The APC Rally

This entry is part 2 of 320 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #1

Alaska’s legendary Iditarod only runs around nine days, and finishers are considered world-class heroes. What does
14 days of bone-jarring, mudslinging, rock-hopping, river-crossing, mountain-climbing, ice-skating and sand-ploughing determination entitle APC Rally finishers to be called? Probably legends in their own lunchbox.

A 14-day, 7000km, non-competitive, super-endurance event for adventure riders? You bet!

If you’re one of the elite who actually managed to complete the course in 2013 you’re awarded a nice shiny medal. If you finished within the 14 days then you make it to the Lunchbox Legend category. But along the way the ride itself is many,
many things.

Unfinished business Last year, on a KTM990, on Day Five, my speed through the Strzelecki Desert sand and my riding ability became incompatible. More plainly put, I binned it. Big time. I was knocked out, lost a tooth and my left wrist was pointing down at a very funny angle.

But this is a marvellous country. Here I was in the middle of the serious outback, pretty well not knowing what day it was, and when my mate set off my EPIRB help arrived within two hours. The ladies and gents from the Moomba oil and gas field jumped to the rescue. I was treated to a trip back to the main gas plant then a flight to Adelaide with the Royal Flying Doctor Service – thank you John Flynne! It was the end of the 2012 APC Rally for me, and I picked up a few internal titanium pieces to get my preparation started for the 2013 event.

A test of your planning How do you prepare yourself and your bike for 14 days of some of the most challenging trails and mountains the eastern half of Australia has to offer? First of all, both body and bike need to be in top condition.

This bike and body prep intensifies as the date approaches. It includes things like a new chain, sprockets, wheel bearings, super-heavy-duty tubes (the ones that weigh about four kilos each), spares – especially tubes – tools, lighting, suspension, long-range tanks, replacement tyres preordered at relevant locations, a hard-wired GPS, clothing and personal needs… and the list goes on.

Always remember Rule Number One – travel light. After you assemble all the ‘essential’ stuff, think again. Leave behind anything that even slightly resembles luxury or duplication. Apply the old Four-Day- Undie rule to everything (you know… frontwards, backwards, inside-out and do it again). Work out how you intend to carry it all. Pack and re-pack, toss out more nonessential stuff. Sort out who you’ll be riding with. Many entrants simply turn up and hope they can find a riding
buddy along the way, rather than the risky alternative of riding solo. This year I teamed up with Dave Smith, a Bavarian armchair rider (BMW F800GS) I met on the NSW Four Day APC event.

the track had me all crossed up and I smacked into a sapling. The tree lost some bark, but I destroyed my right hand fuel tank, which shattered and dumped its contents all over me and the bike.

It didn’t seem like a huge problem at first. I blocked the fuel line, dumped the useless parts and carried on. But a green fluid was soon writhing its way around the cases and a closer inspection revealed I’d driven the radiator back onto the regulator – things didn’t look too good. We limped into Cessnock and checked the availability of a new radiator, only to find the nearest was in Western Australia.

I desperately didn’t want to hold up the show, so I quickly formulated a new plan.

Luckily we were as close to my home as the rally got, so I limped back to the garage, grabbed my Husaberg and set about converting it into an adventure bike. The conversion amounted to fitting a ram mount on the ’bars for the GPS, wiring it up and strapping the Giant Loop across the back. That’s all. A year’s prep on the KTM690 became an hour of frantic
improvisation on the 570 ’Berg.

We pushed on and rode into the night to make our first pre-booked accommodation at Moonan Flat pub just in time for dinner.

The only other bit of excitement for the day was just after dark near Stewarts Brook when Wally Wombat and I both wanted the same piece of road. Somehow I managed to keep it upright. If he was bruised it served him right for not giving way.

A balancing act A nice early start to the second day included an easy run over Barrington Tops, and it was our first hint of the freezing conditions to come. Fog, frost and mud were the highlights of our early morning romp.

Later in the day we had just the last section from Comboyne to Wauchope still to cover, and we were fairly confident we’d beat the dark for that night at least. But good old Murphy’s Law smacked us around the head for being so cocky. Blackberry Ridge Road served it up to us in spades. We managed to drag our bikes over a fallen tree with just a bit
of grunting, only to find ourselves faced with The Bridge Of Doom.

The span was a log bridge over a four-metre gully, and all but two logs had been washed away.We gawped at it and each other and asked ourselves, “Are we adventure riders or not?”

I managed to get across okay on the light trail bike, but the GS wasn’t so lucky. The front wheel dropped between the two logs and buried itself up to the axle. After a bit of a struggle we managed to heave it out and push on.

Another 500m on a large tree had fallen and totally blocked the track. It was steep up on the left and steep down on the right, and the fallen trunk was about 1.5m or so high. There was no way around or over it that we could find, so it was
back over The Bridge Of Doom and the first downed tree. Suddenly we found it was getting late and night was approaching.

We managed to get the GS back over with a bit of pulling, but I slipped right at the exit off the bridge, putting my foot down on mid-air. Over the edge I went.

It’s a good thing it was the light little bike, because with a tow strap and a bit more struggling we were soon back on the track. By then we were both pretty well buggered and it was almost pitch black, and we still had the fallen log to negotiate. We managed to drag the bikes back over, humping the GS across first while we still had sufficient energy to lift the beast. Then it was back to the tar and straight to Wauchope for a swisho meal and a comfortable bed at a motel.

Fun fun fun

As we rolled out of the motel at the crack of dawn the next morning I noticed the local bike shop was open. I desperately needed a new rear tyre so we took advantage of this stroke of luck.

This leg was the best fun ride of the event. The day was made up of fantastic trail riding, long sections, hills, creeks, rock, single track, and a great day in the long, green tunnel of tree canopies overhanging the forestry roads.

It was bloody cold as we climbed toward Ebor and we didn’t want to be caught in the dark again, so we pulled up at the Ebor Pub and did a bit of bike maintenance.

It was time to change the ’Berg’s engine oil anyway.

The pub put on a beaut roaring fire and good meal. When you’re cold, tired and stinking of engine oil, it doesn’t get much better.

Long days

An early start through the Ebor frost saw us run down through hippie country, then up onto the Northern Tablelands again for breakfast at Glen Innes. Two great sections started this fourth day on fast, open, decomposed granite roads and they
made a welcome change from the ‘long green tunnel’ of the day before. We pushed on into Queensland to try and make up for the slower, tighter sections, and that resulted in a 14-hour day.

It was a good thing the GS had excellent lights, because the candle-weak effort on the ’Berg kept blowing out.

Easy days

Day Five turned out to be a cruise into Kilkivan, about 220km north of Brisbane, and there was a warning to not enter the next section late. The ’Berg was due for another oil change, and that was a couple of good enough reasons to call it a day
early. After five days going like the clappers a beer and a rest sounded pretty good.

Lots of variety

The sixth day of the Rally offered plenty of variety. There was everything from really fast, open road through to single track.

Someone up ahead of us must’ve been pushing pretty hard by the looks of the overshoot marks in lots of corners, and Dave managed to get between a wallaby and its desired destination. The determined marsupial ran head-down, flat-chat, straight into him and the frame of the bike left a nice bruise on the inside of his leg.

It must’ve been a good season in the Bundaberg area. I’d never seen cattle so fat or the grass so high as

Above: There weren’t any ‘serious’ creek crossings, but every crossing needed to be treated with respect.
Below: Some trails were begging to be ridden.

it was when we went through. We trundled into Dalby about lunchtime on Day Seven, ready for new tyres and set to do some
scheduled bike maintenance. I’d ordered a set of heated grips (yeehaa!) and was busting to get them on and working.

The GS looked a little low in the rear when we pulled up, and closer inspection showed a broken shock, so it was Dave’s turn for a bit of lateral thinking.

A few phone calls to his suspension tuner and a great effort on the lathe by the boys at Dalby Moto had us back on track just after lunch the next day.

Night riding

With torrential rain in the west of NSW our next scheduled leg was washed out and we headed straight down the tar, aiming for Wodonga on the Victorian side of the Victoria/ NSW border. It bucketed rain as we pulled into Moree in the central north of NSW well after dark. We booked into the Spa Motel and had a good old soak in the hot artesian water.
Man. That was heaven!

Boring wet tar

Day Nine dawned and we had no option but to keep heading straight down the blacktop toward Wodonga. The wet, western country was closed to the rally, so we gritted our teeth and logged our time on several national highways, one after the other. The Newell, the Olympic and the Murray Valley Highways made up our day, with an overnighter at Junee.

I never again want to do 780km down the wet tar, in the cold, on a trail bike. I think the heated grips saved my life.

Social event

Junee to Wodonga reminded us we were once again in the cold, dishing up fog and frost. We bowled into the Wodonga bike
shop for scheduled servicing and met the first of our fellow rally riders,swapping phone numbers. We kept in touch with those guys for the rest of the rally. At around lunchtime, after a break for a real, barista-made coffee, we got cracking again, covering 100km or so south-east to Mitta Mitta just before dark. Event organiser John ‘Homer’ Hudson tossed in a little surprise as we approached town, and a section of tight, slippery single track through the blackberry gave us a last-minute welcome. We were lucky to get accommodation in Mitta Mitta because the town was booked out, but we finally managed to get a top-notch cabin at the caravan park. It was the only room left anywhere, so we counted ourselves lucky, despite the price. After a shower we enjoyed a dinner at the pub with the boys from WA, and made a very good night of it.

Serious riding challenge

The eleventh day of the Rally drove me to send the organiser a text. I’ll quote the SMS I sent to Homer after we made it into our overnight stop: “Made it to Omeo tonight, you certainly turned up the wick today – good stuff! We felt today was the first time you provided SERIOUS riding challenges. Nice easy lead in through the forest then unmade road before we hit the rocky hill which The eleventh day of the Rally drove me to send the organiser a text. I’ll quote the SMS I sent to Homer after we made it into our overnight stop: “Made it to Omeo tonight, you certainly turned up the wick today – good stuff! We felt today was the first time you provided SERIOUS riding challenges. Nice easy lead in through the forest then unmade road before we hit the rocky hill which

The hill I mentioned bought many riders undone. It was steep with large, loose rocks, and it required plenty of commitment to conquer.

Sightseeing

As we headed toward the end of the Rally and back into NSW we were gifted with some glorious, memorable riding.

The Snowy Mountains region offered open country, bush, and some of the most scenic and fun adventure riding to be had. We scooted along the Barry Way next to the Snowy River and into Adaminaby for the night. It was at Adaminaby we met up with Brooksy, a fellow APC traveler who was “minding the ship” while his mate went back into Jindabyne for a new rear tyre.

I managed another oil change for the ’Berg, then enjoyed a quiet social night with a few of the lads.

Only two days to go!

Sub-zero travelling

The next day we wound our way through what the GS’s thermometer said was a minusseven- degree white out, complete with thick fog. I’ve ridden in some cold climates, but the thick, wet fog added another dimension.

First my visor totally iced up, so I flipped it up and relied on my glasses. Then the specs had a thick ice coating, so I went back to old Mother Nature and let the eyeballs and tears handle the situation. I shivered along thinking how nice it would be to have a windscreen. Then I started thinking how heated grips are lifesavers.

A run along a very greasy, redclay Long Plains Road took us into Oberon, in the Central Tablelands of NSW, for the night.
Brrr.

Jubilation!

As we looked to kick off the 14th – and final – day of the 2013 APC Rally our big goal was to stay upright and finish.

We were getting close to home, so the country was familiar, and that made for a relatively easy day. Bathurst offered a run
around Mount Panorama for a bit of variety, then we headed out via The Gardens Of Stone and down the mountain into Wisemans
Ferry, our original starting point two weeks before.

What a great way to finish our epic 14-day adventure! What great riding to take us right to the finish line. Yeehaa! I got last year’s monkey off my back, and now it’s time to start planning for next year’s Rally.

Many different rides.

The APC Rally isn’t a race or time trial. You buy the map and load up your GPS, then do your own thing. It’s really just
a social ride with your mates, as fast or slow as you like. You can take as little or as long as you want to navigate around the loop.

When we met the crew from WA in the high country, they were all gathered around a steaming thermos having a cup of coffee. But we saw plenty of adrenaline junkies who didn’t stop for anything – they just attempted a PB on every leg.

The APC Rally is many things to many people, and mine is just one story.

There are similar tales from each and every fellow adventure rider. The level of difficulty depended on when you struck the weather. We were pretty lucky, but many weren’t. Some riders actually got stuck out west and battled the black soil, while others copped their wet sections in the mountains. Good old Murphy was very busy. We all rode virtually different events, but everyone I spoke with wouldn’t have it any other way. The APC legend lives on.

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