BMWMCCWA

A ride report by Jeff Douglas







It had been too long since my last significant motorcycle ride and I had booked a couple of week’s leave, serviced the Harley and developed a very loose plan to head east & north.

A check of the BMWMCCWA forum ‘rides’ section was in order just on the off chance someone had organised a decent lengthy ride on which I could tag along.

A post by Wightman dated 18 April caught my eye – “A lap of the paddock” sounded like a good idea. Some correspondence with Wightman & Carl showed the itinerary could work in with mine but the Harley was unlikely to be suitable. The others were taking dirt suitable singles, so I looked in the shed on the farm where I found the 690cc single farm bike lying around, gave it a quick service, a new back tyre and we became 'Three Single Men'.

Our first rendezvous was at Hyden where I arrived only 20 minutes late. Dinga had turned up on his R100GS to accompany us on the start of the ride – or maybe he was just on the way to Menzies for coffee? Day one ended with me straggling into camp at McDermid Rock at sunset.



Day two saw us travel up Victoria Rock Road where bushfire had scorched the country some months prior – not a good place for a summertime trip but pleasant enough now.







We took the back tracks up toward Menzies, on the way passing the Ora Banda hotel for what would be the last time.
The Menzies coffee shop was up to its usual standard and we sipped alfresco brews before the other three riders left for Kookynie and I continue some telephone calls.



The farm bike doesn’t go very far on a tank – 249 km to be precise and I ran out of fuel in the main tank only about 2 km from Kookynie pub. Not such a big deal unless you have witnessed the complicated process of removing luggage etc to access a filler cap located behind the back of the seat on the rear fender and filling it with a bladder right alongside a searing hot muffler – takes me about 20 minutes.

The plan had been to eat (and possibly drink) at the pub and camp in tents out the back. I rolled in to where we used to camp – no bikes! The publican didn’t look too good and when I asked about my three mates’ location, he said “they’ve been & gone”. Heading for Leonora’s White Horse pub apparently. I bought some fuel and bid Kevin & his missus goodbye before riding the 70-odd km to Leonora in the dark. Kevin’s advice to “make sure you don’t hit any cows” was duly heeded and I made it into town unscathed. A quality meal was enjoyed along with a drink or two in the company of my three mates and young Natasha who appeared somewhat under dressed for the occasion.

Day three saw Dinga part with the three single men and go his own way while we continued east through Laverton and onto the dirt heading for Tjukayirla Roadhouse. Quite a long day’s ride for three single men and only one of us arrived in time to order dinner – fish and chips would you believe – for three. A few horses were seen on the road but no camels, the road surface wasn’t too bad, and we were settling in to our riding formation of farm bike, followed by single BMW and DR 650 tagging along and a stop every 50 km or so to regroup. We found the 50 km stop was a good distance and provided us with a chance to go back & collect a stranded bike & rider (or some of Wightman’s luggage) as required and within fuel range capabilities.



The road seemed a bit rougher on day four as we faced what is really a pretty boring piece of road until you approach Warrakurna Roadhouse and its pretty backdrop of mountains. Strange how these outback roadhouses close for the night at 5.00 pm just as travellers are coming in off the road for the night wanting fuel and food but that’s what they did. We missed the dinner order cut-off time here but picked up a few food items to eat with only the lead rider (who will remain nameless) getting a hamburger – at least I kept Wightman a few chips!

Day five commenced with a discussion about fuel range leading to a group decision that we didn’t need to stop for fuel at Docker River and could make Uluru on what was in our tanks and extra bladders. Possibly not one of our best decisions of the trip although the outcome was more inconvenient than tragic.







My intention to take the Harley while still premature on this road is coming nearer to a viable option. Since my last trip through, there has been in the order of 90 km of bitumen put down and the Northern Territory part of the road has been transformed from a sandy track to an excellent high speed (unless you’re on a DR) dirt road. Another five years and I think the Harley will be the bike of choice through here.



Back to the fuel stop decision – we made a fuel stop between The Olgas and Uluru where Carl's trusty BMW coughed to a stop. The planned DR supplied refuel didn’t happen due to leaking (heavily) fuel taps on the DR monster tank (about 30 litres I think) savagely reducing holding capacity and increasing consumption to beyond V8 levels. Luckily there were a few flies to keep Carl company as I rode the farm bike on to Uluru to collect fuel and Wightman nursed the DR along, eventually successfully reaching the Uluru Shell servo before he too needed a top-up. A little negotiation saw me get out and back in again to the Uluru national park without being levied – the ranger was puzzled to hear I didn’t want to see ‘The Rock’. Carl was duly back on the road on high octane fuel and we made Curtin Springs our stop for the night. Campsite was pretty basic (basic not pretty?) but the steaks were great washed down with at least one cold beer each.



Day six stage one was Curtin Springs to Erldunda, a distance of around 166 km on the map and should have been an easy jaunt. Check out the accompanying photo of the DR with its monster tank being filled up from the short-range farm bike’s bladder after the DR had run out of fuel!

I hear the DR fuel tap leaked a bit but that sounds like it was more draining fuel from the tank!!!!

Really interesting well documented article JD

Great report Jeff, you have an entertaining style of story telling. That DR has played up on a few trips, so no surprises that it leaked like sieve

JD

Great report with enticing images. How appropriate to use a farm bike for a lap of the paddock.

Was Dinga heading to Big Bell?

Bozo

Terrific report and Pic's Jeff, You filled in some gaps in John Wightman's report like what happens in the bush remains in the bush!!

How cold were you guys at night and who had the three man tent ?

Swampy

Thanks for your kind words Gents, glad you're enjoying the yarn.
Thanks to Nev for posting all the text & pic's for me.
Swampy the big tent was Dinga's as I recall and it wasn't too cold at night when we were out there, surprisingly cool in the daytime though out to about Alice Springs.

Jeff thanks for the entertaining report and pics. Sounds like there was enough drama to make the trip memorable. It’s interesting that the after market DR large capacity tanks have spoilt a couple of member’s trips. Coincidence?

That fuel tap leak had become a significant flow and remedial attention would soon be required. The other tourists at Erldunda seemed unperturbed by Carl & Wightman spreading bike and luggage around on the pavement and duly spilling fuel all over the place as the offending fuel tap was epoxied closed forever and the leak stopped.



The pause in the car park gave us a chance to oil the chains of the three singles for the first time since leaving home. The resultant attention to the drive chains showed that Carl’s chain and rear sprocket were wearing much faster than anticipated and he had no chance of completing his lap of the paddock without sourcing and fitting a replacement quite soon.

A phone call home to arrange a spare chain and sprockets to be despatched overnight via Qantas and a decision to vary the trip route into Alice Springs changed my plans to leave the other two single men in the Flinders Ranges and head home early. We would now repair the BMW in Alice before taking the Plenty Highway east then north to Mt Isa and deleting the south eastern leg of the tour. Oh, and Carl’s new nickname was of course ‘Sprocket Man’ in memory of the event.

The National Road Transport Hall of Fame had been on my list of things to see for a couple of years and I relished the opportunity to spend a few hours wandering through it after sprocket fitting.

Here’s John with one of the original Desert Raiders


The relative luxury of Alice Springs was left behind after two days and we turned off the Stuart onto the Plenty Highway that I had last travelled in 1981 in a Falcon (remember those?) panel van. It was great to travel the road again and ponder the passing of more than a few years – life has been good.



Last trip I had camped at Harts Range race course, so I asked one of the locals how to get there and made the detour in to the racecourse while Wightman and Carl continued east.



After checking out the (improved) racecourse, I upped the pace on the farm bike and caught the others at the next 50 km mark. Deep out into station country now we weren’t sure if we were in NT or Qld, but we were running out of daylight so looked around for a campsite. The trick out here is to avoid camping in a paddock with too many cattle in it, they are curious animals and love chewing wires off machines. They aren’t very good at watching where they tread either and could easily flatten a tent. Our paddock was cattle free and once we had dodged the Caltrop we enjoyed a peaceful free camp out in the bush again.





Day 9 involved a run into Jervois Station by which time we were into country that had obviously had a fair bit of rain recently and all the greenery was particularly lush with fat happy cattle munching away at it. The lady at Jervois warned us the creek just before Tobermorey Homestead was about 400mm deep but reckoned the road was pretty good.



I reckon 400 mm was quite a conservative estimate – the water was at least that depth as I idled the farm bike through standing on the pegs as it bounced from rock to rock and reaching the other side relatively dry. I set up the camera to record Carl’s equally controlled water crossing and when he had arrived, we both waited for Wightman to idle across.



Not one to shy away from a camera, Wightman appeared spurred on by the prospect of media attention and rather than slowing down for the crossing, gave the DR the berries as he launched it into the stream.



In a magnificent display of pure talent, not to mention a degree of individual style, man and machine careered across the water hazard and stopped with a smile on the other side. Other travellers crossing later in the day were reportedly relieved to see the water level noticeably lower since quite a bit of water had been removed in Wightman’s boots & socks.



The severe cyclone earlier in the season had wreaked havoc at Tobermorey and we were amazed at the reports and photos of cattle in the homestead and office still not able to avoid the flood waters.

The road to Urandangie was a spectacular erosion gully for parts of the way with riders forced to choose which table drain to ride in as the road was effectively impassable even to our dirt bikes.



Wightman kindly shouted us all a beer at the iconic Urandangie Hotel where the weather was hot, the beer was cold, the music was playing and the tv was playing videos of motorcycle crashes.









Not far now back to the tar roads and the bright lights of The Isa. Arriving in town late afternoon we checked out the bike shops and found Bike and Rider, the local Honda, Suzuki and other things dealer to be a great resource for the travelling motorcyclist. Although Wightman had wisely called ahead to book in, Carl and I arrived unannounced and by midday the following day we had four new tires, a set of rear brake pads, a cleaned air filter and a new chain fitted to three motorbikes. Excellent service and an impressive tyre and parts inventory – these guys are great if you’re ever out that way. The prices were more than reasonable and their advice on tyres has proved spot on. Thanks again Terry, Tony and Jess.

One of the provisos of being a real estate agent on holiday is that I need to keep in touch with office and clients from time to time so I stayed in Isa while the others headed for Adel Grove a day earlier. A text from Wightman offered free beers should I be successful in finding his camping stool and AndyStrapz that had fallen off the DR. Keeping an eye out on the rough dirt road the following day the items were spotted just at the very moment I had blasted through the dust, overtaken a slower 4wd, dodged a bouncing ‘roo in front of the car, only to peel off the road and turn back for John’s gear. Probably confirmed all the car driver’s preconceptions about crazy motorcyclists!

John was very happy to see his gear arrive safely and the aforementioned beer tasted good after the hot dusty ride.

While you were sleeping........

JD's tale updated...

Was Dinga heading to Big Bell?

Nah, I'd say more west than that Somewhere where it's hot like an oven

Lawn Hill National Park and gorge saw the three single men exchange their singles for a pea green boat in which we explored the waterway guided by Wightman’s experience as a water borne tour guide. The boat was soon abandoned for a swim in the pristine clear water, made all the more inviting by the fact we had to ride through so much dry gravel to get there.





Our twelfth day on the road involved taking the back track out of Adels Grove through a few closed gates and meandering through (mainly dry) creek crossings to meet the main Savannah Way road at Doomadgee. This track was one of the best rides of the trip – undulating, winding through beautiful scenery.

Riding conditions were about to deteriorate as we turned onto the more well used road and were pleased to arrive at Hells Gate roadhouse for a rest. The facilities were great, and the backpackers were friendly, but we thought it more appropriate for Three Single Men to carry on riding west as we were well set up for bush camping and had been in motels and resorts for a few nights recently.







The Savannah Way is a well-used but not well-maintained road with some parts graded and some not. The graded parts are smoother, but the trade-off is a softer surface which kept Carl alert on the GS with its crossover tyres. Wightman and I had no problems on the dirt bikes with knobbies.

Creek crossings seemed to be increasing in number and often would be at the bottom of quite a deep ravine. We made plenty of stops to photograph Wightman’s waterborne antics but alas he had changed his approach so that the photos were nowhere near as spectacular.









Finding a suitable clearing well clear of one of the crossings, we chased a local Dingo away and set up camp. A casual inspection of the bush all around us showed many of the trees were bent over, broken off or flattened altogether, further evidence of the effect of the cyclone in March.





Our campsite was about 150 km from Booroloola and as Election Day 2019 dawned we packed up and rode further west. The distance between fuel stops seemed to be getting greater out here, although we were generally able to obtain 91 octane ULP rather than the Opal sold further south. Booroloola was open for fuel, food and general stores but the election had been conducted several days earlier out here so not a polling booth in sight.

Wightman caught the attention of one of the locals as he took the opportunity to air off his socks, Carl and I preferring the shade (and more distance from the socks).





A phone call to our northernmost destination of Lorella Springs, confirmed we could buy unleaded petrol only if we really needed it, so we left Booraloola with full tanks and bladders and ventured back out on to the Savannah Way. Navigation was made easy following Carl who besides having driven through this way a year ago, had his Hema maps app running on the dashboard of the GS leaving no doubt as to our exact location. His accompanying Spot tracker kept the folks back home up to date with progress as well.







The road to Lorella Springs was the usual mix of gravel and rocks with the Three Single Men riding some distance apart to avoid filling air cleaners with dust. A re-group at the Lorella turnoff prepared us for the much sandier 27 km access track and as usual all three singles made it through unscathed.

Great pics and story Jeff, What a fantastic trip!!

Swampy

We call it ‘adventure riding’ and I suppose the roads are a bit of an adventure, but any time you can end a ride by pulling up at a bar, where you can down a cold beer on arrival as you place your dinner order with the cook is not really very hard core. At least we did stay in our tents – there are motel rooms available.
Lorella Springs is a working cattle station that doubles as a “remote Northern Territory coastal wilderness sanctuary.” Patrons pay a two-night camping levy on arrival, then set up a tab at the bar to cover food and drink and extra accommodation and other charges as long as they are on the property. A ‘mud map’ is available to guide guests on day trips and a record is kept of who comes and goes across the property each day. Otherwise you can pretty much go where and do what you like.

Our free day on Lorrella Springs consisted of Carl and Wightman taking what they thought was the soft option and heading out to one of the nearer swimming holes. I was committed to making it to the beach of the Gulf of Carpentaria as we were now very close and I had not made it in 1981, nothing was going to stop me now.

I unloaded the farm bike, strapped on some extra fuel and took off dirt bike style across the sandy, rutted tracks, following my mud map and dodging 4wds. The first 20 km or so (of the total 80 km one-way ride) had some tricky sand stretches but nothing too difficult on the farm bike, then the track settled down into a very rideable double track with even 23 km of old sealed road included. The final couple of km up to the beach was a bit soft and it was with a great sense of accomplishment I arrived at the Gulf. As is usual at such spots, you can’t really see much (although this is better than Cape York’s two islands in the way), but I stood under a tree and pondered haw far from home I was and how many years I had been meaning to get up this way.











As it turned out, Carl and Wightman had ridden through the first and worst 20 km of sand as well but had enjoyed their day out on the tracks with Carl stating his intention to bring the 4wd back for a better look around.

The morning of our 15th day saw all three singles loaded up with as much fuel as possible as we faced a 448 km leg into Mataranka without any fuel stops along the way. Fuel is pumped out of a 44-gallon drum and metered out of a five-litre container into the bikes. 448 km was sure to try out the farm bike’s 12 litre main tank and I wouldn’t have attempted the distance without my two trusty 5.5 litre Liquid Containment bladders.

The Lorella Springs access road seemed much shorter and easier on the return trip as roads often do. Turning right we made our way along to the Southern Lost City. I left Lorella later than the other two – it’s a hard place to leave – and when I approached the Lost City, I noticed Wightman had kindly left his pants hanging on the road sign to alert me as to the whereabouts of the turn off. Carl had completed the summit walk last year so volunteered to stay with the bikes while Wightman and I set off to explore the walk trail. The towering columns and views from the top were well worth trudging around in my squeaky enduro boots in 40-degree heat – another of those very special NT places.





Back on the bikes now we danced over the corrugated Savannah Way and went in search of our destination for the night – Centre Island. I was once again out in front of our group and riding to conserve fuel. My main tank ran out at around 230 km and I spluttered to a stop just past a sign stating 2 km to Tomato Island. I was completing the fuel bladder to tank transfer as Carl rode up and said we had pretty much arrived. Turns out Centre Island is an island off the coast near Booroloola, Tomato Island is not an island at all, and we were to camp here for the night.