Finally, a Truly Challenging Day. (8th June)
We left Chili Beach a little while after the other guys, knowing that we'd probably see them at the feared Pascoe River along the Frenchman's Track. This track would save us a lot of back-tracking, but would also provide some interesting challenges.
A few kilometres into the track, I had my first crash in deep sand, nothing major thankfully, just a bit of muscle required to pick up my heavy beast of a bike. The panniers with all the weight being basically past the rear axle really help the bike to get a whip up in sand, bring on the Simpson Desert!
We arrived at the Pascoe River and sure enough the three other guys were there assessing if it was possible to cross. It was obvious that we couldn't ride across as it was too deep and fast flowing, but some of the team thought that carrying the bikes over was a good plan. I was far from happy with the idea as it involved lashing logs to the front forks and the rear wheel and then a four man lift to carry them above the above waist deep water. Even Lee who I thought would be straight into it was unsure, but he suggested a trial run on the dry land before we made any decisions. At this point Scott and I still saw that we had too much at stake with another two and a half months of riding to come. We had to be more conservative than the others as they were only out for two weeks. I felt I had a responsibility to take an easier option as if something went wrong it would only add to the problems for Sam and our team.
The trial run went well, and confidence amongst the doubters lifted. I was still unsure and would reserve judgement until I saw a bike or two get across safely.
After four of the bikes were across I was starting to feel confident that the plan would also work for Scott and I. Scott was still unsure and I gently eased him into the idea until he really had no option. I was feeling confident that our bikes would be ok by this stage.
With all the bikes across we reloaded our gear. Mick and I were the last to leave and he asked if I was ok before leaving me to finish tying down my equipment. A few minutes later I was on my way up the rocky climb when one of my panniers hit the rock wall on the high side of the track and the bike speared towards the other side of the track before pitching me off and landing upside down in a deep rock wheel track. I thought I'd damaged the bike as the KTM's have a fairly vulnerable upper cowl that a normal dirtbike doesn't have, but upon inspection there were only a few deepish scratched on it and I was happy the bike was ok. The pannier that struck the rock suffered a puncture wound, but I could live with that as well. Now for the real solo challenge of the day. The bike with gear weighs over 200kgs and it was upside down. I'm 169cms and weigh about 75kgs with pretty flimsy arms. Mick was the last guy I saw and I knew that it would be an hour or so before anyone would come back to find out what had happened. I tried to lift the bike but could barely get it to the horizontal from its inverted position. I unloaded all the gear and had another attempt, no good. I could hear that Mick had stopped for some reason in the distance and I yelled out several times, I then heard his bike start and him ride off, obviously he hadn't heard me. At this point I convinced myself that I had no option but to lift the thing onto its wheels. I grabbed the bars and lifted (and screamed) with all my might and I got it horizontal and balanced it on my knees. I thrusted again and had it almost right. One last push and scream and I had it upright, covered in fuel and sweat. I was so happy with myself, as I knew I'd buckled up and got on with it as I had told Scott to do only a couple of days earlier. I reloaded my gear an headed off.
A few more kilometres up the track I came across a very wet Mick and his drowned DR650 beside a water crossing. A couple of four wheel drivers were with him and they offered us a couple of Cokes, top blokes! I needed to Coke more than I realised and Mick and I leapt into action. We removed his tank, emptied his airbox of water and removed his spark plugs. We removed the water from his bike and soon after it sparked into life. I left Mick and headed on to let the others know where we were. I told Lee I'd had a crash, and his response was "We've all had those", a fair call as in my absence he'd managed to scratch up his bike and break his front guard, a cracker of a crash he assures me, I'm just glad that everyone is ok at this point.
From there we headed to the Telegraph Road and Banger and I waited at the end of the Frenchman’s Track for Scott and Lee. After a while we realised they weren't coming and we headed back. A few kilometres back I saw what I thought was a rider lying on the ground and no one standing around him, this had me so worried that Scott or Lee had fallen and was in a really bad way, i.e. finished. It turned out that Scott had picked up a nail of all things and was changing a tyre. The body I had seen was all of Scott's riding gear laid out on the ground. I was so relieved that it was just a flat tyre.
We headed up to Bramwell Station in the dark, poor old Banger only had a tinted lens and a poor output headlight so it was a real drag for him. I passed the biggest snake I've ever seen on the road, its length was the full width of the road! Once there we had a roast dinner and set up camp, not too bad after a long day, and we went to sleep to the beautiful music of a generator.
A few kilometres into the track, I had my first crash in deep sand, nothing major thankfully, just a bit of muscle required to pick up my heavy beast of a bike. The panniers with all the weight being basically past the rear axle really help the bike to get a whip up in sand, bring on the Simpson Desert!
We arrived at the Pascoe River and sure enough the three other guys were there assessing if it was possible to cross. It was obvious that we couldn't ride across as it was too deep and fast flowing, but some of the team thought that carrying the bikes over was a good plan. I was far from happy with the idea as it involved lashing logs to the front forks and the rear wheel and then a four man lift to carry them above the above waist deep water. Even Lee who I thought would be straight into it was unsure, but he suggested a trial run on the dry land before we made any decisions. At this point Scott and I still saw that we had too much at stake with another two and a half months of riding to come. We had to be more conservative than the others as they were only out for two weeks. I felt I had a responsibility to take an easier option as if something went wrong it would only add to the problems for Sam and our team.
The trial run went well, and confidence amongst the doubters lifted. I was still unsure and would reserve judgement until I saw a bike or two get across safely.
After four of the bikes were across I was starting to feel confident that the plan would also work for Scott and I. Scott was still unsure and I gently eased him into the idea until he really had no option. I was feeling confident that our bikes would be ok by this stage.
With all the bikes across we reloaded our gear. Mick and I were the last to leave and he asked if I was ok before leaving me to finish tying down my equipment. A few minutes later I was on my way up the rocky climb when one of my panniers hit the rock wall on the high side of the track and the bike speared towards the other side of the track before pitching me off and landing upside down in a deep rock wheel track. I thought I'd damaged the bike as the KTM's have a fairly vulnerable upper cowl that a normal dirtbike doesn't have, but upon inspection there were only a few deepish scratched on it and I was happy the bike was ok. The pannier that struck the rock suffered a puncture wound, but I could live with that as well. Now for the real solo challenge of the day. The bike with gear weighs over 200kgs and it was upside down. I'm 169cms and weigh about 75kgs with pretty flimsy arms. Mick was the last guy I saw and I knew that it would be an hour or so before anyone would come back to find out what had happened. I tried to lift the bike but could barely get it to the horizontal from its inverted position. I unloaded all the gear and had another attempt, no good. I could hear that Mick had stopped for some reason in the distance and I yelled out several times, I then heard his bike start and him ride off, obviously he hadn't heard me. At this point I convinced myself that I had no option but to lift the thing onto its wheels. I grabbed the bars and lifted (and screamed) with all my might and I got it horizontal and balanced it on my knees. I thrusted again and had it almost right. One last push and scream and I had it upright, covered in fuel and sweat. I was so happy with myself, as I knew I'd buckled up and got on with it as I had told Scott to do only a couple of days earlier. I reloaded my gear an headed off.
A few more kilometres up the track I came across a very wet Mick and his drowned DR650 beside a water crossing. A couple of four wheel drivers were with him and they offered us a couple of Cokes, top blokes! I needed to Coke more than I realised and Mick and I leapt into action. We removed his tank, emptied his airbox of water and removed his spark plugs. We removed the water from his bike and soon after it sparked into life. I left Mick and headed on to let the others know where we were. I told Lee I'd had a crash, and his response was "We've all had those", a fair call as in my absence he'd managed to scratch up his bike and break his front guard, a cracker of a crash he assures me, I'm just glad that everyone is ok at this point.
From there we headed to the Telegraph Road and Banger and I waited at the end of the Frenchman’s Track for Scott and Lee. After a while we realised they weren't coming and we headed back. A few kilometres back I saw what I thought was a rider lying on the ground and no one standing around him, this had me so worried that Scott or Lee had fallen and was in a really bad way, i.e. finished. It turned out that Scott had picked up a nail of all things and was changing a tyre. The body I had seen was all of Scott's riding gear laid out on the ground. I was so relieved that it was just a flat tyre.
We headed up to Bramwell Station in the dark, poor old Banger only had a tinted lens and a poor output headlight so it was a real drag for him. I passed the biggest snake I've ever seen on the road, its length was the full width of the road! Once there we had a roast dinner and set up camp, not too bad after a long day, and we went to sleep to the beautiful music of a generator.
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