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Forget everything you thought you knew about Harley-Davidsons.
The Pan America is a totally new offering from the American manufacturer, and, by any measure, it’s a damn good one.
We remember a few years ago thinking an Italian sportsbike company couldn’t understand Australian adventure riders.
Within a few months of our first ride
Ducati’s Multistrada Enduro was one of our favourite bikes – and still is.
With Harley’s Pan America 1250 Special there’s a very good chance it’s going to happen again.
Great start
A new engine is clearly the heart of the Pan America, although, as we find ourselves writing so often these days, the electronics package plays a
huge part in the bike’s comfort and performance. But to stick with the mechanical side of things to start with, the Revolution Max 1250 donk is a 1252cc, liquid-cooled, DOHC, V-twin with fourvalve heads and variable valve timing. There’s separate intake and exhaust cams, twin plugs for each cylinder and some very effective internal balancers, and the valves and rockers are operated hydraulically, which means there’ll be no need for adjustment. u
None of these features are new in top-of-the-market adventure bikes, but it’s impressive for a company with the staid reputation of Harley-Davidson, and doubly impressive for the company’s first entry into the adventure-bike sector.
And we can’t wait to say it: this engine is a pearler! It’s a smooth, hard-driving, easyto-use 150-horspower gruntmaster that’s ready to run the Hume Highway in total comfort or dig deep ditches on a dirt road with the throttle cracked open and the roost flying. We’re still grinning like fools after an afternoon grasstrack session.
Left: We didn’t get to do anywhere near enough off-roading on the Harley, but we suspect there’s a very good adventure bike on offer.
Above: First-class braking both ends. Radial calipers make for easy pad changes.
screen and switchblock controls, and something we found very interesting, Adaptive Ride Height.
Australia will only receive the ‘Special’ model, so a centrestand is standard, and the semi-active suspension and spoked wheels front and rear are available as options. Our review bike had both wheels and semi-active suspension, and that meant the ride height was constantly adjusted in near real time. Again, it’s become a common enough feature in this class of bike. What did impress us was a new feature of the system where the bike lowers itself when it’s stationary. While the ride height is maintained and altered as terrain changes, when the bike stops and the rider needs to put his feet down, the bike has lowered itself either 25mm or 50mm.
Like just about everything on the Pan America, the rider can customise things to some extent. It might be selected to drop 25mm at below 15kph, for instance, or not come into effect until the bike has stopped, or it can be locked out so there’s no drop at all.
The lowdown
The strong and willing motor is matched with a suite of electronics which includes a cornering-enhanced linked braking system, cornering-enhanced traction control, hill-hold control, cruise control, tyre-pressure monitoring, ride modes (Sport, Road, Rain, Off-Road, Off-Road Plus and three ‘Custom’ modes the rider can build for themselves), a good-sized TFT screen, a Harley app which will allow smartphone features to be used via the
A six-axis IMU keeps watch over the various traction-control and ABS functions, including controlling rear-wheel lift during heavy braking and front-wheel lift under acceleration. Harley’s acronym for the system is ‘C-TCS’ – Cornering Enhanced Traction Control System – and it can be disabled in any mode while the bike is stationary and the engine is running. ABS is disabled in the Off-Road Plus mode.
Normal
On a less technical – but no less important
Right: The new 150hp Revolution Max 1250 engine is a liquid-cooled 1252cc V-twin.
Below left: The array of switches takes some getting used to.
Below right: With a phone paired up, control for all kinds of things is available via the switchblocks and touchscreen.
– plane, a cable-operated, assisted slipper clutch helps get the stonking 127Nm of torque and 150hp to a slick-shifting sixspeed box which drives a chain to the rear wheel. The exhaust is stainless-steel, the 21.2-litre tank is aluminium with a plastic cover, seat height is adjustable without tools and heated grips are standard. If it sounds like a good set up, it is.
As a sort of off-centre thought, the look of the bike is very divisive, and does depend a great deal on point of view. Side on it looks fairly utilitarian and unremarkable, but front on it polarises opinions. Some love it and some really passionately hate it, and there doesn’t seem to be any in-betweens. It’s in the eye of the beholder and you’ll have to decide for yourself.
One thing about that fairing arrangement is it holds what looks to be some good-value lighting. We didn’t get to ride the bike in the dark, but we’re expecting the lighting to be strong, and although we’re not huge fans of the lookingaround-the-corner lighting rigs, the Pan America is set up that way, and it’d be interesting to see if the system is as refined as the bike’s other tech features.
Riding the Pan America is a total eye-opener.
Any preconceptions we had about loud, cranky old Harleys were shattered and discarded as soon as we fired up that sweet-running, silky smooth V-twin and eased out the light and responsive clutch. The comfort level on the Pan America is high, but purring away quietly under the reflected highlights of a really beautiful finish was the promise of big, serious power and good handling waiting to be cut loose.
We did get to do a little rorting and roosting, but nowhere near as much as we wanted, and nothing like what we felt the bike was begging us to do. The supervision of the Stay Upright guys was justifiably firm while on public roads, and we admit, without that supervision we doubt we would’ve been able to resist letting the Harley show its form.
In the afternoon a beautiful, loamy grasstrack was made available and bikes and riders both clearly enjoyed a feet-up roost session that had hearts pumping and eyes wide. It’s clear this particular Harley is well capable of laying waste to that type of terrain if given a capable rider and half a chance. The bike has a narrow feel that lends itself to a bit of rider wrangling and the balance is really, really good. Handling and suspension are outstanding for a bike of this size, and the motor and rider aids make the whole riding experience, on- and off-road, a total joy.
We need to make sure we don’t get too carried away. It’s important to point out we only rode the bike for a single day, and
a great deal of that time was spent on bitumen. We didn’t face any seriously challenging terrain and we didn’t have time to fool around with modes and customisable settings to any significant degree. Keep in mind our opinions here are based on just a taster of what the Harley has to offer.
Still, we’re very impressed. We’d be keen to get some serious time on the bike, and especially to head to some real-life adventure destinations to see how it stacked up.
A few things which we couldn’t sort out related mostly to individual set-up:
* Our 189cm test rider couldn’t get the adjustable screen in a position to shelter him from considerable wind buffeting.
Harley-Davidson went out of its way to ensure he was sorted with an optional taller seat, so the screen didn’t have much of a chance. There are taller OEM screens which we didn’t think to ask for;
* The footpegs didn’t have as much grip as we would’ve liked after a dunking. Even with the rubber inserts removed they were still just a whisker less grabby than we’d have hoped. Harley does have other ’pegs available as OEM accessories, and we’d be looking at them if we were making a purchase; AND
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Above: The footpegs could’ve been a little grippier, even after we removed the rubber inserts.
Below: The touchscreen feature of the TFT display is disabled while the bike is moving. It can be tilted to suit the rider’s view.
* The handguards were little more than wind deflectors, really. Again that’s not unusual on stock bikes, and we expect most riders will look for an alternative. That’s about it. We enjoyed the Pan America a whole lot.
We haven’t mentioned weight and price, and they’re both hefty.
Measured at the brochure the Pan America comes in at 258kg ready to ride. That’s a serious chunk of Milwaukee metal to be dragging through sand, bulldogging down a hill or trying to lift after a fall. It’s in line with other adventure bikes in its class though, as is the price: between around $31,500 and $34,500 depending on what variations are chosen.
Of course Harley has backed the bike with a heap of accessories, including soft and hard luggage, ’bar risers, different seats, footpegs, performance muffler and some really nice co-branded REV’IT apparel. There’s more, but a dealer can fill you in and advise you better than we can.
So there it is. After this short ride we reckon the Pan America is a far, far better adventure bike than we expected it to be, and for those who’ll overcome their brand prejudice, we think it’s probably a very real adventure-touring option for the Wide Brown Land.
Recommended ride-away price: $34,480 (Vivid black with laced wheels and adaptive ride-height package).
Web: harley-davidson.com/au
Engine type: Revolution Max 1250
Displacement: 1252cc
Bore x stroke: 105mm x 72mm
Horsepower: 112kW (150hp) at 8750rpm
Torque: 127Nm
Fuel economy: 5.5 litres per 100km
Compression ratio: 13.0:1
Front fork: 47mm inverted fork with electronically adjustable, semi-active damping control. Aluminium triple clamps
Rear shock: Linkage-mounted monoshock with automatic, electronic preload control and semi-active compression and rebound damping
Front brake caliper type: Radially mounted, monoblock, four-piston
Rear brake caliper type: Floating, single-piston
Transmission: Six-speed
Fuel system: Electronic Sequential Port Fuel Injection (ESPFI)
Exhaust: Two-into-one. Catalyst in header
Gauges: 165mm viewable area TFT display with speedo, gear, odometer, fuel level, clock, trip, ambient temperature, low temperature alert, sidestand down alert, TIP over alert, cruise, range and tachometer indication BT capable – phone pairing to access phone calls, music, navigation (H-D App only)
Length: 2256mm
Wheelbase: 1580mm
Ground clearance: 210mm
Rake: 25
Trail: 108mm
Tyre sizes front/rear: 120/70R19 60V/17060R17 72V
Tyre types: H-D/Michelin Scorcher Adventure, radial
Seat height (unladen): Low position 850mm. High position 875mm
Weight, as shipped: 242kg
Weight, in running order: 258kg
Fuel capacity: 21.2 litres
Oil capacity: 4.5 litres
Service intervals: 8000km
Miles Davis is back on the GS Safari trail.
As we all know, 2020 had its challenges. For the first time since 2006 I missed out on attending a BMW Safari event as support staff because of Victoria’s COVID19 issues. So the 2021 GS Safari was a long time coming.
It all kicked off at Ville Resort Casino in Townsville with a pretty flash affair which included registration, dinner, riders’ briefing, a few laughs and generally a great time.
It’s always impressive seeing the group together for the first time. This year there were 180 participants, with a mix of GS Safari first timers as well as some regulars. For many of the first timers there were real pre-event nerves as they didn’t know what they were about to experience. How hard would the tracks be? Would they be able to do it? Would they be too slow? Would they be too fast (haha)? The briefing eased a lot of concerns. They heard how the event ran, how to navigate, and began to understand the massive level of support.
There was a huge buzz of anticipation and lots of laughs as people socialized and met their new friends, and for most it was an early night, getting rest for a big week of GS Safari adventure.
The off
My role in this GS Safari was to be a roving marshal, generally helping riders,
Left: The track was as slick as ice.
Top right: A long, fairly deep crossing with the odd larger boulder was a challenge for everyone.
Below:There was a lot of experience available to riders from sweeps and support staff.
Below right: The approach to Irvinebank included the most incredible museum with a lot of general memorabilia, but with a heavy focus on old engines, pumps and trucks.
organisers and coordinating support as required (tech, medical and so forth).
There were three on-bike marshals spread through the group: me, Shaun ‘Turbo’ Terblanche and Ron Cressy. That meant there was a lot of experience available to help riders as required.
The group left Townsville on a cracking FNQ winter day to kick off with some nice bitumen roads which wound up through range before hitting gravel. Straight away the tracks were quite narrow, dry and slippery, which meant riders really needed to concentrate. As always, the odd rider had a scary moment going a bit too quick into a corner, and a few had close calls or dropped their bike, which was a good chance to recalibrate. One unfortunate rider hit the ground a bit too hard and ended up with a concussion, putting an end to their Safari before it really started.
For those who rode past the accident site it was a good wake-up call: ride smooth and well within your limits and get to the end of each day!
Day one wrapped up with a cruise up the coast to Mission Beach.
Day two opened with grey skies and the big decision was, ‘Gore-tex on or Gore-tex off?’
The answer was only 10km in when the rain bucketed down. We marshals pulled into a small servo and jumped under some shelter to throw a shell over the jacket, and many riders followed suit. I really enjoy riding on wet roads. It makes you strive to be smooth and flowy, and traction-control systems give so much confidence you can actually punt along quite nicely. Threading up into the range again the route turned to gravel, with amazing flowy, narrow tracks which kept riders on their toes. It was challenging and very scenic. This stuff always puts a smile on the dial. There were also a couple of long, tricky creek crossings that kept riders honest, and teamwork made sure everyone got across safely.
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Lunch was in the historic town of Irvinebank, and on approach there was an amazing surprise.
A local had created the most incredible museum, ‘Brian’s Shed’, with a lot of general memorabilia, but with a heavy focus on old engines, pumps and trucks. He was more than happy to start up some of the beasts and put on a show. I love finding the hidden gems, sometimes when they’re least expected.
The third day was a loop from, and back to, Port Douglas, and it’s one that will remain etched in many riders’ minds.
Heavy overnight rain had a big impact on the off-road sections. To compound that, there was an optional hard section scheduled for the morning.
In the daily briefing the tough route was talked up as very difficult, with challenging, deep, muddy waterholes. It was my job to head out, scope the section and make the call to open or close it.
After checking out the crossings and getting through we decided to open it and see how the first riders coped.
The film and photo team were set up when the first riders approached and they weren’t disappointed. Even before the waterhole the track was as slick as ice and bikes were doing 180s. Bogholes claimed a few, and some riders were flicked off their bikes into the muddy slop.
Around 25 riders opted to give it a go, after which we had to sweep it. That was a bit of fun.
Once we joined the standard route we were treated to more crazy conditions. The rain made what had been, in the dry, a fairly straightforward track into a real handful. For many it was the
Above: Conditions were mixed, with everything from dust to mud. Below: George made it through after some encouragement from Bretto. u
worst conditions they’d ever experienced: wet, hilly and narrow, but traction was mostly manageable apart from a few ultra-slick clay sections. Getting back onto the wet bitchy was such a relief!
There’s no doubt the hot showers and cold beers were amazing at Port Douglas at the close of the day.
In every GS Safari there are incredible back stories.
My favourite for this event was a rider, George, who was overwhelmed by the conditions on the third day. He’d never ridden off road in the wet and decided it wasn’t for him, so he stopped to wait for
the support vehicle. He felt like he was way out of his depth and wanted to turn back or hitch a ride.
When Bretto, the sweep vehicle driver, pulled over to see what was going on, he didn’t just put the bike on the trailer. He spoke to George and encouraged him to keep going. Over the next couple of hours Bretto gave tips, support and encouragement. There were a few screams of joy, hugs and fist pumps along the way and George made it through, absolutely blowing his mind that he could handle his 1200 GSA in such tricky conditions. He didn’t drop it even once. Those sorts of moments can be life changing for customers. Rather than feeling demoralised and defeated, he
felt like he’d won a stage of Dakar. The support team really care about the riders, and stories like that one are pure gold.
Day four provided riders with two options. The route headed north to the Daintree and up towards Cooktown. Lunch was at another iconic location, the Lions Den Hotel. From there riders had the choice to backtrack the same way to Palm Cove, or loop around on a great inland route, taking in a wide range of terrain and scenery.
The first major obstacle after the ferry and passing through Cape Tribulation was Emmagen Creek, a long, fairly deep
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crossing with the odd larger boulder which was a challenge for everyone.
I spent a couple of hours coordinating riders across the creek and helping where needed. For some it seemed too much, but with a few tips and after watching others they felt much better about giving it a go. And if it didn’t work out we were there to help.
From Emmagen Creek the track through the Daintree was pretty tricky due to the odd heavy shower. There were some very steep sections, some with snotty orange clay. Crossing the Bloomfield River and winding through the small town of Wujal Wujal, then hitting the twisty roads, was a nice way to roll into the Lions Den. After lunch some riders opted for the longer but more relaxing inland ride, while others backtracked down to Cape Tribulation and Port Douglas. My afternoon role was to sweep the Cape Trib run, and I had a great ride and saw hardly a soul.
It’s amazing how quick the week went by. Before we knew it we were waking
v Approximately 1800km
v 180 customers
v 20 staff
v Townsville to Mission Beach – 467km
v Mission Beach to Port Douglas –387km
v Loop day at Port Douglass – 169km
v Port Douglass to Palm Cove –434km (or 351km)
v Palm Cove to Cairns – 356km
up to the final day, which was expected to be a great mix of new terrain as well as another lunch stop at the Irvinebank Tavern.
We were treated to some great twisty bitumen as we headed up the range, even though it was wet, and it was impressive how quickly the terrain changed as we climbed.
The route headed southwest before looping around and heading northeast back towards Lake Tinaroo and damp gravel rainforest tracks. The huge Cathedral Fig Tree was definitely worth the short walk for a viewing. From there the route dropped down the range on what seemed like endless, smooth, twisty bitumen, perfect for wearing out the edges of the tyres. Finally, we rolled into the flashy Shangri-La Hotel at the marina and an amazing week of riding was over.
Another amazing GS Safari was in the bag, and included many great moments, new friendships and challenging times along the way. Conditions were mixed, with lots of rainstorms, showers and sunshine, and with everything from dust to mud which really kept riders on their A game. There were very few injuries, which is always nice.
For the event staff it was a big week, and when at the end there was a real sense of relief and satisfaction. For some it’s a great week away on the bike, while for others it’s a real breakthrough and the beginning of their adventure-riding journey.
Well…the finish of the GS Safari was almost a wrap. A group of 20 weren’t satisfied with one week of adventure, so the GS Safari team stepped up and put together a second week.
I had two days to prepare to take another group on the GS Tour to Cape York.
I’ll tell you about that ride next issue.
Heading to the wide-open spaces? Packing the right gear the right way can make a huge difference to whether you have the ride of your life or end up riding for your life. Here’s 10 things to consider.
As a general concept, weight and bulk on the bike should be kept as low and close to the centre of gravity as possible. Soft panniers and roll-top bags lend themselves to being stuffed tight with gear, are easily made waterproof and can often be positioned on the bike according to how much gear they’re holding. Roll-top bags are especially versatile. They can be strapped down along or across the bike’s axis.
Hard panniers and top boxes have great security, but they take up the same amount of room, and sit in the same place, full or empty. They’re also very unforgiving
when a bike’s dropped and tend to be a bit heavier than similar-capacity soft panniers.
Tank bags and top boxes both sit up high on the bike, and top boxes especially can have a big pendulum effect as the bike moves around.
Keep the load in those areas as light as possible.
Nobody can cover every possible eventuality, but there are a few common problems everyone should prepare for. Being prepared is not only for the rider’s sake, but for other riders who might be caught out.
A tow rope has multiple uses, takes up very little space in a pack, and can be an absolute godsend. When it’s not towing another bike it can be a clothesline, a luggage tie-down strap, or even as a centreline support for a tarp or groundsheet to be used as shelter.
It pays to have a good ol’ paper map in a pocket or backpack in case a flat battery or crash damage renders electronic nav aids unserviceable.
Agreat deal of Australia is still without mobile-phone service, especially some of the best adventureriding routes and destinations. Riders need a way of, at the very least, calling for help.
Adventure Rider Magazine is a big fan of the PLB – the personal locator beacon. We believe every rider should carry one.
Other alternatives include things like satellite phones and the various subscription beacons like SPOT and the Garmin inReach. At least one of these devices is essential in every group, and should ideally be carried by every rider.
A few litres of fuel can be a lifesaver. Newbies who’ve never ridden Aussie desert sand will often be caught out as their fuel consumption doubles. Damaged fuel tanks and lines aren’t uncommon either. A few litres in an approved fuel bladder can make a huge difference in those situations. Naturally, a rider should never leave a town without a full tank.
An octane booster and or lead additive for fuel is worth considering, especially for riders on high-performance bikes. Fuel in some outback towns can be a bit how’s-your-father.
Large-scale contour maps are ideal, but will soon add up to a considerable chunk of weight and will take up some room, and a single small-scale map may not give enough detail to get a rider out of trouble.
Have a look at the route before selecting the map or maps to carry.
A rider travelling The French Line between Birdsville and Mount Dare isn’t going need much detail. Someone trying to find the best dirt on the west coast of Tasmania will need more than a tourist map from a servo.
rider who doesn’t prepare for being caught out after dark is a goose. It happens, and it usually happens because something has gone wrong at some stage earlier in the day.
Riding after dark is a mug’s game and should be avoided wherever possible, but when it has to be done, good lighting becomes more important than just about anything
Hema has great maps for adventure riders. Check ’em out and select according to the needs of each ride.
else in a rider’s life at that time.
Modern bikes mostly have good lighting, but a broader and longer path of illumination can be a lifesaver. Avoid weighing a bike down with humungous great lighting rigs which have big power draws. There are some extremely efficient LED units available which weigh little and give a reasonable boost to standard rigs. Even a single-LED pod can make a big difference.
Atyre repair kit seems a no-brainer, but plenty of riders fail to allow for more than one puncture or problem. Start the trip with heavy-duty tubes fitted. Ultra heavy-duty tubes are available now and are worth considering. Carry standard tubes, because heavy-duty duty tubes are heavy, bulky and a real pain to fit. Carrying a single tube for different-sized tyres isn’t as good an idea as it used to be. The big-horsepower adventure bikes will munch up a wrong-sized tube fast. A 21-inch front in a 17-inch rear will get you out of trouble, but not for long. Carry both if possible, or pair up with someone and carry front and rear between the two of you. A puncture-repair kit of glue and patches is vital. More than one puncture in a day is more common than most people would think.
For the tubeless brigade, pack heaps of plugs or worms and glue. It’s surprising how often it’ll take more than one plug to do the job, and how much glue will be used up every time a plug is pushed in. There are plugs and worms available now which don’t need extra glue, but we haven’t used them to know whether they’re effective. Rocky Creek Designs won an award for its brilliant compact tubeless repair tool, and we recommend it. u
There are a few things a rider needs to know when heading away from population centres.
Knowing the bike is a big one. The rider should know the fuel range, the fuel consumption, any weak points, the life expectancy of the rear tyre and the location of fuses and relays. The rider should know distances between fuel stops and phone ahead to ensure fuel is available. It’s also a good idea to let the people at the fuel stop know the expected time of arrival. That way, if something goes wrong there’s
half a chance someone will start looking.
A rider should always know where they are. Not necessarily a latitude and longitude, but something as simple as checking the speedo before leaving a town or servo and being able to inform someone, “I’m 53km south of the Mungerannie pub on the Birdsville Track.” It can save a huge amount of time for first responders or recovery efforts. A rider needs to be able to accurately list any allergies, illnesses or medication currently in use in the event of needing medical attention.
This is going to be different for everyone, but make sure you have, for your own bike, spare plugs, some JB Weld, oil, a spare chain link, and any tools specific or unique to your model, especially a plug spanner.
Sharing tools through a group to save weight is great idea, but if you’re riding the only European bike you’re going to be in trouble when you need a 13mm spanner. If your front axle needs a whopping great hex key nobody else has, that can be a major pain as well.
Make sure you have those kinds of things covered no matter what the tool-sharing arrangement.
Remember, if it’s not essential, it’s a luxury, and the more uses an item has, the more it deserves to be included.
Multitools are a great example. One good multitool can do the job of several individual hand tools. Look around and see which will best suit your bike and choose accordingly. The same goes for things like a lightweight groundsheet. It can be hung over tow strap between two trees to form a shelter, or laid out on the ground to make a clean work area, or even wrapped around a person for warmth or protection from the elements.
That’s the kind of equipment which can keep the pack to a minimum, make sure the riding’s still fun, and get you out of trouble if things turn sour.
about the terrain you’re intending to cover on the ride. Make sure you’ll be able to survive in the extremes of heat or cold expected if you were left alone in the worst of it for 24 hours.
Even if you’re not injured yourself you might be left to care for a fallen rider. Make sure you have a basic first-aid kit, a space blanket or something similar, and clothing which will give either warmth or protection from the sun. Naturally food and water to survive – not live in luxury –is absolutely imperative.
A cigarette lighter, skin moisturiser of some kind, hat and a fly net to pull over your bonce are worth including in this category.
The 2021 Husky 701 Trek kicked off from base camp at Emerald Beach, nestled in the foothills off the Coffs Coast. Twenty-three staff and 47 riders experienced some of the best riding northern NSW had to offer.
The roads began to open up at the same time as the throttles as we motored through Guy Fawkes National Park and the sweeping views of the once-bustling mining town of Dalmorton – population: four.
With the light and time fading, Sweep Rider Number Two (some fool named ‘Ron’) attempted the first known motorcycle backflip in the hand-carved Dalmorton tunnel. The attempt was unsuccessful and resulted in cosmetic damage to the bike, but the rider’s ego took a battering later that night at the pub.
The main highlight of the day was Hard Route 2. It was once used as an A4DE trail that ended on a disused rail line deep in the forest, hand-cut back into civilisation by Danny Wilko and his sons Riley and Clay.
It was worth doing two extra laps at least.
The second day had 247km laid out for the main route and 305km on the tough option.
Coffs Harbour is known for wild terrain and epic single trail that holds the moisture days after the rain has passed, so the crew knew the Trek would start straight into the chillies.
With greasy twin trails and extreme downhills that left the legs burning and front brakes on fire, the feeling was all for wanting more as the trail snaked west through remote areas north of Dorrigo which could only be accessed if you knew the right people.
The first day’s route was set to run from Emerald Beach to Glen Innes, and the main route was measured at 305km while the hard route covered 347km.
Glen Innes had had its fair share of devastation – drought, floods and fire –over the past few years, but it also hides some of central New South Wales’ best adventure trails.
The day got underway with some early light drizzle which played in well with the conditions as the Trek rolled through Carpet Snake Trail – around 62km of pure bliss. Granite composite rock soaked up the rain and left everyone pretending to be a factory rally rider as they let snaking rear wheels be their guide. It was a trail that kept the mind working in overtime and a smile a mile wide.
The first refuel was at Tenterfield, which was also the overnight base, and some
found the call of the local pub too strong and retired early for the day.
But the fight picked up a notch when rain put Hard Route 2, through Gerard State Forest, into an unprecedented ‘six-chilli’ category. ‘As slippery as an eel’ is the best description I can come up with, and the longest 10km I’ve ever ridden on an adventure bike. All who went through loved the technical nature of the stage. A final run through the rain didn’t bother anyone as the soil took the torrential downpour in its stride. The grip just kept improving and the grins became wider.
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Left: Slipping and sliding through the best Coffs Harbour had to offer.
Above: The blood began to rush on Sandon River Beach.
Below: Jemma Wilson, Husqvarna ambassador and dead-set legend, coordinated a sixkilometre bike push through gnarly hills.
It was hoped a quick look through Thunderbolt’s hideout might turn up some lost loot to trade for beer later in the night, but unfortunately we came up short. We won big on the tales of spills and thrills from the day though, shared around a roaring fire at the Henry Parkes Best Western that night.
Tenterfield to Evans Head
Fronting up for the third day’s run – main route 305km; hard route 346km – meant shaking off the few shandies of the night before and blasting straight onto the famous Rocky River Road.
That trail could be the most scenic – and the most unforgiving if you happened to
get caught out sightseeing instead of concentrating on the path ahead. The twisty road is one that should be on all adventure riders’ to-do list and one that could be ridden over again and again due to the remoteness and beauty of the entire area.
Those with courage dived back into Gerard State Forest for another hard route,
only to find the slipperiest ice-mud the Trek had ever encountered and an absolute blast of old single trail with steep climbs and flowing tracks. That was also where Doctor Michael found the limits of what a 701 clutch could tolerate. Jemma Wilson, Husqvarna ambassador and dead-set legend, appeared from nowhere and coordinated a six-kilometre bike push through gnarly hills to an RV (rendezvous) with 4WD Sam. With the help of an old Husqvarna chainsaw, 4WD Sam had made his own trail to a location which saved an extra two-kilometre push. Jemma and 4WD Sam shared Best On Ground award for their performances that day.
The light hum of classic rock pumped out from the Husky truck and welcomed riders to the seaside town of Evans Head as the last light of the day faded. Mechanics Pat and Gary addressed any issues arising from the pounding the bikes had taken during the day, and, showing complete and utter poise under the relentless scrutiny of bystanders, Doctor Michael’s clutch was flawlessly replaced. Those tech boys were worth their weight in gold.
Checking out from the home base for the
final time was bittersweet, with Laura and luggage-van aficionado Darren (aka
‘The Mayor of Cessnock’) waving us off to tackle the final day’s 258km main route and 270km hard option.
A cruisy ride through to Maclean for fuel opened up the day before the blood began to rush on Sandon River Beach.
The run into the beach at Brooms Head and down the beach itself was beautiful.
The smell of the sand and saltwater was an excellent change from the time spent in the subtropical rainforest. Pointing our noses south and running through the Yuraygir National Park and past the truly
Above: Getting on and off the beach required some commitment.
Below left: The hand-carved Dalmorton tunnel. Below: Author Aussie Ron and his sweep colleagues forgot to fuel up for the final day.
Top right: A trail that kept the mind working in overtime and a smile a mile wide.
unique monument of Jonaas Zilinskas was a hoot, until – and it came as a bit of a surprise – we sweeps realised we’d forgotten to refuel at Maclean.
After some deliberation and knowing we’d be the laughingstock of the post-
event party, fuel-saver mode was engaged and aerodynamics were employed for the remainder of the trip south to Hard Route 3 in the Wedding Bells State Forest. It was at that point, under the fading light in the fantastic final section, fuel-saving mode was quickly forgotten and the rhythm of the final hard route was found slipping and sliding through the best Coffs Harbour had to offer.
It was a fitting end to an event that gave so much in a huge variety of terrain.
At the Husky truck just after dark, having rolled in with the bikes running on vapour, cold ones were passed around and stories from the previous four days began to filter out. Smiles and laughter could be seen and heard as the crew moved toward the Surf Street Café for the post-event dinner where the Trek awards were bestowed upon those who had earned them. Attention was then turned to the trusty steeds that had just covered over 1200km of the best terrain northern NSW and the Wilkinson boys could find.
The route included it all: single track, forest trails, backcountry roads and bitumen transport. And then there was the mix of surfaces: clay (red AND white); loam; gravel; sand; creek crossings and big-arse puddles. The Husky 701 Enduro tackled it all.
What more could one ask for?
The consensus was this was the perfect bike for the ride. And the perfect ride for the bike.
The reference to ‘chilli’ ratings in the story is thanks to a system used by Chris Birch. The tougher the section, the more chillies in the rating. A ‘four-chilli’ section is therefore likely to be tough for even experienced and capable riders.
Lead rider and Adventure Rider Magazine favourite Rosie Lalonde had a story from this ride… “As lead rider for the Trek, it was my sworn duty to provide the best possible marking for our riders – while at the same time making it as hard as possible for the sweep riders to take the arrows down.
“A new arrow was also introduced this year in line with Birchy’s chilli-system rating: a white sticker with a red chilli pepper on it. These were to be strategically placed at the start of the hard routes to remind riders of the level of difficulty if they couldn’t remember from the briefing the night before.
“I take my duties very seriously and couldn’t believe it when on day two co-lead rider Nick Selleck and I arrived in Tenterfield and realised we’d forgotten
to restock our pockets with red-chilli stickers.
“D’oh!
“With the ominous four-chilli Girard State Forest hard route looming, we decided an improvisation would be required. We traipsed through the local Coles, Sidi-squeak in full effect as we pushed through the Thursday morning shoppers on a mission to find habanero chillis, paper, tape and permanent markers. The result? An authentic chilli rating sign.
“The only other lead-rider trick that trumped that, was on day four when I convinced a lollipop worker at a construction zone to put a directional arrow on his stop/ go sign. Nick said it couldn’t be done. I showed him!”
and images: Rod Taylor and David Tiller
Last issue
Rod Taylor and mate David Tiller made their way from Darwin to Broome for an assault on The Tanami Track. The first leg had its challenges, but crossing the Tanami meant facing starvation, flood, serial killers and flesh eating beetles.
There’s still a bit of tar from Broome to Halls Creek, but once you’re on the dirt you’re committed. There are no shortcuts. You can’t half do The Tanami.
Maybe it was that thought that leaked into David’s stomach, because it chose that moment to descend into a major dose of grumble guts. David rarely complains, but he was really crook. We couldn’t press on and spent another day in Halls Creek.
Besides, we’d seen the Wolf Creek documentary and felt we might need our strength to fend off a serial killer.
Star wars
The ride into the Wolf Creek crater was just fine until we hit the boundary fence. After that the road turned into nasty, gooey sand, with bonus ruts that bounced us off line. I came around a corner and David’s tracks went right, left and then right again. I could see he’d survived a major moment, clutching the ’bars on his GS1200 as he explored the outer Pucker Factors. To his credit, he kept the plot together and we were able to find a good camping spot. In fact, I haven’t forgiven him for doing the entire trip without a drop while my tally…well, you’ll find out.
The crater is amazing. A dirty big lump of rock smacked into the earth 120,000 years ago and gouged the crater Aboriginal people call Kandimalal Travelling at an estimated 15 kilometres per second, 17,000 tonnes caused the second-largest crater in the world.
And you thought your road blaster was fast. That asteroid was bookin’!
I imagine the pilot completely lost his overloaded meteor through a loose corner.
It’s a rocky scramble up the side and down to the crater floor, and the signs discouraged us from trying. But hell, we’d just ridden the snotty, corrugated road in, so it was nothin’.
The last chance to fill our tanks was the little aboriginal community at Billiluna, and our delayed start meant we arrived on Sunday to find it closed. Still, it was worth a look. We found a goat sitting on the back
“Captain to Pilot. Starboard three degrees.”
“I cannae do it, Captain. She’s not responding.”
‘Oh,’ I thought, ‘that’s just awesome,’ and tried to ignore it.
The track out of Billiluna was reasonably challenging, though we rated it as a Pucker Factor three. There’s lots of soft stuff, constant corrugations and, on a long day, you only need a moment’s inattention to come unstuck.
table of an abandoned house. It peered at me with strange blue eyes and bent its head so I could pat it. Wandering down the dusty street I found a camel being harassed by a couple of dogs. It trotted towards me, also wanting a pat. There was friendly wildlife, but no fuel. That gave us another night, so we made camp not far down the road on Sturt Creek. We watched the brumbies wandering around and, for the first time, I saw brolgas in their native habitat. David had managed to pick up a weather broadcast and uttered the prophetic words, “We’re going to get wet.”
Well…that’s my excuse.
The wheel tracks were mostly smoother. Along the centre and the edges were soft ridges. My front wheel clipped the centre ridge and pushed me towards the left. The black box recorded what happened next.
“C’mon Pilot, you can. Give it everything.”
But, no. Shunting a quarter-tonne of bike and gear needed a bit more commitment and we dropped into a culvert from which there was no escape. A moment later, with most of my speed scrubbed off, I laid it down as David’s dust disappeared over the horizon. Some quick maths told me he’d be 10 minutes up the road before he realised I’d stopped. It’d take him another 10 minutes to return, giving me at least 20 minutes sitting on my tush to contemplate my sins. With all that load in a shallow ditch, there was no point even trying to pick up the bike.
Another rough calculation showed he’d be burning two kilometres worth of
fuel every minute until he returned, which underlined our concerns about doing the distance. When you’re that close to your limits, there’s nothing left for contingency.
Of course David did return, but then we were pushed for time to reach our planned stop at Chilla Well.
A few spots of rain fell as I admired the glorious desert landscape and beautiful clouds in the soft afternoon light.
Remember that bit about deserts being dry?
As daylight faded, the need to find a camping spot became urgent. While it was vast, open country, we didn’t want to be fumbling around in the dark among the spinifex.
Then it appeared in a shaft of golden light. A welcoming sign advertised the local campground…
FOR YOUR SAFETY AND COMFORT
PLEASE DO NOT CAMP HERE Bingo.
If the service was terrible, at least the price was unbeatable.
Above: Time to hit the Tanami.
Left: Everything, including fuel consumption, was close to the limit. There was nothing left for contingency.
Right: The cooperative behaviour in a pair of beetles was quite remarkable.
Below: If the service was terrible, at least the price was unbeatable.
We found a little sidetrack and set up camp just before it got dark. After a long day it was nice to snuggle into my sleeping bag. I was well into the Land Of Nod until sometime in the early hours I heard that dreadful sound… Pat. Pat. Pat. Rain.
It became solid, pelting rain and formed deep puddles on the flat ground. My tent leaked.
We were still nearly 200km from Yuendumu and there was no way we could ride while the road was wet. We worried if it didn’t let up we could’ve been stuck there for a while. Would we run out of supplies? David and I eyed each other warily. There wasn’t much meat on me
and what there was was a bit stringy. I had visions of our desiccated corpses being discovered one day.
While we were relieved when the rain eased, there was no way the roads were passable. To amuse myself I wandered around, admiring the landscape.
There was a maze of tracks in all directions and passing drivers seemed to think it was just fine to dump garbage anywhere. I looked with a touch of dread at the deep ruts through the sludgy road surface. I hoped it’d dry out over the next 24 hours or we’d be spending the day falling over.
I thought we could maybe hunt for insects to eat, and I found a pair of the diligent little office workers rolling a turd, but I wasn’t keen on munching on dung beetles.
Later, I posted a short video online which sparked this response from an expert at the Queensland Museum: ‘That is a remarkable video of the beetles... mostly because they are not true dung beetles but a species of Omorgus in the scarab family Trogidae. These are
common carrion beetles and they are usually associated with the final dry stages of carcass breakdown when there isn’t much more than hide and cartilage left. I have never heard of them relocating a food source, so while that rolling behaviour is common in true dung beetles, it is unknown so far as I am aware in Trogidae. That cooperative behaviour in a pair of beetles is quite remarkable.’
We’d managed to avoid the serial killer, but we hadn’t counted on flesh-eating beetles. Would they try rolling us into the scrub to feed their offspring?
That night we made a campfire and ate a simple meal that, luckily, didn’t include any insects. We girded our loins for what could be a big day to follow.
We woke the next morning to clearing skies. Though the road looked like it’d dried somewhat, we were in no doubt we had a challenging day ahead. Some parts were okay and some parts weren’t. When the rain hits out there, hard clay becomes gloopy mud where passing vehicles gouge deep wheel ruts. From the
other side of a sludge puddle we could see a car swerving as the driver struggled to keep the thing pointing in approximately the right direction.
We met a grader driver who told us cheerfully that the road was closed. Not that he was fussed of course, and nobody was suggesting we should be left stranded in the desert.
We slipped, paddled and fumbled along until, without mishap, we reached firmer ground. I was running about 20psi in my front tyre and it was too much. In those conditions I should’ve dropped it to 18psi or maybe even 16psi.
Arriving in Yuendumu felt like a moment of triumph (and BMW). We stuffed our faces and filled our tanks before the final leg to Alice. We’d done the worst of the Tanami and we laughed at the hardships it had thrown at us.
But we laughed too soon. It had one last trick up its sleeve.
David was – I kid you not – 20 metres from the start of the tar when he had a major lose. Imagine riding that far to dump it within seconds of the end?
Somehow he was able to hang on and that allowed us to do the final hop to Alice without shame.
After Alice it was time to head home, giving me one last chance for glory. Of course it was still wet, but the puddle coming out of Trephina Gorge west from Alice looked benign…except some swines had left a perfectly formed front-wheelcatching hole invisible in the murk.
Splat. Down I went before I knew what happened.
My boots filled with water and my lower half was soaked, giving me a chilly ride for the remaining few hours.
Unfortunately the road through Oodnadatta was closed due to the rain, so we trundled down to the Flinders Ranges via Woomera. My wife, Anne, rode solo from Canberra in the wind and rain to meet us in Berry so she could admire our glistening armour.
In hindsight we’d say the Tanami is perfectly doable with good preparation.
The main challenge was not knowing what to expect over such a long distance.
The road is long and reasonably challenging for a competent rider.
Unless, that is, it rains.
But hey, there’s no ‘adventure’ in ‘easy’.
Top left: Solid, pelting rain formed deep puddles on the flat ground.
Above: A campfire and a simple meal that, luckily, didn’t include any insects.
Left: The road is long and reasonably challenging for a competent rider. Unless it rains.
For more stories, Rod Taylor’s book Ten Journeys on a Fragile Planet is published by Odyssey Readers can also search ‘todo larry Kimberley’ on Youtube for more of Rod’s adventures.
Most adventure riders wear knee guards. Some may not even realise it as most adventure pants have some measure of padding or protection built in. Any rider who’s not using knee guards of some kind probably won’t be riding for long. The knee is too vulnerable to survive unprotected in any off-road motorcycling application.
Knee braces are a higher level of knee protection, and while they’re accepted as standard equipment by motocrossers and enduro riders, they’re a lot less common in the adventure-riding
world. That’s interesting, because with the weight and sheer horsepower of big adventure bikes, the stress on a rider’s knees can be astronomical.
Having to support 200kg or more of bike on one angled leg propped on a rock or tree trunk can be a no-stops ticket to Knee Reconstruction City. And any rider who sticks his hoof out to rail a rut on a big bike with the
u
throttle open risks massive damage to a big range of body parts, but the knee will be the front runner. These are a couple of scenarios where a knee brace – as opposed to a knee guard – is worth its weight in gold.
More than that, probably. Modern knee braces weigh cock-all.
Do what?
Good-quality knee braces offer a high level of impact and abrasion protection, as do some knee guards, but braces are primarily concerned with preventing,
Left: Brett Nicholas, CEO of POD Active and a keen adventure rider.
Below left: Allowing the knee its normal range of movement is as important as restricting unwanted flex and twist from external forces.
Below middle: The high-tech components of POD’s K8. Note the synthetic ligament, adaptive cuffs and carbon-fibre frame.
Below: A patella cup – impact protection for the kneecap – should be part of the brace and should be CE-certfied.
or reducing the severity of, ligament damage.
The components of a knee include bones and ligaments. There’s bugger-all flex in bones, but quite a bit in ligaments. When a rider throws a heap of stress on a leg, the ligaments in the knee can stretch or snap. Most riders would be familiar with the terms ‘anterior cruciate ligament’ and ‘posterior cruciate ligament’ because they’re the ones bandied around the most. But there’s also medial and lateral collateral ligaments, and, while we’re in the soft-tissue department, the medial
and lateral meniscus – the soft, slippery bits on top of the tibia which stops bone rubbing on bone. Tearing a meniscus is no party at a brewery either. When a rider throws a heap of stress on the joint and something has to give, it’s usually the ligaments which stretch or snap, and they’re what holds the parts of the knee in place. Not only is ligament damage painful, treatment is usually very expensive and recovery slow. Surgery is the normal path for serious ligament repair, and six to nine months of rehab and recovery time about standard. Knee braces are specifically targeted to minimise or avoid that type of injury.
The idea is for a tough, rigid material to brace against the long bones of the leg, the femur and tibia, so when the knee tries to bend too far forward, sideways or, to a lesser extent, twist, the brace uses the strength of the leg’s long bones to prevent the damaging movement.
Naturally the knee brace needs some kind of hinge to allow the knee to still
function normally, and that’s where the really high-tech aspect of a knee brace is underlined. In years past some of the metal hinges have been mechanical monstrosities. They looked like a couple of front sprockets welded to rebar. Modern synthetics allow extremely light, durable and, above all, comfortable hinges which a rider can barely feel. The same goes for the rigid or frame sections of a brace. Composites like carbon fibre mean the frame sections can be incredibly slim and light but still provide incredible support. Those things combine for a very high level of comfort, and that’s always been the objection to knee braces: when they were bulky it was hard to fit them inside riding pants, and then the big hinges of yesteryear made it difficult to grip the tank with the knees or feel what was going on with the bike.
All those problems are pretty much in the past. The current crop of knee braces are slinky little outfits, we can tell you.
Aussie company POD Active is at the leading edge of brace technology, not just for riders, but for a variety of sports, and not just for knee braces. POD is constantly researching and developing new technologies for braces in a wide range of activities.
Brett Nicholas, CEO at POD Active, is a very enthusiastic proponent of the knee brace. He’s an adventure rider himself, so he knows what it means to take a big bike off road and how tough it can get. He was at the Congregation of couple of years ago and gave a very clear and succinct rundown on knee braces and their advantages, and he was happy to chat to us again.
Brett pointed out that while prevention of injury was important, for adventure riders who tend to be past their physical prime, there’s a very real benefit in braces for comfort and support as well.
“If you’re a bit older and maybe carrying an old knee injury,” patellaed Brett, “a brace will give structural support so you’re not sore throughout your ride and when you finish the ride later in the day.
“Between their gear and what their bike weighs, if an adventure rider loses the front in a washout or in sand or on a wet tree root, the amount of force through the knee is insane.”
Brett gets really excited when asked to talk about advances in designing and building braces.
“A brace is insurance these days. They’re very lightweight, very slim, they’re vented and made from premium quality materials, and they’re extra security for when a rider has to throw his leg down and dab to support that fully loaded adventure bike.
“A few years ago POD incorporated what we call ‘adaptive cuffs’ to the frame ends. The great thing about the adaptive cuffs, upper and lower, is they conform to various leg shapes, adapt to muscle movement, and they disperse the load. So they reduce the risk of a skeletal fracture.
“The biggest difference between POD and every other knee brace out there is POD uses a moulded, one-piece hinge. A lot of companies use two pieces screwed together. POD has also developed a synthetic ligament, so instead of the hinge relying on bulky mechanical restrictions, the synthetic ligament does the job in a very small, very strong filament.
“Each synthetic ligament has a tear and tensile strength of 460kg!” frothed Brett, clearly very excited. “With two of them in a brace, you can basically hang 800kg of bikes off your brace and nothing would happen.”
Choosing a good brace is not much different to choosing any other gear. Get the best you can afford. Look for the frames to be rigid and the whole brace to be lightweight. The only way to achieve both those things is for the brace to be built using premium, high-tech materials. Medical compliance is another important factor which is often ignored. There’s no acknowledged standard for knee braces in motorsport, so the best way of ensuring a brace is likely to do its job is to look for compliance with standards like TGA (Therapeutic Goods Administration) in Australia, and FDA (Food and Drug Administration) in the US. If those endorsements are there, it means the brace has been approved for medical-standard rehabilitation and treatment. Look for CE-approval for impact protection as well, and make sure the brace has CE-approved protection for the rider’s kneecap. Finally, the fit of the brace is critical. Make sure it’s as snug and comfortable as practicable. For the brace to do its job properly there can’t be any sloppiness in the fit. It should conform as closely as possible to the wearer’s leg for the brace’s entire length and circumference. Off you go. Get shopping.
A brace will give structural support to avoid soreness throughout and after a ride.
Having taken the plunge and led his first ride in Thailand for Bike Tour Asia last issue, Scott Stoodley geared up for a ride at home. He and a few good mates headed for the hills.
It was way back in January 2020 when good mate Captain Ray and sat around his huge dining-room table to map out a preliminary route for a four-day adventure ride through the high-country of NSW and Victoria. At that time large sections of each state had copped the bushfires of Christmas a month or so before and we were keen to put some business the way of the affected areas. We were also concerned about whether it might not be possible to get through.
Little did we know at the time it wouldn’t be the bushfires putting a year-long hold on our plans. It would be a virus named COVID19.
As Christmas 2020 came and went we thought we’d make another attempt at getting the plan off the drawing board and onto the trails for March 2021.
The group was made up largely of the guys who had supported my first tour as part of Bike Tour Asia in late 2019, plus a couple of other punters also looking to get on a Vietnam tour with us when international travel could properly return.
As we had three starters in southeast Queensland – Toowoomba, Brisbane and the Gold Coast – and the rest out of Melbourne, Mt Buller and Rutherglen, Albury was the chosen meeting point.
I was in the Queensland contingent and our plan was to take a four-day pre-ride adventure to get to Albury. The overnight destination for the first day was Bellingen, near Coffs Harbour on the NSW mid-north coast, so my old mate Gary made the run down from Toowoomba to my digs at Burleigh the night before the official departure. He was rapt to be making his first long ride on a newly acquired 2016 Ducati 1200 Multistrada Enduro.
With bikes packed and excitement levels high we headed off bright and early.
Actually, it wasn’t so much ‘bright’. The Sunshine State had turned on grey skies and persistent showers. We made our way through the beautiful Gold Coast hinterland, the
Numinbah Valley and on to Tyalgum in northern NSW, for a breakfast stop and the rendezvous with the third banana bender, Mark, on his F800GS. Handshakes all ’round, good coffee and a break from the rain lifted spirits and we left Tyalgum with a better sense of the trip being ‘on’.
The run through Mebbin National Park presented the first section of unsealed road, and while it was mostly well-groomed, the stretch after Cutters Camp campground was rutted and recent rain had unearthed lots of greasy red mud. It was at that point I became very glad I’d decided to go with more aggressive tyres on the 1290 Super Adventure. The brand-new Bridgestone AX41s had been very sketchy on the wet bitumen a few hours before, but the front provided unbelievable grip through corners and the rear hooked up well. They instilled a truly confident feel through the Kato, even in the crap conditions.
Happy days.
Gary, on the other hand, had fitted more street-oriented adventure rubber to the Multistrada, so while he was high-speed through the sweepers, it all came to an unscheduled stop when he lost the front in the aforementioned red mud.
After getting the 250kg mothership back upright he slowly rolled the few kilometres to our regroup point to assess the fallout.
The rider escaped any personal injury, but the rear brake pedal was pointing to the sky instead of straight ahead. Gary asked if Mark or I had a big shifter in our kits. Seriously?
After we stopped laughing we heard a voice from a Tweed Shire Council truck driving slowly by.
“Are you blokes right?” it asked. Gary again enquired after the availability of industrial-grade hand tools and his prayers were answered. The council toolbox came out and the rear pedal was restored to its original orientation.
Game back on.
We got into a rhythm on sealed roads through Nimbin, Lismore and Coraki, then cut through a 40km
section of waterlogged dirt road to get to Whiporie on the Summerland Way.
The rain ensured the Waterfall Way lived up to its name with the falls below Dorrigo pushing hard over the road on some corners as we wound our way down the mountain to our hotel at Bellingen.
The second day finally brought some sunshine, and after breakfast by the sea at Nambucca Heads, we did the mandatory ride to the Pub With No Beer at Taylors Arm (lucky we don’t drink in the mornings).
decided to let my TomTom Rider GPS find us some new roads as we headed south and used the ‘Plan a Thrill’
function with the ‘twists’ and ‘hills’ options set to maximum levels.
We set off following the blue line on the GPS and for the first 20km or so it was fantastic unsealed road. But then suddenly I had the U-turn command appear. I turned the boys around and headed back some…then the U-turn again?
Just as I thought the GPS was stuffed I realised there was a narrow, overgrown ‘road’ branching off where I kept getting turned around. As I’d been big noting about my knobby tyres the others volunteered me to take a quick look down the track. It soon started turning to steep downhill single trail, so I reversed the 1290 around while I still could. We turned the thrill factor settings on the TomTom down a notch and found a more doable route through to Gloucester, the overnight destination.
South through the Hunter Valley wine country we went, and then, after 40km or so of dirt from Wollombi into St.Albans, we took a lunch break and one sneaky schooner at the historic Settlers Arms Inn. Due to some road closures we had to take a road on the other side of the MacDonald River and then both ferries at Wisemans Ferry to get back across to the planned gravel road that followed the Hawkesbury
River – little did we know a week later that same gravel road would be under around eight metres of water due to the once-ina-century flood of the area.
Blasting up and over the Blue Mountains was a great road-riding to finish to the day and the views were always dramatic, even more so with the remnants of the previous year’s bushfires still visible.
Mt. Victoria was the overnighter, and we can now recommend the Albert & Victoria Guesthouse as a must-do stopover point. It includes a classic heritage building with a bar on the upstairs verandah, a fine-dining menu and bike-friendly hosts who let us put the two-wheelers in garages out the back.
Nice!
The crap weather was back as we rolled down the mountain through a real pea-soup fog to Oberon. The rain then only got heavier all the way to Goulburn, and at that point we made the smart but unwanted decision to head down the Hume Highway to Albury – making a pact not to tell the Victorian lads what we’d done.
Finally at Albury we were joined by Paul (Tiger 800), Captain Ray (Super Ténéré), and Tony and Steve (both on Ténéré 700s), and those locals led us
Top: A cool and foggy ascent to get above the cloud line at Hotham.
Above: A short break at Mitta Mitta on the way to Omeo.
Below: The Crazy Cow café and bakery at Omeo supplied fuel and a bagged lunch.
Bottom: Dargo is a high-country crossroads and favourite stopover. u
through the next four days around the high-country region on routes very familiar to them.
We took a bit of a crisscross route overall and were using unsealed roads when possible, so we did less kilometres per day but had more intense riding. Omeo via Mitta Mitta was a cracking start and everyone settled into the groove. What the Ténéré 700s lacked in horsepower they more than made up for in fast turning and nimble handling, both on and off road. It was my first longer-term look at those machines in varied conditions and I must say I was really impressed.
The fact Steve and Tony were both gun riders probably helped. From Omeo the route followed mostly dirt roads running beside the Dargo River into Dargo itself. Campervans could be spotted every so often, set up on fantastic-looking camp sites cleared away right on the river bank. Dargo itself was an absolute picture, with lush green paddocks around the pub and general store, and after burgers at the pub there was time for a quick lay down in the shade before heading off. Sometimes getting old is good!
The following morning had us heading out of Bright and up to the peak of Mt. Hotham. It was a cool and foggy ascent to get above the cloud line, and once there we joined other groups of riders stopped to take a few pics of the surrounds.
Through the vacant ski fields we descended, back into Omeo, where we fuelled up and grabbed a bagged lunch from the Crazy Cow café and bakery. We then headed towards our overnight at the Dalgety pub and made our lunch stop at the Suggan Buggan camp area along Snowy River Road. We hadn’t seen another vehicle for hours, and lunch with the river flowing behind us again promoted a chilled-out feeling of just
away from the day-to-day home routine.
A blast back over the border into NSW, onto Barry Way and more dirt roads into Dalgety capped off another memorable day at another classic regional Aussie pub.
The last day with the full group had us rocketing along Alpine Way past Thredbo and down endless kilometres of twists, careful not to take in the nonstop views for too long, and to stay focused on the next corner. At the base of the mountain we took a short detour into the Tom Groggin campground to fill the waterbottles and have a rest break. The local
kangaroos obviously get a regular feed from campers as they soon made their way over to check us out. Once they realised we were tight-arsed bikers they soon buggered off back to the campervan mob.
After lunch it was only a short leg to our final overnight stop at Corryong, but there was a slight delay as a farmer took his flock up the road to new paddocks. In good time the road cleared of sheep, utes and working dogs and were we on our way.
It turned out Thursday night was trivia night at the Corryong pub, and it seemed the whole town was up for it. Luckily we had good local knowledge within
the group as the Captain himself had thoughtfully booked ahead to ensure a table for our evening meal…good one, Ray! Sadly that was our last night to drink and take the piss out of each other. Midmorning we all went our separate ways to head home. We had all enjoyed the time spent on the roads and the reunion had been well worth the wait. Our last words were of planning the next ride – hopefully it’ll be Vietnam with Bike Tour Asia.
“Our happiest moments as tourists always seem to come when we stumble upon one thing while in pursuit of something else.” – Lawrence Block. Bob Wozga and a few mates discovered the truth of the author’s words on a run through the Blue Mountains and Southern Highlands of NSW.
The early morning sun created long shadows in the fields as two hot air balloons drifted in the breeze above Cobbitty. The air had a May-morning freshness that bit into the face and signalled winter being near. Traffic was surprisingly light along The Northern Road and through the Blue Mountains, and with plenty of time to spare before the 9.00am rendezvous at Lithgow, I stopped at Mitchell Ridge Lookout to stretch my legs and admire the valley below. It was shrouded in fog and looked like a sea of white contained by sandstone cliffs.
After meeting the rest of the lads at Lithgow for a cup
of coffee and toasted sandwich we made a quick inspection of the bikes. Rod’s NT Deauville, Craig’s ST, Phil’s V-Strom 1050 and my DR650 were loaded and ready to go. Jim’s restored HJ panel van and Peter’s Subaru made up the rest of the group.
Each to his own
It doesn’t matter whether you ride a dualsporter or a road bike. It doesn’t matter the size of bike,
Main: It doesn’t matter whether you ride a dualsporter or a road bike. It’s what you’re comfortable with that matters. Below: A weekend ride to Black Springs, south of Oberon, NSW, was organised to sort out gear for a planned run to Broken Hill. u
how fast you ride or what distance you want to travel. It’s what you’re comfortable with that matters.
And just as the bike you choose to ride is about comfort, so too is packing for motorcycle camping. For some riders it’s about travelling with the barest essentials, while others take what they think they may need. Doing a few solo weekend trips helps sort out what a rider feels should be included if, and when, longer journeys are planned. Travelling with a group allows seeing what works for others and what can be improved on to make your own trip more comfortable.
With a trip to Broken Hill planned in the new year, not all the lads had camped from their bikes, let alone camped since their misspent youth. Nor had they been west of Dubbo. So a weekend to Black
Springs, south of Oberon, NSW, was organised to test our camping gear, and to sort out what we needed compared to what we wanted.
Basically, we had to find out what each of us was comfortable with.
Check list
I like to pack my bike with what I would take on a weekend bushwalk: hiking tent, sleeping bag, mattress, groundsheet, 360° gas-stove-and-pot set, torch, metal cup, knife, fork and spoon, tea, coffee and sugar, two 1.25ml bottles of water and a camp chair.
v Food – a satchel of soup and fruit for dinner. A can of beans and bread rolls for breakfast. Lunch is usually bought on the road and muesli bars carried for a snack. Other supplies can be bought when
traveling through towns. Depending on where I go, I sometimes take a fishing rod with lures and foil to cook the fish when caught.
v Clothes – a spare pair of socks, underwear, spare pair of jeans and change of shirt, sweatshirt and sneakers, wetweather gear. To save space, I roll clothes together. A clean pair of socks and underwear can be rolled in a clean shirt or jeans. Standard toiletries and camp towel are also included.
v Tools – minimum tools required to repair a flat tyre, compressor, tyre-pressure gauge, spare fuses and spark plug, spanners that fit the nuts and bolts of the bike, screwdrivers, insulation tape, a multitool and a couple of cable ties. Essentially, the minimum tools to do running repairs. A hatchet to cut branches
Above: From Mitchell Ridge Lookout the valley below was shrouded in fog and looked like a sea of white contained by sandstone cliffs.
Left: The campground at Black Springs backed onto the pine forest, giving it a European feel. Below: After a big day’s ride.
for a fire. A charger for my phone and a camera. I’m old school –I like to take paper maps with me. I find they give a better picture of alternate routes if detours need to be made and don’t fail if the battery goes flat.
These are items I feel comfortable with and have been taking for some time. The only thing I would change for a ride of a week or longer is to use a large dry bag instead of my top box. Other people will of course feel more comfortable taking more equipment and some will take less. After our discussion the major changes we all agreed on were refining how we packed our equipment to save space and give better access to things we may need when stopped on the side of the road – like wetweather gear.
The Jensen button
Gliding past Lake Lyall and rolling over the hills through Sodwalls into Tarana the bikes were doing what they were designed to do…put us in a Zen frame of mind. It also helped when the landscape looked like a Walter Withers painting.
A handful of bikes were already parked in front of Tarana pub when we arrived.
A quintessential country pub, the Tarana Hotel has an easy atmosphere with an ample beer garden overlooking the valley
Available from Rocky Creek Designs or all good motorcycle stores through Pro-Accessories
Everything you will need to get you out of trouble if you get a puncture.
This kit contains our award winning MotoPressor Puncture Repair Tool, 5 pre-glued vulcanized repair strings, an inflation tool and 3 x 16g CO2 canisters and a neoprene bag. The bag with its contents, will take up a small amount of room in your pannier or pocket.
The size of the bag containing the kit is only 13.5cm wide x 10.5cm high x 4cm depth and weighs just 582g.
and train station. As he poured liquid gold from the tap, the publican told us trade had increased since COVID19 as more people were doing day trips and exploring the region.
Heading south, amber trees shouldered the road in the autumn light while sheep grazed beside the Fish River. At O’Connell, six Jensens were proudly parked in front of the bustling pub.
It’s rare to see a Jensen these days, let alone six in one place, and as much as the Jensens were an icon of British engineering in the 1960s, people were still drawn to Jim’s HJ. The nostalgia of a panel van, Bathurst and Holden all melded together and brought back memories of a simpler time.
There isn’t much in O’Connell, but the road from Lithgow through Tarana to Bathurst is fantastic and the burgers at the O’Connell Hotel are well worth the ride.
Buying supplies in country towns also helps their economy, and fuel tanks were filled and food bought in Oberon. We stopped at Lake Oberon to scout out the camping ground for future trips and see if the trout were biting, and a
few happy campers had their fires going while anglers patiently waited on the lake shore for a bite. Being a dam, the fishing is there all year round. Amenities were basic with public toilets and barbeques, and camping is free. Unfortunately, Rod didn’t catch a fish for his or our dinner.
The campground at Black Springs was also very basic and backed onto the pine forest giving it a European feel. Toilets are provided along with one or two picnic tables, and camping is free. During April and May the forest is alive with people foraging for pine mushrooms. The forest is also popular with fossickers looking for sapphires and it’d be easy to spend a whole day exploring the forest tracks. The following morning notes were
compared on which mattresses were better, whether a two-or three-man tent was more suitable, and which gas stove was the premium choice. We all agreed it’s important to buy quality equipment. For example, tents with lined stitching, so they don’t leak in a storm and are easy to assemble and repack. It still came back to what was most comfortable for each individual.
The rain gods chased us on the return via Taralga. We decided to leave the planned visit to Goulburn War Memorial and museum for another day and headed to Berrima for lunch.
At Berrima we stumbled across Schmokin’.
Schmokin’ is one of those gems that appear from nowhere. Like an oasis, it
sits in the right place for the right reasons. There’s ample seating for a meal or drink and a guy in the corner with his guitar. You couldn’t ask for more on a Sunday afternoon.
Owned and operated by Martyn and Pauline Poytress, it has been open since June 2020 and looks to have been a success. I asked Pauline how they came up with the concept of café, apparel and workshop.
“Schmokin’ was born over the family kitchen bench as an idea, with input from both our boys,” she explained.
“We chose Berrima because we’ve always loved the area, the beautiful countryside and quaint villages…the type of countryside we lived in and brought our children up in in the UK. We’ve since discovered what a great central location Berrima is for Sydney-to-Canberra and the Blue Mountains to the coast. They’re all easy as a day ride or a pit stop if going on through”.
Located at the southern end of Berrima it offers customers a café, apparel, Mutt Motorbike Sales, Valkree and Michael Blast Electric Bike Sales and hire, fabrication and spraying of seats and tanks, The Wellness Club, Motorbike Riding Club, a monthly whiskey tasting club and a platform for local singers at weekends.
“We purchased two BSA bikes in bits locally,” said Pauline. “The one the Wellness Club has restored so far is a 175cc BSA Bantam which has been sold locally with all the proceeds going back into the next restoration, and another 175cc BSA Bantam which is well on its way with more bikes in the pipeline...it’s purely a not-for-profit club.
“We usually see people come into us who are very reserved, and we start to explain what Schmokin’ is all about and the bikes we’re restoring and have restored in the Wellness Club, and how mental-health issues have touched so many people, us included. They then soon start to open up and you can see the deep emotions in some peoples’ eyes. We start to include them in our happy life at Schmokin’ and slowly see the smiles come back, encouraging them to come back and hang out with us again.”
The Wellness Club operates mainly Thursday mornings between 9.00am and noon and you just turn up...although you can actually turn up anytime for a hangout and a chat.
Martyn and Pauline have established an inspiring haven. With the stress of the last few years coping with drought, fires, isolation, fear of toilet paper shortages and fear of catching COVID19, they seem to have created a sanctuary in the Southern Highlands for whoever wants to stop for a plate of chicken wings and cider, tinker on a bike or just sit, breathe and watch.
It’s interesting how you can stumble across something extraordinary just by looking for a campground travelling to places you’ve never been.
Three blokes set out to make a film about a motorcycle adventure ride in Tasmania. Not a ride with hard-core adventurers and specialised equipment. Just some mates looking to stay grounded on bikes they’d built themselves. The result was awesome. Tom Gilroy tells the story.
It’s an honest story about the most simple of journeys.
Six mates on hand-built bikes threw themselves into a destination to see what would happen.
All trips take some form of planning, but there’s an art in leaving space for the unexpected and allowing the journey to reveal itself along the track.
Set in the rugged and inspiring landscapes of Tasmania, Wide Of The Mark follows a group of riders all from very different backgrounds: two motorcycle builders, a mechanic, a gear designer and two ex-freestyle riders. Having such a varied group proved almost necessary as we hit unexpected challenges daily. On each
occasion someone rose to the task and helped the team push through and get to the end of the road. Tasmania set the scene for our group during the first few days and the excitement around the trip grew exponentially. Apart from myself, none of the riders or crew knew exactly where we were headed each day, making the unknown our reality for two straight weeks of off-road discovery. Although I was clued in on the trip, all I had were dots on a map. How, when, and by what means we got there was left to chance. This was a major focus point of the film for the production team, Jake and Cam, making sure to capture the surprise
and awe we experienced on our way to each new location.
Incredible things happen with the unexpected addition of unlikely ingredients. Where’s the surprise in six people taking a trip on DR650s kitted out in an accessories store?
From the same perspective, why would anyone watch a group of friends ride their custom motorcycles to the bar and back?
But if I said, “We have six riders taking street bikes and modifying them to adventure spec for a longhaul journey to traverse terrain only trailbike riders would usually hit,” you may just get a little more intrigued.
That’s looking at it from the point of a viewer. Now imagine if I offered you a spot on this trip and you’ll get an idea of the reaction we had from riders. Its hard to go wrong with a motorcycle adventure of any kind. Add to it a mix of vintage and custom motorcycles meticulously modified to suit the trip and you add a completely new element. Enough gear? The right tyres? Enough fuel range? Will the suspension hold up? Will the bike fall to pieces on the first rutted-out track?
All these questions were left unanswered until we were on the road. Once off the ferry the only thing that mattered for us was ‘if my bike does fail, do have the skills to fix it on the run?’
Between the monstrous Harley Davidson Sportster and the ultralight –albeit a little underpowered – 400cc single there was a mix of vintage motorcycles and modern classics. Max on his lightly modified Triumph Bonneville, Matty on the unbreakable 1978 CB650, a hand-built Triumph America 965 and, the oldest and most troublesome, a 1972 Triumph 650 built by Keeley.
With motorcycles built and assembled in small workshops and garages, breakdowns and on-the-run fixes became less of a holding point for the trip and more of a staple challenge the team faced together. Wide Of The Mark highlights the get-it-done attitude adventurers need on a testing road trip. Throughout the film
we overcame everything from a roadside top-end rebuild to a wheel exploding and needing to be laced and trued midway through Tasmania. It was testing at the time, but that night around the campfire all we could do was laugh about it and the next day, keep riding.
That sort of misadventure and challenge was exactly why Wide Of The Mark took custom-built adventure bikes to unthinkable destinations.
Highs, lows, moments and destinations
Most people know, or have heard, how beautiful Tasmania is and how great a road trip can be. Wide Of The Mark wanted to touch something different… to push for the path less travelled. In the pursuit of a daily dose of awe, a lot of room was left for discovery. We planned to go get lost, take advice from locals or just enjoy a wrong turn. Often times we ended up somewhere unexpected and stayed for too long as we enjoyed
whatever Tasmania was serving up for us to ride that day.
To name a few standouts, our ’bar-to’bar race up the switchback roads of Jacobs Ladder was one hell of a ride, jostling for position on a loose gravel road with a rock face on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It made for a fun afternoon, especially wrestling the Sportster around up there.
Another favourite on the east coast was the ride through Lake Leak, a desolate playground of fallen trees, deep mud and tight, forest single tracks. All of this opened up into high-speed logging trail to finish just as the sun set.
Each day delivered a new highlight, usually quickly followed by one of our riders getting too excited, crashing out, or just twisting the throttle a little too hard and breaking something on their machine. On a trip like this you quickly realised the roadside repairs and maintenance were as much a part of the trip as the ride itself.
It’s always tough at the time. Like being stuck in freezing rain with a bike missing its lower tripleclamp bolt that needed the fork leg removed to finish the repair. No jacks, minimal tools, just a few mates and whatever we could find in the bush. Those moments are the ones that stick in the memory the longest.
Adventure stories always start with how amazing the ride was, but are often ended with a laugh about all the shit endured to get there. We exist so these stories can take place.
A consistent challenge was deciding who was going to bump start Matty’s CB650 after the charging system gave out. It was okay on a flat road, but on
the sand dunes or a muddy lake bed it was no easy task.
A decision was made early on the trip. If anyone was to break down and needed time to repair their bike, they’d be given what they needed or helped to a place where they could do the repair. Then the group would push on. It made for some great comeback moments throughout the trip. Keeley rebuilt a top-end beachside in northern Tasmania, and I rebuilt the Sportster wheel after a catastrophic failure.
Riding back into the campsite for the night was a huge triumph. Riders were greeted with big smiles and a cold beer to catch up on the stories missed.
The overall theme and lessons Adventure can be as simple or as complicated as you want to make it.
The real question that needs to be asked is, ‘Which do you find more exciting?’ Some people get off on a meticulously planned trip, everything accounted for and a full second bike for spares. For me it’s more about getting into the shit and figuring a way out of it. Whether that means building and riding a bike that was never meant to reach the destination and taking it there, or just taking the bare essentials and having confidence enough in yourself and your crew that when, not if, things go south, you’ll to figure it out and carry on enjoying yourself on a bike held together with fencing wire and fixed using a log as a work bench.
Those moments force self-evaluation and self-discovery, pushing an individual to not only enjoy the incredible ride, but smiling through the challenges overcome to earn those kilometres.
The Wide Of The Mark riders all knew each other before the trip, but after sharing such a raw and profound experience all were bonded by it. Regardless of the small roadside blow ups and clashes, every rider brought something necessary to the table. At the right time that person shone through. We learned to love the hard times because it meant something better was just over the hill. I can confidently say that for myself and the other riders of Wide Of The Mark it wouldn’t really matter if we made it to the finish line as long as we had as much fun as possible trying.
Looking for a ride offering plenty of choices, that’s not hours from bakeries, cafes, pubs and has any number of places to camp? Not sure where to start? Graeme Sedgwick wasn’t either, but he sorted something out.
Arecent excursion exposed my lack of resilience. I expected it would be chilly, but it all became icy cold. So much so that, even though I thought I’d packed to cover nearly every probable eventuality, I wished I’d packed an ice pick.
Shivering in my tent in a semi-frozen trance before dawn, I asked myself over and over, ‘Why?’
The pub and motel I’d ridden past suddenly held priceless attraction.
I must have been mad. Thank goodness the clear blue skies – which no doubt contributed to the low temperatures – coupled with almost trafficfree passages of riding to more than compensate for the low temperature.
Anyway, here’s a suggestion that delivers a short, or overnight, adventure in the chilly months that can, if you’re lucky, become very special.
Yes, sometimes chilly can be
Above: Defrosting after a damn cold night.
Right: A region that offers good short adventure rides in the chilly months.
rewarding in surprising ways. Thank goodness.
The plan was simple enough. There were a couple of forestry areas I’d visited at different times and I wanted to link them together by way of as many secondary or minor backroads as practical. I was looking for challenges as much as relaxed, scenic touring, and I wanted to safely and responsibly ride through rural Victoria during
times which had become less and less predictable as a byproduct of living with COVID19. However, on the upside, it was certainly a most refreshing, enjoyable excursion to, and through, different regional localities. A visit to the odd bakery, seeing hundreds of wind turbines and the feeling of charging across the landscape under stunning, clear blue skies made for a magic ride.
An hour or thereabouts away from Victoria’s Surf Coast shire, my start point was an almost Harry Potter-like laneway of pine trees just west of Elaine.
That might sound a little nonspecific, but one has to start somewhere, even when one is not exactly sure where to start. u
Lal Lal land
Westward from that mystical laneway the trail crossed Williamson Creek up into the forest near Garabaldi from the south. It’s a magic place loaded with an assortment of clay, gravel and coarse, blue-stonescattered dirt roads that rise and fall
across the area’s contours. They’re signposted Sand, Orchid, Aggott 1 and 2, Carroll, Parkinson, Bower, Burnett, Halls, Braybrook and numerous other names which link up to provide a high level of riding entertainment worthy of discovery. Someone such as myself could’ve just as
easily gone arse up and bike down while daydreaming in a couple of spots. Away from Garabaldi, after having spent way too much time playing around, my journey picked its way eastward, cutting up through Lal Lal, an almost abandoned village named after the Lal Lal pastoral run in 1845, as were the nearby falls on the Lal Lal creek. The locality was a prosperous quartz and alluvial mining area complemented by similar activities along a reef to the southeast up and over Mount Doran. My course headed further northward across a chilly landscape, scooting over the varying terrain under a warming clear blue sky.
It’s interesting to see how a windswept landscape in these parts has been transformed by a staggering number of tall wind turbines. As massive as these engineered structures are, they hold a weird sort of fascination. Once they could’ve been thought the work of aliens, but now they’re a prominent part of the conversation jigsaw around energy supply. Like it or not, en masse they’re a sight to behold, let alone attempt to photograph. It’s not easy to impart
Left: An hour or so from Victoria’s Surf Coast shire, the start point was an almost Harry Potter-like laneway of pine trees west of Elaine.
Below left: It’s not easy to capture the enormous scale and majestic blades with a single image.
some sense of their enormous scale and majestic blades with a single image.
With the wind farm behind me I tracked east of Millbrook and south of the Western Highway before turning north to follow Conroy’s Road to the western frontier of Wombat State Forest. Sitting largely between Woodend and Daylesford, the Wombat occupies some 70,000 hectares. Choices abound within the forest country’s hilly terrain, whether that’s scouting the likes of Barkstead, Broken, Simpson and Brickhouse Tracks – as well as anything in between – or further along Squires Track then White Point Track and Burma Track before catching a moment’s breath in the peaceful village of Eganstown.
Below: The forest near Garabaldi is loaded with an assortment of clay, gravel and coarse, bluestone-scattered dirt roads. u
Above: Heading north through central Victoria.
Alternatives
Deep Spring Road followed across Butterfly Track, Werona Track and then through Shepherds Flat and onto Yandoit Track which shot through the thinning northern reaches of the Wombat State Forest into the small, charming, old mining locality which shares its name.
Yandoit was first settled by Captain John Stuart Hepburn, and the discovery of alluvial gold in 1854 attracted some 5000 miners into the area, and it was proclaimed a township 28 years after the gold ran out. Yandoit’s about 30km from the thriving getaway township of Castlemaine, just west of the Calder Highway, and is only about 120km from Melbourne. Castlemaine’s bakeries, cafes and pubs are as perfect a place as any to enjoy a pause, rendezvous or simply call it a day then and there.
With energy reserves replenished I needed to catch up on some time, because my indulgent detouring through the many beckoning forestry tracks had placed me well behind where I’d hoped to be. My plan had been to find my way to some nondescript spot within the peace and tranquillity of the Murray River forestry country, hopefully weaving along a blend of firm-packed gravel, sand, and in places, gluey clay between countless river gums.
Distance and time realities beckoned and a charge up the Calder Highway held no appeal. Instead I navigated via Maldon and Newbridge, chasing my front wheel
along a mix of unsealed and secondary sealed roads to Bridgewater – which, by the way, has a great pub that boasts a fantastic menu. I made sure enjoyed the tucker there on my return journey. The flatter country in those parts is uncomplicated to navigate. It’s a billiardtable-like layout bisected with an almost grid-like network of passages and provides an enjoyable change of scenery and pace. It allowed chasing down some time while keeping a very sharp eye out for unsuspecting meandering locals going about their rural activities along the various fenced laneways.
Further northward I toured the landscape
via Mitamo and eventually picked up Davis Road before rolling into the northern Victorian township of Gunbower in the Shire of Campaspe. The area broadly presents a different range of riding possibilities which contrast to the coarse gravel and rocky outcrops of the day’s earlier sections. There’s also Gunbower Island Forest, Australia’s largest inland island. It was an opportunity to refuel and grab any overlooked necessities before heading off to the place I’d set out to find: a spot of protected tranquillity where I could remind myself how lucky we are to have an opportunity to consolidate when others can’t even imagine the benefits of a free COVID19 jab.
Left: Craig Jackson. Dedicated to giving his best in whatever he did. Taken in June, 2021, and sadly missed.
Right: Craig with the legendary ‘Ratboxer’, a BMW R1100GS that dated to around the same period as Noah’s Ark and with a similar degree of sophistication.
Insert: The author had a custom- printed shirt with this artwork. Craig was chuffed (note the twin cylinders and Band-Aid). The website is at ratboxer.com.
Same-same
I’d met Craig a few years earlier at the Benambra pub. We were both into photography and we were, like, totally yackityyack camera blah-blah-blah, leaving poor David and Mikey to amuse themselves. It was Craig’s first serious dirt ride and the trio had ridden down via Mt Skene, Howitt Plains and the Marathon Road, all of which were wet, muddy and generally crappy. It was also my introduction to the legendary ‘Ratboxer’, a BMW R1100GS that dated to around the same period
A true adventure rider is remembered by a close friend.
Rod
Images: Rod
and
The bike went left. The bike went right. Then it went left again as I fed in as much power as I dared, trying to float the front over the deep sand. In blurry GoPro footage I could be seen turning around to give a hero’s thumbs up.
What couldn’t be seen was...splat. My riding mate went down. He told me later he was laughing.
That was Craig, our friend. Luckily, Dieter, also in the group, wasn’t far behind and helped pick up the bike while I rode on feeling pleased with myself.
as Noah’s Ark and had a similar degree of sophistication.
I would say Craig and the Ratboxer were inseparable – but separate they did a few times. Craig hadn’t yet nutted out the off-road thing, saying on his blog it was ‘...the first time that I had gone 10 days on the bike with camping gear, and my newbie mistakes were obvious not
long after we hit the first dirt roads’. To his credit though, we did take our bikes through some fairly grotty territory and it wasn’t until I had a go on Ratty I appreciated what it meant to ride something that looked and ran like a steampunk machine. They say people are like their pets, and so it was with Craig and Ratty. Both were quirky with a thumping core.
After a few torrid rides Ratty was looking… well…ratty, and Craig decided to give it special treatment. He replaced the BMW dash with a row of flip switches and small, round indicator lights. The switches had flip tops, leading us to suspect their function was to protect the nuclear launch sequence. It might explain why, when starting the bike, he’d ask our help, saying, “On my mark...”.
Not long after the Benambra ride we headed off into the desert for the first of several rides into deep sand, rocks and occasional chaos. We winced when he showed up wearing a tatty pair of padded jeans and a heritage leather jacket.
When we crossed a creek on the road from Hawker to Marree, Craig pulled over.
The alloy subframe wasn’t designed for an abusive relationship involving rough roads and a heavy load, and Ratty’s backside had collapsed onto the wheel.
Craig wrote about the scene on his blog:
‘I was standing by staring vacantly at the arse end of the Ratboxer that seemed to be hanging onto the rest of the bike by nothing but the tail-light wires’.
Enter Craig the fixer. Craig the MacGyver. He whipped out a set of tyre levers and, using a combination string, hose clamps and cable ties, was able to secure it. With his inimitable wit, he described his reaction.
‘My first thought was to wave down the next southbound truck and see if I could get Ratty and myself home. My second thought involved…um…I believe the legal term is ‘arson’.’
That, however, was the first episode. There were more to come.
Left: Clowning around on the way to Cordillo Downs.
We made it to Birdsville without incident before turning east to Cordillo Downs, and graders working the Development Road had turned the surface into something worse than porridge. Craig and Ratty disappeared into a section so deep only the top of his helmet was visible.
‘A lot of ‘oh-shit’ moments for this sand-riding virgin,’ he wrote.
‘When I was able to get to my feet, empty my helmet, jacket, gloves, boots and mouth of beautiful, deep-red sand, I was astounded to find nothing hurt and that I may not be returning home via the flying doctor service.’
By the next day, Ratty was getting grumpy and needed some more MacGyvering. The throttle had become jammed and needed a rubber band to act as a return spring. An already recalcitrant bike now required Schwarzenegger hands to operate the throttle.
What we didn’t appreciate then was
Craig was also suffering the accumulated insults of hard landings.
He’d cracked a couple of ribs.
If you’ve ever damaged ribs you’ll know just how painful that is, but he barely mentioned it. That was our mate, Craig.
I never saw him flustered, fazed or angry. Not that it was a put-on. That just seemed to be how he was.
Mind you, he could lob in a fairly direct observation when he thought it was due. While I occasionally scored one of those remarks, he never did it with malice. And usually he was right, the sod. It’d been a challenging introduction, but Craig was hooked, writing, ‘Two days later I pulled into my driveway, completely knackered and completely satisfied that adventure riding was now my thing.’
the risk, he decided to move on. He’d also been an artist, a barman, a postie and a senior product manager at Kodak before it went bust. He set up a charity bicycle group called WeCycle.
Below: He was laughing. That was Craig, our friend. Right: Using a combination string, hose clamps, cable ties and tyre levers he was able to secure the subframe. u
We were hooked too, not just with the adventure riding, but with our companion.
When I met Craig he was working as a product photographer with a jeweller. It was just one of an eclectic array of jobs he’d had. He told me about having been a courier for diamonds and other precious gems. He’d arrive in a city carrying a suitcase packed with millions of dollars of stock. Organised crime groups would suss out the couriers and, sooner or later, they would get hit. When he saw the combination of pay and novelty was outweighed by
After a bad experience with an employer who was going backwards, he left a jewellery marketing job and it wasn’t long before he’d found his niche with Compass Expeditions.
It seemed he’d made an impression on that company too, with the website saying Craig’s job application read ‘…we had dangled his ‘live the dream’ role in front of him’.
And indeed, he loved the job. It was great for him, but not so great for us because he then went skipping all around the world, from Asia to South America and places with weirdly spelt names like ‘Kyrgyzstan’.
joined Craig for the Adventure Rider Magazine Congregation at Tingha in 2019 and he kept bumping into Compass customers who knew him. I could see he was well liked and, when I grew tired, I retired to my sack. At around midnight he toppled into the side of my tent, full
of good cheer.
He seemed to be fairly unaffected by that and early the next morning we headed home to Canberra, although he did disappear for a while for emergency coffee in Tenterfield.
Settling in
On the way home he told me about how he was hoping to integrate the Compass Expeditions booking, accounts and rider app. My own background is IT and media and I’m used to people being clueless with this stuff, so I was impressed when
he gave such a cogent explanation. It was clear Craig had a talent, not just for marketing, photography and mechanical things, but with people. I could see he’d be irreplaceable at Compass.
Then, of course, they were hit by the plague.
With tours running across more than 40 countries, the business was put on hold, kept ticking over by JobKeeper. By this time he and his partner Lizzy had moved to Canberra. That was great for my selfish reasons, because we were
able to get out for a few rides. He’d parked Ratty in favour of an 800GS. With that bike, plenty of experience and some training, his riding improved enormously. We went from where we’d be stopping to help pick up his bike, to pushing to stay with or ahead of him. He’d gone from being an ordinary rider to a really good one.
If Craig was disappointed when Compass folded, at least it gave him time to work on a few things, one of which was Project Ratty.
Finding new work took a while, and I think it was a good thing he didn’t end up in Canberra’s public service. He wasn’t the person for a stodgy nine-to-five desk job.
Eventually he found a role he enjoyed, marketing for an online auction house. He told me he was faced with a tough decision when Compass burst back into life, but we both knew there was no choice. He was chuffed to be back in the game, even if it was only a few hours a week.
Meanwhile, Project Ratty was ticking over. We’d do sessions in his garage where he’d show me how it was progressing. Poor Ratty looked like he’d ridden it over a landmine and had bits sticking out everywhere. Running down the spine was a bundle of cables as thick as a tree trunk, looking like he’d ripped the guts out of a supercomputer. He showed me a cable that’d fried after being injected with the wrong voltage. I asked how he was going to put the smoke back in after it’d been let out, but he didn’t think it’d be much of a problem.
For a while Craig had been talking about a bespoke gig that involved him driving a support vehicle for a couple he knew from his Compass days. It was to be a drive/ shared-ride combo into some of his favourite country.
I’d been trying to catch up with Craig when I received the call with the awful news.
“How you doing?” I asked when I answered the phone.
The reply was uncharacteristically downbeat. “Craig’s been killed.”
I was stunned. Speechless. I didn’t know what to say or think.
It appears Craig had just begun his ride and was riding one of the bikes near The Rock, southwest from Wagga Wagga. At 7.15pm a car lost control and wiped him out.
We all know the risks. We hurtle down the road on a lump of steel at sometimes silly speeds and it only takes a poor decision or a drongo in a car to end it all.
I’d ridden a lot with Craig and he was a safe rider, not prone to pushing too far outside the zone. The police said there was absolutely nothing he could have done.
I posted a message on Facebook to let people know and within a couple of days there were over 700 responses. Not everyone knew Craig, but we can all relate to the death of a friend.
On one level, death is simple. One day Craig was alive, the next he wasn’t. Yet it remains an unfathomable divide-by-zero mystery. I can say the words but they make no sense.
One moment I’ll be calm and thinking about something else, then suddenly he pops into my head and I feel miserable. It hurts.
I think about poor Lizzy because whatever I’m feeling, it’s worse for her.
Now there’s a huge, Craig-shaped hole in my life.
We’re going to miss you, Craig.
A tribute posted by Compass Expeditions shows how much Craig was admired:
‘Not only was he our Sales and Marketing man, Craig took on any task that we threw at him. Washing motorcycles, handing over rental bikes to customers, ride leading and MC at our reunion events, flying to trade shows around the world and leading motorcycle tours in Thailand and driving support in Kyrgyzstan to name a few.
Craig became a parts mule, flying parts to Almaty, Kazakhstan for our Road of Bones support trailer and motorcycle parts to Nairobi, Kenya. Craig was up for anything and he was always dedicated to giving his best in whatever he did. It has been our honour to share part of our lives with Craig.’
The Salang tunnel in Afghanistan was built in 1964 by the friendly-at-thetime Soviet neighbours and was the highest road tunnel in the world until 1973. Towering 3360m above sea level, it’s a goliath concrete structure 2.6 kilometres long and filled with dirt, black ice and bottomless potholes. Travis Beard went in search of Afghanistan
Iwas fortunate enough to live in Kabul, Afghanistan, for seven years, first as a photojournalist, then teacher, band manager, festival organiser and finally as a filmmaker.
Before Afghanistan I’d never ridden a motorcycle. bought my first Chinese bike in Kabul to nurture my new friendship with journalist Jeremy Kelly. A year later
we founded the Kabul Knights Motorcycle Club; a loose bunch of misfit expats and Afghans who had a common love of dust-filled nostrils, rugged mountain backdrops and the open road curing our hangovers.
The rallying point for our Salang Pass departure was a walled-in
compound and we shuffled our departure times to discourage undesirables from building a profile on our movements. Club members Jason, Marius, Jeremy and myself, along with pillion newcomers Mau, Karin, Elissa and Alison, showed up shaggy-eyed and a little hungover, and the compound guards regarded us with bewilderment when they
heard our destination.
In the 1980s the route had been the setting for some of the most ferocious battles between the Afghans and the occupying Soviet communist arm. The Salang tunnel had been controlled by the Warlord, Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, one of the most controversial Mujahideen leaders. He had a habit of switching sides, or just killing fellow Mujahadin, throughout the Russian occupation. This didn’t stop him
Left: What a way to spend your last day in a warzone.
Above: The Salang road snakes and switchbacks through stone villages and Soviet-built concrete tunnels. Below: Riding in relatively close formation, not only for security, but also for spotting each other’s breakdowns.
from holding the office of Prime Minister twice in the ’90s. He’s also famous for calling in bombs on his own city, Kabul, and he’s now an active MP in the Afghan parliament.
One of my favourite stopovers on the way up to the Salang Pass was the immense military graveyard outside Charikar, a small, town-sized paddock full of the spoils of the Soviet occupation. There’s something about corroding, army-green
metal and birds tweeting under the looming, rusty coloured mountain range that made it the perfect smoking spot. It helped the caretaker was an ex-Mujahidin fighter who loved to share a hash cigarette to burn away his PTSD.
It was an unofficial museum for the ghosts of war.
Colourful past
The Salang road snaked and switchbacked through stone villages and Soviet-built concrete tunnels, both constructed to withstand the harsh winter weather of the region. We rode in relatively close formation, not only for security, but also
for spotting each other’s breakdowns.
The cheap Chinese bikes were prone to nuts rattling loose mid-journey. The ride was regularly interrupted by Jingli trucks – brightly painted and adorned with bells and other flamboyant decorations, each had a central theme of Bollywood characters or mythological Hindi heroes. The workhorse trucks moved commodities to every corner of Afghanistan. Everything from timber to pink, crinkled, one-ply toilet paper was stacked up to two metres above the trailer walls. And there was always a skinny boy who rode on the back of the truck to make sure the driver was
Above: An
Below: The Kabul Knights Motorcycle Club was a bunch of misfit expats and Afghans.
aware of low overhanging passes and goods lost overboard.
Near the top of the treeless, moonscape, mountain range was the crown jewel: the Salang Tunnel. Its creation helped open up the north of Afghanistan, cutting travel time between Kabul and Mazar-eSharif by eight hours and 300km. Being a crucial link for the military, it was prone to ambushes by the Mujahidin. In 1982 a tanker truck had exploded and the fire engulfed over 2000 people. In 1997 the tunnel’s ventilation system was destroyed in a battle between the Northern Alliance and the Taliban, so it was only accessible on foot. It didn’t open again to vehicles
Below:
until 2002. Subsequently, it was regularly hit by avalanches that swallowed up vehicles queuing to pass through the tunnel – the tunnel was such an integral link that there was always a queue at both ends.
It may just be one of the most dangerous tunnels in the world.
Dim view
The tunnel had no lighting apart from the ventilation windows spewing dusty streams of grey sunshine. The soot from trucks swallowed up our pissy headlights, and we were sucked into the acrid stench and darkness. The exhaust fumes were so thick in the tunnel visibility was barely five metres, and riding through was a perpetual near-death experience. Every attempt at overtaking a truck was met with an equal-sized truck coming the other way. It was a survival-show obstacle-course equivalent before reality TV had made it to Afghanistan. Both men and women wore headscarves to keep out toxic
u
vehicle fumes. Dodging oncoming traffic and potholes the size of small swimming pools made it a testing experience, and, shielding our eyes against blinding truck headlights, we trudged on until a speck of light illuminated the end of the riding obstacle.
The reward on the other side was an ominous portrait of Northern Alliance warlord Massoud, alongside burnt-out
A white Corolla full of Afghans kindly, but crazily, did a U-turn. The occupants piled out and helped Marius get the bike upright. Alison’s knee was bleeding pretty badly, so we tied an Afghan scarf around it, as much to hide flesh as staunch the blood flow.
Thankfully the beastly bike came off better than Alison and it started again. We all puttered out of that grimy, foul-tasting place; two more Salang casualties, but not statistics, and 20 minutes later a speck of light that announced the end of the tunnel was a welcome relief.
Once back in Kabul, we licked our wounds and quenched our thirst at our clubhouse.
tanks, incinerated shipping containers and makeshift guard quarters that doubled as a chai khana (a tea house). Snow was present there 365 days a year, and the potbelly stove, hot green tea and hash joints passed around soon warmed our chilled bones.
We took hero shots of each other with the Afghan police guarding the extreme outpost – this was back before the term ‘selfie’ was coined.
With a refreshed spring in our step,
we dove back into the darkness.
No-one was particularly looking forward to hitting the tunnel again, but it was the only way back to Kabul. Marius and Alison were bringing up the rear on his Chinese al Aktar 150cc bike, and I spotted Karin and Marianne snapping lower-leg shots of truck taillights in the carbon soup. Alison popped her Nikon F80 out of its case and the ‘tchuk-tchuk’ of the shutter went as she captured the colourful truck lights as well.
Then, BAM!
One minute they were upright, the next they keeled over into the abyss. Alison’s camera hit the tunnel wall first, then her knee, followed by Marius toppling over with the bike on top of them both.
We were barely into the depths of the tunnel when Marius’ steering had just locked up.
Traffic was light, fortunately, and nobody was too close behind them.
Alison visited the German medical clinic with Marius, who kindly paid her medical bill. Then Alison said goodbyes to us all as she had a flight home the next morning.
What a way to spend your last day in a warzone.
Luckily for Alison, her work brought her back to Kabul a few months later and she rekindled the friendship with Marius. They went on to date, later marry, and settle in South Africa.
The Bullet is Faster than the Bike
This and many more of Travis’ Afghan adventures will be available in a soon-to-be-published book The Bullet is Faster than the Bike. You can follow Travis @NotB412 or visit www.notb412.com
What could be better than a weekend riding with mates, exploring dirt and tar country roads and talking about the day’s ride over a meal and a drink in the evening? Combining that with raising money for kids suffering from cancer. That’s what! Unfortunately, the floods on the east coast in March meant a lot of re-organising and lastminute changes, and the event
Camp Quality Newcastle and a group of dedicated volunteers have been organising an event called Motocyc 4 Kids as an annual road ride since 2016. To entice a wider variety of riders it was decided to expand the 2021 ride to include an adventure course as well.
Annette Yarnold tagged along to see how things went.
went ahead away from the flooding and with less dirt than originally intended. There was still enough to keep it interesting for the adventure riders though, with a three-day route from Newcastle to Dubbo, Tamworth, Armidale then back to Newcastle via Moonbi and Murrurundi.
Volunteers
Damian Charleson is a Camp Quality volunteer and the one of
the prime movers behind Motocyc 4 Kids. Along with Sam Budden and Warwick Bartley, also Camp Quality volunteers, Damian oversaw the inclusion of a dirt section for adventure riders in 2021. Warwick, riding a BMW R1200GS Adventure said, “The adventure ride was an idea a few of us had and thought we could combine with Motocyc. If you can do something to help others and it’s something you love, that’s the key.”
Next year will be bigger and better with hopefully more adventure riders participating. Although Sam Budden rode the tarmac sections of the event in 2021 he’s convinced introducing the adventure section will get more people involved. “Next year should be almost exclusively dirt and exclusively road on the same event which will work great,” he said, leaving no doubt the route will appeal to any adventure rider wanting to be included.
The weather was incredible, the riding awesome, the organisation of the fully supported ride was second to none and an incredible $130,000 was raised to allow Camp Quality to continue its amazing work supporting children and families affected by cancer.
Twenty-three riders and two pillions joined the ride, with some breaking off on Saturday and Sunday to ride dirt sections and join up with the road riders for lunch and evening destinations. Friday ended up being all road riding to Dubbo after a brief attempt at taking on a dirt section near Cassilis ended up in turning around at an impassable creek. None of the riders minded though, as the adventurers knew the following two days would have dirt sections for them to enjoy.
On Saturday 11 riders on a variety of bikes, from a CRF250 Rallye to a BMW R1200GS and everything in-between, broke off to tackle a good dirt section from Dunedoo over Pandora’s Pass and into Bundella. Then the group roared through Colley Blue and Caroona on
fantastic country roads with awesome scenery and perfect riding conditions.
After a short stop at Werris Creek the group trundled through Currabubula to a lunch for all riders and crew at Wests Leagues Club in Tamworth before heading to Armidale.
The adventure riders broke off again at Bendemeer and enjoyed a great ride on surfaces from loose marble to hardpacked road base and everything inbetween – including a few creek crossings to keep things interesting.
The group rode into Armidale after almost two hours of awesome dirt to meet up with the road riders and crew at the Wicklow Hotel for dinner, drinks and yarns before calling it a day.
Rebecca O’Connell rode a Honda CB500X and took every opportunity to tackle the dirt sections, which she found more interesting and challenging than the tarmac.
“This is my first event,” she smiled.
“My husband Ryan did it last year and we decided we should both ride this year. Everyone is so lovely…complete strangers helping each other out. It’s like a big family. The riding has been awesome.
“I’m very passionate about helping kids, so putting the two together, doing something I love and raising money for kids that really need it, is awesome.”
Sam’s dad Peter Budden roosted the off-road sections on a Kawasaki W650 that looked like it belonged on the asphalt. When asked why he chose to ride the Kawasaki Peter answered, “Because I can’t handle the new technology and I like a simple bike.”
It was Peter’s third event. In 2019 he rode the W650 with a sidecar attached and it was the adventure route that enticed Peter to ride again in 2021.
“I think next year, having an entire adventure dirt section, I’ll knobby up and do that entirely,” he forecast.
Sunday started out chilly at Armidale with 13 adventure riders heading to Moonbi on the tar and taking a break before routing to Limbri on the dirt. From there they headed to Woolamin through a mix of gravel roads, picturesque rolling hills and farmland, creek crossings and causeways with a few winding, hilly sections. It was then on to Nundle for
fuel via Bowling Alley Point before heading on the tar to Murrurundi via Wallabadah for lunch at the White Hart Hotel, once again meeting up with the other riders and crew.
First-timer on the event, Dean Allison, rode a CRF250 Rallye and completed all the off-road sections. He was impressed with the overall organisation.
“The ride was great,” he Hondaed. “A little dirt and a little road riding. Keeping the adventure ride separate from the road ride next year will be awesome. My mates and I will definitely be back.”
The last section was all tar back to Newcastle and the Duke of Wellington Hotel for a final catch up, drinks and nibbles before saying farewell until next year.
Riders overall agreed it was a fantastic event, and all felt an overwhelming sense of pride that together they’d raised $130,000 to improve the lives of kids with cancer while doing something they are all passionate about – riding.
Anyone interested in registering for next year’s Motocyc 4 Kids can call Rebecca Collins, the fundraising and events coordinator, on (02) 9146 1336 or email motocyc4kids@campquality.org.au.
There’s an expressions of interest page for 2022 at https://fundraise.campquality. org.au/event/motocyc-2021/eoi2022.
Above right: Peter Budden roosted the off-road sections on a Kawasaki W650 that looked like it belonged on the asphalt.
Below: Great riding on surfaces from loose marble to hardpacked road base between Bendemeer and Armidale.
Whether you fancy yourself a cowboy or a space cowboy, Spencer Hill ranks Utah in the USA is a great place to wear out a set of knobbies.
Southern Utah is a place an adventure rider will never tire of.
It’s almost overwhelming with all it has to offer and can transport a rider back in time and/or space to recall ideas of America’s Wild West. It’s just as easy to imagine traversing the surface of Mars as it is the set of a spaghetti western with Utah’s unmistakable vivid coloring and prominent rock features.
Do you remember the Choose Your Own Adventure book series popular in the 1980s and ’90s (I could be aging myself)?
Basically, the reader made decisions that altered the story and ultimately determined the character’s fate. Okay. Now imagine that, except with adventure riding, and always with the outcome of getting to ride epic terrain with an unreal backdrop. That’s what riding in southern Utah is like. One minute you’re floating along in pristine fluffy sand, the next you’re climbing great rock slabs with as much traction as heavy-grit sandpaper. It’s ever-changing. The colors remain the same, but what lies underneath the bike never stays the same for long.
Southern Utah is rightfully known as the Mecca of off-road recreation in North America, with seemingly endless possibilities for adventure. It’s centrally
located near several famous national parks and adorned with some of the most unique riding the continent has to offer. Favorable weather, outdoor-oriented community, and a heaping helping of rural charm only sweeten the pot. For through travel, the UTBDR (Utah Backcountry Discovery Route) can’t be beat.
This 1300km trek takes riders from the Utah/Arizona border all the way to the Utah/Idaho border, only touching pavement when absolutely necessary. You have to get go-juice and snacks sometime, right?
With destinations along the way such as Valley Of The Gods, Moab (more on this shortly), and the La Sal and Wasatch Mountains, there’s a lifetime’s worth of legendary scenery. For those unfamiliar with the BDR (Backcountry Discovery Route) organisation, it’s a non-profit entity that creates, manages, and promotes plug-and-play offroad tracks that cross US states. They’re plug-and-play in that they offer free GPS tracks with fuel, food, and accommodation for each route. They also have accompanying videos and paper maps for those seeking even more info, or simply entertaining adventure travel features.
As mentioned above, the true crown jewel of southern Utah has to be Moab.
Diversity in terrain and riding that ranges from mild to wild in difficulty, all packed into one epicenter, make Moab a place everyone with a love of motorsports should experience. This small town with a modest population of only 5000 people has a thriving economy centered around outdoor recreation and is thus very welcoming. It’s likely a visitor will see more off-road vehicles than regular cars, and it’d be hard to throw a rock without hitting world-
class riding. For example, Sand Flats Recreation Area is a mere two minutes away from the town’s centre, and it contains world-famous trails the likes of Hells Revenge, Fins & Things, and of course, the venerable Slickrock Trail. It’s all there, and for less than the cost of a gallon of premium petrol nearby.
Some of the most famous rides near Moab that make it a destination for off-road enthusiasts. Here’s a few to get you thinking.
Left: If you’re looking for the adventure-riding vacation of a lifetime, don’t miss out on Utah.
Right:
Full-sized adventure bikes should be well equipped and operated by experienced riders ready for a workout.
This 30km out-and-back trail leads to arguably the most epic viewpoint in Moab and is not to be missed. It’s located just south of the Dewey Bridge crossing of the Colorado River and conveniently near several other routes. Although categorised as a moderate trail, extensive traffic and weather erosion in recent years have contributed to increased difficulty. Rock shelves, loose rock and waterfall-style climbs are constant, save for a few miles of sandy switchbacks near the beginning and end of the trail. Full-sized adventure bikes should be well equipped and operated by experienced riders ready for a workout. Although challenging, once you do reach the top of Waring Mesa, views of Fisher Valley, Onion Creek, and the La Sal Mountains are enough to leave you awestruck.
Constructed in the 1950s to enable access to uranium mines in the region, this fairytale ‘road’ is considered one of the quintessential adventure rides in the west. Classified as moderately difficult, the only standout challenges for an adventure bike are a few sections of deep sand and a handful of steep climbs and descents. Rain can make the road all but impassable due to landslides and mud though, so check conditions before departure.
At 160km depending on deviations, this ride is a full-day commitment, especially when factoring in all the fantastic vistas.
Lockhart Basin is one of the classic Moab Jeep routes and a standout among its contemporaries based on remoteness, difficulty, and unique scenery.
Considered difficult, most of Lockhart is essentially an incredibly scenic two-track road. However, the route is smattered with a few very challenging obstacles.
If you’re looking for the adventureriding vacation of a lifetime, don’t miss out on Utah.
Those keen on adventure will have no trouble finding it there. Salt Lake City is centrally located with an international airport and has several motorcycle rental companies and guide outfits nearby. Snow covers much of the high country from October until June, but many places, like Moab, can be ridden deep into November, depending on that year’s conditions.
It truly is a unique place to explore and one any adventure rider will never soon forget.
Depending on the direction of travel there are some very tricky rock waterfalls and tight slot canyons which will offer challenging ascents and descents. It’s not unwise to have enough supplies and fuel to allow doubling back instead of riding through. Exciting roadside attractions include a plane crash, RV wreckage and dislodged drivelines. It’s another full-day route with several options for side trips like Chicken Corners on the north end and Newspaper Rock in the South.
Having gear packed in the correct place is one of the cornerstones of being ready for eventualities.
the trip. Constantly ferreting through gear looking for stuff grows knobs on it real quick. Moving a sleeping bag to get to spare gloves is just dumb! I know it goes against the free-andeasy image of a biker, but ‘a place for everything and everything in its place’…a well thought out one, at that!
Looking at the way a day’s ride might pan out helps make the ride better. If it’s going to rain then wet-weather gear close handy makes sense. If the day looks like it’ll be a roaster, saving space to shed layers quickly will stop your mates harassing you. It’s great to carry a tool kit, but can you do stuff like get your tank off? My tools live in a place I can get at them with a minimum of fuss. It’s easy to put off an adjustment or tightening of a loose bit if I have to dig for the necessary tools.
Irecently took a call from a bloke requesting a pannier repair. Nothing out of the normal there. We make ’em, you go out and trowel them. Situation normal. It’s the usual scheme of things at Strapz HQ. It’s easy to get tangled up in the damage to the equipment, but, maybe due to my past history as an Emergency Nurse, I’m always keen to know the rider is okay, or at least on the mend. This conversation sent shivers up my spine. Ol’ Mate didn’t quite have to chew his leg off to get from under
the bike, but did hack a hole in his bag to retrieve his EPIRB and set it off…while pinned under his bike in the Simpson for five hours!
The consequences of a trapped limb can be devastating. The build up of pressure kills tissue as the pressure around it increases and it becomes a vicious cycle. The more cells that become damaged the more pressure builds, damaging more cells. That’s assuming there are no burns. Heat will ensure things rapidly head south from an already shitty situation. Being trapped under a bike
while alone is a bit of a nightmare. I like to ride alone, probably more than I should, and I try to plan to stay safe. I was close a couple of years ago when I took a dive off the Bumblewee. Lying in the road on a blind corner under a bike waiting for a plonker in a 4bee to use me as a speed bump pumped enough adrenaline for me to wriggle free. Having your gear packed or stashed in the correct place is one of the cornerstones of being ready for eventualities. It’s not just a safety issue, but one of enjoying
Far be it from me to encourage fellow riders to load up on piles of just-in-case gear…but thinking through how a ride might work out is valuable use of pre-planning time. It might even reduce the piles of nice-to-have clutter.
Carrying a SPOT tracker or PLB is a very smart move, but where does the beacon reside? One relatively likely scenario I plan for is getting flung off the bike down an embankment. My panic button lives on my body in a position I can reach –the straps of my hydration pack.
Planning to fall off is also one of the skills we need to develop. While some crashes happen almost instantly and we have little input into the output, it takes training to graciously abandon ship reducing the chances of a date with Yvonne (Yvonne-Yvonne-Yvonne!).
While freedom is the essence of riding a bike, a bit of planning can make it even freer: less drama, frustration and stuff-about time.
Rider training with Miles Davis New for 2021! Two-day courses for smaller trail and enduro bikes, as well as regular adventure-bike courses. Improve your off-road riding skills and have a great time. All brands welcome. Suits novice to experienced riders.
2021 course dates
September 8-9
adventure bike –Green Valley Farm, NSW (Pre NSW Congregation)
October 14-15
Adventure bikeLower Chittering, WA (Pre WA Congregation)
Learn about:
vBike set up
vClutch/throttle
vCornering
vUphill/downhill
vObstacles
vWheelies
vBraking
Improve your:
vBike control
vPrecision
vConfidence
vTraction
vBalance
With 20 years experience in off-road rider training
For more info:
www.advridermag.com.au/off-road-training/ Email: advriderskills@gmail.com
Karen shares some lessons from a decade of adventure riding.
My adventure-riding journey started around 10 years ago. In that time I’ve met some incredible people, seen some amazing sights and pushed myself to do things I never thought this shy and uncoordinated person could never achieve. To help anyone who’s starting their adventure-riding journey (or anyone who knows someone who is), this is a bit of a guide to ‘things I wish I’d known when starting’.
Bum wrap
Always choose carefully where you pee.
On a road trip once I was told not to worry if a car came along
because everyone has a bum and everyone has to pee. I’ve never followed that piece of dubious wisdom. Hiding and stealth are paramount. I’ve had quite a lot of memorable moments in the pursuit of a quiet tinkle. There was the time Dave and I pulled up on a traffic island at night to look at our paper map and I took the opportunity to duck behind the bike on a three-way intersection. Or last year when Old Mate climbed over the door beside me in a unisex toilet. It can also be a dangerous pastime if you use the wrong leaf.
I’ll just ‘leaf’ that one alone. In the pursuit of privacy some women use a variety of ‘she wee’
Carry all parts of your tent in one bag. One time we loaned our tent to the kids. The next time we used it on a trip: no pegs. Or the friend who has, on more than one occasion, left the tent poles at home. If you’re going to carry the sections separately, make sure you double check you’ve got everything before leaving home.
Left: You will have falls.
Above: You can find any number of local groups on the internet to meet people to ride with.
Below: Get a good mattress.
Below right: Learn the basics of how to fix a flat tyre, check your oil, adjust the chain, how to lift your bike up and how to change the headlight bulb.
Having a free-standing tent is pretty handy. It allows you to set it up on a rock shelf without the need for pegs. Also, get a tent that is really waterproof. We’ve woken up to water lapping around the mattresses (not quite, but it was very wet) more than once. This usually happens when the ground sheet – a fairly heavy-duty silver tarp that hopefully stops most prickles or sticks from piercing the
type devices. I’m a bit put off by the apparent need to practise using it in the shower until you get it right. The reality is, you’re going to get caught with your pants down at some stage.
While we’re on the topic of trying to maintain decency, wearing some sort of pants under your riding pants is a good idea. Most people I know wear some sort of thin lycra/merino type pants that are at least knee length. That means you can whip off your duds when you get to camp and not scare any kiddies as you get around in your grundies. It also stops the chafing which always seems to happen if you aren’t wearing any.
base of the tent – has been higher than the edge of the fly, allowing water to flow under the tent. Our last tent slowly deteriorated over time to the point where we’d have water coming through the fly and the tent with even a heavy dew. We carry a small piece of canvas with us as a door mat. That may sound a bit indulgent, but when you’re camped in the mud unable to go anywhere, you’ll appreciate somewhere to stand while you take you boots off and crawl into the tent to listen to the rain. While we’re on sleeping arrangements, get a good mattress. We started with yoga mats. Yoga mats are not mattresses. They are, at best, implements of torture designed to turn people off adventure riding when used
as such. We’ve graduated to blow-up mattresses that have synthetic insulation, are very light and roll up small. They’re not cheap, but definitely worth the investment. They take about 60 hand ‘pumps’ to inflate. For ages we’ve put up with them being terribly noisy, but we’ve found by putting them inside a doona cover they’re really quiet. We used to put a sheet over them, but
keeping them off the tent floor appears to be the secret to night time serenity. As for a pillow, for years I’ve successfully used my puffer jacket stuffed into a T-shirt.
Think about what you’re going to need to be safe and comfortable, then spend the necessary bucks to buy quality first up. Anything you’re happy to compromise on, buy cheap.
Left: Do a course – or three – and then practise. Below: For women starting out, connecting with other women can be invaluable.
Right: Don’t be afraid to ask for, or accept, offers of assistance when it’s needed.
Do some training. Get into good habits early.
Learning how to set up your bike, how to weight your bike when cornering and other skills to practise are likely to make your journey safer and a whole lot more enjoyable. You’ll read about people who got their Ps, bought a bike and set off on a lap around Australia or around the world. I want to say those people are freaks, but I’m just in awe of them. It takes guts and determination, and probably a healthy dose of naivety, to do that.
While lots of us probably could have done that, most of us never did. Do a course – or three – and then practise. Lots and often. Master slow riding. And one of the best pieces of advice I ever received was, “When in doubt, throttle out.”
Birds of a feather Ride lots. With a friend. On your own. In organised groups. Find your people. According to the very smart Sharon Daisey, riding with the right ride buddies can ‘make or break your interest in riding’. Find ones who are going to be encouraging and supportive. When learning, you may find it useful to ride with others for safety and for feedback. When they say you’re doing well, get them to be specific. When you’re struggling with something, you need to have someone that will give you encouragement and tell you what you can do to improve.
The wonderful thing is you’ll always have something to learn and can always improve (unless you’re Toby Price reading this, but I’m sure even you practise). You can find any number of local groups on the internet to meet people to ride with, or there’s a number of really good companies doing paid organised rides, too. For women starting adventure riding, or if you’re helping a woman get started, connecting with other women can be invaluable. They’ll have lots of good tips on how they manage things like periods or thrush while on a bike trip, or the importance of a good sports bra.
Bigger is not always better. Sometimes it is for sure, but it’s all about context. When you’re learning to ride, choose the bike you feel most comfortable on and is aimed at the sort of terrain you want to ride. That could mean jumping on a lot of bikes to get that Goldilocks feeling. For shorter riders, your choices are going to be limited, but you’ll find something out there. The more comfortable you feel on the bike, the more confident you’ll be. As my wise twin Kylie said once, “That bike could be a TTR230 or a 1200GS, but if you feel comfortable, then that’s the bike for you.”
If you’re new to riding and someone is giving you a hard time about your bike brand, it’s a fair bet they’ve accepted you. If they’re giving you a hard time about your bike, then they’re probably not worth being around.
Packing boils down to common sense. Pack heavier stuff lower and in your side
panniers and keep your lighter stuff on the back rack. It’s also wise to be careful about what and how you pack. I’ve heard of (and seen) exploding gas canisters, leaking long-life milk, golden syrup and beer cans, broken eggs, crumbled biscuits and broken shampoo bottles. Where you can, take items that have more than one use. You’ll be surprised at how little you actually need to take with you. Have the wet-weather gear and spare gloves in an easy-to-get-to place, and the key card on standby.
Go for it
It’s an exciting time. With this new hobby you’re going to have great adventures, you’re going to come off and get back on again. You’ll meet some fantastic people while you explore incredible places. If all else fails, just get on and go. Ride safe and we’ll see you out there.
Know how far you can get on a tank of fuel. Running out could be a way to meet people or it could mean a very long night. Learn the basics of how to fix a flat tyre, check your oil, adjust the chain, how to lift your bike up and how to change the headlight bulb. Take some essential tools and a spare tube so you can get yourself out of trouble, and don’t be afraid to ask for, or accept, offers of assistance. Not like the bunch of blokes I met one day with a flat tyre. I offered them my spare tube and they refused. They preferred to send one of their crew on a trip of a couple of hours to get one.
R Bikes don’t have reverse – think carefully before you park facing downhill
R If you pee beside the road, no matter how remote, someone will come past
R Don’t drape clothing over a hot exhaust
R You will have falls
R The biggest mishaps make for the best stories
More awesome kit from the folks at Touratech. This time it’s Yamaha’s Ténéré 700 which gets the love. Prices TBA. See all the Touratech gear at shop.touratech.com.au.
Grab a beer and look at the gear here.
Giant Loop ZiG ZaG handLebar baG
Giant Loop’s smallest bag yet – it’s the dirtbike glovebox!
R Volume: 1.5 litres
R Dimensions: 26.67cm wide x 10.16cm tall x 6.35cm deep
R Super tough trucker’s tarp Bomb Shell™ and ballistic nylon
R Straps to almost any motorcycle’s handlebars
R Interior mesh zippered pocket
R Threads onto a belt or backpack when removed from a motorcycle
R Military-spec materials and construction
R Backed by a limited-lifetime warranty
R Made in the USA
RRP: $79.90
Available from: Giant Loop luggage dealers Australia-wide Web: whitesmoto.com.au/collections/giant-loop