2003 Border Run and other adventures

I spent the first night camped by myself at Lake Hatta National Park. Next day I motored off by myself through Mildura, Renmark and Morgan where I met up with Bones, Cecil and Doubleday, aka Team Bendigo. We all camped 10 Ks north of town where Mrs Doubleday bought untold class to our bush camp by providing a table complete with tablecloth and a teapot and teacosy. I always say "Them BM riders got everything."

Next day we travelled together to Wilmington where they all pressed on headed for Border Village via the Eyre Peninsula. I spent a wet night in the Caravan park and next morning had a lovely ride over Horrocks pass to Port Augusta where I met my old mate the Legendary Beetle Bayley. Beetle and I headed north deviating from the main road to follow the railway line for 60 Ks. Fuelled up and had a drink at Pimba and Martin who was coming with us across the Trans OZ Railway caught up with us and we headed off to Glendambo.

Frank was supposed to meet us at Glendambo but was nowhere to be seen. We later got a call in the bar asking for the ugly bearded bloke and he informed us that he was delayed at PJs doing repairs and we arranged for him to catch us tomorrow night at our camp at Wynbring Waterhole.

Next morning the three of us headed west to Kingoonya, now a ghost town then further west to Tarcoola, another ghost town on the railway line. From Tarcoola the road deteriorates to a sandy track and we made Wynbring waterhole, a lovely waterhole cut out of solid rock in the middle of this sandy red landscape. Frank caught up with us shortly after we stopped after a sterling ride from Port Pirie. Next morning we set off along the line to Barton for lunch where we visited the old Polish hermit who's the only permanent resident at Barton. We get through the deep sand from Barton to Ooldea without incident and late afternoon we roll out of the sandhills onto the vast flat treeless Nullarbor Plain. There is no gradual integration, we just come over the last sandhill and then out onto the Nullarbor. Not a tree in sight just flat saltbush covered plain as far as the eye can see.

From here there is no road, just a series of tracks dodging in and out of the limestone rocks and we plod along till Fisher, now just a siding and we make camp. Marty's BM has been returning shit fuel economy so he and Beetle decide to head due south to Nullarbor roadhouse while Frank and I will keep going west to the WA border. Frank and I slug away all day dodging the millions of rocks littering the plain and passing through the almost deserted Cook. At the border we take a couple of photos then move on to Deakin where we have to turn south. Frank our intrepid navigator eventually finds the overgrown, little used track that heads south to Eucla. We do sixty Ks and have a discussion about camping or heading on to Border Village. Soft beds and cold beer wins so I head off but Franks bike wont start. Undetered we declare this "Camp Fail To Proceed" and roll out our beds and light our camp fire and make a meal. Next morning Frank diagnoses a faulty fuel pump solenoid and we motor off to Eucla and Border Village.

We get our room and meet up with early arrivals here for the Border Run. Saturday is a huge night and I knew I was in trouble when as I was stumbling home to my room I came across some blokes packing to leave. Frank pulled up Ok but Beetle and I were decidedly unwell when we finally opened an eye to check out the land of the living. Sunday arvo was spent servicing bikes before Mrs Doubleday cooked tea for the small band that had stayed on for lazy Sunday then we had an early night.

Monday morning dawned very inclement and Frank and I decided we weren't headed anywhere in the rain. Beetle was disgusted with us and cast dispersions upon our gender but Frank and I stuck to our decision. Late morning however the weather had cleared a bit and we relented and headed off. We had lunch at Eucla then turned off and took the two wheel tracks through the saltbush that we hoped would lead to Forrest, 120 Ks northwest of Eucla.

By now the rain clouds had gathered and it started to spit and the red claypans took on the texture of greasy glass. Frank was first over and hurt his ankle. We picked him up and got him mobile again, a couple of Ks further on the back wheel of the Tenere developed a mind of its own and went on a mission to pass the front. Laying on the ground accessing the damage to my body I decided my shoulder was not good but after Beetle coaxed me into the perpendicular I changed my mind and realised that my right hand was rooted. (A later X ray identified a chip in the bone that is connected to my little finger in the back of my hand ) Beetle and I stood in the drizzling rain for half an hour till it stopped and then another half hour while the wind dried the track. I continued on with some difficulty, I had trouble turning the throttle and holding onto the bar.

We eventually got to Forrest and met our hosts Ross and Alice who are the care takers. Forrest apart from being another old railway town has a weather station although this is now automated and unmanned. Forests other claim to fame is that it is the site of the emergency airport for east, west air traffic and the refuelling point for all light aircraft. We got a house for 12 bucks a head and next morning Alice cooked us a huge breakfast for 10 bucks each. We rode up to the airport and fuelled up with avgas, $1.65 per litre, unleaded was available but at $2.20 the avgas seemed better value. Ross gave us a tour of the old Nissin Hanger built by the Yanks during the war and now believed to be one of only two left in Oz.

We head west along the line dodging in and out of the endless sea of limestone rocks. The Tenere has a couple of fits and runs rough then comes good but it worries me. Here I am in the middle of nowhere with a bike ready to shit itself added to my crook hand I wonder if my trip is over. We camp at Nurina siding and the next day after lunch we make Rawlinna. This is the first inhabited town since Glendambo a 1000 Ks behind us. We pull up at a phone box and strip the Tenere, I get my auto electrician on the line and he explains the workings of Yamaha spark making devices to Frank and then we spend a couple of hours going through the loom looking for the source of the problem all to no avail. We put it all back together and with encouragement of Frank and Beetle I decide to take a punt and trust to luck and continue on with our planned trip.

We ride north out of Rawlinna leaving the line behind us, this is the start of the Connie Sue Highway. At first its very indistinct and just a series of station tracks, no signs and we trust to luck and follow our nose. 20 Ks up we make camp, next morning we continue on and find the first evidence that 50 years ago Len Beadell came through here with a grader. We are pretty pleased with ourselves not to mention relieved. We leave the sandstone plain behind and for the next few days slog away in varying conditions. In places the track has been graded making it sandy and loose, in others the foliage hangs right over banging mirrors and handlebars as we try to ride in the two wheel tracks. Frank and I have several falls but we have a lot of fun and eventually arrive at Warburton on the great Central Road.

We spend a wet afternoon in a cabin there doing our washing and next morning we head east and after another bush camp arrive at Eyre's Rock. Beetle goes to the Pub, I climb the Rock then Frank and I set up in the camp ground before joining Beetle in the pub. We spend the night but we're all pissed with this joint, it's expressly set up just to process tourists like cattle and rip as much money as possible off them.

Next morning we're glad to leave this shit hole behind. Just after Curtin Springs we turn off the main road and head south through Mulga Park then east again to the Sturt HWY and we get a room at Kulgera. Next morning we head south to Marla where Beetle dismantles his bike trying to solve electrical problems then we turn south east towards Oodnadatta and camp 60 Ks short of the town. Next morning we head in and have breakfast at the Pink Roadhouse.

After fuelling up we head south but 20 Ks down I go arse over head. Frank comes back when he sees I'm not following, checks for breathing and pulse, sets of the eperb and heads back to Oodnadatta for help. Four wheel drivers come on the scene and radio for help. Frank meets the cavalry coming out of Oodnadatta. I get a ride in the ambo to Oodnadatta, meet the flying Doctor who was doing clinic in town and get filled full of morphine. I get another ride in the ambo to the airfield and get loaded on the plane. I tell them I know Barry Bonning and immediately get upgraded to first class.

At Port Augusta they ask where I hurt and I tell them "My f**king hands" After several X rays they say "But Mr Daniel we can't find anything except that bone you chipped a fortnight ago". "But they still f**king hurt". Next day a visiting Orthopaedic says "I think you better put him in a neck brace and get him down to Adelaide for an MRI scan. Another flight to Royal Adelaide, MRI reveals worn out neck, arthritis, protruding disk. No ones sure how much was due to the accident and how much was already there. Diagnoses Central cord syndrome, in layman's terms my spinal cord got a hit and damaged the nerves going to my hands. Ten days on my back in the spinal ward and then Trish flew over to get me and we then flew home.

A rather painful and ignominious end to a great adventure.

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