Cameron Corner Caper

This entry is part 14 of 320 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #1

From the NSW coast to Cameron Corner – where Queensland, South Australia and New South Wales meet – is around 1500km and west of Bourke there’s not much bitumen, no bike shops, and bugger-all hospitals and ambulances.

The Bulloo River Overflow about 100km east of Tibooburra gives a good feeling of being free of civilisation for a while.

Nick Moran took full advantage of the freedom the desert offered.

Narrabri’s radio telescope made for an interesting stop.

What there is a lot of is desert. Heaps of it. Huge, empty plains of red dust from one horizon to the other. For a novice rider it can be intimidating. Some salty-dog adventurers teamed up to help some less-experienced riders make the journey.

Saying someone is an ‘identity’ is sometimes a polite way of describing a bloke who’s a bit…well…wacky. Among the Coffs Harbour bike-riding community, Gav Gill can be fairly described as an identity.

When Gav had the idea of taking a group of not-too-experienced adventure riders out to Cameron Corner, he couldn’t keep up with the people who wanted to be part of it. After a little discussion with some key players – discussion is one of Gav’s specialties – Coffs KTM came on board as a sponsor, and in no time at all there were more riders signed up than anyone could keep track of. So nobody did.The meeting place for the start of the ride was the ex-serviceman’s club in Coffs Harbour on April 25.

The original five-day ride would have to stretch to six, and even that meant pushing hard for the first two days.

This was a brilliant stroke on Gav’s part, because it can be damn tricky to get any group moving early on a chilly April morning. Including ANZAC day in the schedule meant riders had only to take Friday and Monday as annual leave days to get five clear days. All were genuinely keen to show their respect at a dawn service, so Gav’s cunning strategy had everyone on their bikes just after dawn. Well…almost everyone.

A few decided, seeing as the group was going past their house or street, to wait until a big group rode past, and just tag on the back. Somehow the times were confused, so some people were sitting on coastal corners and phoning each other while the main group was enjoying its first coffee at Ebor, 140km west. And that meant nobody was really sure how many people were on the ride.The best guess was 17. Roughly. At the start.

After a long stretch of hard-pack, this sand drift caught out Adventure Rider columnist Karen Ramsay.

Old and new

At the core of the group were the ‘novices’ making their first attempt at Cameron Corner. There were nine in this main group, including the only female, Karen Ramsay, on a BMW F650GS. Karen’s husband Dave roosted along on an F800GS, and the rest of the novice contingent was made up of a collection of different mounts ranging from a Honda Transalp through Super Ténérés and DR650s with the occasional KTM thrown in.

Among the Old Hands were some very experienced riders, and while the novices planned to hammer along the Kamilaroi Highway to smash distance fast, the experienced guys were planning to split away, searching for more dirt and far flung locations, agreeing to re-join in the evenings.

The main group made its way westward, stopping to check out sights like the Glacial Area campsite near Sawn Rocks on Mount Kaputar and the radio telescope at Narrabri. It then pulled in at the Burren Junction pub to take advantage of the cabins, counter meals and two-up. The Old Hands arrived well after dark and full of stories.

The pattern was repeated the following day. The Hard Cornerers headed for Bourke while the rest of the guys went for a look at Lightning Ridge. The rendezvous was to be Bourke at lunchtime…or maybe Wanaaring. Whatever.

True grit

Bourke was the start of the ‘real’ adventure. While there were several glorious stretches of scenic dirt road between the coast and Bourke itself, there was heaps of highway and tar road, and with the big distances to be covered in the few short days allowed, the ride to Bourke was really a sprint to get to the edge of the desert. As it worked out the original five-day ride would have to stretch to six, and even that meant pushing hard for the first two days.

When you’re 100km from help in one direction, and 140km from help in the other, there’s only one option: you have to help yourself.

The persistence paid off. With minimal stress a heap of riders tumbled off their bikes and onto the banks of the Darling River at Bourke around lunchtime on the second day. The café and display at the Crossley engine – which was running when the group arrived – wiled away an hour or so on a sunny afternoon and gave everyone a chance to wonder where everyone else was. And how many there actually were.

In the early afternoon the group tightened up and continued the run west. The weather was perfect, the “road” in good shape, and all looked set for a charge out to Cameron Corner. But then there was the sand.

The setting sun

The challenge in a ride to Cameron Corner comes more from the distances between help than anything else. The condition of the road varies from week to week, and it can be a huge factor on its own. It can be near-highway standard and suitable for a Hyundai Getz with worn tyres, but it can be much, much worse.

Local knowledge is gold and Marg and Ben at Wanaaring shop have been helpful and welcoming to bikes for a lot of years. A phone call to Ben before leaving Bourke had elicited his opinion the road was “as sandy as I’ve ever seen it. The truck couldn’t even hold a straight line.” The run from Bourke to Wanaaring is about 180km, and the first get-offs started about 20km from the end of the tar and continued for the remaining run to the overnight stop

The odd fall and necessary running repairs meant many ended the day riding directly towards the huge, flaming orb of the setting sun, desperately trying to shield their eyes with one hand and hold on to their bikes in the deep sand with the other. With retinas seared and eyestrain-tears streaming down dusted faces there were some wild lines carved on that stretch.

The long run

Injuries were inevitable and two of the newbies had to find someone to cart them and their bikes back to Bourke, bringing the group down to seven. It left 15 or 16 riders… maybe 17…who mounted up from Wanaaring on a gorgeous,sunny morning and began the long haul to Tibooburra.

Riding west at sunset is tough workout here.

In a happy change of circumstances the road west of Wanaaring was hard-packed. In some places there were rocks! Only little ones, but after the end-swapping of the day before, any kind of hard, predictable surface was welcome and the pace rose accordingly.

There were still a few sand wallows though and the first one grabbed Karen and sent her down hard. She kept smiling and said she was fine – except for a stabbing chest pain and breathing being a little difficult. Is she tough, or what?

Unfortunately her GS really copped it, and a few of the group filled in time sifting the surrounding dust for instrument clusters, rear-guard extenders, panniers and contents of panniers.

The problem is, when you’re 100km from help in one direction, and 140km from help in the other, there’s only one option: you have to help yourself.

With a heap of bending, strapping, wiring and hurling unnecessary luxuries into the surrounding desert, Dave and a few helpers got the bike rideable and he and Karen headed back to Wanaaring. They arrived just in time to catch the truck organised by Glen and Kev, so were able to put the stricken GS on board and make it back to Bourke that same day.

“You have to pay before you can cross the State line.” Pete Watson spins a yarn for Nick, who wandered around in the desert sun looking for somewhere to hand over his cash.

It’s 240 kilometres from the Wanaaring General Store to the next fuel at Tibooburra, and that is pushing the range of a lot of carburetted bikes. So while some cruised along, dodging emus, ’roos and even camels, those with fuel injection bolted like maniacs, keen to grind down the distance.

The desert rolled away in all its majesty until, inevitably, the stark, black rock piles that mark the eastern approach to Tibooburra and the Sturt Desert hove into view.

From Tib there was 140km to go and the fast guys were all over it, busting sandhills, tackling rocks, and trying inviting trails that branched off in every direction.

From Tib the final run to The Corner was a clear, firm run with a few sandy corners to keep everyone focussed. As the main road approaches the dingo fence there are a few options offered here and there, taking travellers out to various campsites and points of interest.

The crew enjoying the cookies Dave “Ramdog” Ramsay sent out to celebrate a previous ride.

Flying high

As the afternoon wound on, the riders straggled in, each with a story and well-deserved air of satisfaction.Some of the newbies had tagged along successfully with the more experienced group and enjoyed the experience. The three still under Gav’s care were rapt at having made the distance and were busting for more adventure.

Cameron Corner put on its usual hospitality. The hot meals, cold drinks and tall stories went long into the night and even those staying at The Corner who weren’t part of the ride joined in. As the crew sat enjoying the atmosphere a bloke pulled up, unloaded an ultralight, and headed up into the evening desert sky

The cabins were cosy, the water hot and the steaks thick. It was a fitting end to a great journey. And for those wanting more adventure, there was still the trip home.

But that’s another story.

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