Island fever: Touring Tassie

Everyone needs some respite from the stresses of modern life. Work, bills, kids – there’s always something nibbling away at your time, and they all add up.

And while some might seek a spa treatment to recharges their batteries, for a group of men from Melbourne and Sydney their 'me time' comes in an altogether more frenetic more – an annual motorcycle tour of Tasmania.

The 17th annual Knee-Dragging Ecstasy Tour (KDET) got underway in late January, and once again saw a diverse spread of riders and personalities take to the roads of Tassie to live out their love of riding.

This time 12 hardy souls fronted up to the docks to board the Spirit of Tasmania, that number comprising serial offenders and a couple of greenhorns, myself included.

What a Wonka
Gaining a spot on the KDET tour is akin to finding a golden Wonka ticket – an introduction is required from an existing KDET devotee. Taking part confirms your place for the following year, but miss a year and you might not necessarily get a spot the year after.

Numbers are capped these days at a maximum of 15 participants to keep the logistics manageable, but they have crept as high as 25 in previous years.

It’s not restricted to blokes, either – former AMCN editor Kellie Buckley got along a few years ago – but the nature of the trip, and the 'après-ride vibe', shall we say, does tend to promote an all-bloke assembly.

The route changes from year to year but the overarching format doesn't – keep it casual, keep it friendly, and enjoy yourself. In short, don’t be a dickhead.

There are no hard-and-fast rules regarding bikes but something prepared for 2000-plus kays of hard riding is a must. KDET tales abound of bikes that have ended their days on tour. After one bike died its owner, Thurston*, wasn’t about to let the experience ruin his trip; instead he went and bought a new BMW S 1000 RR in Hobart and pushed on – what a spontaneous purchase!

Even as we assembled for a bon-voyage beer at the dock in Melbourne for KDET 2017, one bike appeared a little shinier than the rest. Landon* had just bought his brand new KTM RC8 superbike and ridden it direct from the dealer to the boat.

This year's fleet included a Ducati 1299 Panigale, a couple of Honda Fireblades and a VTR1000SP-1, the RC8, two Aprilia RSV1000Rs, a KTM 1290 SuperDuke and a Triumph Street Triple. Add in a KTM 690 SMC supermoto and my own Suzuki V-Strom 1000GT (click here for the full review), and it was an eclectic bunch.

All the travel arrangements are handled by one of the KDET veterans, whose partner very conveniently happens to be a travel agent. Simply hand over your money in good time and front up at the dock on the day – easy. The accommodation is all of a solid-to-excellent standard, meaning the only thing you need to bring is spending money (read drinking money).

Even the luggage is taken care of – it goes in the support vehicle. Yep, KDET may not be a commercial affair, but it certainly is a well-oiled machine. Normally there's a dedicated driver for the KDET van but that wasn't the case this year. Instead, the driver is drawn from a hat to do a half-day's duty, his bike loaded up in the back. Of course, if the previous evening's festivities have hit hard, you can always request some quality time behind the wheel…

Time to cruise
The

We had two blokes per cabin to keep things civil, but there a plenty of options available. Our crossings were really pretty smooth but Bass Strait does have a reputation – if you've ever suffered from mal de mer (seasickness) or even just garden variety travel sickness, getting some medication can't hurt.

After counting down to this trip for about six months (12 months in the case of the regulars), the atmosphere on the back deck was celebratory to say the least, and aided by beers aplenty as the ship made its way out of Port Phillip Bay. However, Humphrey's* early and sudden departure to bed, his dinner tray left untouched, sounded a warning shot across our bows – the rest of us had a couple more drinks but returned to our cabins before disaster struck.

Good thing too, as the ship's wake-up call was piped throughout the vessel at 4.45am, as we approached Devonport. Couldn't the captain just cut a few laps around Bass Strait until a more civil time? In any case, as we clambered bleary-eyed out of our bunks and prepared to head down to the bikes, little did we know that our first drama was about to unfold…

Bring a spare!
It was on the vehicle deck, amid the scrum of riders releasing ratchet straps and readying luggage, that Percy* uttered those immortal words: "Crap, I've lost my effing key!" Naturally we wanted to help, but with car engines starting all around us there was little we could do but ride our own bikes off the boat. Percy was on his own…

As is almost always the case in these situations, the key was eventually located – in a pocket in a bag inside the support van. Percy rolled up the Devonport café to join us around 30 minutes later, his heart still racing, but happy to have escaped a very problematic alternative. As far as we knew, there was no-one in Devonport who could replicate a coded Honda ignition key – or anyone in the rest of Tasmania, for that matter.

Finally, were on the road and soaking up all that makes Tasmania such a wondrous touring destination. By mainland standards the roads are empty – the product of a modest state population of not much more than half a million – while the quality of roads themselves is generally good (just keep an eye out for road kill).

It's picturesque too, from the turquoise waters and rolling green hills of the north, to the rugged forests of the southwest and the patchwork farmland of the east. Tasmania may not be known for its superb weather but for our week it largely stayed dry. Summer is your best bet but the state can experience a cold spell at any time, so pack for all eventualities.

Rather than the traditional 'lap of Tassie', our route cris-crossed the state to take in the best roads, as determined by 17 years of painstaking KDET research. This year we headed from Devonport to Cradle Mountain and on to Corinna – a fairly remote former mining outpost on the Pieman River. There's little there apart from a good pub, some mining-shack accommodation, and the barge to get you across the river.

Riding Nirvana
The next day we headed across the state to Bicheno via Queenstown, Derwent Bridge, Campbell Town and the spectacular Lake Leake road. Then, the next day, I ducked north to do Elephant Pass (don't forget to try a pancake at the cafe), before heading southwest to Hobart.

If you've never been to Tassie, let me emphasis something: every day is packed full of superb roads. In fact, you don't have to go far in any direction to find something enjoyable when you're on two wheels.

What about police speed enforcement, I hear just about everyone on the Mainland ask? Well, there's a fixed speed camera on the approach to Hobart and you do come across the odd mobile camera, but by and large the police presence is nothing like we experience north of Bass Strait – as it should be for a state with a such a small population.

I even had a chat with the local constabulary myself; a genuinely friendly chap who was quite interested in the impressive performance of my V-Strom…

After the obligatory big night out in Hobart's historic Salamanca Place – Alfred's* idea to get things rolling with the first of very hazy number of Jager-bomb rounds producing the desired result – we rolled north to Strahan.

The roads around the mining centre of Queenstown were obviously constructed by a MotoGP track builder, but the road from Queenstown out to Strahan takes things to another level – it's about 40km of tight and undulating turns. It's pretty bumpy for the most part – the V-Strom, with its long-travel suspension, was in its element – and some of the patching was a bit rough in places.

Franklin* found that out first hand when he laid down his Street Triple on a tight downhill left-hander. Fortunately no major damage was done – the bike was rideable and Franklin's hand was only mildly bruised.

The same couldn't be said for Hildebrand's* Fireblade. He came to grief on the exact same corner a couple of hours later, but fairings slide better and so the Fireblade shot off the road and down a ditch in its bid for freedom. Hildebrand was fine, but the 'Blade wasn't looking too flash.

The KDET Incident Response Team sprang into action, recovering the Fireblade and transporting it to our luxury digs in Strahan, a mere 5km further up the road. There Alfred* toiled away for hours to clear the engine's barrels of oil to eventually breathe new life into the stricken bike.

The local BP servo was invaluable in loaning us various tools for the operation, while another local business even welded the snapped clutch lever into a useable form – hospitality and help are alive and well in the bush…

Changing gears
Strahan gave us a chance to recharge after the spirited pace of the first few days, allowing us to kick back at base or explore the local countryside at our leisure.

We stayed at Risby Cove, a boutique hotel right on the water a short walk from the centre of Strahan, and the food in the on-site restaurant was absolutely incredible. With superb rooms and excellent meals, there was simply no need to go anywhere else. They didn't even seem to mind us turning their deck into a makeshift motorcycle workshop...

As I hadn't covered any dirt yet, I decided to stretch the 'Strom's legs with a run north to Zeehan, over on the barge to Corinna and then up to Smithton, charting a course through the fairly remote Arthur Pieman Conservation Area.

It's a decent dirt road that winds up and over mountains and over scenic rivers through densely wooded valleys. On its mid-traction control settling the V-Strom was right at home, spinning the rear through the bends but with complete control.

After yet another seafood feast at the historic hamlet of Stanley, it was back to Strahan via Hellyer Gorge. Hellyer Gorge – or Hell Yeah Gorge, as Alfred christened it – is about 10 minutes of sports riding bliss. Or 20, if you do it twice…

The boat beckons
Sadly, after a few nights in Strahan, it was time to return to Devonport, and the Spirit of Tasmania. KDET 2017 was done and dusted, and had joined a fairly select number of past KDETs where all bikes and bodies at the tour's end were accounted for. I won't even mention a previous year's finale, in which a KDET cadet actually looped a wheelie in Devonport, and had to push his mangled bike back on the ship!

If you've never ridden a motorcycle around Tassie, it's really time you did – it's riding Nirvana, and it's just a short (and enjoyable) boat ride away. You don't have to be anywhere near as organised as the Knee Dragging Ecstasy Tour, either. Just book your spot on the boat and find places to stay on the fly. You too could be savouring some of the best roads in the country. Besides, you're a top dad/husband/worker – why not indulge in a little two-wheeled 'me time' for yourself?

*Names have been changed – with the help of an online aristocratic name generator – to protect the innocent (and guilty)