I Finke I Can

This entry is part 8 of 21 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #13

The long weekend in June is a big one for the Northern Territory town of Alice Springs. It’s the running of the Finke Desert Race, and last issue we saw ADVX regroup and take in the race. But riders from all over Australia converge on ‘The Alice’ for the big event. Here’s a couple of groups who filtered their way through the ADVX show while running off their own rides that same weekend.

A group of mates made their way to Finke and then coincidentally followed the ADVX route for a good part of the way back to the nation’s east coast. These guys probably had more laughs and fun per kilometre than the bigger show. Adventure Rider Magazine regular Ken Dark was one of the crew and tells the story.

There was no need to set the alarm on the morning of our departure. The rain on the roof was thunderous and would’ve woken the dead. It was time to unpack the wet-weather suit and head off into the damp dawn for the start at the historic Wollombi Pub in the Hunter Valley, NSW.

The goal for day one was a dip in the hot bore at Burren Junction.

Rain, rain and more rain thrashed down all the way, and when we pulled into the campground at the bore any spot that wasn’t 100mm deep in mud was only dry because a caravan was parked on it.

Luckily the Burren Pub had nice, dry, warm beds.

Leader’s jersey

The yellow jersey in bicycle racing is a badge of honour, right?

Harry, the ride organiser, brought along a yellow vest to be worn as a Cape Of Shame for the person doing the most foolish thing each day. Matt ‘The Pope’ Eke had a religious experience and kissed the ground while by himself on a wet, greasy shortcut. Consequently, he earned the first yellow robing.

The standard-tanked KTMs needed fuelling at regular intervals and the 30-litre DR650 boys kept ragging owners of the Austrians about needing to drink from mother’s teat so often. That was until Simon, one of the smart-arsed tanker boys, ran out of fuel miles from anywhere and needed a boost from Harry’s ‘mower fuel’ can.

Payback is a wonderful thing.

Guess who wore the Shroud Of Embarrassment for the next day?

Head first

Before pushing on to Coopers Creek at Windorah for our overnight of day three, we stopped in to have a yarn to the Cunnamulla Fella.

In order to get all riders and bikes into The Alice in good shape, Harry had decided to do a fair run of blacktop for the first few days. As we sat at the bridge over Coopers Creek contemplating our lack of dirt riding so far, the nature trail into Windorah was just too appealing. It’s only about five kilometres or so, but it was a bit like a farmer’s dog being let off the chain. The entire group attempted to shed the frustration of 1500km of tar in one little sandy section. Of course the inevitable happened.

Corners were overshot, testosterone overloaded and Ian committed to a very close-up track inspection on his first outing on his shiny new V-Strom.

It was pretty normal stuff really.

In tents

While fuelling up at Windorah, Chad realised he’d lost his tent. So you know who got the Leader’s Vest for the next day.

We hit our first camp with no tent for Chad, but would you believe the general store had a tent for sale? And for the princely sum of only $25!

We all reckoned someone must’ve died in it and that accounted for the low price. That kept Chad awake all night waiting for the ghosts.

We had a great bush camp and a chance to try out Mr Campbell’s culinary delights, and that topped off another beaut day in the saddle.

Fall guys

Next stop was Bedourie, but as the group arrived everyone realised there was no Pope.

He’d had his second – of eight – religious experiences, each of which involved another ground-kissing exercise. It was a very up-close inspection of a gravel windrow, apparently. He limped into the town clinic dripping life juices from a badly gashed arm.

Fuel at Tobermorey and Jervois stations across the Plenty Highway were welcome breaks on the two-day run into The Alice, and yellow-jersey infringements were issued for two stationary-while-parking drops by Pope and Nick.

Camping in the middle of nowhere is a highlight of rides like this one.

Bus-ted

Our accommodation at Alice Springs was in a backpackers’ establishment. It sounded good from the east coast, but when presented with a room about as big as an outhouse, with six bunks jammed in amongst the scattered clothing of other guests, I had second thoughts. I don’t think I could ever be a submariner, sharing minuscule bunks and all the odours attached. So call me a snob, but I tried for a hotel room. Because of the Finke Desert Race, there were no hotel rooms available in town, but the manager of the establish-ment offered me ‘the penthouse’ for just another $25. What a bargain! I had a room to myself.

The photos of Betty The Bus tell it all. What a great, funky experience.

I copped my yellow-jersey day here – simply for showering in the ladies’ shower.

The author showing signs of no stress at all.

Swags and tents both got a look in.

It might not look like a penthouse, but compared to the regular accom, Betty The Bus was luxury.

Tag along

Scrutineering at Finke is a great experience.

All the competitors’ equipment is lined up in one location, and the stars in their flash stands were all happy to pose for photo-graphs. The money spent on the Trophy trucks especially needed to be seen to be believed. Those things are serious pieces of engineering.

Prologue was a great chance to see the competitors do their thing up close and personal.

Being mostly KTM riders, we were tickled to see Toby Price take out the prologue, but the highlight was possibly the Trophy truck that rolled right in front of the boys.

This is where the ADVXers and the Newcastle latte crew shared common ground. I met the magazine’s editor and publisher at the official event dinner. Both parties had tales of woe: Tom for having a discussion with a ’roo and other bike issues, while Kurt had a clutch failure on the run down the access road to Finke. Kurt flew home while Tom joined our crew to make up the ninth man for the trip home.

The rocks at the edge of the road were the tallest things between us and the horizon.
APC Rally regular Hopper – see issue #06 – was on his way through Mount Dare with ADVX when he copped a photobombing from AdvRiderMag’s editor.

Sensible

Dust, traffic, and more dust met us aplenty on the run down to Finke.

We pushed on, aiming to get ahead of the crowd, and camped the night at Mount Dare, where we had to join a big queue at the bowsers as most of the ADVX crew had the same idea.

I know ADVX has been reported elsewhere but I’d l like to include just a couple of personal experiences. The Finke Gorge, west of Alice Springs, was the test run to determine if entrants really wanted to have a crack at The Simpson crossing.

It was tough, especially for those not in front. Once the sand was cut up it was doubly tough. A selfie of Marcus you’ll find on these pages described the challenge without the need for words. I also met a few riders down the Oodnadatta Track who had entered The Simpson, only to realise it was going to be a relentless struggle of which they wanted no part. I think they were very wise to join us on the run to Maree.

Marcus was attempting the Finke Gorge as part of ADVX. The pic illustrates better than words how tough it was.
Fuel and cold-drink stops were sometimes at very small communities, and that added to the interesting sights on the ride.

String theory

One interesting bloke we met on the ride was Danny, a Pom who became a little confused when he found a gate across the route.

Apparently back in the Mother Country no such thing exists. One just does not go through a closed gate. It was late in the afternoon when he struck the obstacle so he camped the night. He awoke the next morning to see another rider just open the gate and ride through.

This sign hadn’t even been converted to metric yet. It was the outback, alright.

Welcome to the outback, Danny!

We also met two young female tourists while traversing the Plenty Highway.

One was on a 250cc bike while the other was support in a 4×4. We helped pick up and straighten out the bike from an incident in a nasty rocky corner. When discussing the cause of the get-off we discovered the young lady was getting tired so she’d used a bit of string to tie the throttle on. That’s cruise control at its most basic – it’s just not a good thing to do on a rocky gravel road.

Dalhousie Springs is a true oasis.

Spring time

Dalhousie Springs should be on everyone’s bucket list.

The place is quite unique.

It’s not just the warm temperature of the water, but the thousands of little fish that love to exfoliate the more aromatic parts of the body – your feet, that is! You can pay big dollars for a foot clean like that in some exotic overseas locations. At Dalhousie Springs you get it for free. The challenge is getting there. Whichever way you come from there’s some serious country to cross. Rocks from the north, the Simpson Desert from the east and sandy track from the south. It’s a serious adventure-rider’s dream.

Heading on to the Old Strzelecki.

Next!

Exotic names like Oodnadatta, the Strzelecki Track, Merty Merty, Cameron Corner, Tibooburra and White Cliffs provided plenty of interest and some fantastic riding on the way home.

The road voted the most fun was the run along The Old Strzelecki into Cameron Corner from Merty Merty.

Of course more yellow-jersey awards were presented on the way home.

We had one crash that caused a coolant leak among other evils, and the usual array of flat tyres due to over exuberance and sharp stones.

All in all it was a fantastic ride with a great bunch of blokes. There were lots of laughs, and I just cant wait for the next one.

You can’t miss the Pink Roadhouse at Oodnadatta.