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