Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 12 – Mourning in Melbourne

And so Day 12 dawned. Skip and Nav awake, quietly looking at cabin bunks above, sadly reflecting that this is it - the final, the fin, the end. And next moment, many, many, many minutes before the 6.15am wake-up call, we were off again. Skipper leaping out of bed, SSS&S, then sorting his AEGIS grade telecommunications system - mobiles, laptop, blackberry, bluetooth head-set - then towels, bags, clothes flung around the cabin as our ferry 'Spirit of Tasmania' edged quietly up to the Port Melbourne pier in a flat, calm, fog-bound Port Philip Bay. With items flying asunder, The Nav quietly stayed in his alcove, snoozing, waiting for the end of this the latest whirling dervish

Then we were out, coffee, breaky, and down to level G6, The Nav eagerly anticipating flying off the ferry in the turbocharged Mitsubishi Evo E9, leaving Skip and E9 owner Ernie in The Nav's wake, before finishing the timed run to the Port Melbourne esplanade with a donut right smack in front of Ernie's wife currently waiting for us. Motor ignited, into 1st, and we we're off !!!

One minute later we were finished. The Nav managed to get into 2nd gear, reaching an ear-popping 28 kmph, maneuvering successfully around the beach esplanade road main roundabout - the toughest part of this final postlog - bringing the E9 to a halt. Out of the car, good-byes to Ernie, his wife staring at the two hoons in HK knock-offs driving an M3 mumbling "Oh, Ernie. How could you!?" Then the HKTT were again away in the M3 Meschersmitt for the Spencer Street train & bus station

Up through the mean streets of South Melbourne, breaking all the road rules of Victoria - no indicators, illegal lane changing, excessive forward momentum - the pocket rocket roared. To the station, screeching to a stop in a no stopping zone, Nav and bags flung from the car. Skip grabbed the extra 20 from The Nav for last nights dinner of haute cuisine, fine wine and cheeses, and was off again waving "Later." as he accelerated from naught to 60 in seconds through the Melbourne city traffic light chicanes, missing a late model Porsche by inches as the owner sat on his horn waving fists and yelling expletives at the ‘Maniac in the M3’. Off for a date with destiny. (Skipper's Ed Note : Actually it was a very important conference call about head count for our expanding India operation)

As the old saying goes, "The more things change the more they stay the same"

The Nav sorted his bags, onto airport bus, airport check-in, through immigration and security - watching as the security staff pat down and wand an elderly Vietnames couple in their late 70's, 4 foot 9 each, chattering in frantic Vietnamese, with the airport security staff asking in louder and louder English about "liquids, flammable cans, and radioactive toothpaste?!!"

Then on to the air gate - the top of the course - to be ready for Air NZ flight 8, and tomorrow lawn bowls in Birkenhead with the my father 'Pops', continuing the theme of 'total action' - in the vein of Hitler's 'total war' - during The Nav's quiet 2 week vacation break. On the way to the air gate, yet another large sign close to the end of the airport concourse, probably encapsulating that wonderfully wicked dry humour of all Australians. It was the departure board showing specific flight's status, including – ‘Shanghai final call, Singapore final call, Ho Chi Minh Boarding, Jakarta Boarding, Los Angeles Relax, Hong Kong Relax, San Francisco Relax, Auckland Relax.’ The Nav now with new methodology to be used to reach the finish line with Skip in our next motoring odyssey through Australasia

So that's it. The end of the end. So many to thank. A roll call of names - John and George our Volvo T5 Packet 2 leaders, Geoff our overall Tour Boss, Suzanne / John (M3 Classic), Narelle / Daniel (M3 New), Ian / David (BMW Z4 Supercharged), Geoff / Toni (Porsche all wheel drive Carrera), Jim / David (Mercedes 500 SL), Richard / Helen (Porsche Boxster Convertible New), Nils / Mindy (Porsche Boxster Convertible Almost New), Scott / Helen (Porsche Targa 911 Classic), Bruce / Lyn (Lotus Esprit), and John / Jerry (Mercedes CLK Convertible). And to the wonderful people of Taswegia, for a very special event held in a very special land

In finishing, The Nav cannot remember a time when he spent so much time looking at the floor laughing, with common every day words now heard within The Nav's ear shot taking on new significance. Words' such as 'milkshake', 'Rotary', 'muesli', 'magpie' and 'hoon'

(Skipper's Ed Post Log : The yellow Mescherschmitt is now back from the mechanic sans stickers in her normal civilian attire. New shocks, suspension bushes and oils (car vino rosso) and she is singing like Pavarotti. Heading off to Bright in the morning but not before I enjoy my company funded dinner and 5-star hotel suite with seamless Sheridan bed sheets topping the most exquisite mattress and sans night time snoring opera)

That's it for now, until the Classic Adelaide 2009, or Targa Tasmania 2010, or perhaps Beijing to Paris 2013

The UK Telegraph Motoring Editor was right - everyone should plan to do this just once in their life

This IS The Nav. Out

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 11 - The Decider in Deloraine

Hobart Town. Alarms set for 9am - "What joy, a sleep in!" But alas, no change to routine, Skip leaping out of bed 6.30am, Nav mere minutes later. Massive amounts of hotel admin, checkout, pack car, and we're off (Skipper's Ed Note : Some mongrel tried to book a hot breakfast to our room. We put a stop to that - gotta watch all those 'out-of-staters')

Onto the Wrestpoint Casino. Photos, prizes, presentations, big breakfast and then the 20 minute video of all the action over the past several years, with a 2008 montage taking the lions share of play time. Lots of slides, spins, and speed. Highlight for The Nav was the wag driving a Mitsubishi Evo rally super car, with winning comments on his in-car intercom such as Driver "Jeez, the coppers, hide the p*ss under the back seat!" Breath-testing constable "0.09. Out of the car driver!..........just kidding. Move on." and Driver "Pulling up to park behind a GT3 Porsche - which is really just an over-priced Volkswagen." (Skipper's Ed Note : Porsche GT3 is a top of the line, all wheel drive screamer! Recommended off the shelf retail price in the region of AUD$350,000)

Back into the pocket rocket to head up the highway, get to the top of the course, for the final decisive HKTT match-play, the 'Decider at Deloraine'. Played at the venerable 9 Hole "Royal & Ancient Deloraine GC", just down the road from their local 'Big Bargain Bottleshop' - a virtual landmark for the HKTT on their trip around Taswegia. At Nav 2 Skipper 1, this final match would prove to be more mangling than the mauling at Moorina, more sensational than the streak to spectacular Strahan (Skipper's Ed Note : Don't forget - pronounced Strawwwn), and even more wonderous than the cow whisperer of Wandiligong

And what a final challenge it proved to be, with Nav coming through 4 and 3, with the final score Nav 3 Skip 1. Some disappointment of dropped shots because of balls lost somewhere on fairways - Nav 1, Skipper 2 - but then that's the risk you take when you play country Australia golf (Skipper's Ed Note : Bloody Magpies !). Although our head to head sporting struggles proved biblical in proportion, when all was said and done, Golf was the winner on the day

From the R&A Deloraine, the pocket rocket scooted up the highway to Devonport on the North coast of Taswegia, The Nav at the wheel nudging 90. Into the car ferry line, catch up with some of our Packet 2 mob, a late dinner agreed on; just as the HKTT are about to drive onto das boot, Will and Ernie pop up and ask if any of us want to drive Ernie's Mitsubishi E9 all-wheel drive city sports rally car onto the ferry and then off at Melbourne. Kicking the Skip in the knee, and elbowing fellow Packet 2er Jim out of the way, The Nav hopped up and down with a "Pick me, pick me!" persona. Successfuly wangling the drive, The Nav screamed onto the ferry in first, taking chicanes and hair-pins around the carefully placed ship staff in his stride, coming to a screaching halt - 5 kmph to zero in 15 seconds flat

Dropping our gear in the cabin, quickly look at how a 650 foot ship turns 180 degrees in a 700 foot wide river inlet, it was in for an haute cuisine meal with some of the Packet 2 personnel, then turning in for a good night's kip

Until tomorrow, Day 12 and the final report on the Trek through Tassie, this is The Nav signing off

If tomorrow comes, drop it into second

The Nav

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 10 - Quailing in Queenstown

5am reveille call. Skip leaped into the shower, The Nav shivering from 3rd degree hypothermia after a night of wide windows and open curtains, street light blinding through the window, where the outside air temperature was close to zero. With bathroom window wide open, and Nav loudly grumbling about the logic of spending A$150 to spend the night in an ice box, Skipper put him in his place, insisting the recuperative aspects of the current room environment are worth every penny


Then we were off, screaming down the dark, cold, wind swept road back to Strahan, with Nav reminding "Ice......[gap]......Ice......[gap].......Ice......[gap]......" and Skipper discussing the whereabouts of a petrol station in that delightful west Taswegia sea side fishing port and tourist hot spot. Real trepidation in Strahan, when the local parking ticket attendant handed out nine $150 tickets to various Tour participants for tavelling at excessive speed through a 60 kmph zone the day before. Irony didn't escape The Nav that, if a ticket had been meted out to the HKTT, it would have been The Nav - in the driver's seat at the time - to take it on the chin ! Crisis averted we kicked on

To the start of the first closed stage of the day back to Queenstown, a moon-scape of destruction from centuries of open cast mining. On arrival back in that town, no time to enjoy the incredible vistas, as next moment the pocket rocket was screaming up the 7 km hill climb, vertical cliffs on our left, vertical drops on our right, Skipper yelling "Those bloody blown rear shocks! I'm losing grip and we're too slow!" The Nav, hunched in his seat thanking Buddha - not for the first time - for the shot shock-absorbers !

At end of the Queenstown hill climb stage and at stop, all the Packet 2 Nav's enjoyed a group hug to de-stress, railing amongst ourselves about a mass 'walk-out'. All the Skippers', shocked re such a heartless threat, asked "But where do we go from here?" The Navs in unison and with venom answered "See that Big Green Road sign. See the words H_O_B_A_R_T !"

While preparing for the knuckle whitening 'Mount Arrowsmith' 40 kilometre closed stage, The Nav made the key error of putting his morning apple between his thighs at the start. By the end of the stage, the apple had become M3 "Bavarian strudel", due to the inter-planetary forces imparted on the little pip fruit against its will


So through the town of Tungatinah, comfort stop enjoyed, with men across the road en-masse to allow the ladies to utilise the limited supplies of WCs available, in the short time before the dreaded air horn blew to announce the next charge. While taking relief, the men constantly being reminded by The Nav to avoid that most dreaded of Taswegian road-side hazards - the Electric Fence !



Arrived in Hobart, and a new name accredited to the HKTT, that of the "Honkers Hoons". The quick final closed stage past the War Memorial Cenotaph, our M3 egged on by the calls of those past and deceased heroes with "On to Lone Pine!", "Up the Kokoda Trail Boys!" and "Give 'em hell ANZACs", and then it was on to the casino, medals received, crowd roaring, champagne corks firing, our fan waving. Then into the car park, purchasing massive amounts of merchandise, we threw back some 'coldies', and the whole glorious experience was over

What fun, what happiness, what speeds! And the absolutely glorious state of Taswegia and its amazing people, many calling out "You made it!??", "What's next?", "Are ya' back next year?" This is the Nav signing off here for the night before heading out with the now legendary Packet 2 – ‘The Devils from Devonport’ - for a big one

Two more reports to finish the Targa Saga. Stay tuned for the ‘horrors towards home’

Maybe that chap at the UK Telegraph Newspaper was right

This is The Nav. Fin

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 9 - The Streak to Spectacular Strahan

Up at 5am, streaking through room admin, no sign of Skipper at Launceston hotel check out desk. Walking up to desk Ther Nav sais "Good morning, could I check out please. Lovely hotel. Will pay everything in cash." The somewhat flustered desk man asked The Nav about which of the ready bills was mine. Desk then asked "You're not with that chap who shot through the reception area, yelled "Bill, 308!" and disappeared outside are you?" Nav replies " 'fraid so." Desk "Your not driving the Targa with him are you?" Nav " 'fraid so." Desk shakes his head and mumbles "jeez"

Some angst on this the final day at the Launceston hotel. After 4 days of sweat and smell, Skip and The Nav put in their hotel laundry bag. Later that day fellow M3 Nav Narelle showed us the room 4 metres down and across the hallway with the words "GUEST LAUNDRY" on the door in 150 point font, advising hers cost $6 - including the drier! At check out, reviewing the HKTTs $39 laundry bill, and after days of spending $150 a day for a tank of 98 Hi-Octane fuel, Skip fumes "How much!?" Bad hotel research admin from The Nav who took it on the chin, with no early week brief received from Skipper to ‘figure out our floor’

On to the Velodrome, beaten to the punch for space on the baggage van by a dozen competitors parked ready at 6am (Skipper's Ed Note : Shoulda ripped their spark plugs out last night. Then we'd have had no dramas!), bags loaded with the help of 'Hot Dog' and 'Coal', to which Nav commented "Is that C O L E?" and gets a "Na, C O A L. Look it's on me t shirt. Not me real name though mate." The Nav having a think about this, understands it's an excellent technique to baffle the identity fraudsters in Guatamala

Skipper then sais "Look at this !" On the front page of the main Launceston morning newspaper, their Ed has scribed "[The] Motoring editor of the UK's The Telegraph Newspaper wrote "Rather than even attempt to describe the experience here, I will only urge you to include it in your life at least once if you can......." The Nav mumbled under his breath "Bloody idiot"

A long 50Km drive follows and we reach Cethana (Skipper's Ed Note : Pronounced with a 'Sssseth'), a closed stage of almost 40Km through sub-alpine mountain, plateaus, and down through deep river valleys; considered to be the best long section tarmac road in the world. The Nav doesn't remember much about this the longest stage of Day 8, except at the end of the long plateau, speedometer reading close to 180 (Skipper's Ed Note : For those personnel still living in Imperial measures, that equates to about 112 miles an hour), yelling "Blind crest, long left down hill, 140 metres !!!" Skipper yelling "How Long!?" Nav "Loooooong, 140 metres!" Skip "How Long?!" Nav "LOOOOOOONG, ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY METRES !!!" Skip "Thanks Nav”

Screaming to the bottom of the hill, many minutes later, eyes blinking and body feeling the effects at the END of 'this longest run', a Taswegian Government health warning on a massive sign on the side of the roads reminded us "Fatigue Can Be Fatal." End of the run Skipper, still buzzing, notes "Did ya see, 180 k's at the top! Best so far!" The Nav nods in a stupour. Kilometres later, Nav's jaw locked and iris' dilate as he suddenly realised Skip was at that moment looking at Speedometer in admiration, just as Nav was yelling "Blind crest, long left downhill, 140 metres............ !”

Into Sensational Strahan by the sea, The Nav driving, Skip still struggling with navigation theory through this small west Taswegia coastal holiday town. On to the big red half donut at the finish, with local MC announcer asking Skipper through the window "What was your favourite stretch of road?" Unbelievably, Skipper was speechless. The Nav grabbed the microphone and yelled to the people of Strahan "The flat bit!"

A few hours shooting the breeze in Strahan. Car chores then completed, drive to Queenstown 40 km's away where the HKTT were staying for the night, a meal with some infamous 'Packet 2 personnel', then bed by - our readers are not going to believe this - 8.30pm for a 5am start tomorrow, the final fang into Hobart Town

And so ended the penultimate competition day of this '08 Targa. A day of high drama, ranging from baggage handling heart-burn, to laundry laments, to timely local government health warnings. Tomorrow the final Targa Day. And maybe, just maybe, the HKTT team will get some real driving in

Until then

Go hard or Go Home

This is The Nav. Chequered

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 8 – High Plains Drifters

Day 8 and our assault on the north Taswegia coast. Another early start, heaps of hotel admin, cold muesli, fruit, and cold coffee, into to the taxi, and we were off again to the Velodrome. Arriving there the normal admin - sort the car, ask the Targa volunteer officials for guidance, get a "Da know mate", grab the big barista coffees, light the M3, out the main doors, line up in our Packets, ready for our next 'date with death'

While waiting for kick-off, Nav sidled over to listen to a conversation between Skipper and Elder Statesman John - driving the Yellow M3 mirror of ours - a man with massive experience both in Targa's and motor racing in general. Skipper - in deep discussions with John about shock absorbers, fuel mixes, tyre psi etc. - commented that he'd like to get his son Mitch more involved in motor sports like moto cross and touring etc., to which John replied "Why would you want to do that ? So he can turn into a hoon like you?"

The dreaded start horn sounded for the next charge, all Packets quickly belted up in their vehicles, and we were off - 10 metres to the Taswegian constabulary breathalising technicians. On arrival, Skipper somewhat concerned about previous evenings imbibing, decided on a cunning strategy to throw off the focus of the constabulary with particularly humorous comments. As the constable stepped forward to administer the 'breath of death', Skipper piped up "Only had 2 milkshakes last evening constable." Constable, standing menacingly over Skipper somewhat perplexed, regathers himself and answers "You'll be right. Now Blow!" Sheepishly Skipper achieved the task at hand and was sent on his way

Driving out of Launceston, the pocket rocket made its way to the dreaded closed stage Merseylea - or 'The Masher'. While awaiting our start instructions, the Nav had a long conversation with fellow M3 Nav Suzannne, showing HKTT Nav her cars 760 Garman Nuvi GPS car navigation system. What a system ! Times, distances, speeds, air temperatures on Mars - the absolute Full Monty in pocket rocket guidance systems. Recommended retail price a mere A$799, but $624 deal price at Newcastle JB Hi Fi. The Nav, frantically taking notes on all of this, undertook to pass specs & details to Skipper's partner Tinka for Skip's Christmas present, with balance of Skip’s family Chrissy holiday budget spent on tent rental at the Wangaratta caravan park - in a no-power tent site. Near the abbattoir

So it was on to Devonport Town, a colourful conglomeration on the northern coast of Taswegia; the site of the HKTT's ferry arrival mere days before, and where car warning stickers were in abundance, including one on the rear window of a local ute (Skipper's Ed Note : Ute isn't actually a North American Indian tribe somehow alive and hunting buffalo in the wilds of Taswegia, but is in fact short for 'Utility Vehicle'.) - "Lost your cat. Try looking under my tyres"

An so it was into the closed street stage, mother's holding their babies on most street corners to admire the prowess of the three M3 Drivers - John (aka Mad), Daniel (aka Maniac), and the Skipper (aka Maniacal). It was over in seconds, assorted houses, fences, and fire stations marginally missed by the flying 3M3's, but luckily with just one or two significant hazards prominent on the course. Possibly the most severe being a mere 5 metre drop into a deep muddy estuarine river, with the Skip enquiring of The Nav before the run "Any major cautions?", Nav reviewing and answering "Yes, road goes hard right - if you miss the turn, the Mersey River’s straight ahead." Skip "I meant real cautions Nav!"

Day completed it was back to Launceston, get cleaned up, complete admin, then ready for another big night out on Cascade premium low alcohol lite beer. As the HKTT prepared to depart our hotel room for the restaurant, all lights turned out, with the setting April sun romantically streaming in through the blinds, another Packet 2 participant knocked on our door. Quick as a flash, horror etched around his ears, Skip yells "Get behind the wall before they think that we're gay!" The Nav, realising the threat, dropped to his right, and stood very very still. The Skipper opened the door and eased the threat out towards the lifts, pointing to the Aussie Rules football results in the local papers left by the lift, as the room door was closed very very quietly - crisis averted

And so ended Day 8; over half way there, death for The Nav now looking less and less likely. The next day Strahan, and a day of infamy, with the South-Western Taswegia Woman's Auxiliary Road Safety Association - not for profit - waiting in ambush. Day 9 would prove to be costly for our Tour in more ways than one, but more about that in an upcoming update

Until then, overdose on octane

This is The Nav. Gone for all money

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 7 – A Mauling in Moorina

Another 5am Reveille somehow achieved, we arrived at the Velodrome at 6am, noting even the morning call birds were still sleeping, The Nav commented with irony that "Great, we're the first to arrive." to which Skip ripostes "Yeah, next year we'll enter the 'Rookie Rallye' just to be able to sleep in!" (Skipper's Ed Note : Unlike The Tour which the HKTT are currently competing in - for such prizes as a bottle of decent Taswegian red wine for being the biggest 'Larrikin' team - The Rookie Rallye is an introductory rally, with its start later each day, where new competitors go at the course at full speed and are timed, with formal prizes at the end of the week) Trusty Nav, ruminating on this, considered the logic of spending AUD $50,000 for an extra hour in bed each day, but still started mentally planning, with first task on the list being preparing a costs budget on the plane back to HK for the Skipper

Skipper moved the car up to the start line and became ashen-faced as he noticed the ‘Zero Alcohol’ Constabulary Officer waiting at the gate to breathalize Skip before departure. He nervously commented to The Nav about having several full strength Taswegian Boag’s beer and a glass of terrific Taswegian red wine last night. The Nav smugly considered his 2 glasses of Cascade Premium Light beer and a litre of water, and sat with anticipation of the fun to come. In a flash, Skipper's face lit up with a cunning idea, and as the blow straw was withdrawn from his mouth, Skip quipped to the Constable "Ah, their may be a bit of residual muesli on that pipe constable; you could pass it on to our packet team car behind. I don't think that they had time for breakfast"

Then we were off, with closed road runs through such knee-shakers as 'The Sideling', 'Moorina', 'Weldborough Pass Long', and 'Pyengana' (Skipper's Ed Note : Anyone who can pronounce that last place correctly when we see you will receive an autographed Targa poster), and on to lovely St Helens by the sea. Enjoying a similar boxed lunch to the day before, while consuming it the Skipper urged The Nav not to touch the piece of cake in our lunchboxes "else it'll bl**dy well kill ya mate!" Nav thinking that, with another 3 days of M3 and the Targa through the icy mountains and wet ravines of South-Western Taswegia, concluded - what chance one muffin !?

The HKTT met John and Audrey in St Helens. Lovely retired couple originally from the midlands in England; passionate Citroen enthusiasts. John and Skipper discussed Citroen being major automotive innovators, including solid gas hydraulic suspension systems, and driver wheel - cabling - front headlight moving control systems etc. With some reflection The Nav chimed in that the Citroen engineering development meetings must have been fun, with the engineers heading of for long afternoons of several bottles of French vin de pays rouge with fromage and then a siesta if faced with a truely compelling engineering problem. Later, the Skipper really put his foot in it when admiring a Jupiter, commenting to the owner that it had a good looking Volkswagen engine, and being verbally clipped around the ear when the indignant owner replied "It's a ******* Jowett." The Nav commented "What the ******* a Jowett ?"

After lunch, our Packet drove down the beautiful eastern Tasmanian coast, Skip at one stage dropping into 3rd and leaping past a Nissan Tida - possibly his first passing manouever in Taswegia so far - leaving the Nav short of breath. Then it was up the ‘Elephant Saddle’ closed road stage for another neck whipping, tongue chomping, eyeball blazing scream around yet another Taswegian forest. After the past few days Packet 2 has had some casualties, including a 500 (!!!) break horse power 1998 Lotus Esprit (2 spinouts and a wrecked front - funny that) (Skipper's Ed Note : for all of you out there, Toyota Corolla's have about 100 to 110 break horse power), a 1986 Porsche 911 Targa (electrics problems), a 5 Litre V8 1990 Mercedes 500 SL Sports (bit slow) and almost today a Supercharged BMW Z4 convertible driven by new mates Skipper Ian and Nav Davo from Queensland

Trouble was that Skipper Ian insisted that Davo drive this most dangerous of closed stages. What Ian hadn't factored in was 3 BMW M3s pushing right up the Z4's proverbial all the way up the course, one of which being the man you never want to have in a blind spot behind you, the legendary HKTT Skipper. At the end of the stage, the poor old Z4 limped into the finish area, having been 'forced' into the soggy muddy hillside after a blind corner, with the 3 M3s screaming by. Nav made a concerned comment about Z4 crew's safety, but Skip doused the concern by replying "Rubbish. We should've slammed him in the rear and finished him off properly! That would have made his day!"

After a couple of days on the road, single biggest issue is where to 'lighten the load' after all the coffee, tea, water and juice tanked up before each day commences. Problem really hit home in the town of Moorina, very early morning, a light frost on the ground, and more steam than Yellowstone's Old Faithful rising gently from the Tasmanian forests, as assorted race teams took their turn in the undergrowth. Consequently, Skip and Nav started discussing a new business opportunity in depth, that of introducing ‘Moving Loo’ bottles in each Targa race pack next year - branded 'Toys R Us' as a plaything too difficult to put down

And what about Moorina. A beautiful town, with a golf course, a classic cricket oval and grandstand on the outskirts of town worthy of the 'Hong Kong Hebe Hackers', and a long bridge over the Ringarooma River before Skip and The Nav faced the mauling 'Moorina' closed stage. 8Km's and 2 minutes later, after completing a start, two easy lefts, two easy rights, and a finish, with not one double caution or even an exclamation mark on The Nav's driving notes, Skipper thumped his chest and opined "Aw, Legendary mate !"

Back to Launceston, all chores completed, Mexican meal with the now legendary ‘Packet 2 Gang’, it was back and into bed in preparation for 5.15am start on Day 8, ready for our assault on the infamous Mount Claude. As Nav was nodding off, he hears the last words for day 7 from Skipper, "Do you realise! Our race time is in the BOTTOM 30% for the actual competition. Isn't that great !!!" Exhausted, The Nav wearily realised that Skippers and Navs are indeed hewn from different mental matter, and then he died

Until Day 8 - No speed, no fun !

The Nav. Out

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 6 - The Pounding on the Paradise Mountain

And so Day 6 Dawns - the day we'd been preparing for 8 long months

Up when everyone in HK was still at the pub. At Reveille The Nav had a brainwave - although it took long, fatigued seconds to formulate rather than the usual milli-seconds needed - Nav prodded the Skipper to shower first, cunningly achieving this objective, and enabling another 22 minutes of sleep, waking only to yell a reminder the Skipper that there's a bad drought in Tasmania

Later, The Nav finished his shower and commenced kitting out, only to see a 'Mary Celeste' moment, with no sign of Skipper, wet linen all over the floor, a cup of half eaten muesli with low fat no calcium milk sitting by the TV, and hotel door ajar. Looking at his watch with his half cold cup of coffee, half eaten cup of muesli with low fat no calcium milk being slowly consumed without relish, he realises......."Sh*t ! TAXI !?" Dropping his coffee, muesli, linen, and newspaper, Nav streaks down to reception and today's ‘Rendezvous with Racers'!’

Arriving at the Velodrome Skipper delegated Nav to “Get the coffees.....double expresso, bit of extra hot water. Got it ? Go!” The Nav whips up to the Velodrome's indoor coffee stall, gives his order, gets a blank stare, and the delightful elderly gentleman behind the counter replies "This is Rotary mate !" Heading back to M3 chastened, cups in hand, Nav and Skipper then tucked into their roasted Launceston dish-water, looked directly at each other, dumped coffees in bin out of sight of the Rotarians, and grabbed two more real coffees from the barista coffee van down below in the centre of the cycle track

Out the door, line up and then we were off again, 10th in our Packet, we headed off for a full day of "Ah 50 kmph Speed Limit Zone Skip." "That's a school there Skip." "Wallaby 10 metres left - on road shoulder. Nice swerve" "Ah 50 kmph Speed Limit here Skip." "Large 50 metre tall, half a metre wide gum trees 2 feet from my left-cheek Skip." "More road kill Skip. Ours I think." "Skip, can we close the sun-roof as we drive up to the starting marshalls as we do look a bit gay." "Ah, yes agreed. 161 kmph top speed on your speed-clock Skip"

Three hard driven, nerve-racking, teeth-rattling closed stage runs later, through small North Tasmania town's like Entally and Deloraine - where you can buy sacks of horse manure for $2! (Skipper's Ed Note : Tell 'em they're dreaming!) - We stopped at the town of Sheffield and were handed our packed lunch consisting of 2 carefully wrapped sandwiches, a piece of cake, an apple, and a juice drink, with napkin, in a Lunchbox container. Tough Stuff this Targa

After lunch we charged on again, Nav commenting that thus far the only piece of Tasmanian Geography that we had noticed was a 1,300 metre high 5 mile long 'Mount Roland', covered by the massive 'Paradise Forest' (Skipper's Ed Note : We kid you not !) with cliffs higher than the Niagara Falls on the far side as we departed the area. A geographic presence so big you can see it from Mars. Apart from that - nothing. Rivers? "No." Estuaries ? "Nope." Forests ? "A couple of trees maybe." Bass Strait ? "Where's that again?" Large Churches? "Thought they were all muslims in Tassie ?"

And what flora and fauna in Taswegia. At one stage a 3 inch prehistoric bumble bee (Skipper's Ed Note : We kid you not!) came through the driver's side front window of the pocket rocket, Skipper going absolutely spastic with worry, and calm trusty Nav using his Bible-sized Navigator's Manual to ease the big little bee back out the window. At the same time The Nav managing the complex control system in the centre of M3 to raise the Skipper's car window, and thus avoid any chance of the determined little bee ramping himself up to 120 kmph to catch us up in anger!

And so it continued, hour after hour, stage after stage, open and closed roads, until we were exhausted, Skipper and Nav finally finished the Beaconsfield Town closed run, waving at our fan, missing the fence by inches at the hard left at the bottom of the last hill, and then a quiet comfort stop in the local sports hall, shattered glass all around us as those trusty Aussie glaziers tried for the 7th time to fix the window 18 feet above us. And then it was back to the Meschersmitt, identities switched with Nav as Skipper, and Skipper as Nav, for the drive home to the Velodrome; with The Nav seeking to understand the intricacies of the M3 in motion, and the Skipper himself calling out speeds, turns, distances, road kill targets, and double caution hotspots on the highway back to Launceston

Disappointingly, nary a word was heard from Skipper, as he looked at page one of the Targa navigation manual route back to Launceston for 4 seconds, filed it, sorted his seat position, checked the paperwork all over the floor, adjusted his sun-glasses, reviewed fuel usage, and fretted about the whereabouts of our next BP fuel station, as these are the only place in Taswegia that you can buy 98 Hi-Octane NASA fuel

Back to Launceston Town, all the chores previously mentioned completed, out for dinner with a mob from our Packet, two groups of 3 legged men hopping by us through the downtown streets, and that was it for Day 6

Some further reflections on the life in this north Taswegia city -

A) Essences of M***juana detected by Skipper and The Nav in the lift and hallways of their 4 ½ star hotel, indicating one of two things

Either

The maintenance crews also staying in the hotel will be immensely enjoying their work on the main Targa Super cars - between the actual Targa stages - but taking hours to complete just an oil change, enjoying the colour of the high performance lubricant oil in the bright Tasmanian sunshine, as they pour the lubricant into, and then empty it from, their Team Owners Car engine again, and again, and again, and again

Or

We could expect tyres and wheel nuts flying off next day - during the racing - after completion of full maintenance check-ups by the same laid back crews

B) Notice seen after hours at one of Launceston's Hotels - "Notice - Public Bar : Our public bar is presently not open because it is closed. Manager"

Tomorrow, another cracker, with several closed stages - including one 8 Km Monster called Moorina - up through north eastern Tasmania. Skipper was buzzing that night with excitement, The Nav quietly set up his shrine to Buddha in farthest corner of the hotel room

Until then, drive hard !

The Nav

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 5 – Terror in Temco

Health Warning - from this report forward, all readers should review these updates with empty hands, and avoid concurrently sipping hot drinks while leaning over computer keyboards and screens. The HKTT disclaim any liability for sticky keys, shorted mother boards, or death by choking

Day 5 dawns, and a day of frenetic activity beckons, with Skipper tossing and turning all night with excitement, and The Nav 'a log of wood' with exhaustion. Darkness, rest, slumbering..….and then "Oi, Nav, get up and get showered, its 6.15 and we've got to get going!" The Nav leaps out of bed in his boxers, standing dazed and confused for several minutes, trying to figure out his current location, thinking that maybe buying a hand-held GPS would have been a good idea after all, and then the sound of Nav's own alarm sounding its 6.15 reveille call snaps him into the cold hard present

S,S,S,&S, down to full breakfast with Skipper asking if he can have just baked beans as the continental breakfast option at no extra charge so as not to risk the overall integrity of the kitty, pick up gear from room, shuttle bus and talking to other shuttle bus passengers with their glazed, open-eyed, nostrils flaring, jugular pumping look as the excitement of Day 1 racing dawns. Into cars, line up in the wrong order causing cussing and chest thumping anguish for the rule-bound Volvo T5 driving Packet Leader John and his trusty Chief Nav George, and then we're off !!!

45 minutes later we're finished.......and now we sit for our first hour and a half tea stop. A genteel time with Toorak, South Yarra, Scotch College types chatting sociably, scoffing pies, sausage rolls, cup cakes, and scones with fresh whipped cream and jam - in the car park of the Temco specialized ferrous metal alloy factory – while holding their cups of coffee or Earl Grey tea between thumb and fore-finger......with Skipper and The Nav upsetting the apple cart somewhat while lobbying the Packet Leaders' (Skipper's Ed Note : A 'Packet' is a group of about 10 cars travelling in convoy, in order, in unison, with no passing, no speeding, and no hoon-like behaviour allowed. A simile in one concise sentence being 'Octane fuelled funeral procession'.).....Nav takes us back to the story......lobbying the Packet Leaders’ to hold a 'Donut' competition in the car park - causing some spilt coffee moments by Packet Leaders' over their silk, emblem emblazoned souvenir jackets (Skipper's Ed Note : A 'Donut' is a tire-smoking circular burnout, at or near maximum engine rev count)

Then it was on to Georgetown. Line up, 10th in our Packet. While waiting, and after being breathalized by a cabal of local constables, Skipper yells out at to what looks like the Chief Constable of Northern Tasmania and Bass Strait Islands "Excuse me, is the speed limit around the town streets for our timed run 60 kmph?", and gets a terse, low toned reply "50! And turn your head lights on, make sure your seat belts and air bags are working, and stay 100 metres back from the car in front!"

More waiting, moving up to Start Line – and then our Packet screams off - 180 metres hard right, 110 metres hard right, 160 metres hard left, 130 metres chicane leading 100 metres hard left etc. 300 metres hard left through roundabout 150 metres DOUBLE CAUTION hair-pin right etc. 250 metres hard right 30 metres hard left, 120 metres look left wave at little old lady in camping chair in her driveway who is our one fan in Tasmania, 120 metres CAUTION road narrows 150 metres CAUTION dip then hard left then hard right etc. 100 metres hard right DOUBLE CAUTION into hair pin etc. 150 metres tight right rounding bend 250 metres hard right 400 metres straight FINISH LINE. Breaking. Stop. Time Control. 70 metres wave at wine drinking mob in Sponsors tent. 85 metres park car. 45 seconds sit dumb-founded. 3 minutes get post-tramautic stress disorder

Previously, at the formal briefing Monday, our Overall Tour Leader remained adamant that we MUST drive the first Georgetown Prologue within the 50kmph speed limit as seen before the start. Skipper, post the Georgetown run just completed and then being interrogated about speeding practice for the run, was asked what speed did he hit in the 90 degree hard right hand turns? Skipper sheepishly replied "85 kmph.....mate" expecting ramifications. After this revelation Packet Leader John responded "Ah we left ya for dead! Tomorrow it'll get a lot more exciting mate." The Nav innocently enquired about what the speeds will be tomorrow, to which Packet Leader responded "Lightning!"

After the Prologue, Skipper and The Nav enjoyed some nosh at the Sponsors Tent, imbibing water and lemonade while the fellow Tourers’ got stuck into gallons of locally brewed delights. Food was sensational, including Tasmanian seafood and meats, and a bar brimming with vino and brews. Commentary from the all-knowing commentary box educating us, with erudite analyses including "Ah, and that was Jim Richards in his brand new 2008 Porsche GT3. Quite a coup to drive this car for a man who's won the Targa Tasmania on a couple of occasions." Fellow commentator - "Ah, actually Bazza, he's won the Targa on 8 occasions." At completion of the Main Race, it was back to the car park and then standing around for almost an hour, as the hordes of traffic departs, wearing our blue, BMW Racing uniforms and assorted wrap around sunnies, gassing on with Packet Leader John whether he'll be thrown out of the Targa for doing 110 kmph in a 50 kmph speed zone

No sooner that you could say "Brockie", Skipper and Nav were surrounded by hordes of kids, Mums, Dads, and sponsors asking for our autographs. "Oy Jimmie, get over here ! There's work to do !" Nav yells over to Skip. "Righto, Andrew. Into it." Skip yells back. Many minutes later, caps, hats, shirts, posters and flags autographed by ‘Jimmy’ Skipper and ‘Andrew’ Nav, job was done, but not before photo ops were completed, with Mothers placing their infants in the arms of Skipper for said photos, and The Nav nervously mumbling in the background "This can only lead to a GT3 in someones garden in about 19 years….." Unfortunately The Nav's view of the future was confirmed when the mother asked ‘Jimmy’ to sign her babies shorts and shirt, on the basis that Skipper will be a future Michael Schumacher, and that that signature will put her baby through Melbourne University

(Skipper's Ed Note : ‘Jimmy’ aka Richards. Legendary Australian Touring Car and Bathurst Champion. Multiple winner of the full Targa Tasmania, 4 time Australian Touring Champion. And ‘Andrew’ aka Merdecki, fellow legendary Australian race car champion)

Afterwards, the HKTT made our way back to the Launceston Velodrome, chores were completed such as filling the tank, washing the car, and affixing flags and names to the exterior. The pocket rocket was left at the Velodrome for the good people of Launceston's visit to have a gander, then it was off for a good Chinese nosh up downtown with Packets 2 and 4, then back to the hotel for an early one as Reveille call at 5.45am on Day 6 would be a challenge

Some reflections on the life in Launceston -

A) Safety first in Tassie, with an elderly gentleman and his Schitzu terrier taking their morning stroll on the road shoulder of the main highway leaving Launceston, humungous German performance cars screaming by at over 110 kmph, the spunky Schitzu snarling at each, and Skipper and The Nav visualising a momentarily horizontal but suddenly empty dog leash

B) Hotel asking The Nav to type the words "green cow" into browser search engine to get the hotel network and Nav's laptop to communicate

C) Great comfort in our 4 and a half star hotel, in downtown Launceston where the only sound we hear day at night is............nothing............except for the Launceston Church Cathedral clock banging off hourly like Big Ben within metres of our hotel room window, assuring action-man Skipper and trusty Nav that we are safe, secure, and sleep-less in the Land of the Marsupial Devil

So, now understanding what shell-shock on the Western Front was like, The Nav slips into those trusty HK Stanley Market silk boxers and glides off into the world of high octane dreams, knowing that tomorrow is the Big One. 240 kilometres, 7 closed road stages, and an elderly chap taking his Schitzu for a morning walk

Until then

This is The Nav. Comatose

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 4 – Rise of the Machine

So Day 4 dawned, clear blue skies, sunshine, a crisp cold morning in Launceston, and a deep sense of foreboding on the part of The Nav after one or two bad fung shui events overnight and in the morning

First fearful fung shui event was the call on the ships tannoy system - reaching all parts of the massive 650 foot long, 29,000 tonne, 10 story high ferry - for "Mr Russell to please report to the passenger administration desk". On arrival The Nav was faced by two smirking ships staff who advised that "Your car alarm has gone off on lower deck 5". Our M3 Skipper was summoned, smiled, and went down below to sort things out. Arriving back, Nav was briefed in that it was the BMW ‘Satellite enabled, anti-motion, anti-lift, anti-theft, anti-drive' device being set off as the ship rolled through the vicious 1 metre swells, and biggest risk was a flat battery in the morning. An unsettled night of sleep followed with The Nav visualising a morning start, dozens of hard working Aussie longshoreman standing around smirking more about that yellow M3, as Skipper, sitting in drivers seat, implores Nav to "Push harder!" as Nav puts all his slight 80kg's into pushing a 1500kg BMW the length of a 650 foot ship so we can "jump start the car using gears down the 200 foot exit ramp...." Luckily car started at first key turn and hemorrhoids were avoided

Breakfast on the way to Launceston in a small town called Deloraine, with The Nav happy with the ‘Frog's Bakery and Café’, and Skipper asking location of the 'Grand Hyatt Deloraine' in this quaint Taswegian country town. Finally choosing the ‘Deloraine Hotel (established 1848)’, breakfast orders proved challenging with Skipper's "I'll have the low-fat, organic, non-genetically modified baked beans on toast please, whole grain wheat bread, no butter, scrambled eggs with olive oil, double expresso black coffee with little bit of extra hot water, hold the salt." The Nav "Big breakfast please." Some consternation for Skipper when waitress advised "Sorry, no whole grain wheat bread" Skipper "Rhy?" Waitress "No." Skipper "Wholemeal grain?" Waitress "Nope." Skipper "Brown?" Waitress "Ah ah." Skipper "Bread?" Waitress "Yeaaah!! This IS breakfast" Skipper "Hmmm........ok white bread thanks"

2nd fearful fung shui moment was not one but two newspapers sitting invitingly on the breakfast table. While The Nav read world events such the Clinton v Obama slug fest about comments re Pennsylvania, Skipper railed on for about an hour on the joys of Victoria and Tassie papers, and their average 30 pages every Monday of Aussies rules week-end match results, Aussie rules match statistics, Aussie rules footy tips, Aussie rules multi-country sweep-stakes, and generally just about all the joys of Aussie rules. Later The Nav, on reviewing concern over current clock time vs drive time remaining vs Targa Velodrome preparation and paperwork required, made known his concern to Skipper, who over-ruled said concern with "She'll be right." Like such great sayings as "I believe we have peace in our time", this would come back to haunt The Nav on this day of high drama

So into ground zero Launceston on the single lane highway, just missing logging trucks, road trains, and ship container carriers going the other way as the joys of the new inverted, cantilevered, race angled tires were explained in detail by the Skipper, during which the pocket rocket was given its head through assorted corners, passing lanes, and local school bus stops. To the Launceston Velodrome for the now critical paperwork. Some consternation by the BMW HK Targa Team (HKTT) at the more Cantonese than Canton organisation of the event, with feedback on key critical issues from important looking people in corduroys, cattle-hats and either pink, red or blue motor-racing safety jackets including "What's this legal release for?" "Got no idea mate!" What driving license is suitable?" "No idea mate." "What’s the extra $ charges for?" "Doesn't say mate?" "Where can we put our race numbers and decals on?" "Ah, not too sure about that mate." "Has the critical 11.30am Tour meeting been moved - the one which if we don't attend we'll be disqualified from the whole event?" "What meeting mate ?"

Skipper and The Nav in 2 hours flat got all documents completed, had car scrutineered, parked inside the Velodrome, drove out of the Velodrome, found the meeting, grabbed lunch, drove back to the Velodrome, had the car washed, bribed a young local official to affix stickers and decals, and managed to find the local golf course ready for the epic Nav v Skipper intra-camp comp number 3

And what a round of golf it was. The fung shui master proved prophetic, with golf Meister Skipper scoring a masterly 51, and poor shambly Grasshopper Nav a very difficult 60 - with match-play being Skipper 6 holes, Nav Nil, and 3 halved. Sadly Skipper at hole 4 commenced to bang on for the next 5 holes that "Today's result must indeed be in today’s report!" and humble Nav agreeing and at the same time discouraging Skipper from eyeing up the course’s local water and terrestrial fowl, for on-sale at a local Launceston Pub Raffle to raise funds for our kitty payments for the BP Hi-Octane super 98 fuel that was best for the pocket rocket

Certainly there was some resistance by The Nav to other Skipper-driven finance generating schemes at the first tee on the golf course when, after taking a AUD $20 note from the travel kitty to buy some golf balls, Skipper returned. The Nav, seeking refund of the significant balance of funds - from the purchase of expected soil, water, and sun-stained, oxidizing, mis-shapen balls from the very good pro-shop 2nd hand ball collection - was handed a AUD$2 coin. The Skipper then marched up to the 1st tee, driver in hand, admiring his new Titleist golf balls shining blindlingly white in the early afternoon Taswegian sunshine, and the Skipper commenting about his excitement at marking his ball on the first green with the newly purchased, titanium-alloy, gold rimmed, R&A ‘Launceston Golf & Country Club' ball placement marker

And so day 4 ended with hotel sorted and the pocket rocket locked up at the Velodrome in case the stickers, licence plates, and decals – don’t worry about the car - were stolen on the tough streets of Launceston. A meal of Thai nosh and a bottle of local red were scoffed before today's report was completed and sleep beckoned

An early start tomorrow, with Reveille at 6.15am, then its off up to Georgetown on the North coast for the 1st closed stage Temco Prologue. Day 4's major shock for the HKTT came at the main briefing meeting, with ‘Absolutely Zero’ blood alcohol level mandatory for all Drivers' (the Skipper then producing his Food Science pocket book to explain that all foods, including large amounts of alcohol, are actually processed by the human body within 6 hours), with the 2nd shock being our Tour Group Packet. One of four Tour Packets each made up of ten cars; and containing big Mercs, fast Porsches, and several BMW M Series autos, oozing speed and excitement, we learned that our lead-driver heading our packet group would be driving a Volvo. What a day tomorrow promises !

Until then. Watch for chicanes

This is The Nav. Play ended

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 3 – The Crossing of Fear

Day 3 survived, our fan base of email afficianados world-wide continues to grow, and what a day of danger it was!

An early start, with reveille at 6.30am, standard SS&S, bacon and eggs and fresh coffee cooked by The Nav's new 2nd Mum Vera, load Meschersmitt up, store blankets and other bedding in the house roof with 2nd Dad Tony, agree that we've done some hard work already this morning so its time for a pint of that red, chosen from one of 327 secret locations on the property to confuse the Bright police blood hounds, only to hear an Australo-Slovenian feminine voice pipe up from somewhere in the kitchen "Not in de morrrning!!" Tony and The Nav glumly trudge down to the M3 for 7.55am report time to achieve an on time 8am departure

Minutes pass. Something amiss. More minutes pass......uncertainty and discomfort grows as depart time passes and minute hand hits 15. Finally it dawns. No Skipper!? Then realisation hits The Nav and Dad that the sound of sloshing water isn't the electric pump for the local spring water, but is in fact Skipper still in the shower......

Trudge back up to kitchen, cup of tea with Vera, dishes done, The Nav tapping fingers and toes noting minute hand passing 30........at last on 40 Skipper shows.......then disappears again.......and shows again on 50..….pressing for The Nav to "Get in the Bl**dy car!" Swift "good-byes" to wonderful Vera and Tony....…driving 5 minutes down the road Skipper comments that we're running real late.......then Skip starts veering the M3 towards Tattslotto shop to check tickets and buy some stuff......

The Nav commenting that "We need to just get to the top of the course and faff around there to achieve today’s administrative targets", manages to keep M3 on track for in-laws’ John and Dawn's place, with Skipper sagely commenting that our bright canary yellow car colour is perfect for the current fog bound conditions in Bright this morning, making the car extremely visible......Nav finds he is tempted to comment that actually our car is visible from the moon, but decides to hold his tongue due to the long distance to walk to reach Tasmania

Stage 1 completed

Stage 2 we achieve arrival at John and Dawns (fabulous Mum and Dad of Skipper’s lovely wife Tinks and wonderful sister-in-law Natalie) place in Benalla. Nav then handles the ‘social aspects’ of the visit, enjoying coffee and bikkies with John and Dawn, while Skipper completes his assigned work emails for the morning

Completing this, Skipper, Nav, and John headed off for 9 holes at the Benalla Golf Club. Play was even, with John outright winner on a gross 47, Nav a competitve 2nd on 53, and Skipper achieving a grand score of 60, including 4 eights, a chip in, a magpie, and one thrown club. Interestingly the Targa intra-camp comp now stands at a healthy Nav 2 Skipper 0, with golf matchplay at something like 3 and 2 to Nav

Stage 2 completed

Stage 3 and after a wonderful lunch in the garden with Dawn and John, we bade our farewells, and hit the road to Melbourne

Travelling down the wide 2 lane, 110kmph Hume Highway, trusty Nav took his turn at the wheel of the yellow pocket rocket for an hour or so, losing the drive though back to the Skipper - late on Day 3 - who became extraordinarily agitated when The Nav was passed by a 1989 red 4 door Datsun Sunny, a fully-loaded cattle truck, and a beige Mazda 121 hard top with the sticker 'F1 Superannuant' attached to the rear as a taunt

And so to that wonderful city of Melbourne; gear dropped at friend’s place, back to hotel for left laundry, money, and directions to Tasmania, we managed to locate Nav's friends Rup and Sophie and lovely sons William and Harry (yes really!) for a scrumptious Sunday roast, before heading down to the Port Melbourne ferry pier and then loading the M3

Safely into a cabin in which you had trouble swinging a shoe lace, The Nav and Skipper settled in for the night over a few cold ones (Australian language for ‘beer’. Nav not sure of the linguistic tree re its origination), watching Port Philip Bay and Queenscliffe entrance pass before charging head-long into the wild wild weather of one of the most dangerous stretches of water in the world - the ‘dreaded’ Bass Strait. With horrendous weather forecasted for the crossing - 5 to 10 kilometre per hour winds, a clear night, and 1 metre waves - The Nav quickly identified the life jacket under his bunk, ready for any eventuality on the upcoming ‘Crossing of Fear’

Stage 3 completed and Day 3 Closes. Tomorrow Tasmania. And more tales of danger and closer than close calls !

This is The Nav. Out

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 2 – Moonshine in Wandiligong

Ok, day 2 completed, or should I say 'A day in the life of the wine moonshine master of Wandiligong'

Off the train at Wangaratta and met by Super Dad Tony.......into town for Skipper to complete 52 minute search of local sports and bag shops for a tour bag for all his currently dispersed kit.......bag found, bought, and deemed big enough to smuggle a man-sized I.I. into HK when we get back

Nav had excellent coffee tea with Dad Tony, and compared notes over this time re the trademark characteristics of Skipper - "He likes big storage items."

Back to the homestead next, on the way noticing a statistically significant large number of police vehicles interspersed en route, seeming to be ‘monitoring’ something

Skip and Nav sat down for fab lunch put on by new Tour Mum Vera, with Dad Tony popping a 3 gallon bottle of home brewed red wine on the table and offering all a pint

After lunch Skipper and Nav back into Bright for shopping, beer, and pool (Nav 1 Skipper 0), then back to the homestead to feed ‘The Boys’

When back, Skipper and Nav complete tour of 10 acre property, correctly described by Nav as ‘heaven’

Dad Tony located at back of the property along with 8 metre stick and 5 healthy, happy, curious beef steers in attendance and hanging around – ‘The Boys’

There followed an hour of tutillage on and completion of northern Victoria walnut harvesting, and the intricacies of apple / acorn / pear horticulture, while neatly side stepping ‘The Boys’ as they focused on running us down and trampling us to death to get at the walnuts, acorns and apples. Some reflection by Nav / Ops Manager whether our Targa insurance policy covers being rumbled by a pack of ravenous bovines

Following harvesting, quick tour of the property by Skipper and Nav, with former advising that only 4 different deadly poisonous snake breeds have ever regularly been seen on the property; and that back at the homestead there is an arsenal of rifle weaponry and ammunition - big enough to have defended the Alamo - to deal with the rabbits.....with the local constabularly only completing bi-monthly visits to check for C4 and cordite

Back to the homestead, dress to head out for dinner, and another pint of Dad Tony's home brewed wine before heading out

Big strategic decision made late today. Nav to lobby Skipper about bagging lovely Tony and Vera, and storing them in car boot for use during rest of the rally to obtain quick Australia service

Decision driven by dinner tonight in Bright at busy and buzzing local pub brasserie. (Manageress) "Good evening.......table for 4? Sorry but we're very busy and booked out......oh, are these lovely, warm, friendly, happy superannuants who've just bought a full bottle of red wine over the bar with you? Be right back......(90 seconds later)......There we go sir.....Here's a big 8 seater table for you 4 right here in one of the best parts of the restaurant.....Can I help you seat yourself.....What would this lovely couple like to eat.....Can I help with anything else.....?" (Crikey Skip! With Tony and Vera in storage with us we'll be able to roll them out for free car washes, 2nd helpings of the Targa race stage lunches, good seats at briefings, and guaranteed golf T times to name but a few......what a coup!)

After dinner, back to homestead, on the way home noticing yet more police cars carefully parked monitoring some aspect of Wandiligong after dark. Back home, the 1994 BMW M3 Meschersmitt packed and sorted, Dad Tony then took us on a tour of his illicit underground wine making facilities, another pint of Tony's ‘Wandiligong Wonder’, then to bed

Key Skipper family character trait also revealed today. Dad Tony’s revellation at dinner that he "talks to The Boys not to trample and crush the walnuts while we're harvesting.....and the boys definately listen and take notes." Nav now sees the light re skipper's family character traits. Also, new decision made that we need to write a screen play and make a movie about this. Titled "Cow Whisperer of Wandiligong", with Robert Redford cast in the lead role.

Day 3 looms. This is The Nav. Over and Out.

Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 1 - The Horrors of Australian Beer

THE EVENT

Targa Tasmania is an exciting International motoring Classic. A tarmac car rally with competitive stages on closed roads for the best touring, sports and GT cars in the world. Its inaugural year was in April 1992 when Tasmania first hosted this distinguished motoring event.

The competition concept is drawn directly from the best features of the Mille Miglia, the Coupe des Alpes, and the Tour de Corse. However, Targa Tasmania is not a slow-motion re-run. It is a genuine ‘red-blooded’ motor sport competition. It is also a unique annual opportunity for the owners of sports cars and GTs to drive them the way they were designed to be driven, on some of the most exciting and challenging tarmac roads in the world.

Targa Tasmania has established itself as an annual event, conducted in April each year. The present format is to conduct the event over six days (including a Prologue), on some 2,000 kilometres of tarmac roads.

Targa Tasmania entrants comprise a wide range of media-attracting personalities including former World Champions and other well-known motor sport competitors from both Australia and overseas, as well as national and international celebrities.

Targa Tasmania caters for up to 300 select cars. Entries are selected from Applications to Compete, by a Vehicle Selection Committee, with the event broken into 6 core categories :-

a) Modern Comp (Competitive)
b) Classic Comp (Competitive)
c) Internationals (Competitive)
d) Vintage Rally (Competitive)
e) Rookie Rally (Competitive)
f) The Tour (Non-competitive)

For more information about this event, go and see –

http://www.targa.org.au/


The PROTAGONISTS

The Skipper

A 40something married man with a lovely wife and two stable, hard-working children. Of Australo-Slovenian extraction, raised in Melbourne Australia, and at the time of this writing based in Hong Kong. An Asia Regional Executive in information technology, his mind and body then honed to move at warp speed, sometimes without thought for that small animal directly in his path

The Nav

A 40something single man who owns a terrific 2003 BMW Mini Cooper - in British racing green livery - named ‘Monty’. A New Zealander of Gael – Anglo – Welsh extraction late of East Africa, also at the time of this writing based in HK. An Asia Regional Executive in food manufacturing, the Nav is a considered individual who takes tasks at the speed of an electric tram, invariably due to working in an industry where, if you get it wrong, you bury your customer


DAY 1

Right, straight off the Cathay Pacific flight direct from HK, through immigration and customs, onto the bus into town, and eventually got to the Melbourne hotel

Shown up to the room by the nice concierge, door bell rung, door flung open by an exasperated Skipper. Concierge paid off and given his marching orders, Skipper drags the Nav into the room, bangs door shut, and loudly chastises Nav for not sneaking up to the room, with massive loads of bags, to avoid questions from hotel staff about ‘2 men sharing a room’ or from USA employer questioning room invoice for ‘one extra person.

Bags dropped, uniforms dispensed about the place, then straight down to nice quiet hotel bar 'Tonic'. No but Skipper wants to go across to dodgey bogun sports bar in the casino. Find bar. Essendon v Footscray with everyone with pony tails - women bleached. VB, Guiness, Fosters? No sais Skipper, Carlton Draft ‘cos that’s what they drink in Victoria

Nav’s Melbourne based mate somehow finds us. 3 hours of man-talk, drinking pints of....Carlton Draft....Melbourne mate drinking low carb 'Pure Blonde' beer. Weave to casino exit 2am. Pass out 2.30am with Skipper rumbling 8.13am train - work backwards - 7.30 taxi - work backwards - full breakfast 6.45 - work backwards - shower 6.15 - work backwards - alarm set for 6

6 - alarm bangs off - Nav jumps out of bed in boxers - Skipper comatose snoring - Nav hits alarm - passes out - 6.15 repeat above - 6.30 repeat above - 6.45 repeat above - 7 "Oh sh*t!"

Shower, shave check out 7.30 - no breakfast - taxi 7.40 - station 7.50 - tickets coffee chicken wrap train - 8.13

What a disaster! Very sore head, stomach surging, train weaving....."Who ordered the bl**dy Carlton Draft!"

So day 2 commences....