Sebastian Wale
18 September 2017
From the Right-to the left and back
I never actually had a desire to ride across Australia.
In fact, now that I think about it, riding across an entire continent in under 3 days…complete madness. I guess that’s why I love it.
I had planned to leave on the Monday, but as is often the case, plans change. Recently, I’d been having a few issues with the charging system and the Friday before I was to leave, it decided to die. Now, with any normal bike the alternator is accessible and an easily replaceable item. With the advent of the new R1200GS design (ca. 2013) BMW made the brave (some would say stupid) decision to place the stator at the rear of the motor, just in-front of the gearbox. Supposed to last a long time… In real terms, this means that changing out a defective unit and replacing it is a BIG job, time consuming and When you’re paying for a mechanic, that means a huge bill. Now my Mechanic did everything he could to get my bike, Melinda, back on the road as quickly as possible and I got her back Wednesday arvo.
I managed to Hit the road Thursday morning, taking my time with 750 - 1300 km days. My immediate goal was to make it from Brisbane to the S.A./W.A. border by Saturday evening. No mean feat and not a ride most would consider sensible by any means, Even better.
The ride to the border (S.A./W.A.) was relatively uneventful. I rode, I re-fuelled, I repeated. The first day was a test of the bike & we only covered around 800kms. Next day, 1000 and third day 1200. Plenty of wildlife along my route - kangaroos, emus, goats. But the only thing that crossed my path & posed a potential risk was an eagle. Maybe he was a little deaf. Eventually I arrived, Border Village, at around 1800 on the Saturday night. Perfect timing for dinner and a couple of bevvies. Of course, most of the other Long distance riders had arrived there the previous night. But they hadn’t had their bike rebuilt earlier in the week. The rider who'd ridden the furthest to arrive here had done over 7000 kms.
It was good to achieve something and have a rest. I considered staying two nights, as the next day it was drizzling and miserable. But around mid-morning the skies cleared and I decided that there was not enough here to keep my interest. So, I packed my moist tent and headed over the border and on to Norseman. Leaving so late, I didn’t arrive at Norseman till around 1800. I was quite mindful that the wildlife would be on the move and riding could become dangerous. I wanted to get to the caravan park and put up my tent. Unfortunately, the office was closed and I had to settle for the pub. Shame that, pizza and beer for dinner.
With only my next goal in mind (Denham, Shark Bay) and a look at wave rock, I decided to get up early the next day. 0400 found me warming up Melinda and her heated grips, it was a fresh 5 degrees, but that was soon to change and it got down to an exceedingly stupid -0.5.
The difference between 5 and -0.5 is enormous. It was brass-Monkey cold, it couldn’t have been colder if it had snowed. Now that I think about it, it would have warmed up had it snowed. I was constantly being “reminded” by Melinda to beware of ICE!
Wave rock added another 300-500 km to my trip, but what’s a few hundred compared to 10k? As for the rock…I saw it, I stood on it, it was shaped like a wave.
After wave rock, it was onward and upward. Heading toward Denham, Shark bay, The most westerly point on the Australian Mainland (depending upon your reference). 6 days and 5000+ km I arrived at my destination.
An area shrouded in some dark Australian history; pearl harvesting, fishing, dolphin feeding and of course the migration of the Grey Nomad. I settled into the caravan park, spitting distance from the beach and set up camp. 5 days I was to rest and prepare myself for my next challenge, the return journey.
I love long distance riding, I love non-stop riding, I love doing things others shy away from, I just love it.
The plan was to ride from the most westerly point (namely Denham) to the most easterly point (Byron Bay) in 3 days or less. Easy-peasy, I hear you say. The ride ended up being around (exactly) 5120.9 km and I achieved it in 68.5 hours. Well-under my 72 hour goal. Now some will ask “so, how fast (speed) did you cross the Nulabor?” But my whole approach to long distance/endurance riding is: managing fatigue, speed, rest, nutrition and unseen events. I didn’t have to speed. Although for a country so insanely massive our speed limits are way too low. I mean seriously, if we had a national speed limit on highways/motorways of 130 km/h I could have saved 10 hours. That is not an insignificant amount of time. For most, that’s more than a day’s drive. (an argument for another time)
Anyway, I stayed within the speed limit of each state (even more of a challenge to achieve my goal). I rested well, even slept a few times, I ate properly, and had time to attend to a spotlight repair.
The ride itself was just like any other ride. I was not entirely familiar with the different rest-stops we have in Australia, but now I believe I am a little wiser. I found places to rest, places to pitch my tent and sleep, places to eat. I was impressed with how good I felt after a few hours off the bike, resting against a tree or in my tent and with a little food in my belly.
Somewhere, in the early part of the ride (2nd day) I noticed in the distance along the Nulabor, a gigantic piece of machinery was approaching. Escorts, flashing lights, making painfully slow progress. I wasn’t at all sure if what I saw coming my way was indeed real. It seemed to be wider than the actual road. Now mind, this is the major road that connects the East-Coast of Australia with the West-Coast. Could this be a thing? I slowed to 100, then 80, then 60. It was then that I realised it was indeed that big and covered the entire paved surface. I was tempted to duck and continue (bit silly really). The approaching Behemoth did recognise that I was there and it attempted to make room for myself, I wasn’t at all convinced that there was enough room and decided that the verge was probably the safest place for me to pass. This is the same verge that I had been eyeing earlier with suspicion. It sloped away from the asphalt road, looked to be covered in a loose, coarse, soft, slippery, dangerous for motorcycles, gravel. Once I left the relative safety of the paved surface for the verge, I discovered that it was indeed covered in a loose, coarse, soft, slippery, dangerous for motorcycles, gravel. Oh, and I was still at speed. I suppose it’s moments like this that people say “their life flashed before their eyes” what a load of rubbish. It’s moments like this that I wish I were a better rider. Despite every fibre in my body screaming BRAKE AND SLOW DOWN, I quickly realised that that was not what I needed to do. Washing speed off caused the bike to become unsteady and wobble. My only other option was to give a bit ‘o gas, power through this and re-mount the tarmac. The whole time thinking that I would go down, bite the dirt and become laughing stock of the transports’ escorts. I actually managed to power through this, I mounted the road, I looked around and with an air of “I do my own stunts” and I powered off along the Nulabor. I’m quite sure that the escorts and others had been looking-on and thinking that I was going to go down like a fat kid on a see-saw (or lead balloon). To tell the truth, when I stopped about ten minutes later for a “rest” and reflected, so did I.
Just before the NSW border I fuelled up in Yunta, SA. Here I got chatting with a member of the constabulary, on escort duty. His normal service vehicle was a BMW R1200RT but today he had the relative comfort of a marked Ford Territory. We chatted about bikes, how he could never afford the service costs associated with the BMW on his wage, and other bike stuff. They were accompanying another massive piece of mining machinery that was heading to Broken Hill. From Yunta, Broken Hill was about a 2 hour ride or so. The friendly policeman indicated that if I were to get stuck behind them then I would be unable to pass. That would mean that my times would be totally thrown out. I had to hurry, Instead of having a 5 minute break and coffee, I quickly finished refuelling, paid and got back on my trusty steed. The trucks were warming up and the flashing lights were flashing. I don’t know if they waited for me to get underway, but I have a sneaky feeling that said policeman delayed their departure somewhat.
Just over the SA border is a flat expanse, broken only by the rest stop Little Topar. This place often experiences strong winds and today was no exception. With an awesomely, powerful Northerly attempting to blow me off the plain and temperatures in excess of 34 degrees, it was not my most pleasant day on a bike. Starting out my ride the previous day at Denham, I still had on my thermals and was quickly overheating. Dehydration is a major enemy of concentration and endurance. I quickly got changed, but had lost way too much water. But it could have been worse, and I was still hanging out for a proper coffee. All that was on offer in Little Topar was an urn of boiling water and a tin of what someone had called “instant” coffee. I grabbed a quick mug, chugged it down and was on my way. Another mug of this drink was unnecessary.
In preparation for this type of ride, as Australia seems to have the stupidest animals who are hell-bend on committing suicide by traffic, I contacted Clearwater (CA) and purchased a hybrid kit of one Erica and one Sevina. The amount of light generated by this combination is equivalent to that of several small suns jammed into a couple of Vegemite jars. In other-words, very, very, very, very bright. Bright enough to raise the eye-brows of more than a few truckers’. I have the ability to identify lane markings, cats-eyes, road-markers etc approximately 1-2 kms away. Unfortunately, on my last evening, just around dusk, my lights began to flicker, then they would spontaneously strobe (not groovy), finally they completely failed. Now, I’m not afraid of the dark, but the only time I saw and roos on my journey was after the lights failed. As I was travelling through rural areas, plenty of road-kill, I decided to drop my speed by 10-15 km/h, not good when the clock is ticking. My next fuel and food stop just happened to be at a large roadhouse (Gilandra), perfect for a bit of road-side repair work. Having re-fuelled, had a good feed, something to drink and feeling rested, I attacked the lights. Beginning with all the connections, the CAN-buster and finally the fuse. The Fuse! Why did I not start here? Once I discovered where the problem lay, I spoke with the station attendant and asked if she had one of these - holding up said fuse. Fully expecting to be charged an arm & a leg for a replacement, she replied with “I’m sure I’ve seen a few of those lying around here somewhere” After a bit of rummaging through several draws, she managed to produce 3 fine specimens, all of which she gave me and wouldn’t let me pay. Having installed the fuse, I discovered that the Sevina had completely failed but the Erica still came on (searing my retinas in the process). I guess one small sun will have to do the job. Off I rode, into the darkness of Central New south Wales.
Around this time I had a bit of a glance at my rear tyre. Now, my tyres were renewed not long before I left for the trip. The front was sweet as, at least half it’s life remaining, but the rear…well, I was a little worried that I would have to stop and source new rubber. Upon closer inspection, I did have tread, just enough to keep going, although it was no longer round. I guess the combination of heat, cold, poor roads, rough roads, long straights with minimal curves took their toll on my rubber.
Not long after this point I decided that I was sick of sticking to the major roads and wanted something a bit more biker friendly and fun. I ended up riding through the Gibraltar Ranges. I had never heard of the place and to say that I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. Slightly west of Grafton, absolutely amazing and definitely the highlight of my 10k + km ride across Australia and back. I would even go as far as to say that it could be one of my favourite roads in the world. Maybe the time of day had something to do with it, but this was near the end of a 3 day marathon, early hours of the morning, just before day-break, I had the roads through these ranges to myself. I did note that there was plenty of roadworks underway and am sure that during the day the road would have been down to one lane for many kilometres, controlled by traffic lights. But by beating the commuters it was absolutely amazing. Along this road there is a camp site/caravan park, Jackadgery where I re-fuelled, maybe a destination for my next ride?
From here I headed onward to Byron and my destination. I arrived at 0759, taking timezones into account, I had definitely done it in less than 3 days. What a relief, what a blast!
What have I taken away from this experience? Australia is so stupidly, enormously massive. But three days is more than enough time to cover this distance. There is more to Australia than meets the eye. I’m very surprised (and glad) that I didn’t come across more wildlife.
Saying all this, I’ve made some serious decisions about my next adventure. Just this past week I purchased a 2001, R1150GS, in Germany. I plan, amongst other rides, to circumnavigate Iceland in one day, ride Nordkapp, Norway - Gibraltar in under 3 days (5,500 kms) and maybe even ride the FHB in under 48 hours, again.
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