Australia on Postie bikes
GETTING STARTED
Nathan Millward takes a group across Australia on Honda CTll0 Postie bikes.
Millward he plan was simple; to ride from the east coast of Australia to the west, Brisbane to Perth, straight through the heart of the Outback.
The bike choice was equally simple; the iconic Australian postie bike, officiallyknown as the Honda CTI 10, a bike I knew well from having ridden one home from Australia to the UK almost a decade ago.
They're great bikes: sturdy, reliable, easy to work on, as slow as glacial melt, but they do the job and for a ride across the barren stretches of the Outback it would be as good a bike as any. They're much like a Cub 90, only 4-speed not three, and fitted with regular telescopic forks rather than cantilever. CT stands for Cub Trail, so in a way they were built for the job.
The bikes were sourced from One Ten Motorcycles in Caboolture, a town just to the north of Brisbane. They specialise in the CT and agreed to source and prep a fleet of nine bikes for what would be a 5000km crossing from coast to coast.
All the bikes were fitted with long-range tanks mounted in the step-through, as well as official postie delivery sacks to act as panniers. Other than that, the bikes would be standard.
The route would take in some of Australia's most iconic desert tracks. From Brisbane we'd ride inland for a thousand kilometres on the Tarmac before reaching the New South Wales town of Bourke, marking the start of the Outback, before heading due west to Cameron Corner, then out along the Strzelecki Track, joining the Oodnadatta Track, before passing by Uluru (Ayers Rock) and riding the final 1100 kilometres of dirt road along the Great Central Road. That track ends about 1000 kilometres short of Perth, meaning that out of 5000 kilometres, 3000 of those would be on dirt roads. Average speed of a postie bike is 40mph.
~IDERS AND BIKES
The team compromised of an
Australian, a Norwegian and the rest all pommies. A few were experienced big trip riders, whilst most of the others lacked any real experience of a trip of this nature. One lady in her fifties had never ridden off-road before, but like the rest she was keen and determined, which sometimes matters more than ability.
We had just _over three weeks to complete the trip, averaging around 200 kilometres a day and predominately camping as that's about the only option once in the Outback.
The use of a support vehicle was frowned upon initially (just think of the abuse Charley and Ewan get for it), but given how remote some of the tracks were, not to mention the need to keep man and machine healthy and nourished, it became a sensible idea.
Thomas, a young German who lived in Australia, offered to bring up the rear in his fully equipped
Toyota Hiace, a two-wheel-drive vehicle that he was confident would make it through the sand.
He would carry spare fuel and water, as well as cooking equipment and a pantry, but mainly the bikes and riders would all be self-sufficient in case we got split up. I also rented a satellite phone in case of emergency.
Arriving in Caboolture and seeing the bikes for the frrst time marked the first bite of reality. Some bikes
no more than 30,000 kilometres on the clock, others upwards of 70,000 kilometres. All had served as mail delivery bikes before being retired off and sold on to the public. All now had new tyres, chains and sprockets, and had all be through the workshop. We packed around $5000 worth of spares into the back of the van; everything from gasket sets to cylinder heads, to tyres, to 40 litres of oil, air filters, spare handlebars, wing mirrors and brake levers. Some of it was bought, other parts on sale or return.
The trip got underway one Sunday morning, early May, under an autumn sky as the seasons are flipped on their head Down Under. Sprin / and autumn are generally considered the best, or safest, times to be
TOP LEFT:Small can carry a lot
fleet of postie bikes at the beginningof the journey
the way to go in the Outback
crossing the desert. There'd been a lot of rain in Queensland and New South Wales, with some of the roads we intended to ride closed right up until the day before we would aim to cross them.
It was touch and go as to whether we'd have to detour via Broken Hill on the Tarmac, but thankfully the roads opened, and if nothing else the rain had helped dampen the dust.
Traffic begins to thin as you leave the coast behind. Towns get smaller and more spaced out. There are aboriginal towns out here and rural life in Australia appears to be a testing place, with draught, poverty, some racial tensions and also a desire by the young to seek the bright lights of the coastal cities. For anyone used to the big cities of Australia this feels like a different land out here; the colour of it becoming redder and more intense towards the interior.
Camping spots were found with the aid of
Wiki Camps, a phone app that maps all campsites, both free and paid for, as well as the facilities they offer. We also had the
Desert Tracks guidebook, which is a must for a trip into the Outback. Some of the
Outback towns had hotels, but you were probably better off camping on the outskirts, especially with the bikes to leave outside. The main danger for us were the road trains. These tow as many as four trailers and rip along at a pretty high speed. It's best to spot them in the mirror and tuck into the verge as they'll come through whether there's room for you or not. The backdraft from them blows you offiine when they overtake.
SHAKEN NOT STIRRED
We made it to Bourke, gave the bikes a good service -a"'n!.'. met up with the aptly named Sandy, the local roaas inspector, who was going to ride with us for a few days on his Honda XR650. Riding on sand is a challenge. The sand is inconsistent; in parts it can be damp and compact, iving good traction and predictability. In other parts it can be dry, crusty and rutted, and in other laces dry and powdery. A lot depends on how recently the grader had been along the road. If it was recent then the dirt roads would be scraped smooth and good to ride on, but sometimes it could be six months or even a few years between grading, meaning that dfePiruts form, filled with powdery sand to camouflage them.
Corrugations were the worst of it. The bikes don't
t-
wweren't fast, but the postiebikes persisted
post-apocalyptic outpost in a Mad Max film, the ceiling of the diner covered by the hats of passing travellers who've pinned them to the ceiling. The food in these places is surprisingly good to say they only get fresh deliveries every other week or more. The service is delivered with the usual Outback;.small talk about road conditions and which way you're heading. It's another world out here. It almost feels nomadic.
It was Martin, the Norwegian, who had been injured. Just after breaking camp west of Cameron Corner, he had hit a deep rut at the wrong angle and shot off the road and flung over the bars. The first I knew of it was when I realised no one was behind me. I circled back and there they all were, comforting Martin by the roadside.
A call on the satellite phone to the nearest police station revealed that the nearest hospital was a seven-hour drive away in Hawker. Martin and his bike were loaded in Thomas's van - the bike laid across his bed - and they high-tailed it to the hospital with a suspected broken arm. A week in, that was Martin's trip over and a sobering reality check for the rest of us.
HALFWAY THERE
After a night camping wild in the bush with basic provisions we emerged mid-way along the 275-mile
a compact wide dirt road used fr uently b the road trains and other trucks to . access ines located deep in the Outback. It links Innamin
herd of wild camels. We never saw any spiders or snakes. Dingoes are what you can hear howling at night.
Once in Lyndhurst - about midway through the trip - we had two options: stick to the original plan and ride along the Oodnadatta Track, out to Ayers Rock and take the Great Central Road into Perth. That route involved about a further 2000 kilometres of dirt. The other option was to duck down to Adelaide and take the Nullarbor Plain all the way across the bottom. Straight, flat and all Tarmac. A safer, but more boring route. The group decided to stick with the original plan and take its chances with the dirt roads. Many were keen to see Uluru.
The Oodnadatta Track was dusty and busier than any of the other desert tracks we'd been on. One of the riders pulled over not long into it and said they'd had enough and both them and their bike ended up in Thomas's van for the next three days until they got their riding legs back. A day of this terrain would probably be fun, but a solid week of sand riding and it d0es-star to take its toll.
Midway along the Oodnadatta Track you come across a random art installation, the centrepiece a couple of aeroplanes stuck nose first in the dirt. It broke up the monotoQ;Ya bit. Then came Coober Pedy, the original opal mining town where people still live underground because of'th summer heat. It's a lively place and well recommen
We carried on north along tpe Stuart Highway until we hit the turn-off for Uluru. There are a lot of burned-out cars along this str tch, which was intimidating at first. It's an navoidable reality that the world is troubled out here. llie aboriginal situation
Jthe nights
Uluru is impressive, but there are easier ways to see it
of emptiness were the norm factors into every conversation, be it in gas stations or other travellers you meet. There is a clear division of communities, between white Australian and the indigenous communities. You couldn't travel Australia and not see it. In the Outback the two communities co-exist and for now it seems like a stable relationship. Coastal Australians can sometimes talk very negatively about the indigenous communities, but those that live out here seem to have a much more balanced viewpoint of things. The cars were a consequence of running out of petrol or breaking down, and abandoned and set alight rather than fixed. It's just the way of the world out here.
Just outside Uluru, at the Erldunda roadhouse, we serviced the bikes, changed the oil, cleaned the filters and amongst all the 1:iikesfound only one broken spoke. I owned and had supplied all the bikes, so was relieved with the way they were performing. I'm not sure what the perfect bike for these roads would be, probably something like a Suzuki DRZ400 or DR650, but then I'd seen ·experienced riders struggle on those tall trail bikes in the sand, so I'm not so sure. A Royal Enfield Himalayan, believe it or not, might well be the best compromise. That or a Honda CRF250L.Youjust need something manageable.
We watched sunset over Uluru, local children pinching a few items out of our luggage as we did s
It's certainly a spectacle to watch the big rock in the desert change colour, but I'm not sure it's worth the nigh on 3000-kilometre ride to do so. We rested on the ciunpsite that night before tackling the Gr7a.t · Central Road early the next morning. Thi is he road that daunted many of us. It's 1114 kilome res of sand and dirt, and depending on who you speak to, and depending on the weather at the time, is ei er easy to
ride or nigh on impossible. Only three places to stoc]s up on supplies could be found along it; the homesteads of Warakurna Roadhouse, Warburton and Tjukayirla. The rest of the way it would be uninhabited wilderness.
But it is an odd place. The gaps between the homesteads are as much as 400 kilometres apart, but there'd still be side roads heading off into the bush, so people must live out there, be it ranches or aboriginal communities. Eventually, roads such as these will get paved, which will be better for the inhabitants along it, and selfishly worse for those of us looking for adventure. There are a few stretches of tarmac already in place, mainly for the Flying Doctors to use as runways when they fly in for an emergency.
Thirty kilometres before the end of the Great Central Road, with the final stretch of tarmac to Perth in sight, we had our second accident of our trip. -Chris, who'd been a safe hand in the group, found a deep pocket of sand adjustment in order at its
BOTTOMLEFT:The borderof South Australia
www.mslmagazine.co.uk
It's a misnomer that when planning a ride of a lifetime or even an annual pilgrimage, most people automatically think of sunnier climes. The thing is, the UK harbours the most incredible diversity of scenery, it's cheaper, there's no language barrier, there's not a lot of transfer travel involved, and most importantly in these exceptional times, we need to look closer to home to get our kicks.
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