No 42, September 2005

Back to the Future

Craig McMurdo

Do you feel the longer weekend rides Bike North run leave you wanting more? Want to experience the remoteness our early explorers felt? Perhaps you need a month off work? If any of the above strike a chord, consider the "Gulf to Gulf" ride, a south to north crossing of Australia that starts at Port Augusta on the Gulf of St Vincent in South Australia, takes in the Flinders Ranges, the Birdsville track, Mt Isa, Normanton and finishes 2100 km later on the sandy, croc inhabited shores of the Gulf of Carpentaria in far North Queensland. This bike trek honoured the route taken by Robert OÕHara Burke and William Wills in 1860-1, and like the intrepid explorers, we were sent off with fanfare.

The Port Augusta Mayor and local TV station watched 37 cyclists and their 3 support vehicles head north to Quorn on April 26, 2005. We covered about 90 kms per day, and less on the sandy and rocky sections of the Birdsville track. Morning tea would be about 30 kms, with healthy snacks of nuts and fresh fruit offset by "milky way" bars and fruit cake, and lunch at any shady place near the 60 km mark.

Sharing your sandwich in the vast landscapes of the outback desert with 4 million fl ies was a challenge. The trip contained many highlights and and quite a few surprises. We were able to ride part of the 900 km long Mawson trail, named after Sir Douglas Mawson, who was an intrepid Australian explorer in the early 1900s. We rode this dirt single track from Wilpena Pound to Blinman at the northern end of the Flinders ranges, which was not only well marked, but in great condition for any sort of wide tired bike. Passing the jagged peaks of the Pound, their orange crumbling peaks catching the morning sun was simply breathtaking.

Another detour from the main road was to the ghost town of Beltana, with its old Overland Telegraph office and Railway station long since deserted by the old Ghan railway. This detour allowed us to stay at the nearby "Beltana Station" farmhouse and experience a working farmhouse in this marginal South Australian countryside. Further north, at the Maree pub, we enjoyed the 1952 Aussie classic "The Back of Beyond" and the story of Tom Kruse, the mailman of the Birdsville track, who traversed this desolate countryside on an overloaded truck once a week in the 1930s and 40s. Given the state of the track, with washouts, sandhills, not to mention the inevitable breakdowns, it should have been called "Mission Impossible", after Tom's more famous namesake.

After 7 days riding the Birdsville track (and about 2 showers!) we arrived at Birdsville, just beating a rain storm (the first for about 6 months), and another well known two wheeler. The other "cyclist" cheated though, arriving in his own personal helicopter. Michael Doohan, Australia's 5 time 500cc world motorcycling champion was in Birdsville to catch up with the 2005 Australian Cattle muster, which we had passed a few days earlier. While about as remote as you can get, Birdsville has a charm all its own. The 90 metre "Big Red " sandhill is about 40 km to the west, and the sandhills and gibber plains in this area are a spectacular and unique sight.

The second half of the trip required more mental steel and while the roads were generally better, the mind numbing distances between little known far west Queensland towns was daunting. Mt Isa provided our first real re-aquaintance with civilisation. Its an unusual juxtaposition of Woolworths, Blockbuster Video, KFC and McDonalds stores sitting only a stones through from the dominating battleship like gantries and chimneys of the mine head. Our first bike shop in more than 1500km did a roaring trade, fixing bikes that had suffered derailleur and selector component failures along the ruts, dust and rocks of the Birdsville track. The channel country north of Mt Isa provided a real contrast to the fl at and treeless deserts we'd encountered south of Birdsville. Evidence of the cattle centric economy was evidenced by the many beef laden road trains that often had us off the bitumen!

The most memorable moments? The dry landscapes and gibber plains extending into shimmering heat haze, where the sky meets the horizon; campfires crackling in the still night air; the sound of dozens of zippers from tents and sleeping bags being the most effective early morning alarm clock I've experienced. For me though, most memorable was standing in the sand on the Gulf of Carpentaria, sharing the feeling of satisfaction and achievement with some inspiring cyclists.

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