Hard Way Across .... Simpson Desert by GS

Hard Way Across .... Simpson Desert by GS

BY DREW WICKERSON

The blokes at Desert Edge Racing in the ‘Alice’ seemed more than a little doubtful that the three big GS1200 Adventures and two F800GS’s would make it across the Simpson Desert. Particularly as we had chosen to take the French Line, about 200km of high and deeply rutted sand dunes, stretching between Dalhousie Springs in the west to Birdsville in the East.

Encouraged by their ‘optimism’, we made final preparations and restocked supplies before the next and most demanding stage of our journey.

(See Drew's fantastic Simpson Desert tour photos at the end of the story).

It seemed like ages ago that Grant Olive and I, astride our BMW F800GS’s and in company with Bob and Guy in the Hilux 4WD, ‘Buck’ and ‘Rabbit’ in the Prado wagon and Rob, Suzanna and kids in their Mitsubishi wagon, rolled out of Rocky on 2nd August, 2009 for two long stretches of mostly black stuff into Augathella and then onto Noccundra on day two. We would meet up with Col, Darryl and Johnno on the GS1200A’s, and ‘Boags’ riding a ‘ring-in’ green bike, in Alice Springs on the 9th August. Later we would learn that Boag’s riding companion on an ‘orange’ bike had been stranded at the delightful Noccundra Hotel a week after our visit, when his rear mounted fuel tank dropped and rubbed through on his wheel.

The roads deteriorated somewhat after Noccundra as we made our way across spectacular and vast stony plains towards Innamincka just over the border in South Australia. The oil refineries of the Moomba Oil and Gas Fields, with their flaming gas vents and massive infrastructure, rose like a surreal mirage out of the desolate landscape, reminiscent of a scene from Mad Max. We had expected the Strzelecki Track to be more of a challenge, however it was a generally good road with wide sandy sections that were hard to distinguish from the surrounding plains. At one stage I looked across the plains about 150m and was surprised to see Grant cruising along on his F800GS with a cloud of dust behind. We were both still on ‘the track’!

We stopped for a rest and photo opportunity briefly at Lake Eyre South. The waters of the recently brimming Lake Eyre were rapidly receding, although it was still an amazing sight as far as the eye could see. Grant did a few celebratory doughnuts on the dry lake surface, and then continued on to William Creek where we had a flight booked to take us over the larger part of Lake Eyre.

A detour of about 70km into ABC Bay on Lake Eyre turned out to be very corrugated and featured loose, bearing-like gravel. This track was sharply punctuated in the later stages by minefields of deep and wide bulldust pits, ‘mostly’ marked by little red warning flags. Luckily these white bulldust pits contrasted with the surrounding gravel and were easy to avoid on a bike.

The 4WDs had to be much more cautious as an unexpected venture into any one of these pits would certainly have caused serious damage. After a quick look at Lake Eyre, we decided that any BMW land speed attempts would have to wait until another time as the apparently dry salt surface hides a ‘bottomless’ layer of muddy silt.

The persistent flies and lack of shade encouraged us to travel back into William Creek to set up camp. It was about then that we remembered we were scheduled to drop in to William Creek FOR FUEL before heading out to Lake Eyre. We now know that an F800GS can travel for exactly 25km at 80kph AFTER the fuel gauge reads zero! I must have been lighter on the right hand speed controller than Grant as I still had 90km of fuel left and we tipped my bike on its side to siphon a litre into a coke bottle to get both bikes back into ‘town’.

The next day we squeezed into a seven seat Cessna for an hour flight over Lake Eyre. It had been about eight or nine years since Lake Eyre was full so it was a privilege to witness this rare event. The very high salt concentration of the water has created remarkable red and brown colouring caused by unique algae. The huge flocks of pelicans that migrated up from the South Australian coast before the lake began to fill, had now all but gone. Our pilot told us that scientists believe the pelicans recognise the distant sound of the storms that fill the catchments that flow into the lake and head out to feast on the fish that will breed in the lake. From the air, we could pick out the ABC Bay track we had ridden over the day before. The massive bulldust holes didn’t look nearly as scary from 500 feet!

Day six of the journey and we were cruising along the Oodnadatta Track dodging the occasional large rock and cattle grids that now and again offered up a sharp leading edge. The stunning pink Oodnadatta Store had everything an outback adventurer could possibly require to restock supplies or repair vehicles rattled by the endless corrugations. The bachelors in our party instantly noted that most of the staff were young, attractive German backpackers, and also the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window. Like Captain Bligh on some tropical paradise, we feared we would lose some of the crew to ‘temptations of the flesh’ right there and then!

Grant and I missed the ‘clearly signed’ turn into Dalhousie Springs as the sign and road were obscured behind a 35 foot gooseneck ‘house’ being dragged by an equally monstrous
‘F’ truck.  One hundred interesting, but unnecessary, kilometres later, we reunited with the rest of the expedition who seemed alarmingly unconcerned at our whereabouts for the past hour or so! We gladly stripped off all of our adventure gear and plunged into Dalhousie Springs for a quick, hot spa bath in the huge artesian fed oasis.

The small Aputula Community of Finke struggled out of the heat and dust as we fuelled up cars and bikes. The local Aboriginal kids ran out to wave from unkempt backyards with the stripped remains of late model cars, the closest thing to a cubby house. Three weeks earlier, Finke had been overrun by more than 500 dusty competitors in the Finke Desert Race. Bike and quad racers, buggy drivers and support crews swelled the town by about a hundred fold.

We posed for pics at the Finke start line and ‘raced’ along the track for nearly a whole kilometre! I dropped the big BMW a couple of times in loose sand going over the first of thousands of ‘whoops’ that characterise the ‘Finke’ race. As I puffed and wheezed my way through another lifting and recovery practise session, to the amusement of my ‘so called’ mates, I must admit concerns about crossing the 1200 or so dunes of the Simpson started to dwell just a little!

Guy, who has competed and placed quite highly in the Finke, told us that the most successful riders are on the tap for most of the 220 kilometres of sand whoops and jumps only to turn around at Finke and do the same again on their return to Alice Springs. One kilometres was enough for me, and Grant and I meandered over to the service road that follows the track most of the way. This ‘road’ was not a lot better than the racetrack with endless, arm numbing corrugations and the random sharp dip to keep you alert. The road had been built up over the old Ghan railway line and I am pretty damn sure many of the sleepers still lie just beneath the road surface!

Early pioneers exploring the area used the majestic Chambers Pillar as a navigational landmark as it can be seen for many miles around. This significant sandstone monolith features heritage graffiti from a progression of pioneers as well as some ‘not so significant’ visitors, even though fines of up to $10,000 are in place to discourage this modern vandalism.

We camped nearby and I had my first lesson in how to change an F800GS rear tyre that had succumbed to endless pounding and split a tube. (Note to self: investigate tyre bead breaking device more portable than a Toyota Prado). Next day we awoke early to get sunrise shots of Chambers Pillar and then made our way into Alice Springs where we carried out some much needed maintenance on cars and bikes and resupplied our dwindling food and beverage supplies ready for the Desert crossing.

The Toyota Hilux ute had been groaning under the extra load after a second utility had withdrawn from the adventure at the last minute. New heavy-duty airbags had been sourced and had to be fitted at the motel, quite a big job without proper workshop facilities. On schedule, Col, Darryl, Johnno on GS1200 Adventures and ‘Boags’, the funny little Tasmanian on his KLR650, rolled into the motel to join us.

Next day, after a morale boosting ‘Buffet’ night at the local leagues club, we saddled up and rode in convoy out through the pass at Alice Springs and headed for Dalhousie Springs via the Old Andado Track. We got a sarcastic warning from a local out checking bores that the bikes will ‘have some fun’ getting through some bad patches of bulldust up ahead. His warnings prove true and most us take a few plunges in the fine choking dust that concealed
deep clay ruts and rocks.

Boags haf a ‘big off’ going a touch too fast through one massive bulldust hole and now we couldn’t make out the colour of his bike…. nor him for that matter… all just one shade of dusty brown!  Col, on the big GS1200, had a little lie down in the dust too and damaged a windscreen mount. Without its screen, the Adventure looked a little like a K1300 naked bike!

Somewhere in the bulldust a stake had pierced one of the new airbags in the Hilux and the full load of fuel, water and heavier supplies had to be repositioned to the ‘good side’ to save the suspension. Hot showers at Mt Dare that night followed by ‘one or two’ cold beers were a welcome end to a pretty demanding day’s riding and driving.

From Dalhousie Springs next day we headed due west for the Simpson, stopping for lunch at Purni Bore approx 70km along the track. Strong winds, dust storms and the overly persistent flies forced lunchtime to be more than brief. At the junction of the French Line and the Rig Road we reduced tyre pressures in readiness for the kilometres of sand dunes ahead and had lengthy discussion about which route to take.

The French Line, constructed to allow oil exploration, is very heavy going through continuous deep sand dunes. An alternate route known as the Rig Road had some sections of dunes capped with clay so that in the past, heavy trucks carrying exploration equipment could bypass the more difficult dunes. We picked our way cautiously over 60km of the Rig Road before turning back onto the French Line at Linnies Corner. The clay capping has not been maintained over the years and many sections had very deep and ragged washouts that would have swallowed a GS whole! 

We all struggled through on the French Line with a few falls in the deep sand ruts and dunes. The main difficulty was that there was no respite from standing up and riding ‘enduro like’ all day to keep the momentum through the sand. Johnno, who had had the least offroad and sand riding experience on the big GS, had used a lot of energy recovering the bike from falls and getting bogged down in the deep sand and was starting to suffer from exhaustion.

Guy geared up and took over the reins of the big beast. Quickly adapting to the extra weight and power of the 1200, he was soon flicking it around and power sliding every corner as if he was riding his enduro bike! By the end of the first day as we rolled into Poepel Corner, we all had bad backache and arm pump. Great food and a few medicinal ales eased the aches and we slept very well (judging by the intensity of snoring!), ready for the next day’s onslaught.

Day 11 of the adventure and the three GS1200 A’s, two F800GS’s and lone KLR650 are all fuelled and readied for another long day in the desert. Refreshed after another great nights sleep and a huge bacon and eggs breaky, we are soon back in the rhythm of crossing the ever increasing sand dunes of the Simpson.

This second section of desert has changed subtly to feature much higher and looser dunes but with longer and longer dry clay pans in between, allowing the occasional sit down rest before the next hard climb. We had found the trick was to maintain as much momentum as possible till near the crest of the dunes, allowing the bikes to float around between ruts and whoops on the way up. At the crest, we would roll back on the throttle to coast over the crest to see what turns or obstacles lay on the downside.

Now and then, the dune climb would have a nasty ‘S’ bend half way up for no apparent reason, other than to bleed off precious momentum. If you weren’t careful, the power of the GS bikes would soon have the rear wheel deeply buried to the bashplate and going nowhere fast! Although the lighter F800 riders had perfected a recovery technique of laying the bike right over and dragging the front around to face down hill before standing it up again, and taking a second run, the big GS1200’s had to wait for assistance to recover. We all carried 5 watt UHF radios and kept well within range, so help was never too far away.

Our lunchtime stop under a lone and inadequate shade tree was lightened by many tales of bogging, soft falls in the deep sand and ‘surprises’ over the crest of dunes. The sight of an ill prepared ‘Avis’ 4WD rental car that had no equipment nor a UHF radio strangely amused us! A ‘volunteer’ was sent running up each sand dune to check for oncoming vehicles before proceeding!

We didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was only on dune ten of about 1100! A couple of big dunes later and we saw in the hazy distance the mother of all sand dunes… ’Big Red’. The GS1200’s all take powerful runs up the twisting track to coast easily over the crest. The F800’s twitched through the deep ruts sending ‘roosts’ of red sand flying skywards before sailing over the sand ridge.

The 4WD support vehicles also make the hard climb look easy with a variety of steady and not so steady driving techniques! The Pajero nearly makes the run first attempt and after deflating tyres a touch lower, cruises over to meet up with the rest of the expedition.

It was an elated bunch of mates who gathered at the top of ‘Big Red’ for a celebratory cold beer and series of team photos! Guy, who had very capably relieved Johnno on the GS1200A, took ‘her’ back down Big Red for another run up an untried face of the dune, getting some spectacular ‘air’ off a large grass hummock, to the cheers of the team.

The last short run into the Birdsville Hotel allows us time to reflect on the many adventures of the past two weeks that will certainly remain as great memories. The huge grins of all the team as they enjoyed the first ’round’ of drinks at the hotel said it all. What a fantastic adventure!

- Drew Wickerson 

Drew in front of sand dune - Linnies Corner.	Daryll GS1200A morning cuppa in Simpson Desert.
F800GS under Old Ghan Railway watertank near Finke.	Grant F800GS watches moonrise at William Creek, Lake Eyre.
Shores of Lake Eyre from 500 feet.	Poeppel Corner camp.
BMW Team L-R - Daryll, Col, Grant, Johnno, Drew and Boags (s).	A beautiful sunset in the Australian outback.
F800GS under satrry, starry night in Desert (s).	Team at Chambers Pillar.
The Team celebrates at top of 'Big Red'.