Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group
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Ulysses Club - Clarence Valley Group |
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THE DEAD CENTRE TRIP —ADVENTURE BEFORE DEMENTIA By E. Eckert. Most of the stories I have written of my motorcycle adventures start on the day of departure, however, this holiday was on the drawing board some months prior to that day, as I will endeavour to portray. The seed was sown late in 2005, at one of the Ulysses Friday night monthly gatherings, as I recall, when it was announced that some members were thinking of embarking on an inland trip, in the winter of the following year. The response was overwhelming, tentative dates were considered and names taken by Lynn and Bob, who offered to take on the task of organising the event. By late January 2006, those riders interested received a proposed itinery for discussion, followed by a "preliminary accommodation status" , and after a few meetings, in the form of friendly barbecues, the final arrangements were made by the end of April. Not only did Lynn and Bob arrange the accommodation, they also organized venues for our evening meals, and bookings for some excursions to the popular tourists sights. By that time, it was getting exciting and I was literally counting the days till departure date. I made sure the bike was well shod and the service was up to date , and, apart from a few of my travelling companion Owen's personal items, the bike was loaded and ready to roll days before the event. Imagine my surprise when the morning before departure on a routine start of the bike, the ignition switch was found to be faulty. I was in a bit of a panic over this and not having enough time to replace the defective switch, I managed to spray it with "contact spray"and alleviate the problem. DAY1 On the morning of Saturday 1st. July 2006 , 18 bikes assembled at our usual meeting place. One of the bikes had a trailer in tow and there were 24 people in total. The photographer from the local newspaper was there to record the event, as well as a few close friends who weren't able to join us. A new member, Lester, rode with us part of the way, as we set off on a clear morning, enjoying a good ride up the Gibralter Range to Glen Innes, where we stopped for fuel and coffee. We said goodbye to Lester there, and rode in groups, with a radio controlled bike in the lead, and at the rear [ tail end Charlie], in case of any misadventure. Some bikes stopped for fuel at Warrialda, and most of us rode on to Moree, arriving about 2.30 pm, to book in to the Gwyder Caravan Park, and be directed to our respective cabins for the night. Gwen and I had taken lunch with us, which we ate while we were waiting for the cleaner to tidy up the cabin. Brian, and his wife Gianerta, who were bunked in with us, bought a snack at the Caravan Park kiosk. I recall Brian commenting that his pizza was not up to scratch and it would probably have been just as appetising if he had eaten the box it came in. After settling in to our cabin and making a cuppa, Gwen and I had a "granny nap" [which I prefer to call a 'power nap'], before relaxing in the thermal pools with most of our travelling companions and quite a few other travellers. That evening's meal was held at the hotel, which was 10 minute walk from where we were staying. Lynn had reserved tables for our group and the choice of a good menu ensured a first class meal was enjoyed by one and all. It was the first night's celebration with the anticipation of plenty more to come, although with a long ride the following day, we did not make a late night of it, and returned to our cabin to become further acquainted with our cabin mates Brian and Gianetta, before dozing off to sleep to dream of the road ahead. DAY 2 We ate breakfast in the cabin, packed the bike, then went for a stroll around the Caravan park until it was time to leave. We decided it would probably be safer if we travelled in small groups, rather than one large group, with the result that the slower riders left a bit earlier than the faster ones. Peter had trouble starting his Triumph and after trying unsuccesfully to push start it, he eventually started it with jumper leads, provided by an obliging caravaner. Gwen and I missed the turn off to Collerenabri, and rode right through town and by the time we sorted ourselves out, we found we were riding alone most of the way to "Collie". We passed through several huge herds of cattle grazing on the "long paddock" and at one stage came across a drover, driving his truck very slowly along the road, with three horses tethered up to it trotting along beside. This was a first for both of us. Brian and Gianetta met up with us at "Collie' and we rode with them to Walgett, where we stopped for fuel. Some of the group caught up with us while we were having a cuppa, and we left them to it and rode with Judy to Brewarenna, and then on to Bourke, knowing they would catch up with us. At one stage, way out in the wilderness, we were flagged down by some young folk, but they weren't in any trouble and were merely curious as to where all the bikes were going. They were waving their beer stubbies around and yahooing, so we bid them farewell and left them to it. We refuelled at Bourke, and then emptied the bakery of meat pies, and Gwen and I managed to buy the last two pasties in captivity, and joined our friends in a nearby park to eat, drink and compare notes on the mornings ride. Judy and I had visited Bourke on a previous ride, and we were able to direct the others to the historic three tier wharf right in town. The wharf has three levels of decking to accommodate for the various water levels, as the Darling River rises and falls. In its hayday, Bourke was a busy shipping port, when the river trade flourished. Now, of course, road transport has taken over, and the old wharf has become a tourist attraction. Bourke is an interesting old town, with some beautiful old buildings, but alas, it has a run down and neglected look like so many of our outback country towns.
We left Bourke, riding with six other bikes in convoy, non stop to Cobar, where
it started to
drizzle with rain for the last ten kilometres or so. We all refuelled, and asked
for directions to the "Oasis Motel" where we were accommodated for the night.
The Bowling Club was the venue for tea that night, and was within easy walking
distance of the motel. We had enough time for pre-dinner drinks in the lounge,
after rearranging the small tables, so we
could all sit together. This habit is fast becoming a Ulysses custom. Lynn had
arranged for a Chinese banquet, and we were ushered into a private room
with one huge long table. The meal was slow in being served, which gave us
plenty of time to entertain ourselves and get to know each other better. The
room was obviously used for conferences,
which was evident by the whiteboard and marking pens mounted on an easel.
I took full advantage of these facilities and started drawing a few motorbike
manufacturers insignias. Some of the others followed the lead and by the time
the food was arriving, the entire board was covered in insignias and slogans and
had become quite
a work of art. The meal was plentyful and enjoyable; after which a brisk walk back to the comfort of the motel was had, to combat against the cold night air. There were five of us bunked in together that night, with damp clothes hung up on makeshift lines, strung up around the room, but that didn't deter us from having a good nights sleep. DAY 5 Most of us rode to the Cobar lookout, not far out of town, to inspect the view of the huge open cut mine. After yesterday, we were concerned about Peter's bike not starting and Peter had taken the precaution of borrowing jumper leads, however it fired into life easily, much to our relief. Brian had a problem with the rear chain on his Honda stretching, and in need of adjustment. This operation took place before we rode to the Caltex truck stop, for a cooked breakfast. Judy and I had eaten there several times before, on previous trips, and although it was now under new management, I was pleased to find the food as good and plentiful as previously.
We took advantage of the 110 K.P.H. speed limit on the Barrier Highway, yet
drove cautiously to be on the lookout for roos , camels and goats. We did not
see many roos, and no camels, but there were dozens of wild goats on both sodes
of the road , some herds with young kids trailing behind. The country side was
surprisingly green at times, after recent rain and we had a pleasant ride to the
small roadhouse of Emdale, about 150 Km.
from Cobar. We all stopped there for a drink and some for fuel.
Between Emdale and Wilcannia, my B.M.W. played up bad. The motor cut out
suddenly
on about six occasions, and was very difficult to restart. It was comforting to
know there
were other riders behind me in radio contact with the lead riders. Ross and Rod
came to
my aid and we sprayed contact spray on two of the electrical connections that
were
readily accessible, as well as the faulty ignition switch. Ross also gave me a
litre of fuel, thinking the fuel level may have been too low for the fuel pump
in the tank to operate,
and we eventually arrived at Wilcannia, where we all refuelled at a depot away
from the
main township. The bike performed admirably for the next 120 or so Km.'s. to the
next
regroup, at Little Topar Roashouse/ Hotel where we had lunch. By this time I was
convinced the bike was O.K. provided I kept the tank as full as possible,
however it stopped once again, before we arrived at Broken Hill, where we booked
in to our cabins in
the Council caravan park, on the western outskirts of town. By 2 pm, Ross and
his partner, Sue, were sharing the cabin with Gwen and I, and suspecting the
bike problem could have been caused by the faulty ignition switch, with Rod's
aid, we fitted a toggle switch to the ignition wires, behind the switch, so if
the motor failed again it was a simple matter of using the new switch. To do the
job we borrowed Bob's soldering iron and solder and an extension lead from a
nearby caravaner, who incidently used to ride a
B.S.A. motor bike years ago, managing to get the job half finished before the
light beat
us. Lynn had booked us in to a private room, for dinner that night, at the Legion Club and we were ferried from the caravan park to the club by courtesy of Legion Cabs, with a guided tour en route. Once again we had pre-dinner drinks in the lounge and we had a "whip around", collecting enough cash to give to Lynn and Bob for their "Desert dinner" at Uluru in a few nights time, in appreciation for the magnificient job they had done organising the trip. While we were in the mood, Rosemary collected $20 from each of us, to form a "kitty", to pay for barbecue food for the three nights our evening meals had not been catered for. With all the financial formalities over, we adjourned to the function room, and enjoyed a delightfull two course meal served by pleasant staff. By this time I was becoming quite used to this high class living, and as well as the food, I was enjoying my old friends company immensely, and making new friends. Another courtesy taxi ride back to the caravan park completed the days activities. DAY 4 Gwen and I awoke at 5A.M., quietly dressed so as not to disturb our room mates, and went for a long walk. Not much exercise gained by sitting on a bike all day. A nice hot cuppa went down well when we returned, as it was a very cold morning, about 1*C, I believe. We had a full day to spend in Broken Hill, and another night at the same caravan park, so after completing the job on my bike and returning the borrowed tools, we headed off sight seeing in various directions.
Gwen rode on the pillion of Graham's bike to the Delprats mine, to join the
underground mine guided tour with 7 others of our group. Judy and I had been
there and
done that on our first visit to the " Hill", so we decided to have a walk around
town with Robyn, Sandra and Corinne. Peter, Sandra's husband, was not out of the
woods yet with his bike's starting problems, and although he had bought a new
battery the previous afternoon, apparently it was not fully charged and
he required jumper leads again to get it mobile. I had a good time
strolling around town with the girls, visiting the Silver
City Mint and Art Centre and admiring the beautiful old buildings.
This was my third visit to this fair city, and hopefully, it wont be the last as
there is plenty to see and do. The evening barbecue back at the camp was to be a
"formal” occassion, so I obtained a kneck tie from "Vinnies Boutique" at no
cost. The old fellow behind the counter would not take anything for it. Maybe he
thought I was a rough "bikie", or mabe
it was my pigtail that frightened him. I left the girls after a relaxing morning
and rode to
the mine, to meet up again with Gwen. The tour had not finished when I arrived,
which
gave me the opportunity to chat to the staff and inspect the motor room, while I
was waiting. I was able to take photos of the group, as they were emerging from
the mineshaft cage. They made a very impressive crew, dressed in their miners
coats and helmets, with
battery packs on their belts. They all enjoyed the tour, although Gianetta did
comment that she felt a bit claustrophbic at times.
We rode out the 25 Km. to the old town of Silverton, to meet up with others of
our group. After enjoying a nice bowl of home made soup, with fresh bread rolls,
at the famous Silverton pub, John showed us what remained of the old house he
had lived in as a lad. It was a stone building but minus the verandahs, roof and
windows as were many other buildings in this ghost town. We rode in convy, out to the Umberrumberka Dam, stopping off at a lookout to admire the magnificient desert scenery. This dam was built in 1914, and continues to be an important source of water for Broken Hill, although water is also piped from Lake Menindee to Broken Hill. The mighty tripple expansion steam engine that once operated the pumps, was replaced by diesel power as late as 1960 but this massive steam engine still remains fully intact and protected from the weather as a monument to a bygone era. We rode back to the "hill" to stock up for the "formal bbq" to be held that night, then continued out, with the intention of inspecting the Sculptures, a popular tourist attraction, and a good vantage point to watch the sun setting over the desert. Unfortunately, the gate was locked so we returned to camp, after refuelling for the next days ride to Port Augusta. The bike had travelled 80 Km. since we fitted the new ignition switch, and had not given any trouble, so I was feeling pretty confident we had solved the problem. Ross had obtained a key to the entry gate to the Sculptures, and some of the crew were riding out to inspect them, but Gwen and I decided to rest up for a while before tea. The barbecue has a huge success, and we all helped Sue celebrate her 53rd birthday, complete with two cakes. We had a long ride ahead of us the following day, so it was not a late night. DAYS We left Broken Hill in groups from about 8am onwards, Ross riding behind me till the first fuel stop at Yutha, in case of any further trouble with the "beamer". Along the way Gianetta lost her scarf, so Brian radio'd back to the following bikes to retrieve it. It was a cold morning, so we all had a hot drink at Yutna, before hitting the road again. The weather warmed up as the day progressed, and the bike was running well, some of us stopped for lunch at the quaint little town of Ooraroo, between Peterborough and Port Augusta. This tidy town had tables and benches in a garden plot, in the centre of the main street, where we were able to enjoy our lunch in comfort. Judy was unfortunate enough to drop her bike while parking, but the only damage sustained, apart from her pride, was the spring popping off the centre stand, which was easily replaced. We rode on through mostly desolate terrian, until we reached the Flinders Ranges, which was a pleasant change from the flat country we had travelled the last three days. A glorious view was to be seen, as we emerged from this range . Rod informed me that night that he enjoyed this part of the ride so much, that he doubled back and rode down the range again. My bike had been running well all day, except for faultering twice, but restarting instantly when I kicked down a gear. We stopped for fuel on the outskirts of Port Augusta, and those of us who had lunched together regrouped to ride in convoy to the caravan park. We managed to get lost once, but finally arrived at our destination at about 3pm, after a good days ride in pleasant weather. It was my daughter, Jenny's birthday, and knowing she would be home at that time, I rang to wish her all the best, and to let her know we were all well. So as not to worry her on her birthday, I decide not to tell her of the bike trouble for a couple of days. After settling in and unpacking the bikes, we went off in different directions, sight seeing and stocking up on breakfast food etc. Gwen and I rode around the waterfront, which had recntly won an award for beautification [according to the lady in the post office where we had asked for directions to the caravan park].
On our return to camp, the bike played up big time, by stalling at traffic
lights in peak hour traffic and refusing to restart. You might say the muck hit
the fan. As luck would have it, Graeme and Annette saw our predicament, and
between the two girls, they pushed the bike with me sitting on it around the
corner and out of the fast moving traffic. It
eventually started again, after trying the new switch to no avail, and on
arrival back ay
the caravan park, Ross and I found a few more electrical connections to spray
with contact spray, hoping this might fix the problem. It started several times
easily after this
and we thought we had solved the problem.
The evening meal that night was organised especially for our group, at the
recreation hall in the caravan park. It was a three course meal of abundent size
, beautifully cooked and presented, and we followed it up with a round of jokes,
with most of us paticipating, and then joining together in a sing song. It's
amazing the strength of ones voice after taking a
few bottles of lubricant. DAY 6
We were all up bright and early, breakfasted and packed our bikes, when I had
trouble starting mine again. Ross and Sue and Rod stayed with us at the caravan
park to work on the bloody bike, while the
rest of the group set off for Woomera and Coober Pedy. We intended to
catch up with them later in the day, but this wasn't to be. The three of us
removed the faring and fuel tank, and cleaned up all the electrical connections
we could find, and managed to get it started. We were not confident enough
though, to ride on into the desert, after the trouble it had caused, so we took
it to an auto electrician who was recommended to us, to see if he could diagnose
the problem and maybe test the computer. Brian, the electrician, was a helpful
young fellow, but confessed he knew very
little about bikes. He was not about to see us stranded, however, and rang an
older retired colleague who put him on the right track. After checking
out the connections to the computer, he then removed a cover plate at the front
of the motor to expose the "Halls crank angle sensor". He tested it as best he
could and informed us he was 99% sure it
was the cause of the problem. The next two hours were spent on the phone in search of a replacement, but to no avail. A replacement part from Germany would have taken too long to wait for, and really put a stop to our holiday, so over lunch at Macca's we discussed the predicament we were in and at Rod's suggestion we decided to search for an old ute to transport the bike in, and thus continue on our way. To cut a long story short, we looked at three old bombs, and finally tracked down a 1977 HZ. Holden ute with tie rails and in reasonable condition, and at the right price. It was unregistered, so the owner of the car yard drove us to the motor registry office and we were able to renew the expired registration for three months. There is no inspection required in South Australia .Woopee!!. After emptying the rubbish out of the back of the ute, throwing in a spare wheel, jack and wheel brace, he took our money, shook hands and sent us on our way.
By 5 pm, the ute was fuelled up, tyre pressures checked, stocked up with a jerry
can of fuel, a can of oil, and a bottle of water, and with the bike tied on the
back, we were all set for a new experience. While all the re-registration was
taking place that afternoon, Ross and Sue had bought the tie down straps at a
local hardware store, who were giving out small stuffed dogs as a sales
promotion. I believe the checkout girl made the remark that
every ute has to have a dog in it. How more
Aussie can you get? Sue had also booked the same room we had shared the
previous night, and we contacted our friends who had by
now arrived at Coober Pedy, and told them of our progress and that we would
catch up
with them in 24 hours. We then walked a short distance to the local football club, and enjoyed a good meal in a pleasant atmosphere. I slept easy that night, although at times I had visions of an unknown ute, broken down in the middle of the desert, with a bike on the back. I must have been dreaming. DAY 7 Gwen and I set off at 7 am, in the dark and fog, in a strange vehicle, with our fingers crossed. I have owned and driven an old Holden for years, so it was reasonably familiar to me, although the gear ghange had been converted from steering column to floor change, and that took a bit of getting used to. One advantage of driving the Stuart Highway, is that it is flat and with long distances between towns, and therefore not much gear changing was required.
I had no idea of my exact speed, as the speedo needle was bouncing all over the
place, but I soon maintained a rate of travel the engine seemed to handle
comfortably, probably about 90 K.P.H. Sue and "my mechanics" caught up with us
about half an hour after we
left Port Augusta, and we stopped to check the load. All was well, so we set off
for Woomera, with the bikes well behind us.
We all met up again there, and enjoyed a coffee at the tourist information
centre, and had a brief look at some of the exhibits on display before heading
off again. We left the others
to it, to do more sight seeing, knowing
full well they would catch up with us before very
long. Our next stop was Glendambo, for
fuel, then at a roadside shelter for a bite to eat,
somewhere between Glendambo and Coober Pedy. By
now I was feeling a lot more
relaxed and was beginning to enjoy the scenery. I had never been north of Port
Augusta
before, and was amazed at the change in scenery, with salt lakes in the distance
and a
variety of vegetation.
We were fortunate that Lynn had booked us all in for two nights at Coober Pedy,
so in actual fact, we only missed out on one day of our planned itinerary. It
was dissapointing,
however, because a light aircraft flight
over the opal fields was on the days agenda. I felt a bit
lousy about Sue , Ross and Rod, also missing out, although I believe Rod had
been there
once before.
We arrived at Coober Pedy at 3.30 pm, with a motorcycle escort, to be greeted by
Viki and Flavio, who were the only couple not out on a guided sightseeing tour
of the town and
surrounding opal fields. Ross and Sue rode off to do some sight seeing, while
Gwen, Rod and I walked down to a supermarket, to stock up on supplies and to try
and buy a tarp to protect the bike at night. There were plenty of food items
available, and some camping
gear, but we could not find a tarp. In the short time we were there, we were able to see a few of the sights and I was surprised to see a lot of shops and dwellings above the ground. The summer temperature there reaches well into the high 40's on an average day, and a lot of the original dwellings were made underground to combat against the heat. I was able to learn that Coober Pedy loosly translated is Aboriginal for "white man in hole" which typifies the early opal miners.
When the remainder of the group returned from their excursion, to see the ute
there, with
the bike on the back and learning we 'd had a trouble free days journey, they
were all
very pleased for us and kisses and hugs were shared all around. It was a bit of
a worry for
a while however when John embraced me.
The evening meal was a barbecue at the camp kitchen, with the food catered for
by the management and cooked by our own capable chefs. Once again, it was a nice
meal, after
which Lynn held a trivia quiz, to see how observant we had been on the trip so
far. It was
surprising just how much we had seen and done in only 7 days on the road, and
more
importantly, how much most of us remembered. It gets cold at night in the
desert, and after all it was winter time, so we retired to our room to sleep
peacefully, now confident our new mode of transport had proven itself reliable
and quite moved by the concern our
friends had shown for our welfare. I still did not ring Jenny back at that time and decided to wait another day, when we would be at Yalara with a lot more kilometres behind us. DAY 8
We arose earlier than usual and hit the road at 6.45 am. The ute battery was on
the way out, and with no choke control on the carby, it was a buggar to start.
Just as well we had plenty of willing helpers to push start "vinny". This was
the name Sue had christened it,
as the number plate was VYN 794. We christened the dog "Vonny".
It was a cold, starry morning and driving into the dawn, it was just light
enough to see the mounds of opal diggings, and some of the mining equipment on
the outskirts of town. The landscape in the faint light reminded me of photos I
have seen, of the moon surface, and by the time the sun had risen we were well
and truly away from the diggings and in the middle of the desert once again.
Vinny had no heater connected, so to keep warm ,Gwen had decided to wear her
pyjamas
over her clothes. She was quite a sight when we pulled up 150K's along the
highway, for fuel at Cadney homestead. Coincidently, the bikes had caught up
with us just as we arrived there and I was able to report to "my mechanics" that
Vinny was purring like a kitten. Gwen and I made a point of using the stop for
refuelling and toilet use only, not
stopping for morning tea, which was usually in the form of a mousli bar, water
and fruit
which we had on the run . This enabled us to gain half to three quarters of an
hour, and to
clock up more K's. I was never sure of my speed, but had absolutly no fear of
being
caught speeding. Our next stop was the South Australia and Northern Territory border, where we stopped briefly for a photo . The bikes had caught up with us again, so we did not delay and were soon back on the road again, stopping at Kulgera Roadhouse for fuel and lunch. 74k's along the Stuart Highway, we came to Eriduna, where we turned left, and drove west on Lasseter Highway, towards Yulara . We encountered a lot of eagles, feeding on the road kill, and one almost flew into us, which would have been disastrous, as they were huge birds . We did not see many live animals, only one or two head of cattle feeding close to the road.
We stopped at the Aboriginal run roadhouse at Ebeneezer ,where, like Emmdale in
N.S.W. the petrol bowsers were padlocked. We had been advised to buy our alcohol
there, since it was a lot cheaper than Yulara , but on enquiring we were told
they could not sell
us grog if we were headed for Uluru-Kata Tjuta National park. What a racket!!
It was a good drive westward, into Yulara, with plenty of variety in the
vegetation and undulating countryside, to hold our interest. Like a lot of other
tourists, I mistook Mount
Connor for Ayres Rock [Uluru]. Gwen had visited the Centre years ago with her
late husband Reg, and remembered it but did
not let on . Come in spinner. By now I was becoming excited at the prospect of
seeing Ayres Rock, of which I had known about from my schooldays, and by seeing
many documentries on T.V. Eventually, we drove up a slight rise, and there it
was in the distance, huge and majestic, and just as I imagined. In no time we
arrived at the tourist centre of Yulara, where we were to spend the next two
days, sight seeing and soaking up the local Aboriginal culture. It was 4.15 pm,
and we had driven 730 Ks. that day, with
only an hours break from behind the wheel. It had been an exciting and
enjoyable drive, with the temperature
reaching 19*C. and once the day progressed, quite comfortable in the old ute. We
discovered we were able to talk to each other [unlike on the bike], eat lollies,
sing along, and squeeze our mascot Vonny to make music, as there was no radio in
this vehicle, only a gaping hole in the dashboard, where one had been in a
previous life. We had a great day, but I was still envious of my mates for
missing out on the ride. After settling into our cabins, which were all
in a row, each occupying four to six people, Gwen
and I had the usual cuppa, then went for a
walk, to stretch our legs and acquaint ourselves with the surroundings. The
tourist resort caters for all classes of accommodation, from wealthy tourists in
1 st. class hotel accommodation, those housed in comfortable cabins, as we were,
and an enormous camping area for backpackers, campers and caravaners. There were
toilet blocks, laundry facilities and a camp kitchen, with a store close by for
essentials, and in the main "town area" a supermarket, souvenior shops ,
bank, post office, pub and resturants. Something for everyone ! The layout of
the streets confused me at first, reminding me of Canberra on a smaller scale .
That night we walked about 600 metres to the Outback Pioneer Hotel, where we
enjoyed a few well earned drinks, before buying a steak to cook on the communal
barbecue. It was interesting, listening to the different languages, as there
were a lot of overseas visitors as well as Aussies. Although it was busy, and
the crowd around the bar was thick, we passed the time of day with a lady from
the U. S. of A. who had nothing but praise for this great brown country. There
was no mention of "back home etc. etc.". Interestingly enough, we were obliged
to show our cabin keys to the bartender to indicate we were bonafide guests,
before he would serve us. The entertainment was LOUD, and we were pretty tired after our long drive, so we walked back to our cabin in the cool night air, rather than wait for the shuttle bus, which operated all day and well into the night. I made an entry in my diary of the last two days events, and realised it was the 8th. of July and my brother's birthday, so I gave him a call. Yes, the mobile phone reception was first class. He was greatfull for the call and in state of shock, when I told him of our adventure with the ute. He offered to drive out and meet us in his 4W.D. Nissan Patrol and trailer to retrieve us if the ute broke down. I thanked him for the kind offer, then collapsed into my bunk and was soon in the land of nod. DAY 9
It was a very cold morning, and Vinny was hard to start, so I found Graham's
camp and borrowed jumper leads from him, and conned a 4W.D. owner into jump
starting her.
We drove the short distance to Uluru, and as we approached it, I was fascinated
by the
small caves, or pockets in the sides of this one big rock. We elected to take a
guided tour
around part of the base of The Rock, rather
than do the climb . The climb is about a 45
degree incline, and according to the brochures, it can be quite dangerous as
over 35
visitors have died while attempting the climb. Some missed their footing and
fell, others had heart attacks. Gwen had climbed it on her previous visit, 10
years prior, when in thosedays there was
no tourist resort and visitors camped at the base of The Rock .
Our guided tour proved to be very
interesting , being conducted by a well informed guide who was
only too pleased to answer any questions we cared to ask. DAY 10. One of the many tourist attractions at Yulara, is to watch the sunrise on Uluru. And there is a lookout at Yulara for this purpose. We rose well before sun up, and armed with our cameras and torches, we set off, stumbling through the dark, to find the lookout. We were given the wrong directions by a passer by [that's my story and I'm sticking to it ], and we ended up on a path, which led us to a hill that overlooked the staff accomodation quarters. Although, we found out later, we were in the wrong place, we never the less saw quite a spectacle, as the rising sun shone on the eastern side of The Rock, and we were able to photograph it with some success. The view of Kata-Tjuta [the Olgas], also looked magnificent, with clear blue sky behind the famous rock formation, with a shroud of dense cloud hovering over it. It was very cold waiting for the sunrise, because we were there about half an hour before we needed to be , but on arrival back at the cabin, we warmed up with a hot cup of tea before breakfast.
We had the ute battery on charge for 5 hours overnight, but it lost it's punch
soon after we
used the starter, so the boys got behind it and push started it. We kept the
motor running,
packed a bit of lunch and drove out to Kata-Tjuta to do some sight seeing. Viki
and
Flavio were there before us, and we were able to give them some fuel from our
jerry can,
not being sure if they had enough to do the return trip to camp. Together we
four walked the Walpa Gorge Walk, which was rough under foot on the
natural conglomerate path. It was a different experience, stepping around the
piles of
wild camel poo on the path, at the same time being carefull not to stumble or
twist an
ankle, while gaping around at the scenery.
The Olgas are spectacular in a different way to Ayres Rock, being formed in a
conglomerate mass, from volcanic eruptions millions of years ago, while The Rock
is one
big hunk of natural rock. The actual gorge displayed plenty of flora and forna
to hold our intrest, and Flavio was able to get some good close up shots of wild
flowers. We met up with others from our group on the way back, and all had lunch
together at a
picnic spot, not far from the start of the walk, where there were also toilet
facilities
available.
That afternoon, we took advantage of the laundry facilities, and washed out a
few
'unmentionables', after which we jumped on the shuttle bus and rode to the
shopping centre, to do some window shopping, rob the bank, and buy some
groceries. We met a
charming lady and her son from Melbourne, and struck up a conversation with her
while we were waiting for the return of the shuttle bus. We had met her earlier
that day on the walk, and were becoming quite friendly, with something in common
to discuss. I find that
99% of people are very friendly when on holidays. We ate in again that night, with Graeme and Annette, and after the meal, they and Gwen endevoured to teach me the fundamentle rules of the card game of Ucre. I am not a good card person, but joined in the fun, and I think I understood most of what I was doing, and thoroughly enjoyed the game. We were all pretty pooped after a busy day and were looking forward to being on the road again the next day. DAY 11
We were up and 7am, and showered,
breakfasted and packed the ute by 9am. By
this time, I was carrying sleeping bags and assorted articles for some of the
group .We were a bit cramped in the cabin of the ute, but there was plenty of
space in the back . Vinny played up again in the cold morning air and the boys
[and girls] pushed it twice before it fired into life. By this stage I think
they must have been getting a bit tired of push starting it, and I assured them
that in a few days when we get to Alice Springs, I
would buy a new battery.
We had a pleasant mornings drive through a contrast of country, ranging from
scrubby desert near Mount Connor, to undulating and more heavilly timbered
landscape the closer
we got to Kings Canyon Resort, with Middle Range and Peterman hills to the north
east of Luritja Road, on which we were
travelling. Our first stop was Curtain Springs, for fuel, where we met up with
Graham on his bike with trailer in tow.
The road surface was excellent, and amazingly, no wild life to be seen and very
little road kill. We pressed on to Kings Creek Station, for more fuel and a
toilet stop, and although by then it was time for lunch, it was far too dusty to
stop there to eat.
Soon after leaving Kings Creek Station, we came across a lay- by, where two
caravans were camped, so we stopped there for lunch. We started yarning to the
couple at one van, who had two little brown
dogs tied up . It transpired that the couple were travelling with some relatives
in the other van and they were taking it in turn to visit The Canyon, as it was
in the Watarrha National Park, and dogs weren't allowed. Incidentally, they told
us the dogs started the trip white but had changed colour because of the dust.
I think this was the first time I was
asked if I had bought an old bike ? My reply was simply, "No mate! I
bought an old Ute".
Graeme and Annette caught up with us, and since there were no picnic facilities
there, we made sandwiches on the bonnet of the ute. This was the first of many
similar roadside lunch stops. It was a relatively short trip that day , only 305
Km. and we arrived at Kings Canyon Tourist Resort at 1.45 pm.
The accommodation Lynn had booked for us
had. for some reason or other. been upgraded. and Gwen and I had a luxurious
room with a double bed each and ensuite, with a shower and bath tub.
Apparently, there was some confusion in the reception office, and some of the
crew had to change rooms, after unpacking their bikes and settling in, but all
was well in the end. After unloading Vinny, we changed into our shorts and went
walkabout, with a resort map in hand, to acquaint ourselves with the facilities.
I was surprised that the general store had
car batteries , fully charged, for sale, so I hurried back and drove back and
bought one. My mechanics helped me install
it under the surveillance of some of the campers. Naturally, they were curious
as to what the bike was doing on the back of a ute, so the whole drama was
revealed to them . That night, while we were enjoying our meal at the Outback Barbecue venue, the compere of the entertainment for the evening, on welcoming all guests to thr Resort, made an announcement about the bike in the back of the ute and made us stand up and take a bow. It was a bit embarassing at first, but we joined in the fun and with dancing, community singing, and audience participation, a good night was had by all. The liquid refreshments were particularly good that night as I recall. DAY 12 Things were really looking up at last. Vinny started easily at 8.30 am. Two pumps on the accelerator and it fired up first go, to the cheer of the crowd. We drove the short distance to Kings Canyon and met up with Peter and Sandra . By a stroke of luck, the boot key from my Holden at home fitted the door lock of the ute, so we were able to lock it up for the first time. It came without any keys at all, and to make it burglar resistant up tillthen I simply removed the rotor from the distributer. Now we had the luxury of a lock up passenger compartment, and we were able to mind Peter and Sandra's helmets and jackets, while we went on the Canyon Rim Walk. Some others in our group had taken the walk earlier that day with a guide, but we decided to go it alone . It was hard climbing for the first half hour up the side of a mountain, but the track was a little more kind to us when we reached the top. The view overlooking the Canyon made up for any discomfort in climbing the mountain. We had to watch our footing in some places, as some of the rocks were loose underfoot, but when we came across solid timber staircases and a bridge across a ravine, we were able to look below at the "Garden of Eden'. It is an oasis, lush in greenery with palms and native shrubs, with crystal clear rock pools here and there. The birdlife was fascinating.
Sandra and Peter went on ahead of us, and we took our time, stopping on many
occassions,
to admire the view. At the very top of the range, I was surprised to see solar
powered emergency telephones, and an area
where it was suitable to land a hellicopter. We continued on and finally
arrived back at the car park, in two and a half hours. After a rest for a while,
we drove back to the Resort and had lunch in our room, followed by an
afternoon snooze.
Six of the group had ridden back to Kings Creek Station earlier in the day,
where by prior arrangement, they hopped on quad bikes, and rode for two and a
half hours on a guided tour through the desert and rough terrain, stopping at
points of interest along the way. On their return to the Resort, they were
covered in dust, and I believe Ross took a shower with his riding gear still on,
to wash off all the dust. They all agreed it was an
exciting and worthwhile experience.
Having recovered after our siesta, Gwen and I went for another walk on a raised,
man made path, to the sunset viewing platform, where, at sunset, the mountain is
lit up in many colours, as the last rays of the sinking sun strike it.
I read that in a brochure.
It was an overcast afternoon, so we didn't hang around waiting for the sunset, instead we took the Perimeter Walk, right around the Resort. It took an hour and like the walk earlier in the day, we had to watch our footing on the loose stones. On returning to our room, Gwen had a hot bath, then ran one for me. It was soothing on the calf muscles, but was a bit too hot, so I let some of the water out, and turned on the cold tap only to be confronted with red dirt in the cold water. The water in use was filtered bore water, and apart from the burst of red dirt, it was very clear and equally as refreshing, as our soak in the thermal pools at Moree, on the first afternoon, of the trip. We visited the Desert Oaks Outback B.B.Q. again at night, and enjoyed ourselves again, as we had the previous night. The entertainment was just as good, two nights in a row, as was the food and drink. We did not make a late night of it, however, as the following day we were setting off for Alice Springs, a distance of 476 Km. Walking back to our rooms, Corrine sighted two flashes of lightening in the distance, and later in the night when I was almost asleep, I heard a loud thunderclap. DAY 13
We woke quite early, and were ready to roll by 7 am. It had been raining
overnight, but stopped long enough for us to load Vinny . We had bought some big
plastic garbage bags
the previous afternoon, and took the precaution of protecting our open load in
the back
with them.
It was still dark when we set off, but although the old ute had good headlights,
it did not notice a drain with about six inches of water flowing through it, and
plunged into it compleply covering the windscreen with a yellow curtain of muddy
water, totally obscuring the road. Fortunately, the motor did not stall, and we
continued on our way with
no further misshaps. As daylight emerged, so did the rain increase, and we drove non stop to Eriduna, on the Stuart Highway, for fuel. It had ben a 272Km. drive in the rain, and although our feet were cold and wet [ the heater did not work and there were gaping holes in the bulkhead], we were better off than our friends on the bikes. Some of the bikes arrived at the same time as us, although they left an hour later. I estimated that we had travelled at about 80 to 85 K.P.H., which was a comfortable speed in those conditions, and with the load we were carrying.
Rosemary had been riding pillion with husband John in the rain, and she is
reputed to have said she was tempted to stop a car and offer the driver $500 for
a ride. Rosanne was choked up with the 'flu and feeling particularly
uncomfortable, riding pillion in the rain, so she spent the rest of the day with
us travelling in Vinny. It was a bit cramped but we did not want her to catch
pneumonia. The weather fined up considerably for a while, and we were able to
admire the scenery. The red earth, dark sky and rugged mountain range on the
horizon, held our interest and we arrived at Alice Springs mid
afternoon.
Lynn had supplied us with a basic map showing us how to find the Macdonnell
Ranges
Holiday Park, where we were booked in for two nights, but in spite of the map,
we missed the miserable little sign, and ended up well into town, close to the
hospital, before realising
we had gone too far.
Eventually, we located the Park, and were soon in our cabins. lt had started
raining again, but fortunately, we were able to park the ute, and Pauls bike,
under cover, alongside our
cabin, which made unloading a lot more pleasant.
Paul, Rosanne's husband, was feeling poorly also, so he phoned around in the
hope of finding a doctor, who could treat
them for their 'flu . He was advised to visit the hospital outpatients
department, so they boarded the ute and I drove them there. We had no trouble
finding the hospital, having stumbled on it earlier that afternoon. I left them
to it and they said not to wait as
they would catch a cab back.
On the way back, Vinny had trouble selecting gears and she only just made it
back to the
cabin. I was convinced it was probably just worn linkages, and not a major
problem, so I parked it for the night and
tried to forget about it. That night, a courtesy bus took us to the nearby Heavitree Gap Outback Lodge, for a sumptuous prearranged meal. On leaving the Holliday Park we noticed it had rained so heavilly during the day, that the water was ponding and the road was practically covered, however there was no sign of gloom once we reached the Lodge. 15 In addition to the nice meal, the entertainment was good, with a guitar player strumming away, singing, cracking jokes and making all the visitors welcome to The Alice. He was asking for requests and generally involving the audience in his act. Lynn told him of the Ulysses trip we were undertaking, and of my bike troubles and in no time he composed a little ditty depicting the scene. Pretty soon it was time to catch the courtesy bus back to the Holliday Park, so we reluctantly bid the entertainer farewell, and thanked him for his talents. On reaching the Holliday Park, I was amazed to discover the waters had receded and the road was no longer covered with water. This gave us hope of a brighter day to follow, and with this thought in mind, we hit the sack. DAY 14.
We awoke to a fine sunny morning, just like all the travel brochures describe,
and after breakfast, we all caught the Alice Explorer shuttle bus into town. The
first drop off point was Todd Mall, in the centre of town, where Gwen and I
hopped off and went in search of a car parts shop. We found a couple of places
and stocked up on a few basic tools and
spare parts for Vinny. It never hurts to carry a spare set of spark plugs and
distributer
points, and I figured that if I didn't need them, they would come in handy for
my
Kingswood back home which had the same motor.
We found a souvenior shop we had been looking for, to say hello to the daughter
of a
friend back home, but unfortunately she was not there. We did, however, meet her
two charming children, and I was able to introduce myself and tell them I rode
motorbikes
with their Grandpa back in Grafton. They were very pleased to see us and full of
smiles. We walked back to the Todd Mall, and after buying some medication for a
cold Gwen
had developed, we caught the shuttle bus again, which took us to a dozen or so
of the popular tourist attractions. We were anxious to get back to the cabin,
and work on Vinny, so we did not spent any time at these places, except to take
a few photos at Anzac Hill,
which offered a comanding view of the city, with the Macdonnell Ranges in the
distrance.
After a quick snack in the cabin, we found a drain in the road I was able to
park Vinny
over, allowing me to climb under and inspect the gearbox linkages, which
appeared to be reasonably sound. I then unscrewed the plate, holding the floor
gearchange mechanism in
place, to discover the problem. One bolt holding the mechanism to the top of the
gearbox was missing, and its mate was finger tight with a worn thread. This
allowed the gear lever to flop around, which made it difficult to change gears.
With some borrowed tools from
the Holliday Park maintenance crew, and a couple of bolts from the ute door
hinges, I was able to do a rough repair job, and get the old girl roadworthy
again.
With still a few hours of daylight left we took it for a test run, some distance
out of town,
to the Transport Hall of Fame and the Old Ghan train museum, both of which were
very
interesting. We stayed there till closing time and were able to have a good look
around so the afternoon was not entirely wasted. By now, Gwen was becoming choked up, with a sinus problem, and was on medication, so we ate in the cabin that, night rather than join our friends, who were eating outdoors. I utilised this time to make a few local phone calls, to the family of my friends back home, who I had fully intended meeting, had the circumstances been different. Althougjh I did not get to meet them, it was pleasant talking to them, and comforting to know, that in such a remote area like The Alice, help was there if I had needed it. I decided then that maybe I would return to this fascinating and historical city and stay a lot longer. DAY 15.
Brians wife, Gianetta, who had enjoyed the trip with us, was booked to fly back
to
Grafton, due to work load, so we bid her farewell via Brian, then with over 500
Ks. to travel, we started off at 7am. just
as the sun was rising. We saw a bit more of the city and suburbs as we
were leaving.
About 20Ks. out of town, the highway climbed over the main railway line then ran
parallel with it for about 40 Ks. but we were there at the wrong time to see the
Ghan.
Once again the contrast in scenery was amazing, ranging from scrubby flat
terrain to the
occasional hill, and with only a few bends in the road. By now we were well into
the Northern Territory, and the huge termites nests were in abundance. I
estimated some were about 5 metres high, the likes of which I had not previously
encountered. As a 10 year old lad, I remember my Dad sending me a small black
and white snapshot of similar nests south of Darwin, where he was stationed with
the R.A.A.F. during world war 2.
By the time we reached Ti Tree, the bikes had caught up with us, and they
stopped there
for fuel and morning tea. As a point of interest, we had learned from the
Explorer bus driver the previous day, that this area was particularly fertile,
and at one time years ago,
market vegetables were grown there. Now they are succesfully growing table
grapes. I
could not help thinking that there must
be an abundence of subterranian water to allow this to
take place.
Next stop was Wycliffe Well Roadhouse, where we met up once again with the
bikes, fuelled up and all had lunch together. Lunch mostly consisted of a cuppa
from our thermos flask, a fresly cut sandwich and fruit, and was always most
enjoyable. We had no time for a snooze after lunch, while we were travelling, so
we continued on
our way to Tennant Creek.
Driving north, with the sun up high in the sky, we imagined we saw a wide lake
of water across the road on the horizon. As we got closer, we discovered it was
only a mirage and it looked big due to the road increasing in height, once again
to cross the railway line. We stopped briefly at The Devils Marbles, [a unique
rock formation consisting of huge
rounded boulders resting on top of one another], to photograph this phenomenon.
It reminded me of the rock formations near Glen Innes, in the New England area,
except the boulders there aren't quite as round.
We arrived at Tennant Creek by mid afternoon, and had no trouble finding the
Outback Caravan Park, where we booked in to the cabin we shared with Ross and
Sue. After unpacking the ute, we went for a stroll around the caravan park, and
were delighted to see
a very good speciman of Sturts Desert Pea growing in the garden. It was a nice
park, with plenty of greenery and shade, and there were a few Aboriginal and
white kids splashing about in the swimming pool. I then drove Vinny down town to a service station, to refuel, and noticed a lot of groups of Aboriginals, strolling around, chatting to one another. On my return to the caravan park, I asked the young lady in attendance what the population was. She was unable to answer my question, but did say that the town consisted of about the same number of Aboriginals as there were whites, but the Aboriginals walked around all the time, and were therefore more noticable. She added that they rarely caused any trouble and I had noticed they were quite cleanly dressed which was very pleasing. We showered and met up again with our friends at the Caravan park outdoor bar, where there was a genuine "happy hour", with drinks at considerably reduced prices. Some of the group had been sightseeing, out at the Battery Hill Mining Centre, and other places of interest and the conversation was exciting and pleasant to take in, while sitting in the garden atmosphere, sipping on a cold drink. At 6 pm, we walked the short distance to the Tennant Creek Bowling Club, and were officially welcomed by the manager, and told to make ourselves at home. Shortly after, by prior arrangement thanks again to Lynn, we lined up for a very nice B.B.Q. meal, with all the trimmings, after which we mingled with the natives, who were by this time having a game of bowls. They wait till after dark to play, when it is a bit cooler. I spoke with one old chap who incidently, used to live at Yamba, years ago , who moved to Tennant Creek to work in the mines, and on retirement, decided to stay there. He was particularly interested in our travels and we had a good chat together. Soon after, we strolled back to our cabin and retired for the night, with pleasant thoughts of Tennant Creek and of another great days travel the following day. DAY 16.
Yet another fine morning presented itself and by 7am,
we were on the road again . About 20 Ks.
north of Tennant Creek, we left the Stuart Highway, and headed east on the
Barkley Highway. We took the first turning, rather than drive on to the famous
three
ways roadhouse, so as to save a bit of time, with 660 Ks. to travel that day. As
we turned
east, being early in the morning, the sun was low, and almost blinded us.
Fortunately, at
that time of the day, there was not much traffic to contend with, and the
driving conditions
became more comfortable as the sun rose higher in the sky.
I was pleasantly surprised that there was very little road kill, in fact, there
was not much wild life visible at all, except for a feral cat that ran across
the road, well ahead of us. It
was the first one we had come across so far on the trip.
Our first fuel stop was at Barkley Homestead, by which time some of the bikes
had
caught up with us. We stopped to say g'day, and stretch our legs, then preceded
on our
way.
About 260Ks on, we left the Northern Territory, and entered Queensland ,eh!, and
were
soon in Camooweal, doing battle with a strong north easterly wind. For the
second time this trip, we were glad to be in the ute, and not on the bike, being
buffeted about by the
wind. Lunch that day was once again off the bonnet of Vinny, trying as best we
could to save our thermos and sandwiches from being blown away.
More termites nests appeared, in all shapes and sizes, and there were small
nests, about 400 centimetres high, right on the side of the readjust, off the
bitumen.
Not far out of Camooweal, we struck extensive road works, for about 30 Ks, and
although
the road surface was not too rough, we slowed down considerably, in case the tie
down straps on the bike loosened off, stopping twice to check their tension, and
at the same
time, let road trains past. We were now well into the Barkley Tableland, and
once more the scenery changed, which held our interest especially as we drove
through the Ogilvie
Range . More gear change practice there. There are not many townships on the
stretch of
road we covered that day, so we kept our eyes open for points of interest and
when we
were about 80 Ks. out of Mount Isa, we came across a picnic area with a water
tank and
toilets, where several caravans were parked.
There was a memorial plaque there, dedicated to those brave local men and women
who had given their lives in world war two. We had a drink and strerched our
legs, and headed
for Mount Isa.
The drive into Mount Isa held our interest, with a lot of mines and mining
equipment displayed, some distance out of town. Although we had been given a map
directing us to the Sunset Caravan Park, we had difficulty finding it. We
obviously overshot the first turn off, which may not have been clearly
signposted, and drove into the main part of
town. Being a Sunday, there was little activity, and we eventually came across a
lady,
walking her dog, so we bailed her up and she willingly gave us accurate
directions. We all arrived at the Caravan Park in dribs and drabs, and I was relieved to discover we weren't the only ones who had lost their way. We barely had time to shower and change, before catching a courtesy bus to the "Buffs" club, where a superb meal awaited us. We were all seated at one long table, and the conversation was such, that we had to request they turn the background music down a few decibells, so we could hear ourselves talk, as we had plenty to discuss after the exciting days journey. Once again it wasn't a late night, and by 9.30 pm, we caught the same bus back to the Caravan Park and were soon in bed. DAY 17.
With another long drive ahead of us, we left in the dark, and although it was
clear in my
mind how to rejoin the Barkley Highway, I still managed to overshoot the
turnoff, and
when we were eventually headed in the right direction, it was a repeat of the
previous mornings experience, driving due east into the rising sun. This section
of the Highway was hilly and bendy, and at times I was so blinded by the glare,
it was necessary to pull off
the road in case of oncoming traffic. When the sun rose high enough, it was a very different experience. Driving on a winding road through the hills, I found it most exhilarating, breathing in the crisp morning air, and enjoying the scenery, which was in contrast to what we had become accustomed to .
Our first fuel stop was at Cloncurry, where we headed south east on the
Landsborough Highway. We passed through the tiny little village of Mt. Kinlay,
where we saw a roadside sign advertising the Crocadile Dundee Pub, where the
famous movie of the same
name was shot. We would like to have stopped to sightsee, but did not wish to
lag behind, since we had been travelling a bit slower than usual, due to tha
mountain road. I feel sure
that section of the road would have been great on the bike, and for a bit of
fun, we leaned into the corners just so we
wouldn't forget how. Our next fuel stop was Kynuna, where we once again met up with the bikes briefly, then bid them farewell, and ate our morning tea on the run. The road between Kynuna and Winton, where we stopped for a late lunch, was littered with road kill, and bumpy at the same time, but the scenery was magnificient. We parked outside the Gregory Hotel/ Motel at Winton, and met up wiyh David, the manager, who is Ulysses member No. 40634, who made us feel welcome. The dining room displayed a lot of motorcycle related material and photographs, and amongst it all was a Ulysses cap from our branch, that Bob and Lynn had sent David prior to the trip. Included in the show cases lining the walls, there was a good display of locally mined minerals and rocks, that held our interest. After a great meal of fish and chips, some of us took a stroll out the back of the pub, where there was a big area for the parking of caravans, the owners of which were encouraged to use the pub facilities, free of charge. I had not seen anything like this before in all my travels, and thought what a great idea to promote business.
Adjacent to this "caravan park", was the strangest wall I have ever seen . It
was built of rocks, stones and bricks, chunks of concrete held together with
mortar but set in amongst this conglomorate, there were all sorts of assorted
items ranging from car and bike parts, sewing machines, farming equipment and,
yes, they even had a kitchen sink protruding from the wall. It was a real
talking point, and somebody must have had a vivid
imagination, and a lot of patience building it, although the material cost would
have been minimal, I thought it was a good
way to utilise and display a lot of old junk.
After a photo shoot outside the pub,
displaying some of the bikes, the proprietor, David bid
us farewell and we were soon on our way
again to drive the 170 Km. or so to Longreach, where we were booked in for two
nights, at the Gunnadoo Caravan Park.
Unfortunately Peter and Sandra had a slight
misshap, when a kangeroo hopped into the side of their bike.They were fortunate
enough not to have come off and the bike was not badly damaged, taking the full
force of the impact on the foot rest and its alloy mounting bracket, and not the
faring. Longreach is a big town and we were to be there for two
nights, so we did not worry unduly over it. We all had a very nice buffet B.B.Q.meal, at the Jolly Jumbuck Motel, adjacent to the caravan park, spoke of the days activities, met up with three Ulysses riders from the Gold Coast, and discussed the following days activities. Some of us were booked in to do the Qantas tour and others, the Stockmans Hall Of Fame.—Plenty to see and do in Longreach. DAY 18.
There was no need for such an early rise that morning, although Qwen and I did
go for a walk before breakfast. At the reception office, we found a business
card for a local
aluminium welder, not far from the Caravan Park, so after breakfast Peter came
with us in the ute, nursing the broken footrest bracket off his bike, and we
drove him to the engineer we had read about. It was not a problem for him, and
he obligingly welded it up and painted it that morning. I also left Vinny there
for an oil change, being the first chance I
had to have it serviced since buying it. We walked back to the Caravan Park, and
by about 9 am, were all set to go sight
seeing.
Gwen and I walked to the Stockmans Hall Of Fame, a kilometre or so away, and
were waiting on the doorstep, when the doors opened. The building is a most
interesting and unusual archictural design. Opened in 1988 , the bicentenial
year, it houses a lot of out back memorabillia. I am inclined to call it a
pioneer museum, as among the numerous displays and exhibits, it depicts early
Australian life in all forms, not only stockmen. The building has five levels,
some with mezinine floors, making it ideal for photography which was not
discouraged at all, as it is in other museums I have visited. The audio and
some visual displays were operated by push button and among other things they
gave the history
of The Royal Flying Doctor Service, The School of the Air, and the construction
of the Overland Telegraph Line. I was fascinated with the old hawkers waggon on
display, which supplied the outback areas with all manner of household items and
rural
supplies in the early days.
Having learned a little bit more about Aboriginal culture while visiting Uluru,
I was surprised to learn how many tribes there were, all over this vast
continent, which was
graphically displayed on a huge wall map. Dozens of tribes existed, each with
their own
spoken language.
After spending a couple of hours there, we joined a queue, and walked a short
distance to witness a 45 minute demonstration of a stockman, working with his
trusty dogs and horses. His "night horse"was a small mule he rode bareback in
search of any wandering cattle at night. It also put on a good performance for
the tourists, as did the working dogs,
who excelled themselves in rounding up the sheep, and herding them into pens.
We walked back to the cabin, passing the Qantas museum, which we would like to
have visited, but ran out of time . Maybe we will be able to on our next visit.
After lunch, we walked down the road to the mechanic and collected the ute, then
drove into town and had a stroll around the shops . We discovered a supermarket,
on the outskirts of the C.B.D, where a
kind lady serving there befriended us, and drew us a mud map of the town, with
directions to the visitor information centre, which we duly found. It was only a
small weatherboard building, but the Aboriginal lass behind the counter was most
pleasant, and very well informed. She suggested that since we had a couple of
hours to spare, we visit
the Power House Museum. This museum was, in fact, established as recently as 1989, after being purchased by Longreach Shire Council, who saved it from being demolished and sold for scrap. Electricity was first generated from this site in 1921, operating on charcoal gas units powering D.C. generators via belt drive. The gas was produced on site, in commonwealth prodecers, using locally made charcoal, and was housed adjacent to an artesian bore, due to the need for water to cool the engines. The station ceased operations in 1985, when the area was linked to the state wide grid.
Exhibits in this museum demonstrate power generation from 1921 to 1985. In
addition to
the generating equipment ,outdoors, there is a collection of horse drawn farming
equipment, water pumps and mining gear on display. We both found these exhibits
of
great interest. It occurred to me that it is a great pity the appropriate Council of the day had not preserved our own Koolkan Powerhouse, just out of Grafton, in a similar manner, as I feel it could have been a great tourist attraction.
We returned to our cabin to discover that Ross and Sue , our room mates, had
rearranged
the furniture to allow easier access to the tiny little bathroom during the
night. We were greatfull of this,
due to the confined space between the end of their bed and a
wardrobe, I had tripped the previous
night, almost falling onto their bed. That night, the girls organised pizzas for
dinner, and we all descended on John and
Rosemarys bungalow, which had a verandah, and was ideal for entertaining. We ate
our
nibblies and drank our grog there, and by the time the pizzas arrived ,the
temperature had dropped, so we all moved inside and crammed into their bedroom
and overflowed into the
kitchen. We were seated wherever we could , some on bunks, some on chairs and
others
on the floor. There was no room for a table so we opened the pizza boxes and
placed them
on the floor. The meal was a huge success, and after we had all eaten our fill
there were still leftovers.
Lynn had organised our second trivia night of the trip, which was quite entertaining and, once again, it was surprising just how much we had all taken on board since the last one at Coober Pedy. Shortly after we returned to our cabins. Gwen and I taking what pizzas we could not finish that night, in our safe keeping, for lunch the next day on the road. DAY 19. At 7 am, we parted the fair city of Longreach, with the pizzas on the seat of the ute between us, wrapped in towels for insulation. It was dead easy to find our way out of town, which is always a good start to the day, and after travelling about 20 Km. we passed through the quaint little town of Infracombe, which has a roadside park, displaying a row of old trucks and farming machinery. It would have been nice to stop and browse, but time did not permit.
We refuelled at Barceldine, where the Landsborough Highway swung south in the
direction of Blackall, by which time the road surface had deteriorated, and was
bumpy and wavy, till we reached Tambo, where some of the riders stopped for fuel
and morning
tea.
We pressed on, over a better road, dodging the road kill, till we arrived at
Aaugathella. The
bikes joined us, and by the time we had all refuelled, there being no picnic
facilities at the service station, we layed out the boxes of pizza and garlic
bread, on the bonnet of Vinny
and soon devoured their contents. The comment was made, in jest, that we might
have warmed them up on the engine before serving them, however there were no
leftovers to
dispose of.
A truck load of wild goats pulled up while we were there, which reminded John of
a truckie yarn he had heard earlier in the trip. Apparently a truck load of wild
goats had pulled up at a roadhouse, and while the driver and his companion were
inside eating, they heard a thumping noise on the roof and on investigation,
they discovererd that the goats
had jumped out of the open top truck onto the roof of the truck cab, then onto
the roof of
the roadhouse. It took them a considerable time to herd them up and get them
back into the truck, before hurrying off to make up for lost time. True story!!
A 180 Km. drive after lunch brought us to Mitchell, where we were to stay for
two nights. We found the Courthouse Hotel easily, were greeted by the friendly
staff who were expecting us, and were soon installed in our comfortable ground
floor rooms. The hotel did not have enough rooms for all of us, and some stayed
at the Mitchell Hotel
diagonally opposite.
We soon chummed up with the publican, an industrious and interesting fellow, his
charming wife and his old Mum, who was living there with them, and helping out
wherever she could. We had a few drinks at the bar before , by prior arrangement, the entire group ate in the dining room of the 105 year old pub, with all its old world charm. The meal was excellent, complimented by several bottles of red wine , and a good time was had by all. One of the group needed to drown his sorrows, having been booked by a highway patrol police officer, for travelling in exess of the speed limit in a 100 K.P.H. area. He thought he was still in a 110K.P.H area, which was understandable, as this was generally the limit except for built up areas. This was our first and only encounter with the law on the entire trip. It was a change to sleep in a bed that night, rather than the bunks we had become accustomed to, and we had no trouble dozing off. DAY 20. A sleep in was most welcome, after many early mornings. I was completely relaxed at Mitchell, and put all the bike and ute problems behind me. Here was a chance to unwind, which started by having a liesurely breakfast in the courtyard with the publican and his wife joining us, which really gave it a family atmosphere. "Bob the dog", their friendly old Golden Labradoor, had joined us, which completed the scene .
Following breakfast, we all wandered off in different directions. Gwen and I
decided
to inspect the "bottle trees ", [for which Qld. is famous], in the main street
and we took a
stroll up town, and discovered a neatly kept memorial park with the usual
monument for the fallen heros in both world wars.
We found out that the town derived its name from Major Mitchell, the explorer,
who in 1846 camped there, on his way from Sydney to Darwin [then called Port
Essington],
mapping the overland route. We looked in on a second hand shop for a while, talking to the old lady [our own age] behind the counter. These shops, rather like a museum, make you feel your age when you can remember having used similar articles to those on display. Back at the pub courtyard, we sat and soaked up the sunshine and compared notes with others of the group, some of whom had been to the hairdressers and others to the bakery for morning tea.
Lunchtime soon arrived and we were served outdoors, with fresh bread rolls and
home made pumpkin soup, which was a simple yet satisfying meal. After lunch and a short power nap, I joined some of our group for a dip in the thermal pool at the aquatic centre, just across the road from the pub. It was very relaxing, sitting in the artesian water, chatting to friends, with the occasional turn under the massive water jet which had a revitalising effect to both body and mind. Some of the crew had a quick plunge in the cold pool, to cool down, but I chickened out at that. Back at the hotel room, I found Gwen still snoozing. By that time, she had a good dose of the flu, and needed all the rest she could get.
By prior arrangement, that afternoon, we all assembled outside the hotel, for a
photo shoot. Brian and Rod, who did not have our purple club shirts, draped
themselves in a purple
towel just for fun. Carol, the publicans wife, used about eight of our cameras
to record
the important event, and did a sterling job. Presently, we indulged in happy hour, in the Courthouse Hotel where we were staying, after which we strolled across the road to the Mitchell Hotel, where the other half of the group were lodging. We had a few more drinks in front of a big open fire, and a game of pool, before enjoying yet another home cooked meal, with heaps of vegies. Peter won the pool "tournament" easily, and the juke box, pumping out an assortment of music, contributed to our second pleasant evening in Mitchell. Graham suggested that we deviate from the scheduled route the following day, by taking the Carnarvan Highway through St. George, stopping at Nindigully for lunch, then the Barwin Highway to Goondiwindi, where we were staying for the night. This was only about 40 Ks. further than the planned route, which was via Miles and the Leichardt Highway to Goondiwindi. As some of us had heard a lot about Nindigully, but had not been there, we agreed to this change of plan, so I went to bed relaxed and looking forward to seeing some new teritory the next day. DAY 21.
After breakfast, we said goodbye to Judy and Robyn, who formed a "breakaway
group" as
Judy was off to visit friends in Kingaroy, and Robyn off to Brisbane for the
same reason. It was too good an oportunity for both of them, being reasonably
close to their destinations. It was sad to see the group breaking up, after
three weeks together, but we
were nearing the end of our holiday and all good things must come to an end.
On leaving Mitchell, we crossed the bridge over the Maranoa River, and being
quite early, once again the rising sun blinded us momentarily, until the road
took a turn to the south east, thus posing no danger of hitting oncoming traffic
or mixing it with the "hoppers"on
the road. We refuelled at Roma, then witnessed rather unchanging scenery till we reached St. George, where most of the bikes overtook us. While I was busy at the service station, Gwen spotted a bakery nearby, and bought steak and kidny pies, and, as a surprise, apple slices. Not being able to find a suitable park to eat our lunch, we drove out of town and pulled off the road, nearly bogging the ute in a drain, and ate our pies off the bonnet of the ute again. We always carried a thermos, and we enjoyed our lunch tremendously, being a change from sandwiches.
We drove the short distance to Nindigully, and met up with bikes again . There
is not
much at Nindigully in the way of buildings , not even a service station, except
for the
famous old pub which was established in 1864 and is still popular. It's pleasing
to see that Queenslanders get their priorities right. The Nindigully Hotel is a
short distance from
the pictoresque tree lined Moonie River banks, making it the ideal place to stop
and rest for a while, or as many do, pitch a
tent and stay a while longer. The Hotel is a famous venue for holding country
music festivals, pig races and motorbike rallys, among other things. The
photographs and wall displays hanging up
inside the old pub held my interest, as old
country pubs fascinate me, Queensland pubs having a charm of their own. I may
just have to return there one day and find out a bit
more about its history. The bike riders were staying there for lunch, and I would like to have joined them, but having already eaten, we decided to be on our way and meet up with them all again at night.
The Barwon Highway to Goondiwindi proved to be a good surface, and the scenery
was
different, with cotton fields in abundance in some areas.
We reached Goondiwindi Caravan Park, which was very clearly signposted and met
up again with Flavio and Viki, who had taken
the route originally intended, and arrived there
before us. Some caravan parks we had stayed
at on this trip were confused, when a lot of people arrive to book in at the
same time but, but I am pleased to say that the staff there handled the
situation easily, and without the aid of a computer. They simply crossed our
names off in a ledger, took our money, and handed us a key to the tidy cabin we
shared with Bob and Lynn.
Gwen and I drove down town in search of a service station, and were surprised at
the size of the place. The main street was long, with shops and business houses
on both sides, and
we discovered it was a busy, bustling, city, rather than the quiet country town
I had
imagined. There were traffic lights at most prominent intersections, which
indicates the
volume of traffic the driver must cope with in peak hours. Back at the caravan park I was confronted with a small problem. How does one fill a hip flask up with Bundy Rum, without a funnel, without spilling any? The answer was suppled by Lynn. Empty the tea pot, pour the rum in and and slowly fill the flask. This method proved to be very succesful, and yes, we even rinsed the tea pot out when we had finished using it. Although we were in Queensland, it was still winter time, and the nights were cold. The rum was purley for medicinal purposes, and I was pleased to see that Bob had the same excuse. Happy hour that night, the last night of our holiday, was held at Grahams cabin, with plenty of niblies to munch on, after which we took a short stroll to the camp cooking area, where we gathered around the camp fires. We were provided with a nice camp oven cooked meal, prepared by the management, whilst listening to three girls singing and playing their guitars.
After dark, the local possums, who inhabit the trees in the park,appeared for a
hand out, and posed for a photo session. I had seen possums in the wild before
on a few occasions, but these were the tamest I have ever encountered. Incidently, Judy's favourite sweet, sticky date pudding, was on the menu, and although she was not there to do it justice, we all enjoyed our helpings. I have come to the conclusion in writing up this account of the trip, as I am sure the reader has, that apart from riding, or in my case driving, sightseeing, and enjoying each others company, a major part of this holiday has been spent eating and drinking. With this thought in mind, I climbed into my bunk and was soon at peace with the world. DAY 22
The last day had arrived. Once again there was another "break away group" .
Graeme and Annette rode home via Tenterfield to visit their Daughter, and Brian
went with them
for company. On leaving Goondiwindi, we became confused with the road signs, and had to find a service station to get help. As luck would have it, I was wearing my Ulysses Mudgee 2003 A.G.M. jumper, and the girl cashier at the service station made the comment that she was there also. This was followed by verbal directions, and a mud map she drew me, clearly showing the route. We had no further problems, and enjoyed the drive through Boggabilla, where we soon turned off to the township of North Star,and Yallaroi, stopping next at Warialda, to refuel. For a "back road", the surface was mostly good, but there were a lot of deep dry floodways which we had to slow down for. Once again the scenery was changeable, with a lot of cultivation and above ground tanks to be seen. All the bikes were at Warialda when we arrived, having enjoyed the ride. I have been there many times before, but had not approached it from that direction, and was surprised at the number of farms and houses north of the town. We drove non stop to Glen Innes, passing the bikes at Inverell, where they stopped for morning tea, filled the tank up there and continued on our way.
By that time, the weather was deteriorating and was quite cold, as it often is
in the New England Ranges. We drove as far as Heffron lookout, before stopping
for another "bonnet banquet" in between showers. We had a good safe drive down
the Gibralter Range and were last to arrive at Jackagery, our last regrouping
point on the trip.
After taking a few photos, and thanking each other for a great holiday with hugs
and kisses all round, we were off again, and arrived at Gwens house at
Copmanhurst, after a
brief stop at Waterview Heights, to say hello to Jenny and Steve. They were
pleased to see us as were Owen's family, who visited us shortly after our
arrival. We had kept them all informed of our progress throughout that epic journey, and they were pleased to see us and the old ute that had served us well, on the adventure of a lifetime, where we travelled 7500Ks. on many highways and byways, in all sorts of weather, and through four states . I can now state that I have ridden through all the states of Australia, however, I am yet to visit The Northern Territory by motorcycle . Maybe next year! EPILOGUE Steve spent a few days working on Vinny, getting it more suitable for sale, and soon sold it for what we had payed for it, but I made sure to keep the mascot dog, Vonny, who now takes pride of place on the dashboard of my old Kingswood, as a constant reminder of our adventure. |