Memories of a Ravenswood Trial

It was 1963 and I’d had my first full year of racing in the Townsville Motorcycle Club. Our calendar was taken up mainly with Lap and TT (short circuit racing), Scrambles (Motocross), Hill climbs and English trials.

The creek was now almost up to the top of the motor and a wall of leaves and sticks formed against the side of the bike.

It was towards the end of the year when the next event was to be a road trial – in fact, the Ravenswood Trial. I had no real idea what it involved and as I didn’t have a road bike, showed little interest. That was when my mate John Weber suggested that I could ride his 1956 500cc Goldstar BSA and he would ride his Big Valve Rocket. The route for the Trial was Townsville to Brandon, Brandon to the turnoff near Clare and then onto Ravenswood via Woodhouse Station, then back to Townsville via Mingela. As it transpired there were only 5 riders competing this year. They were John and myself, Phil Gordon on Adam Semple’s 1954 Triumph, Noel Walduck on a Suzuki 80 and Col Neucom on a Honda 90. We met at the Shell Service Station on the corner of Charters Towers and Bayswater Roads. The procedure was for riders to leave at 10-minute intervals. Col was first away as he was the Club Captain and had the responsibility to carry a watch in a sealed tobacco tin. I’m sure that I was 4th away, so I decided to catch up with the rider in front and just follow a few hundred yards behind. Once out of town, I picked up the pace but there was still no sign of the next rider. It was much, much later that I realised that I must have taken a different route out of town and actually got ahead of the next two riders who had started before me. Meanwhile, I kept charging on until about halfway to Brandon I passed Col with his Honda 90 parked and him standing behind a tree. This only convinced me that I still hadn’t caught up with the next rider, so I gave the Goldie a bit more stick. Before long I was at Brandon and pulled into the checkpoint and handed over my card for marking. As I was sure I was still behind, I didn’t stop the motor and as soon as my card was marked, I was off again. It was probably about 15 miles of bitumen till the turnoff near Clare and I was there in no time flat. Having found the Woodhouse Station sign and turned off onto the dirt road, I was finally having second thoughts about the rider I was trying to catch. Now, I’m an old Charters Towers boy, and knew a thing or two about tracking. So I had a good look around on the dirt road and – no motorbike tracks! I turned around and headed back towards Brandon. About halfway back I met Col and he quickly enlightened me that I had arrived in Brandon some 25 minutes early and should have waited for the rest of the riders to arrive before leaving. As I obviously had no chance of winning, I decided to just enjoy the ride. The road was really tricky, ranging from very sandy with 2 wheel ruts, to washouts where you would have to leave the road to ride around them, and it became even worse. The creek crossings were pretty well defined, but the road petered out and was crossed by numerous cattle pads, and it was very easy to get bushed. This was probably the original wagon track, which went through to Ravenswood gold rush in the 1867. Meanwhile, back to Col and I. We were charging along, but noticed heavy storm clouds ahead. Then we came upon a boundary rider’s hut and were told by the stockman to go back as we were likely to get cut off by rising creeks. We took this as good news. If we could get across these creeks before the rain, the following riders could not get through and one of us would have to win the trial. We crossed one small creek that was just running and then came to a wider one. It had maybe a foot of water running quite fast, so we made the decision to try to cross. I parked the Goldie and with Col pushing and me dragging, we muscled the Honda 90 across. By the time we reached the other side, the foot had increased to 18 inches and was flowing a lot faster! With Col waiting in the middle of the creek, I mounted the Goldie sidesaddle and charged the creek. I made probably about 6 feet before the motor died, leaving Col and I hanging on with all our strength. The creek was now almost up to the top of the motor and a wall of leaves and sticks formed against the side of the bike. Col then thought discretion was the better part of valour and headed for the far bank, leaving me hanging on for grim life. The force of water and piled-up debris was so great that the bike washed over on its side. Somehow I managed to get the bike pointing upstream and maneuvered it to the far bank and in behind a tree. Then between Col and I, we managed to drag it up the bank clear of the water. By this time, the rain had pretty well stopped but the creek was still running strongly. We set about trying to dry the bikes off and get rid of the water from the carbies. Suddenly we heard the sound of motors and the other three bikes arrived together. Seeing Col and I on the other bank, John assumed that we had ridden across, and was about to charge the muddy waters. With lots of arm waving, I explained what had happened thus far. We then made the decision to manhandle the 3 bikes across the creek. As there were now five of us, this did not prove to be a problem. All bikes except the Suzuki were thoroughly waterlogged. We had only basic motorcycle tool kits and a foot pump. No WD40 back in those days and the only dry cloth we had was the handkerchief in the sealed tobacco tin wrapped around the watch. So we drained the carby float bowls and blew out the jets with the foot pump to clear the water from the fuel systems. The magnetos were a different proposition. Our technique was to remove the HT pickups and points and pour a cup of petrol in and about the affected areas. The bike was then laid on its side to remove the petrol, the whole area dried off with the foot pump and the points dried with the handkerchief. This procedure was repeated several times until we managed to get a weak spark. By closing the spark plug gaps to about 10 thou we eventually got all bikes running after a fashion. Neither BSAs or the Triumph would run at low revs and you had to keep wringing their necks to keep them going. The Honda 90 started easily after the float bowl was drained. In all, it took something like 2 hours to get the bikes running and by then the creek had stopped running! We still had a long way to go to Ravenswood so we set out again. Because the Goldie was the most troublesome to keep running, I was to go first and the others to follow. Now between the creek and Ravenswood is the Ravenswood Range, consisting of 3 very steep climbs, all on red soil. So with the Goldie running like a hairy goat at lower revs, I launched off up the Range. After the Range, the road improved and I was able to keep up a good pace. We arrived in Ravenswood, absolutely starving after our exertions. So, after a beer and meal at Delaney’s Pub, it was off to Mingela and Townsville. The upshot of the competition side of the Trial was that John Weber was declared the winner, as he had lost the fewest points at Brandon. I competed in several more Ravenswood Trials over the next few years. I won it about two years later and arrived home in the back of a ute after magneto failure on another. However, nothing will ever compare with the Ravenswod Trial of 1963.