Cornered with Karen Ramsay

This entry is part 12 of 16 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #19

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Karen Ramsay rides like a sand witch.

For many people the coast, with its rhythmic tides and deep-golden sand, is paradise. Others love the rainforest and its soft undergrowth, towering trees and abundance of life and trails. People like me, however, feel a deep connection to the red landscape and endless space of The Outback. The isolation and unforgiving environment heightens awareness of mortality while making a person realise how insignificant we each are. Every time I return, it feels like coming home. I really do feel like there’s red dust in my veins and these revisits are restorative to my very being.

Gum Vale Gorge

Shocker

Always keen to do things on a whim, husband Dave and I decided five weeks out we’d make a trip to Cameron Corner. Of course my bike turned out to have a leaking shock.

And of course no one could fix it for at least three weeks. ‘No problem,’ we thought, but to be on the safe side we’d get the DR650 ready too. This included borrowing racks and bags.

As it turned out, that was a wise decision. The shock for the Terra didn’t turn up until three days after we left.

Along the fence near Cameron Corner

Trip advisor

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about going to Cameron Corner.

In 2013 I failed in the attempt and developed a bad taste for sand.

Work had been really busy and I hadn’t made any time, other than riding to work a couple of times, to get out on the bike. The way it worked out, we didn’t even get to do a shakedown ride. In place of any actual riding, I asked Mick the mechanic for some riding tips, and he basically told me to control the bike I should do all the steering through the ’pegs. He told me to keep practising it and I’d barely have to use my hands. It was wonderful advice, except the only time I got on the bike was the morning we left.

Karen Ramsay

Dave thought it’d be good to turn the first night into a group ride, so we had 23 bikes of almost every persuasion camped on top of Mt Kaputar near Narrabri, NSW. There are so many lovely back tracks from the coast to the mountain, and it was a very interesting ride to get there. The facilities up the top are terrific, with showers and gas barbeques, and the company was great.

Mind games

After staying the night near Quambone with Dave’s groomsman and his family, we felt like we were truly setting off on our trip.

The occasional locked gate on tracks we thought should’ve been open were a nuisance when it meant we had to take tar instead, but is it really an adventure if everything goes to plan?

I got my first real taste of sandy tracks in Gundabooka National Park and most of the way to Louth and Tilpa. Dave cruised along on his F800 and the DR handled it like a champ, as long as I followed the golden advice of loosening my hands and going with my feet.

Can’t beat this. Leaving Tibooburra on the way to Wanaaring

If it was possible to hear my thoughts as I rode along, you’d have heard a constant dialogue of commands including:

“Get your arse back,” “Use your feet,” “Relax your hands,” “Look where you want to go,” and questioning myself with, “What would Toby Price do?” (I haven’t met him so I don’t feel like we’re on first-name basis just yet).

To say riding in tricky conditions doesn’t come naturally to me is an understatement, but repeating these mantras focussed me on what I should be doing rather than the fear. I see competent, experienced riders making it look easy and I can’t help but wonder what they’ve got going on in their heads as they make the hard stuff look easy.

It really was a flat, no matter what the parents thought.

Tank traps

My first trip to White Cliffs won’t be my last.

We got there after the servo had closed and the people at the pub told us it’d be open at 8:00am. That was later than we were planning on getting away, but there’s nothing you can do about that. Nothing that is, until the lady from the servo came out and offered to switch the fuel bowsers back on so we could fuel up. We gratefully accepted then went on to have a lovely night at the pub listening to the fascinating life story of the publican. I’m kicking myself now I didn’t take up his offer of a fly-over of the town the next morning.

Although we had additional fuel with us, we had to give some thought to our fuel strategy.

For the record, there are some places where you can get fuel half an hour after closing without even asking, and others where 10 minutes after closing, lots of pleading and calling in connections make no difference. Then there’s places with flexible hours subject to the bar staff fitting in other jobs and not opening the pub with the only fuel in town until they’ve finished their other work for the morning. The upside of waiting a couple of hours for fuel was we got to meet people and see sights we would’ve missed otherwise. This included spending time with the local police officer and her mob of orphaned kangaroos, and a visit to the nearby Currawinya National Park. We also found out signs (both road signs and electronic maps) about the availability of fuel weren’t always accurate. The size of the town or locality was also no indication of whether they’d have fuel. We discovered this both to our detriment and delight at various places.

On the SPOT

Before leaving we bought a SPOT tracker and we had our parents teed up with what to do in case of a breakdown or emergency (not that we couldn’t rely on one of the kids…) Their main instruction was not to panic if we were stopped for a while – they would get a message saying: ‘Food, fuel, photos, flapping gums or flat tyre’. We found out afterwards Mum started to get a bit worried about how long we stopped 60km from Cameron Corner, despite the prearranged comforting message.

Dad told Mum to stop panicking because ‘they’re probably having sex’!

For the record, we had a flat tyre.

The journey

I think riding into Cameron Corner as the sun was setting was fitting. Even though we’d planned to be there mid-afternoon, it was how it was meant to be. Three years prior we’d ridden into Wanaaring at the same time of day and I’d been shaky after a number of falls.

This time we’d made it to Cameron Corner, relaxed and enjoying every moment. And no offs. I’m not ashamed to say I had a tear in my eye as I crested the rise and saw that gate. It’s a cliché, but everything really was bathed in a golden light. It wasn’t until that moment I realised just how important this journey was to me.

Also, how much a relief it was to Dave that I’d made it.

From there I gained a new confidence.

If riding comes naturally to you, it’d be hard to understand. But hopefully you’ll get the opportunity to experience some-one’s reaction when they finally achieve a milestone or master a skill. As for my next adventure, I don’t really know, but I do know there’s some big, red sandy deserts in the middle of the country. I’ll just have to organise some long-service leave, sort a bike, and get some sand practice…

What I’ve learned

• My riding has improved out of sight in three years
• Parents must always think their children are having sex
• Using legs and feet properly when riding helps
• Be prepared (leftover from my Girl Guide days)
• My riding still has a lot of improving to do

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