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This entry is part 5 of 16 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #26

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Novice adventure rider Will Fennell took on the infamous French Line and the Corner country with fellow riders from the SA BMW GS Riders group.

When rain called an early end to proceedings he and his riding mates didn’t hesitate to head back out and finish the ride as soon as the opportuntiy was there.

I was about two-thirds of the way up a seemingly innocuous dune when suddenly I lost momentum, dug the front in and abandoned ship. The bike was laid over facing diagonally across the dune with the seat downhill and there was no chance of picking it up where it lay.

The silver belly of the skidplate lay glistening in the afternoon sun and sweat began to bead from my every pore. I contemplated what it might mean for the rest of the group if the dunes of the infamous French Line had finally begun to get the better of me.

Lunch on the first day of the second trip. Just North of Danggali Conservation Park.

First step

My journey to the Simpson started 12 months earlier on the 2016 BMW Safari Enduro from Streaky Bay to Broken Hill.

I was an absolute novice on a bike then, but with a lot of encouragement from others on the ride I made it to Broken Hill in one piece. More importantly though, the BMW event gave me the opportunity to meet a group of fellow GS riders from South Australia: Brett Allison,Stephen ‘Harry’ Harris, Steve Trestrail and James Powell. After the Enduro we started the ‘SA BMW GS Riders’ Facebook group and less than a year later found ourselves on the adventure of a lifetime, crossing the Simpson Desert.

A cracking bonfire near Cameron Corner and the best night skies anyone had ever seen.

The crew

Australia’s central deserts have always been deeply alluring to me, and if I’m honest, that allure is probably just as much about the associated bragging rights of conquering the desert on a motorcycle as the thrill of the ride itself.

So, on something of a whim and not expecting any serious commitment, I asked the Facebook group if anyone was interested in a Simpson crossing. Pretty soon we had Brett and Harry raring to go on F800GSAs and me on my trusty and substantially lighter G650GS Sertão. But even better, Steve Trestrail, who’d ridden a 1200GSA on the Enduro, volunteered two work utes as support vehicles. Steve’s 10-year-old son Elliot would also join us.

Steve’s mate Carlo Russo volunteered to cook while another mate, Jason Sifis, offered to drive the second support vehicle.

James Powell, also on the BMW Safari, would tag along in his own 4WD with 85-year-old ‘Uncle Andy’ for company .

A cattle grid north of Broken Hill gave Brett some ’bar wobble.

Prep

To prepare for the desert, the three riders met on Goolwa beach for a few practice runs in the sand.

It was obvious from the get go that neither Brett nor Harry needed any practice, but it was nice of them to pretend otherwise for my benefit.

After many low-speed tankslappers and a badly bruised ankle – pannier racks hurt! – I developed some very basic sand-riding skills which I hoped would be enough to get me across The Simpson.

Birdsville meant time for a new rear tube, air filter and general check over.

Plan away

Once the final group of riders and support crew was assembled, we setup a Google Docs spreadsheet to manage the planning. It turned out to be a great tool for organising group rides, especially when everyone lived miles from one another. After several changes of itinerary we eventually settled on a run up the Oodnadatta Track from Adelaide to Mt Dare, over The Simpson from west to east, then down to Innamincka and Cameron Corner via the Strzelecki Track.

We also setup a Facebook Messenger group to discuss the minutiae of planning details, which quickly became a nuisance for our respective wives who complained of constantly distracted husbands and buzzing phones at all hours.

For video of Will’s Simpson trip see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JP6DWAlhcaE or log on to Youtube and search ‘Simpson Desert Motorcycle Adventure’.

To Mt Dare

After a rendezvous in Clare on a Friday morning we set off for Maree where we managed to get a nice cold beer served with a smile from some even nicer Irish backpackers. Better still, we got our group ride sticker up on the pub’s fridge, which we hope will be there next year, even if the Irish backpackers aren’t.

After an obligatory picture of Tom Kruse’s mail truck just before sunrise we all headed for Oodnadatta, and when we reached Algebuckina Bridge early in the afternoon we realised the riverside was too good to pass up. It made a great camp for the night and we highly recommend the spot if you’re heading that way.

After stopping the next morning at Oodnadatta for fuel, we set off past Mt Sarah Station towards Mt Dare.

By that stage we’d an established running order. Brett, now known as ‘The Greyhound’, was usually in front, Harry followed and Yours Truly happily putted along somewhere in front of the support vehicles.

At Mt Dare Harry and I realised Brett was missing and concerns were raised about the prospect of a badly injured rider lying unseen off the roadside.

Lucky for everyone, Brett was wearing a SPOT tracker, so a quick call to his missus – who could access the internet to see his location – established he’d taken a 120km detour towards Marla and was still making his way to Mt Dare.

After giving Brett a light ribbing on his arrival we made our way to our campsite about 30km west of Dalhousie Springs.

Loving the sand between Poeppel Corner and Birdsville.

The French Line

We’d planned a three-day French Line crossing from Dalhousie to Birdsville, starting with a long soak in Dalhousie Springs. It was a particularly cold and sunny morning as we peeled off the 30km or so to Dalhousie, perfect conditions for a swim in the 38-degree springs.

Nervous about the looming desert sands, I got out ahead of the others and headed off into the desert. I wasn’t worried about being on my Pat Malone because I knew Brett and Harry would catch me in no time. Sure enough, the 800s came whizzing past before I even got to Purni Bore.

All riders made the first day’s Simpson camp in one piece and without incident, but the vehicle drivers and passengers began to realise a three-day crossing was actually pretty challenging in a vehicle. Being bounced nonstop all over the shop as the cars crawled along the dunes at a measly average of 13kph was exhausting.

The author found there was no need for a centrestand on Big Red.

Victory

On day two it was agreed everyone had to get to Poeppel Corner by nightfall if we were to have any chance of getting across in three days. Perhaps that ambitious plan is what landed me in the spot of trouble which opened this story: stuck on a dune with the bike in an uncomfortable position.

Remembering some advice, I dragged the front wheel back downhill and dug two holes under the wheels with my hands. Mustering every last bit of energy left in me, I stood the bike up in those holes, climbed back on and rode off the dune. Then I just sat there, engine off, thinking about what to do next.

I was sure I couldn’t endure that process a second time.

After a quick pep talk to myself I fired up the Beemer and accelerated quickly up into second gear. I hit the base of the dune with a lot more momentum and a steady throttle, sailed past the crash site and over the top, laughing at how much easier it was at that pace.

The rest of the way in to Poeppel Corner was an absolute joy. I’d finally developed real confidence in the dunes, and was at one with the bike rather than a nervous passenger.

That day in The Simpson was probably one of the biggest steps forward in my development as a rider.

A flat on the way into Innamincka. A couple of plugs had the show back on the road.

Deflated

Arriving at Poeppel Corner I learned Brett had been waiting there most of the after-noon being fed and watered by passing 4WDs. Harry had spent some of his after-noon mustering camels on his F800GSA. The speed and ease at which those guys were getting across the desert on those heavier 800s impressed me greatly.

The third day of our crossing was incredibly enjoyable for all three riders, and as Big Red approached there was a sense of achievement, but also sadness, as our epic desert crossing came to an end. The dunes on the QAA line were tall but firm, and the only real challenge was getting down dunes badly scalloped by 4WDs heading east.

After a photo on Big Red with Harry (The Greyhound had been and gone), we headed for the outback oasis of the Birdsville Hotel.

On the way in, and just as the silhouette of the Birdsville Hotel came into sight, I learned the hard way that sand tyre pressures don’t work on hot bitumen.

With a dead-flat rear, no spare tube and eager to enjoy a celebratory ale, I decided to go for broke and coasted into Birdsville crouched over the front with flapping rear rubber. Lucky for me the Conti TKC80s did a great job in protecting the rim from my impatience.

The obligatory picture of Tom Kruse’s mail truck just before sunrise at Maree.

Southbound

Sitting in the Birdsville Hotel waiting for the support vehicles, the three riders watched the weather close in and a light rain come down around the pub.

Although brief, it was apparently enough rain to close the roads for a day and put a serious damper on our plans to get to Innamincka. So after an unplanned rest day in Birdsville and our desert challenge completed, we headed back to Adelaide via the Birdsville Track and an overnight stop at Arkaroola.

But wait. There’s more

Shortly after returning home the desert beckoned again, and soon enough Facebook Messenger fired up with talk of another outback trip. Naturally we decided to complete the journey we’d started. That meant a run up to Innamincka via Broken Hill and Cameron Corner, then back down the Strez, but this time we abandoned the luxury of the support vehicles and a cook and carried our own gear. In addition to Brett and Harry on their 800s we had Steve Trestrail
on his 1200GSA, Richard Shipman on his 1200GSA and Tony Shuman, also on a 1200GS.

Riders and support crew of the Simpson crossing. Left to Right: Brett Allison, Stephen Harris, James Powell, Jason Sifis, Elliot Trestrail, Carlo Russo, Steve Trestrail, Uncle Andy and Will Fennell.

Nighted

From Adelaide we headed to Morgan on the blacktop then up the Morgan mail road past a number of stations and Danggali Conservation Park. It’s a great alternative route to the Barrier Highway, although the local station owners say the tracks are a ‘mare on a bike if there’s been rain’.

After a night in Broken Hill, Tibooburra to Cameron Corner proved most interesting, and I had my first near miss with a ’roo late in the day. Taking the advice of a road sign to keep left, I came over a steep crest only to have a startled ’roo dart out in front.

Thankfully he changed tack about a bee’s appendage before connecting with my front wheel. My heartbeat about matched the revs of the Sertão’s thumping single cylinder all the way in to Cameron Corner.

At The Corner Tony opted for a room and a meal in the pub while the rest of us went a few kilometres out of town and camped.

Apparently there isn’t any free bush camping at Cameron Corner, but given the guy that makes those rules also holds the key to the only fuel bowser wthin 160km, who were we to argue?

We settled in around a cracking bonfire and enjoyed one of the best night skies any of us had seen.

Just out of Cooper Creek with a six pack, a bag of ice and a couple of steaks.

Crow barred

Heading north to Innamincka we enjoyed rolling, clay-capped sand dunes and great station roads.

Before the trip Steve had been wary of sand on his 1200GSA, but reckoned he found his sand legs that day. He copped a flat as we passed through the Strzelecki Desert, but a couple of tyre plugs had us back in business.

After an obligatory stop and photo at the Dig Tree we headed to Innamincka. Most of the group decided to take hotel rooms, but Brett and I headed to a great camping spot on Cooper Creek, just out of town, with a six pack, a bag of ice and a couple of steaks from the general store. The camping that night was even better than Cameron Corner, although we learned not to leave food out and go swimming. The resident crows are experts when it comes to timing a camp-kitchen raid.

Go again

From Innamincka we took the old Strez then the new Strez down to Arkaroola. It was a decent 450km run and I underestimated how much water I needed to carry, even in mild weather.

Lucky for me Brett’s an old hand in the outback and had a spare water bladder to split with me just as dehydration was about to take hold.

After a night in Arkaroola we headed back home via the Frome Downs Road and Yunta. With a strong crosswind and a 600km journey on roads wanting to see a grader, we all got home exhausted but utterly pleased with another successful trip.

Since our return Facebook Messenger has of course fired up again, and plans for next year are taking shape. We’re calling the next one ‘The 2018 Transcontinental’.

It’s going to be a ripper of an adventure up the Tanami and Gibb River Roads to Darwin.

And yes there’s already a spreadsheet.

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