All photos © TFB, Watto, the Baldini Brothers, & Herr Hodensack, 2026.
Five years of working in S.America does make a man long for his home country a bit... and also for the moth-balled machines of various types that sit dormant in his cobweb-infested man hovel. But at last being back in Perth for a few months meant the opportunity was there to organise another CGMC* ride off into the South West. The lads were all keen for another weekend of bikes, beers and ragged camping... but where to go? As it had been 21 years since the Gussets' inaugural ride to Bluff Knoll, it was high time once again to attempt another expedition to the summit and see if the intervening decades had been kind (of course, they had not). The ride was scheduled for the 2nd-last weekend of August, which here in the Antipodes means winter and usually a good workout for the wet weather gear. But as usual the Gussets were ready to camp in horizontal sleet and eat raw herring caught with their bare hands, if necessary (cue Gollum from LOTR: "We likes them RAW and WRIGGLING!").
Leaving Perth on Friday morning the sky had nary a cloud and the air was warm. Joe's GSX-R 1000, Mick's TL1000S, Pete's GSX1400, moi with the old GS1000G, John's ZX9, Warwick's Ducati Multistrada 950 aka 'The Flying Beakini', and a Mercedes (Gus) all blared their clarion call of EV defiance into the air and the ride was underway.
Off through Collie, Mumballup, Boyup Brook, Cranbrook, and finally the Stirling Range caravan park came into view. Bluff Knoll sat just a few kilometres away, as it has for eons, ready to make mince meat of our quadriceps (ascent) and knee joints (descent).
Hamburgers for breakfast and then it was time to make our assault on the Knoll. Now this is not a hike to be sneered at... from the car park to the peak might only be about 3 kilometres, but over that distance you go up 656 metres vertically. So it's about a 20% (1 in 5) gradient on average, but there are many sections much steeper with a 1:1 gradient which will really give you a workout. Yes there are a few gentler sections but really RELENTLESS is the best way of describing it.
And so it was that the Knoll soon was making its assault on us. Joe, Mick and Warwick ploughed on ahead while I opted for a steadier pace, at times going 20 paces, stopping for 10 breaths, etc. I got to the summit about 1/2 an hour behind the fitter fellas, and took 15 minutes to take in the view, which of course is spectacular. No it's nothing like the Peruvian Andes -- but then the Peruvian Andes are nothing like this either! If you really want to reflect upon "the eternal mountains... the perpetual hills" then my advice is to visit an ancient Australian mountain range.
Hiking back down is pretty hard on the knees, and unlike 21 years ago mine really started feeling their limitations. The last kilometre to the car park saw my muscles basically go to jelly and a lot of care was called for so's I didn't end up taking a dive. Finally we got there and honestly I can't see us doing this in another 21 years! My tip would be to hike up and use a wing suit to get back to the car park. Of course it's illegal but so is just about anything fun in this Nanny State that is Australia.
Once back it was a short blat across to the camp ground at the Porongorups, another range of hills off to the west. None of those were going to be climbed as our legs were bascially useless (and as I write this about 4 days later they still are!) thanks to the Knoll.
One of the things the Gussets like to do is relentlessly rip into each other. After all, the CGMC motto is Destructio ante constructionem, i.e. one must destroy before one can rebuild. Here is Warwick administering this timeless and time-honoured treatment to Pete:
We had an excellent dinner at the adjacent restaurant where the stout and the steaks made a great end to a great day. For some unfathomable reason management decided to seat the gentlemen of the CGMC outside. What -- us, rowdy? Of course not ;-)
Our previous trip to the Stirlings was 21 years ago... so it was time for a recreation of the original shot. Adrian had scarpered so Watto took his place.
Sunday morning dawned and Watto and Warwick took off for another day's riding, but the rest of us had to head back to Perth. A little drizzle between the Porongorups and Mount Barker, but otherwise we scored brilliant weather at a time of the year when the South West is usually wet and cold. That's it until next time -- stay tuned for next year's spin!
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*AKA 'Crusty Gussets Motorcycle Club'. The name really does say it all.
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