all crawl exhaustedly to our various beds.

Day One has taken us through about 750kms of cold and wet terrain. The Phillip Island Adventure has begun...

Stocktake

Out there in the Real World, swine flu is out of control and people are starting to whisper the P-word; the GFC is tightening its stranglehold on world economies; unemployment is rising. It's all doom and gloom.

Here at Chez Betty it's not much better. I'm behind with my fabulous 'Chuck 10 Daily' routine. Must remember that a great idea is only great in reality if you put it into practice.

Work: sucks. The Public Service is not for me, but you know, with a mortgage and all... Jobs don't grow on trees, particularly in the current economic climate.

Finances: marginally improved now that Boomerang Boy has moved home.

House: needs some new fences, repairs to the back deck, a new kitchen floor, decent heating. The roof is sagging, the guttering leaks, the oven blew up and the tree out the front is sick. I'm still drowning in clutter.

Funds to fix any of it: a big fat ZERO.

Love life: what?

Oh poop... I'm feeling flatter than roadkill in peak hour.

I think I'll just go back to bed. Sheesh - must be the grey skies of the last few days, coz it looks like I have the winter blues - and it's not even winter yet! I managed to get the flannie sheets and woollen doona on the bed in the nick of time – will stick my head under the doona and wait for things to improve. Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed and surveying the disasters around you.

But wait! I'm having coffee with “the goilz” in town later. I'd better dig out my winter jacketfrom the disaster area that is the spare room. It's cold – and as windy as hell out there. And on the way home I think I'd better buy some chocolate. It's hot chocolate weather and there's a motoGP race this arv.

Now that's definitely worth getting out of bed for! Rossi's on pole and Stoner's starting from second. Chris Vermeulen's in the second row, and if Motegi stays wet he's likely to have a good ride. Capirossi's bike must've been fixed since the Qatar GP, coz he's starting from the second row too. Go, Suzukis! Fingers crossed for an exciting race. Would love to see a Stoner-Vermeulen 1-2.

Yesssss! A glimmer of hope in a gloomy landscape. I'll worry about swine flu some other time.

Let the Adventures Begin...

So yesterday I went to the bike shed and sat on the Bomber. Extremely becoming in shorts and a t-shirt, lily-white legs and my bike boots. I needed to see how they felt (the boots, not my lily-white legs). They felt so good that I watered the garden in them afterwards, but I digress.

In the shed, I moved the Bomber back and forth. I tried holding up the stationary motorcycle with the left leg and then the right. Both were fine.

So last night, feeling brave, I phoned the Ancient Submariner.

"I reckon I'll be ok to have a little ride tomorrow," I said. "Will you come with me?"

Long story cut short - getting the Bomber out of the shed and down the Driveway From Hell this morning was really scary, but by the time I got to the end of my street I already felt more confident.

And then the feeling just grew!

After riding just a smidge under 300kms today, in gorgeous autumn weather, I think I can say I'M BACK! My foot was fine, my bum was sore, my soul was nourished. What a beautiful day! The autumn leaves that had fallen on the road just danced in the wake of the Ancient Submariner's wheels - it was so pretty! As for the beautiful autumnal scents... they didn't quite overwhelm the aroma of roadkill - crikey, so many dead roos.

And then this arv, Boomerang Boy moved back in, a week early! It's been an eventful day!

Boomerang Boy is my 25 year-old son. He is called Boomerang Boy because he just keeps coming back.

Having a "child" move home is always a bit fraught. You can't possibly fall back into the mother-child routine (shudder) after they've been living independently - and geez, why the heck would you want to anyway? I think it'll be great having BB here as a housemate, instead of getting a boarder who's a total stranger, and I'm sure we'll have some adventures. As long as we don't end up trying to kill each other.

Here's a funny thing: when BB was much younger he started playing rugby. I knew nothing about rugby and it scared me half to death (those necks, those spines, those impacts - those potential medical disasters - eeek!) But I faithfully went to BB's games because - well, because I guess I was trying to be a good parent??? Anyway... I still don't understand rugby. But I think it was probably good that I sat through those games, freezing my arse off and feeling like a complete numpty. I'm sure BB and I are closer as a result.

Actually, I'm not sure at all. But I'm glad I went anyway. Watching rugby wth BB and tryihng to make sense of it all, I fell in love with John Eales, the God of Rugby, and did a lot of drooling over late-night World Rugby Cup matches for a couple of years.

So anyway - since I started riding, and going to Phillip Island to watch motoGP, I've learned that BB is a fan of motoGP! From where I'm standing it seems like some kind of weird role reversal - BB is taking an interest in something I'm passionate about... I guess that means we'll be sitting up together late at night watching the races on telly - him cheering for Rossi, me cheering for Casey Stoner. Could be a giggle!

This has to be one of the weirdest mother-son bonding experiences, but I think it'll be an adventure. Of course, if BB decides he wants to learn to ride, I could be in strife - who the heck will look after the cats on my annual Phillip Island pilgrimage?