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For Some Reason (FSR)

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This entry is part 12 of 21 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #42

Cameron Corner sits where the borders of NSW, Queensland and South Australia meet, and it’s an iconic destination for Australian adventure riders. Paul Williams decided to tick it off his list, but things just didn’t go his way.

There’s nothing much at Cameron Corner. There’s a metal pole around which people play out a ritual by dancing and yelling,“Wow! I’ve just visited three states in 30 seconds.” There’s also a general store, an oasis for hungry and thirsty adventurers that provides a respite before tackling the 150km ride back to Tibooburra. I should also mention Australia’s dingo fence, stretching some 5600km across three states to help protect livestock on southern farms from the infamous wild dogs.

But the real lure of the region is the opportunity to ride big-sky country and to experience adventure riding across some gnarly sand, clay, limestone and gravel roads – although they’re sadly capped by a few long, straight and painful bitumen sections which lead a rider from, and back to, civilisation.

Gnarly sand, clay, limestone and gravel roads.

Unforeseen

Autumn, when the summer heat has abated, is an ideal time for visiting the ‘Corner Country’. It’s remote and the riding is challenging, testing bike, riding abilities and logistical skills, but also offering a rewarding taste of Australia’s outback.

I’d always wanted to ride the region, and by chance I found myself with some spare time in late March. The DR650 was due for a trip and the camping kit only needed a few tweaks. In a very short time I was ready.

But my travel plans never included a worldwide pandemic or the travel-limiting measures that were introduced and quickly escalated.

Author, Paul Williams.

Big plans

My intended route was comprised of a loop of about 2500km, half of which was on unsealed roads.

The run from Canberra out to Broken Hill was challenging – maps or apps generally don’t tell road conditions.

Hillston was a comfortable 470km, and the country looked superficially green after recent rain. The large farms and orchards near Griffith were a good reminder of the scale of Australia’s fruit-and-vege sectors and highlighted the importance of water to prop up our critically important export markets and to keep Australians fed.

The route from Hillston to Menindee Lakes was a smorgasbord of road conditions and scenery. Plenty of wildlife – emus, goats, and sheep – showed some road sense. Kangaroos didn’t. Local cattle had attitude and walked towards the road to stare me down. An obligatory shingle-back lizard also appeared midtrack to test my reflexes and brakes.

Big open spaces prompted reflection on the bike’s maintenance schedule and the selection of on-board spares.

Although the DR revelled in the conditions,the rider did have a few brown-undie moments. Suffice to say, my respect for Toby Price trebled.

A rewarding taste of Australia’s outback.

Initial reaction

The night’s destination was Menindee Lakes, famous for an excessive fish kill during summer drought conditions. After six-and-a-half hours and 360km – about 310km of which was sand, gravel, clay and limestone – I was looking forward to a beer at day’s end. But FSR the pub was closed. The main lake had no water, and FSR I had to negotiate an entrance to a local campground for a night’s stay.

An early start next morning saw me in Broken Hill for a sit-in-the-gutter Hungry Jacks’ breakfast. A visit to the local tourist information centre saw me sit in the gutter and ring a remote officer. Although it was mid-morning the town was in siesta mode, and FSR all the local camp-grounds were closed.

I decided a ride out to Silverton, some 22km, would help me to develop a plan B.

I met a couple in a flash RV at Mundi Mundi Lookout. They’d just driven from Victoria to the Western Australian border and FSR had to turn around and drive east to Broken Hill. Their faces told a story, but I felt a bit better having only ridden 1200km before hitting my turn-around. We shared views about current circumstances, with RV-man appropriately – seeing as we were near Silverton – summarising the situation as: “It’s a bit like Mad Max all over again.” (Look it up, youngsters).

So back to Broken Hill I went to set up an operations centre. I was moved on from McDonald’s for loitering outside, so I walked across the road to sit in the shopping centre. FSR the locals were very friendly and gave me two lounges all to myself. Calls to Tibooburra indicated, FSR, its pubs and camp areas were also closing.

Reality set in. I was 1200km from home, there was no access to camp-grounds, food options were limited and there was no water in the rivers or lakes.

My dream to run around a metal pole had to wait for another day. I decided to head south where the flowing Murray and Murrumbidgee rivers would hopefully provide an uneventful route back to suburbia.

Big open spaces prompted reflection.

Phone home

There’s a flood of phone apps marketed to adventure riders, each proffering benefits to help make our travels easier and more informative. WikiCamps Australia is an app which certainly rates highly when times are tough. I quickly discovered a roadside option about half-way to the Murray River, and with day-light running out, I left the comfort of my operations centre for a 160km ride south to a ‘Highway Hilton’ – which surprised me with a family of wild goats as my host.

Apart from the sound of goats foragingfor anything edible, I was constantly woken throughout the night by the rumble of road trains transporting mineral sands from the Snapper and Ginkgo mines some 170km to Broken Hill for processing. The sleepless night left me less than energised for a morning ride of about 130km to Wentworth for break-fast, a place WikiCamps Australia told me was the gateway to plenty of good camping options along the Murray and Murrumbidgee Rivers.

At Euston, on the Murray, I met – at a safe distance – an enthusiastic group of international 417-visa fruit pickers. They happily shared their work experiences and I learned about the harvesting of almonds and grapes. I applauded their efforts to travel 7000km or more to work in those roles, and it was nice to see a government initiative which successfully distributed benefits to all stakeholders.

1200km from home, no access to campgrounds, food options limited and no water in the rivers or lakes.

Train drain

I camped some 30 metres from the mighty Murray River, which flowed proudly past a sentinel of river red gums. The locals called them ‘widowmakers’,

because heavily laden branches often dislodged with no notice and caused serious injuries or death to humans.

From that point my route provided only bitumen roads, although some backroad detours around Wagga Wagga helped reduce my boredom levels.

My next challenge was to cross the Hay Plain, often touted as one of the flattest places in the world. Travelling east from Balranald to Narrandera it was a 300km stretch of bitumen with a few minor kinks, no doubt designed to keep motorists awake. The section had little appeal on a fully laden DR650, even more so due to the unbelievable air turbulence created by the numerous road trains transporting livestock or goods between key population centres. To stay upright, I quickly developed a technique which saw me chest-hug the Acerbis tank to a point where my helmet rubbed the handlebars. The bike still swayed dangerously sideways with every passing road train, and it wasn’t fun, but it’s an ever-present circumstance of road travel in Australia.

WikiCamps Australia convinced me to spend my last night camping on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River, close to Narrandera. The Murrumbidgee, Australia’s second-longest river, stems from the high plains of the Snowy Mountains and eventually joins the Murray. It’s popular for its sandy beach-es, good swimming holes and iconic selection of camping areas. WikiCamps Australia got it right again. From the sandy banks of the Murrumbidgee it was only 300km back to suburbia.

The main lake had no water.

There for everyone

As marketing departments usually say, ‘It’s all about the journey’.

Every ride should be an adventure, and although FSR I didn’t reach my intended destination, I did see some wonderful country and visit regions which reminded me of the diversity of our great country.

I also gained fresh insight into water-management issues for the agricultural sectors within the Murray Darling Basin. So, regardless of the circumstances, I enjoyed my taste of big-sky country. The world will overcome the current circumstances and I’ll revisit these regions and get to dance around a metal post in the red dust. I might also get the chance to meet more of the locals, hear their stories and use their knowledge to add further to my outback experiences.

I urge all riders to plan a trip out to these regions; it really is a playground for adventure bikes, and it’s a genuine opportunity to use those Facebook tips on tyres, oil, exhausts, ’bars, springs and other things.

Camped some 30 metres from the mighty Murray River
A roadside option thanks to WikiCamps Australia.

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