I arose, toasted the 2 rolls I'd purchased the night before, ate, showered and partially dressed.
616 sat outside covered in a light dew. I like to think that she enjoys a little attention prior to a ride - a little like effective foreplay. Check chain adjustment. Confirm oil level. Ensure all lights are working as intended. Set tyre pressures. When I'm finished she is ready and I am confident that it will be a pleasurable experience.
 |
| 616 sits outside the Burra cottage - all ready to go! |
Finally I'm ready and head back in to Burra Visitor Centre to drop off the key & refuel. BP Ultimate seems the premium mix here. As I head out of town I promise myself to visit again sometime - with my partner, Linda.
There is a ridge of hills leading north of Burra to the west of the Barrier Highway. Along the watershed, there are about 100 Wind Turbines gracefully turning the bitingly cold wind into electricity to warm many South Australians. No such luck for my hands... the summer gloves were doing what they were designed to do. Cool and ventilate. Which is painful when the ambient air under this cloud cover is about 6°C.
Toward the end of the 90 km to Peterborough, the sun comes out and its warming rays are quickly absorbed by my black jacket and gloves. The gentle warmth starts to thaw me nicely. The air warms slowly but surely. 616 is fairly purring along - apparently enjoying this part of the ride. I'm a little surprised by the absence of the fueling / ignition issue that seems to irritate her every time we refuel. Maybe the cooler morning temperatures stabilise her systems below a critical point?
The turnoff to Orroroo isn't clearly marked and I miss the turn by a couple of K's. As I ride back, I sort of wish I had planned the overnight in Peterborough (where I'm at now) and started the day much earlier from there. I would have been well past Hawker by now. Then I think of the reasonably priced cute cottage and decide it was worth it just for that.
Heading out of Orroroo, I panic again because the road seems to be deteriorating. I circle back to check the road signs - this time I'm on the right road. I need to learn to trust them a little more. There has been a LOT of road clearing operations going on in the last few weeks after very heavy rains pretty much shut down most of this area with floodwater. The road condition reports for the originally planned Tragics route (through Broken Hill & Cameron Corner to Arkaroola) showed that right up to my departure the roads were still closed. It takes a phenomenal amount of effort to safely re-open the roads, especially the dirt roads, in this area. I note this time & again as I pass through floodways, recently cleared but still covered with a fine scrim of sand, every couple of hundred metres for the next 100 km. I can only equate it to what Europeans must do every winter, clearing snow from roads.
I see a little settlement on the next ridge line and wonder where I am. Suddenly, there is movement in the scrub on the left side of the road. EMU !!! The 'leader' starts to dart across the road about 40 metres ahead of me. The remainder of his "platoon" of a dozen or so decide this is an appropriate thing to do and follow, line astern. They are now at full run, completely blocking the road. My initial reaction is a few very choice words, as I hit the picks... there is no way I am going to stop in time. I quickly wonder what it would be like hitting a feather ball weighing 60 kg about a metre off the ground. For a motorcyclist, wildlife impact often results in roadkill, not necessarily for the wildlife. By now, I'm back to third gear - still braking. I observe that the last trio of the mob must have been asleep and there is now a Emu-sized gap between the 8th & 9th bird. I get off the brakes and throttle on hard - planning to intercept the gap. Better to go down trying than just give in to the inevitable! Aiming for the backside of the 8th bird, at the last moment I brace and close my eyes. There is whacking great thud on my left shoulder, pulling my hand off the 'bars, but the bike & I are still upright. Surprisingly, I feel no intense pain. I bring the bike safely to a standstill.
The bird is lying on the ground thrashing about. "Great, now I have to put it out of its misery!" Just as quickly as it appeared on the road, it raises its head, seems to shake itself back into its senses, gets up and runs off to join the rest of the flock. It would appear that the "Ténéré Spirit" is truly blessing me. The impact on my left shoulder was with the head of the 'slow' beast, most of it taken by the reinforcement cup in my jacket and distributed across the upper shoulder as intended.
If I had been driving a car I would have had no choice but take out 2 of them, with untold damage to fenders & hood. I shrug my (still functioning) shoulders, re-start the bike and ride off, amazed at my luck. My focus on the roadside shrubbery is naturally heightened. The 'township' of Craddock announced its welcome a kilometre down the road. Two houses and a pub - de rigueur for this part of the world. I contemplate stopping to let the adrenaline-induced nervousness die down. But the look of the pub & its guests doesn't appeal. A kilometre out of town a pair of 'grey nomads' with a Toyota Prado Diesel and a 25 foot 'pop-top' caravan try to kill me by attempting a U-turn across my path as I approach. They stop - panicked - mid turn. I had predicted this, am off the throttle, and present the them with a squeaky horn blast and a 'one-finger salute' as I swerve around them. Clearly, the pub appealed to them! Craddock will stand out as "the place that wants to kill me".
Hawker was only 30 km away. I am pretty familiar with this town, "The Gateway to the Flinders Ranges". I have driven through or stayed here many times during pre-production vehicle testing in the 80's & 90's. It is close enough to Melbourne to be "quick" to get here, yet far enough that the summer temperatures and rough terrain can really challenge a standard passenger car. In the late 90's, my employer changed to running vehicles in the Northern Territory. The unlimited speeds, good bitumen and high-30's temperatures better replicating the conditions in the Middle East that we were exporting to.
There are plenty of fuel options and good eateries. Mick at the General Store made an excellent Egg & Bacon Sanga, and was full of advice about road conditions. He asked me where I was ultimately headed.
"Arkaroola".
"Ahh, there was a bunch of bikers through here this morning headed up there - are you with them?"
"If they were riding Yamaha Ténérés, I sure am!!!"
"A lot of them were blue - does that help?"
"Sure does - thanks!"
I completed my feast and continued to mull over why the Tragics had been in Hawker. The original plan had the group headed south from Cameron Corner today. I pushed 616 across the road to the servo. Nearly every pump had a reading of between 15 and 25 litres. A typical fill for a Ténéré. I refuelled 616 with 95 Octane, and enquired about the group as I paid the account. "Yeah, there were about 25 of 'em - about 2 and a 'alf hours ago".
I guessed that the Tragics had been redirected from Broken Hill due to the road closures. Not that a typical road closure would stop a bike. But I guessed that Clubby would have opted for the low-risk option as he was not likely to be aware of the rider skill available. It made me wish more for the 'Peterborough & early start' option. Never mind - I'll get there eventually.
I headed out of Hawker for Wilpena Pound. The last time I drove this section the road was good quality dirt. Now it was in better condition than the RM Williams Way up to Hawker. Gentle sweepers, clean surface and fantastic scenery kept me entertained. The lower Flinders Ranges make a stark variation to the surrounding countryside. The vegetation also looks completely different. 616 starts to do her now normal trick of misbehaving after a refuel. I passed the turnoff to Wilpena Pound doing barely 60 km/h. The road is made all the way to Blinman. I'm confident that she will come good again. 17 km on I see a turnoff to "Arkaroola" among other places. It is dirt road. A sign politely instructs that the next fuel stop is 150 km away. I take the option.
The dirt is good. Mainly gravel, with the odd fist sized rock scattered to make you pay attention. It winds through the south-eastern sections of the Flinders, headed basically north-east. We leave the hills and the road opens out to vast plains. I feel a long way from anywhere. I am now relying entirely on the "Ténéré Spirit" - I could freeze to death overnight.
A quick pitstop & we are on the road again. I take the turn to Arkaroola instead of Blinman and Get into the groove of preparing for the floodways will before reaching them. Some are quite firm in the creek bed, some very rocky, others with deep sand. Each has to be tackled a different way. It is easy to 'g-out' 616 with its fairly soft suspension. The rear is tending to pogo on the exit of fairly solid bumps or ridges. I'll increase the rebound damping at Arkaroola (thanks to the XT600 shock that I fitted).
About 20 k's down the road, just a 100 metres or so after a massive dry creek crossing is a 4WD ute & trailer. A young woman stands beside the vehicle, which is on its jack with a flat LHR tyre. I slow & stop. As I remove my helmet I hear the familiar purr of a big single. Another Ténéré! It turns out that the 4WD rig is the backup for a pair of Ténérés headed up from Adelaide. The driver, Caron, is the wife of the returning rider, Glenn. He gets into finishing the tyre change. I offer to help but it isn't really required. I hear the distant purr of yet another single. This one is a 'near showroom' condition '88 Ténéré. It turns out this one belongs to Michael Tucker, the General Manager of Motorcycling SA. Wow, a trio of Ténérés to the rescue. The tyre is changed quickly, loaded into the trailer and we all head off for Arkaroola.
Michael started first but I quickly catch & pass him as he is treating the bike nicely after finishing a nine month rebuild just 3 days earlier. Sounds like me, only his bike is truly amazing. Real professional stuff. Mine was a functional rebuild - his a thing of cosmetic beauty.
The kilometres roll away under the throbbing big single. The terrain is kind and I'm am feeling very comfortable on these dirt roads. The bike is a little weird to stand up on, the tank being further rearward than I am used to on a dirt bike. Correct weight distribution for some surfaces requires a modified, bow legged technique. It also makes it hard to get the weight over the front wheel. Not ideal for riding fast but OK if you take your time.
I turn left onto the Yunta - Arkaroola Road at Nepabunna. Only 70 km to go now. This section is more of the same. Good dirt, dry river beds, high speeds with hard braking as a floodway appears. All good fun. We quickly reach the Copley Road. A T-junction that sneaks up on you. I struggle to bring the bike down from the 110~120 km/h that we were doing before making the RH turn. The incentive was the nice embankment across the top of the "T".
700m up the road and a left onto Arkaroola Road awaits. The road climbs and winds its way across the range. I am excited now. 30 km to go. 616 sings along. I start sliding her gently into some of the corners, she feels well balanced with a 50% fuel load. There are quite a few more floodways. We dip in, with the correct gear selected and the intake roars as the secondary carby throat opens as we power out of the dip. The wheel tracks are reasonably clean of rocks, which is nice. I am really enjoying it. Then the surface changes, there has been great loads are very coarse gravel (read 'rocks') spread across the road. Probably an attempt to make the road more all-weather. 616 jumps from rock to rock almost uncontrollably. It is hard to pick a line, and always uncomfortable. This is the worst surface for 200 odd km. I figure there is about 5 km of this before the resort. I slow right down and take my time. Too close to fall off now.
Two very rough creek crossings and a climb up a hill to a group of buildings signposted "Arkaroola Wilderness & Nature Reserve". I see a few bikes, covered in mud & dust. They are Ténérés. I pull up in front of the reception area. 616 and I quickly draw a small crowd. Paul & Harley interrupt their beers and introduce themselves. They ask me a dozen questions at once all directed at my beloved '83 Ténéré. Before the end of the weekend they will be stars too. Paul Sitar on the only XTZ750 Super Ténéré to arrive and Harley Drew as the oldest rider (64) on the trip. While I sit chatting to the assembled throng, a lovely young lady approaches. I recognise her from the pages of Trail Zone magazine. It is Tania Clubb, co-organiser of the event. She enquires as to my (and the bike's) health and guesses that I must be "Mike" as I am one of the two remaining '83s to arrive, and the only Victorian. She invites me to drop by the registration "desk" once I've checked in. I suggest I'd like to tidy up a little before that.
I checked in and headed for my room. I remove all my riding gear. Although a Double Bed room it is barely that and pretty basic. It is however, the best room for a couple of hundred kilometres. I shower quickly and dress in jeans & t-shirt. Then return to chat with Tania and collect my goodie bag.
Tania is a delight to chat with and (understandably) has a great rapport with most any bike rider. The 'goodie bag' has some great stuff, making the $100 dollar entry a bargain. An embroidered polo shirt, a printed t-shirt, a customised cap & a bunch of random free stuff from sponsors. All this on top of the free annual subscription to Trail Zone magazine! I must applaud Andrew & Tania Clubb on their faultless organisation & enthusiasm. The whole feel of the event brings to me a new meaning of "enthusiast".
After a quick briefing from Tania on dinner details, I head outside to join some of my fellow Tragics. I chat briefly with Paul Sitar (the only '93 XTZ750 rider) and Harley Drew (who was the oldest rider at 64). Paul has ridden his well-prepped 750 all the way from Perth. He happens to have the guest room between the Clubbs & myself. The group grows every 10 minutes or so - Ténérés coming in from everywhere.
The Tragics have taken a fairly long route from Hawker with the intention of filling a whole day. This was to be the longest, hardest & driest daily section of the original "Getting There Ride" route. After leaving Hawker, Clubby led the group through some of the scenic gorges to the east of the road in (near Nepabunna). Some, including Clubby, were still out. Clubby was 'sweep' - rescuing any Tragics that might have ended up down or broken.
Still others were riding in from all over the country. Dave Bottomley (Qld) and Colin Jay (SA) were already there on their '83 XT600ZL's, having ridden in with the 'Getting There' group. Both bikes had younger chassis numbers than 616. I was becoming quietly confident that maybe 616 was the oldest here. This was surprising, given that at one time there were over 500 older XT-ZL's throughout the country.
As the sun was disappearing behind the hills to the west, increasing numbers of Ténérés were flying past and headed straight for the dormitory. 1200's and current 660's by the dozen. Messages were going around, "Have you seen Morgan yet?" Eventually, most had been accounted for - even Morgan. Clubby had apparently been detained to assist Peter Erickson (from Yass) who had had a major 'off-road' excursion after another flat front tyre. The story goes that he had narrowly missed an enormous rock after leaving the road when the tyre deflated. Clubby later said, "I haven't seen skidmarks that long for a very long time!"
The most adventurous group turned out to be 3 Queenslanders. Craig Hartley (from Dalby Moto - a legendary motorcycle shop), Phil Hodgens (celebrity dairy farmer, top-gun bike rider and star of "Motorbikin' " DVDs) and Neil Asplin (now legendary '83 XT600ZL rider) had ridden right through from Cameron Corner, ignoring the road closures. It was just another day on the bike for Craig & Phil on a 1200 and 660Z respectively. For Neil it had been a true test of faith in the "Ténéré Spirit". Riding his '83 with very rusty riding skills, he managed to keep it all together for long enough to make it through the sand and rocks of many floodways and 'shortcuts' get to Arkaroola just in time for dinner.
Neil also turned out to riding the oldest '83 (about #280, I didn't write it down). Their trip made for good discussion within the group after dinner. I sat with Harley and his mate Greg McInerney, a very friendly chap who was also riding a 1200. Greg was a retired NSW cop and had plenty of great stories to tell. As dinner wound down Clubby gathered the group together to run through the stories of the day and advise what was in store for tomorrow.
Stories flowed - 'The Melbourne Boys' who drove their SS Commodore past Tibooburra then rode '86 & '88 Ténérés to Cameron Corner, only to be told the group had cancelled and ridden down to Hawker from Broken Hill. They then drove through the night to do the 1,050 kilometres to Leigh Creek and catch Clubby about to leave as 'sweep'.
The massive story of Craig, Phil & Neil over the closed roads from Cameron Corner. Craig described how they re-distributed the weight on Neils' bike and did a few other mods to enable him to ride it satisfactorily in the sand. How they had lengthy breaks waiting for Neil to catch up, only for Neil to get very few! A dozen stories from the "Getting There" ride for those who didn't make it. Geoff Needham's (QLD, 63) blown knee and the ambo trip from Hawker. XT1200Z's with smashed sumps and hurredly applied Metal Putty. Many despairing stories of the trip from Yunta to Craddock (!) via Holowilena Station - deep sand that would eat 660's and even 1200's (where Geoff injured his knee). Despite this, everyone was smiling and really happy to be there! What is an adventure without stories....
Clubby finished the session with a brief description of tomorrow's ride. An explanation of the three loops, a quick desciption of the terrain, and a summary of the very basic rules to ride by - be polite, helpful to fellow Tragics and keep right on blind corners (you never know when a 4WD will be hurtling toward you!). Clubby described the first 3 or 4 kilometres as "Rocky, but nothing I wouldn't ask Tania to drive the family station wagon over". These words were to become an oft quoted passage 24 hours later! The session was declared closed and Tragics free to chat and bench race for as long as the bar staff stayed awake.
I moved through the group, introducing myself to a couple of the guys - notably the other Victorians. Troy Mattson had ridden from Sale and met up with Richard Puffe on the way up. Dave Prior and Ian Janetzki, "the Melbourne Boys", had also found one of the other rider's wallets as they rode in from Copely. Amazing! Graeme from Orange, NSW was very grateful.
I decided not to assist with draining the bar dry. An early night was in order - it had been a long day. I retired to my room, walking back with John Wheeler (from Darwin River, NT) and stopping to chat about his bike ('98 XTZ660) and the ride down. He'd ridden from Darwin to Melbourne, via Adelaide, then back up again! He was ultimately headed back home through Townsville, all solo. It never ceases to amaze me how much faith the Tragics put in their Ténérés. The Ténéré Spirit will always be with them!
Toward the end of the 90 km to Peterborough, the sun comes out and its warming rays are quickly absorbed by my black jacket and gloves. The gentle warmth starts to thaw me nicely. The air warms slowly but surely. 616 is fairly purring along - apparently enjoying this part of the ride. I'm a little surprised by the absence of the fueling / ignition issue that seems to irritate her every time we refuel. Maybe the cooler morning temperatures stabilise her systems below a critical point?
The turnoff to Orroroo isn't clearly marked and I miss the turn by a couple of K's. As I ride back, I sort of wish I had planned the overnight in Peterborough (where I'm at now) and started the day much earlier from there. I would have been well past Hawker by now. Then I think of the reasonably priced cute cottage and decide it was worth it just for that.
Heading out of Orroroo, I panic again because the road seems to be deteriorating. I circle back to check the road signs - this time I'm on the right road. I need to learn to trust them a little more. There has been a LOT of road clearing operations going on in the last few weeks after very heavy rains pretty much shut down most of this area with floodwater. The road condition reports for the originally planned Tragics route (through Broken Hill & Cameron Corner to Arkaroola) showed that right up to my departure the roads were still closed. It takes a phenomenal amount of effort to safely re-open the roads, especially the dirt roads, in this area. I note this time & again as I pass through floodways, recently cleared but still covered with a fine scrim of sand, every couple of hundred metres for the next 100 km. I can only equate it to what Europeans must do every winter, clearing snow from roads.
I see a little settlement on the next ridge line and wonder where I am. Suddenly, there is movement in the scrub on the left side of the road. EMU !!! The 'leader' starts to dart across the road about 40 metres ahead of me. The remainder of his "platoon" of a dozen or so decide this is an appropriate thing to do and follow, line astern. They are now at full run, completely blocking the road. My initial reaction is a few very choice words, as I hit the picks... there is no way I am going to stop in time. I quickly wonder what it would be like hitting a feather ball weighing 60 kg about a metre off the ground. For a motorcyclist, wildlife impact often results in roadkill, not necessarily for the wildlife. By now, I'm back to third gear - still braking. I observe that the last trio of the mob must have been asleep and there is now a Emu-sized gap between the 8th & 9th bird. I get off the brakes and throttle on hard - planning to intercept the gap. Better to go down trying than just give in to the inevitable! Aiming for the backside of the 8th bird, at the last moment I brace and close my eyes. There is whacking great thud on my left shoulder, pulling my hand off the 'bars, but the bike & I are still upright. Surprisingly, I feel no intense pain. I bring the bike safely to a standstill.
The bird is lying on the ground thrashing about. "Great, now I have to put it out of its misery!" Just as quickly as it appeared on the road, it raises its head, seems to shake itself back into its senses, gets up and runs off to join the rest of the flock. It would appear that the "Ténéré Spirit" is truly blessing me. The impact on my left shoulder was with the head of the 'slow' beast, most of it taken by the reinforcement cup in my jacket and distributed across the upper shoulder as intended.
If I had been driving a car I would have had no choice but take out 2 of them, with untold damage to fenders & hood. I shrug my (still functioning) shoulders, re-start the bike and ride off, amazed at my luck. My focus on the roadside shrubbery is naturally heightened. The 'township' of Craddock announced its welcome a kilometre down the road. Two houses and a pub - de rigueur for this part of the world. I contemplate stopping to let the adrenaline-induced nervousness die down. But the look of the pub & its guests doesn't appeal. A kilometre out of town a pair of 'grey nomads' with a Toyota Prado Diesel and a 25 foot 'pop-top' caravan try to kill me by attempting a U-turn across my path as I approach. They stop - panicked - mid turn. I had predicted this, am off the throttle, and present the them with a squeaky horn blast and a 'one-finger salute' as I swerve around them. Clearly, the pub appealed to them! Craddock will stand out as "the place that wants to kill me".
Hawker was only 30 km away. I am pretty familiar with this town, "The Gateway to the Flinders Ranges". I have driven through or stayed here many times during pre-production vehicle testing in the 80's & 90's. It is close enough to Melbourne to be "quick" to get here, yet far enough that the summer temperatures and rough terrain can really challenge a standard passenger car. In the late 90's, my employer changed to running vehicles in the Northern Territory. The unlimited speeds, good bitumen and high-30's temperatures better replicating the conditions in the Middle East that we were exporting to.
 |
| 616 takes a short lunch break at the Hawker General Store & Cafe. Always a good stop for the odd bacon & egg or steak sandwich, the boss (Mick Prior) is a handy source of local road condition info. Locals advise him when they come in to pick up their mail. |
There are plenty of fuel options and good eateries. Mick at the General Store made an excellent Egg & Bacon Sanga, and was full of advice about road conditions. He asked me where I was ultimately headed.
"Arkaroola".
"Ahh, there was a bunch of bikers through here this morning headed up there - are you with them?"
"If they were riding Yamaha Ténérés, I sure am!!!"
"A lot of them were blue - does that help?"
"Sure does - thanks!"
I completed my feast and continued to mull over why the Tragics had been in Hawker. The original plan had the group headed south from Cameron Corner today. I pushed 616 across the road to the servo. Nearly every pump had a reading of between 15 and 25 litres. A typical fill for a Ténéré. I refuelled 616 with 95 Octane, and enquired about the group as I paid the account. "Yeah, there were about 25 of 'em - about 2 and a 'alf hours ago".
I guessed that the Tragics had been redirected from Broken Hill due to the road closures. Not that a typical road closure would stop a bike. But I guessed that Clubby would have opted for the low-risk option as he was not likely to be aware of the rider skill available. It made me wish more for the 'Peterborough & early start' option. Never mind - I'll get there eventually.
I headed out of Hawker for Wilpena Pound. The last time I drove this section the road was good quality dirt. Now it was in better condition than the RM Williams Way up to Hawker. Gentle sweepers, clean surface and fantastic scenery kept me entertained. The lower Flinders Ranges make a stark variation to the surrounding countryside. The vegetation also looks completely different. 616 starts to do her now normal trick of misbehaving after a refuel. I passed the turnoff to Wilpena Pound doing barely 60 km/h. The road is made all the way to Blinman. I'm confident that she will come good again. 17 km on I see a turnoff to "Arkaroola" among other places. It is dirt road. A sign politely instructs that the next fuel stop is 150 km away. I take the option.
 |
| I hope this road goes the right way! A feeling that we were a long way from anywhere triggered my desire for a photo. Ténéré take me there.... |
The dirt is good. Mainly gravel, with the odd fist sized rock scattered to make you pay attention. It winds through the south-eastern sections of the Flinders, headed basically north-east. We leave the hills and the road opens out to vast plains. I feel a long way from anywhere. I am now relying entirely on the "Ténéré Spirit" - I could freeze to death overnight.
A quick pitstop & we are on the road again. I take the turn to Arkaroola instead of Blinman and Get into the groove of preparing for the floodways will before reaching them. Some are quite firm in the creek bed, some very rocky, others with deep sand. Each has to be tackled a different way. It is easy to 'g-out' 616 with its fairly soft suspension. The rear is tending to pogo on the exit of fairly solid bumps or ridges. I'll increase the rebound damping at Arkaroola (thanks to the XT600 shock that I fitted).
About 20 k's down the road, just a 100 metres or so after a massive dry creek crossing is a 4WD ute & trailer. A young woman stands beside the vehicle, which is on its jack with a flat LHR tyre. I slow & stop. As I remove my helmet I hear the familiar purr of a big single. Another Ténéré! It turns out that the 4WD rig is the backup for a pair of Ténérés headed up from Adelaide. The driver, Caron, is the wife of the returning rider, Glenn. He gets into finishing the tyre change. I offer to help but it isn't really required. I hear the distant purr of yet another single. This one is a 'near showroom' condition '88 Ténéré. It turns out this one belongs to Michael Tucker, the General Manager of Motorcycling SA. Wow, a trio of Ténérés to the rescue. The tyre is changed quickly, loaded into the trailer and we all head off for Arkaroola.
Michael started first but I quickly catch & pass him as he is treating the bike nicely after finishing a nine month rebuild just 3 days earlier. Sounds like me, only his bike is truly amazing. Real professional stuff. Mine was a functional rebuild - his a thing of cosmetic beauty.
The kilometres roll away under the throbbing big single. The terrain is kind and I'm am feeling very comfortable on these dirt roads. The bike is a little weird to stand up on, the tank being further rearward than I am used to on a dirt bike. Correct weight distribution for some surfaces requires a modified, bow legged technique. It also makes it hard to get the weight over the front wheel. Not ideal for riding fast but OK if you take your time.
I turn left onto the Yunta - Arkaroola Road at Nepabunna. Only 70 km to go now. This section is more of the same. Good dirt, dry river beds, high speeds with hard braking as a floodway appears. All good fun. We quickly reach the Copley Road. A T-junction that sneaks up on you. I struggle to bring the bike down from the 110~120 km/h that we were doing before making the RH turn. The incentive was the nice embankment across the top of the "T".
700m up the road and a left onto Arkaroola Road awaits. The road climbs and winds its way across the range. I am excited now. 30 km to go. 616 sings along. I start sliding her gently into some of the corners, she feels well balanced with a 50% fuel load. There are quite a few more floodways. We dip in, with the correct gear selected and the intake roars as the secondary carby throat opens as we power out of the dip. The wheel tracks are reasonably clean of rocks, which is nice. I am really enjoying it. Then the surface changes, there has been great loads are very coarse gravel (read 'rocks') spread across the road. Probably an attempt to make the road more all-weather. 616 jumps from rock to rock almost uncontrollably. It is hard to pick a line, and always uncomfortable. This is the worst surface for 200 odd km. I figure there is about 5 km of this before the resort. I slow right down and take my time. Too close to fall off now.
Two very rough creek crossings and a climb up a hill to a group of buildings signposted "Arkaroola Wilderness & Nature Reserve". I see a few bikes, covered in mud & dust. They are Ténérés. I pull up in front of the reception area. 616 and I quickly draw a small crowd. Paul & Harley interrupt their beers and introduce themselves. They ask me a dozen questions at once all directed at my beloved '83 Ténéré. Before the end of the weekend they will be stars too. Paul Sitar on the only XTZ750 Super Ténéré to arrive and Harley Drew as the oldest rider (64) on the trip. While I sit chatting to the assembled throng, a lovely young lady approaches. I recognise her from the pages of Trail Zone magazine. It is Tania Clubb, co-organiser of the event. She enquires as to my (and the bike's) health and guesses that I must be "Mike" as I am one of the two remaining '83s to arrive, and the only Victorian. She invites me to drop by the registration "desk" once I've checked in. I suggest I'd like to tidy up a little before that.
 |
| Arkaroola Resort and a portion of the assembled Ténérés. |
Tania is a delight to chat with and (understandably) has a great rapport with most any bike rider. The 'goodie bag' has some great stuff, making the $100 dollar entry a bargain. An embroidered polo shirt, a printed t-shirt, a customised cap & a bunch of random free stuff from sponsors. All this on top of the free annual subscription to Trail Zone magazine! I must applaud Andrew & Tania Clubb on their faultless organisation & enthusiasm. The whole feel of the event brings to me a new meaning of "enthusiast".
After a quick briefing from Tania on dinner details, I head outside to join some of my fellow Tragics. I chat briefly with Paul Sitar (the only '93 XTZ750 rider) and Harley Drew (who was the oldest rider at 64). Paul has ridden his well-prepped 750 all the way from Perth. He happens to have the guest room between the Clubbs & myself. The group grows every 10 minutes or so - Ténérés coming in from everywhere.
The Tragics have taken a fairly long route from Hawker with the intention of filling a whole day. This was to be the longest, hardest & driest daily section of the original "Getting There Ride" route. After leaving Hawker, Clubby led the group through some of the scenic gorges to the east of the road in (near Nepabunna). Some, including Clubby, were still out. Clubby was 'sweep' - rescuing any Tragics that might have ended up down or broken.
Still others were riding in from all over the country. Dave Bottomley (Qld) and Colin Jay (SA) were already there on their '83 XT600ZL's, having ridden in with the 'Getting There' group. Both bikes had younger chassis numbers than 616. I was becoming quietly confident that maybe 616 was the oldest here. This was surprising, given that at one time there were over 500 older XT-ZL's throughout the country.
As the sun was disappearing behind the hills to the west, increasing numbers of Ténérés were flying past and headed straight for the dormitory. 1200's and current 660's by the dozen. Messages were going around, "Have you seen Morgan yet?" Eventually, most had been accounted for - even Morgan. Clubby had apparently been detained to assist Peter Erickson (from Yass) who had had a major 'off-road' excursion after another flat front tyre. The story goes that he had narrowly missed an enormous rock after leaving the road when the tyre deflated. Clubby later said, "I haven't seen skidmarks that long for a very long time!"
The most adventurous group turned out to be 3 Queenslanders. Craig Hartley (from Dalby Moto - a legendary motorcycle shop), Phil Hodgens (celebrity dairy farmer, top-gun bike rider and star of "Motorbikin' " DVDs) and Neil Asplin (now legendary '83 XT600ZL rider) had ridden right through from Cameron Corner, ignoring the road closures. It was just another day on the bike for Craig & Phil on a 1200 and 660Z respectively. For Neil it had been a true test of faith in the "Ténéré Spirit". Riding his '83 with very rusty riding skills, he managed to keep it all together for long enough to make it through the sand and rocks of many floodways and 'shortcuts' get to Arkaroola just in time for dinner.
Neil also turned out to riding the oldest '83 (about #280, I didn't write it down). Their trip made for good discussion within the group after dinner. I sat with Harley and his mate Greg McInerney, a very friendly chap who was also riding a 1200. Greg was a retired NSW cop and had plenty of great stories to tell. As dinner wound down Clubby gathered the group together to run through the stories of the day and advise what was in store for tomorrow.
Stories flowed - 'The Melbourne Boys' who drove their SS Commodore past Tibooburra then rode '86 & '88 Ténérés to Cameron Corner, only to be told the group had cancelled and ridden down to Hawker from Broken Hill. They then drove through the night to do the 1,050 kilometres to Leigh Creek and catch Clubby about to leave as 'sweep'.
The massive story of Craig, Phil & Neil over the closed roads from Cameron Corner. Craig described how they re-distributed the weight on Neils' bike and did a few other mods to enable him to ride it satisfactorily in the sand. How they had lengthy breaks waiting for Neil to catch up, only for Neil to get very few! A dozen stories from the "Getting There" ride for those who didn't make it. Geoff Needham's (QLD, 63) blown knee and the ambo trip from Hawker. XT1200Z's with smashed sumps and hurredly applied Metal Putty. Many despairing stories of the trip from Yunta to Craddock (!) via Holowilena Station - deep sand that would eat 660's and even 1200's (where Geoff injured his knee). Despite this, everyone was smiling and really happy to be there! What is an adventure without stories....
Clubby finished the session with a brief description of tomorrow's ride. An explanation of the three loops, a quick desciption of the terrain, and a summary of the very basic rules to ride by - be polite, helpful to fellow Tragics and keep right on blind corners (you never know when a 4WD will be hurtling toward you!). Clubby described the first 3 or 4 kilometres as "Rocky, but nothing I wouldn't ask Tania to drive the family station wagon over". These words were to become an oft quoted passage 24 hours later! The session was declared closed and Tragics free to chat and bench race for as long as the bar staff stayed awake.
I moved through the group, introducing myself to a couple of the guys - notably the other Victorians. Troy Mattson had ridden from Sale and met up with Richard Puffe on the way up. Dave Prior and Ian Janetzki, "the Melbourne Boys", had also found one of the other rider's wallets as they rode in from Copely. Amazing! Graeme from Orange, NSW was very grateful.
I decided not to assist with draining the bar dry. An early night was in order - it had been a long day. I retired to my room, walking back with John Wheeler (from Darwin River, NT) and stopping to chat about his bike ('98 XTZ660) and the ride down. He'd ridden from Darwin to Melbourne, via Adelaide, then back up again! He was ultimately headed back home through Townsville, all solo. It never ceases to amaze me how much faith the Tragics put in their Ténérés. The Ténéré Spirit will always be with them!
It's greatful blog!
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