1954 Redex Trial
Seven days of torture
Today we regard off road events like the Australian Safari as supreme tests of man and machine. But today, man is clothed in all manner of comfortable attire, and protected by miracle fibres, while the motorcycle is a sophisticated gadget designed specifically for the task. Sixty years ago, more than 100 hopefuls rugged themselves against the cold, pulled on a pair of ex-War Department gloves, and set off on a rugged and primitive course in the middle of one of the most punishing winters for decades.
It was billed locally as The World’s Greatest Reliability Trial, and certainly the British press referred to the 1954 Redex Trial as “probably the toughest as well as the longest motorcycle race in the world”. The concept for the trial was born out of the blaze of publicity that resulted from the previous year’s similar event for cars, which attracted unprecedented attention for a motor sport event in Australia. Newspapers across the country ate up the story, and a squadron of light aircraft carried reporters to the far-flung reaches of the route.
All this made the sponsor deliriously happy and consequently very receptive to a proposal from the Auto Cycle Union of New South Wales to run a separate event for solo and sidecar motorcycles in 1954. Redex pledged a total of £2,000 towards prize money and organisational expenses. When interviewed by a Sydney newspaper, Redex Australasia Director Reg Shepherd explained the multi-national oil additive company’s thinking. “My reasons for sponsoring this trial is to try and counteract the adverse publicity given to motorcyclists in this country. I think when the general public become better acquainted with the motorcyclist they will appreciate the fact that he is not the rat-bag they have been taught to believe he is by adverse publicity. The Redex National Reliability Trial will do much towards lifting the prestige of motorcycling in this country.”
In terms of physical hardship, there was no comparison between the car and motorcycle events. The car crews enjoyed relative comfort and weather protection, with the driver constantly briefed by a navigator. At many controls, teams of mechanics swooped on the vehicles while the driving crews rested.
For the bikes it was exactly the reverse. Riders not only had to endure long hours at the handlebars in sub-freezing conditions, they had to navigate as well; over tracks and back roads that were virtually unmarked. Any maintenance had to be done outside the control points, meaning that riders had to build a cushion of time in order to carry out repairs. The seven-day event, commencing on Sunday June 6, was fiendishly contrived to include the worst possible weather conditions, taking competitors over 2,500 miles of the most atrocious terrain in the country. Motorcycles had to be as supplied ex-manufacturer, save for tyres which could be swapped for trials or scrambles versions. Although motorcycle sales had begun the decline that would reach rock bottom in the sixties, trade support was reasonably strong, especially from the various Matchless distributors in each state. Queenslander Max James recalls, “Matchless were absolutely determined to win. I was going to ride a Gold Star BSA but (Queensland Matchless distributor) Markwell’s talked me out of that and prepared a bike for me. They paid for me to fly to Sydney prior to the event and (NSW Matchless distributor) A.P. North’s loaned me a bike so I could go on a recce with Bryan Stansfield the week before the actual trial started. We rode from Sydney to Menindee via Cobar and Wilcannia in one day – nearly 800 miles. We left Sydney at 4am and got to Menindee at 9pm – it was the most punishing day of my life.” Gordon McDonald typified the clubman spirit of the event. “As soon as this trial was announced, I decided to enter. Foolishly you may think, as at that time I did not have a bike, nor money to buy one, I also had a house being built which subsequently I moved into just before the trial. One way or another I acquired a 1951 B34 B.S.A., which I thought to be suitable.
Preparation included fitting a 19” front wheel in place of the 21” so that I only had to carry one spare tube. I also fitted one of B.S.A.’s larger capacity fuel tanks, suitably modified at the cap area to accommodate a tray for maps and a beautiful brass Elgin car clock which I had overhauled for the purpose. Along with the 19” wheels, I had fitted a puncture proofing solution to the tubes, and nail flickers to the rear frame. I subsequently suffered no tyre trouble.”
“My new job was in premises next to a car yard run by Jack Forrest who was also entered, albeit in a more organized manner than I. However, Jack started coming in each morning to inspect my progress and he was intrigued by one of my ploys. I had cut the fingers out of a pair of red rubber gloves and put them over the end of my taped-in-place spare control cables. In trials it was considered good practice to fit new cables, then tape the old known ones in situ ready for use in an emergency. The fingers were to keep mud and water out.”
Exploding the myth
Australia has a reputation as a wide, brown land, baked rock-hard by a relentless sun, but in mid-winter it can be as cold and wet as anywhere on earth. Initial surveys of the route predicted that many would find the going impossible, but this did not deter 123 entries, including those of two women, flooding in to chase the prize money and contingency awards. One of the latter offered an extra fifteen quid should the winner be wearing a genuine South Australian-made ‘Cosy’ brand lap rug, and competitors needed every lap rug they could carry as the mercury plummeted before the start. Travelling the thousand miles from Adelaide to the start in Sydney, Len Dangerfield and Ray Trevena were only halfway there when their car and trailer carrying Ray’s 350 BSA and Len’s BSA Golden Flash outfit became hopelessly bogged between Menindee and Ivanhoe. They spent a precious day digging it out but had only covered a few more miles when the same thing happened again between Ivanhoe and Hillston. With time rapidly running out, they sent a telegram from Rankin Springs, requesting the ACU exempt them from the machine examination on Saturday, then unloaded the bikes and rode the rest of the way, reaching the start at Parramatta frozen and famished at 7am. Within hours they were on their way to Yass, and looking forward to their first decent sleep in four days.
The field was an eclectic collection of the talent of the day, with top road racers like Eric Hinton, George Morrison, Bob Brown, Jack Forrest and Roger Barker pitted against leading dirt track stars and numerous lesser light enthusiasts. A bit of road racing experience was definitely a benefit in order to maintain the 34 mph speed average required in some sections.
The rules gave competitors a fiveminute leeway into Controls – five minutes early or late lost no points – but ‘secret’ controls inserted along the route were designed to catch out the speedsters who attempted to build up a bank of time in case they needed to effect repairs. A further trap was that the mileages listed on the route cards were not accurate, and invariably longer than stated, which further threw out the competitors’ calculations.
A cloudless winter’s day, with freezing, gale-force winds greeted the field as they lined up for the start at Parramatta Park, west of Sydney. Almost unprecedented for a motorcycle event, the trial made front page in the Sydney dailies – the main photos showing 350 Matchless-mounted
Mrs Jane Murray being farewelled by her three young daughters. Jane was one of two women competitors – the other being Melburnian Joyce Aylmer on a 250 Jawa. June was a keen motorcyclist – her husband Hilton had raced in the Clubmans classes at Bathurst and Mount Druitt – and began preparing for the event while raising her young family. A.P. North provided a 350 Matchless for her use. ‘‘When I got the kids to bed at night I would ride from the Collaroy Plateau to the Hawkesbury [River] and back,’’ Murray said. ‘‘Berlei donated a pair of step-ins (women’s underpants) and a bra, and the jewellers Angus and Coote donated a watch. My husband made my map holder and my brother supplied leather clothing and panniers.”
The first pair of riders was flagged away at 10am, with the balance departing at two-minute intervals. The winds were remorseless. Many of the smaller machines were down to first gear as they battled into the sleeting gales and several competitors needed treatment for frostbite when they finally reached the overnight stop. Trevena, totally exhausted after his pre-trial dramas, admitted that the only way he stayed awake was by his riding partner Bill Mayes constantly sounding the horn. Gordon McDonald remembers the experience well. “Heading down the Princes Highway my riding partner Frank Momaertz and I met the grandfather of all southerly winds. I heard that one bloke on a Bantam had been blown off the road. I know that my 500 couldn’t manage top gear and Neil Swanson on a 350 D.K.W. had to tuck his shoulder behind Bevan Williams on an L.E. Velocette to push him along. After lunch at Nowra we followed the road through Nerriga to Braidwood. This road even now is not good, but in 1954 was a sand track linking rainwater puddles anything up to 12 inches deep. I was going well with no headwind but soon Sid Goodsell went past me as if I was stopped, closely followed by his partner Charlie Swanson. Charlie, hatless, turned and waved to me as he passed. Both these men were old experienced trial riders, much respected. Soon after I rounded a bend to see Charlie picking himself up out of a mud hole so deep that his A.J.S. on its side was almost submerged. I slowed, thinking to help Charlie but he
waved me on calling out “go on, I’ll catch you up later”. He did this in fact sooner rather than later.
At the Canberra control, local riders would offer to guide you through the maze. Good intentions not withstanding, they went too fast probably thinking we were racing and I soon found myself alone finding my own way. Shortly I noticed a line of headlamps strung out behind, so I had inherited the guiding role. As this was my first multi day trial, arrival at Yass was equal to my experience of the end of a one-day trial.” Max James also recalls some unexpected assistance in negotiating the streets on Canberra. “The coppers in Canberra all rode Matchless, and as I entered the town one of them came up beside me and said ‘follow me’. He took me through Canberra until I was on the Yass road, then went back and did the same for any Matchless rider he could find. The same thing happened in Melbourne. In the trial itself, I took a bag with a change of clothes for every night. At the end of each day I put the used clothes into a bag and posted it back to Brisbane.”
Try the mud cake
At 8.22pm that evening the first rider, Eric Hinton on an ES2 Norton, arrived at the overnight stop at Yass after riding through almost continuous rain, and it was still raining when the field departed for Melbourne the next morning. The route took riders over the Victorian Alps, where snow was falling steadily, but an even worse section was a two-mile stretch of axle-deep mud near Jingelic. The slush was difficult enough on a solo, but near impassable on an outfit, and machine after machine sank into the murk. Eventually, all were towed out but 20 failed to make it to the Albury checkpoint on the NSW/Victorian border before the cut-off time. Five more were too exhausted and frozen to continue. “Day 2 took us through some rough country”, says Gordon McDonald, “some covered in snow, and later in the day we had such heavy rain south of Albury that a group of officials had set up beside the road to Melbourne with an umbrella and a hurricane lantern to tell us that the Melbourne control had been abandoned and advised us to go straight to the Y.M.C.A. Dressing in Melbourne I allowed myself the luxury of clean, dry socks – the shine of this dulled by putting my feet into sodden flying boots.” The notorious Melbourne Police were out in force as the sodden competitors struggled into town. At times the mounted constabulary seemed to outnumber the competitors, and any breach of the speed limit was not only punished by a fine, but by an even more costly lengthy lecture. Police manned every intersection to ensure exasperated riders did not run red lights, and it made for a fraught time at the final overnight control as rider after rider arrived with their own tale of harassment and frustration. June Murray told the waiting reporters, “I have never felt so cold in my life. Under my waterproofs I am wearing five blouses and a pair of pyjamas!” There were high spots, as Gordon recalls. “In Melbourne, they whisked us off to our accommodation; circular drive, tiered steps, welcomed by a gentleman in butler gear. I immediately told the driver that he’d brought us to the wrong place. They led and pushed us in through marble corridors 10 feet wide. The bathroom with three bath cubicles also had about five showers. I say “about” because the place was full of steam and rough motorcyclists bodies. One bloke was alternating between plunging into a bath then running over to a shower. I was proud to be associated with them. The beds were so good I slept in. “They” insisted I had breakfast even though it meant missing my lift. I escaped to realise that I didn’t know where I was or where the control was. I hailed a taxi and tried to explain the predicament, but the driver didn’t know what the Redex Trial was let alone where the control may be. Miraculously and to my great surprise we found our goal. The control official said ‘you can start your engine now and I’ll tell you when it’s time to go’. I said ‘I’ll start it when it’s time to go, it’s only got limited life in it’.”
Before dawn on day three, 78 survivors pushed on to Adelaide, with the first checkpoint at the Victorian gold mining town of Ballarat. Here local hero George Morrison, more famous for his Isle of Man TT exploits, received a rousing cheer from the assembled townsfolk. At the day’s end, five riders still had clean sheets; Bill Mayes (BSA), Fred Syme (Ariel), Keith Stewart and Roy Dungate (Matchlesses), and Victorian road racer Joe Donovan (BMW).
In contrast to the tense situation in Melbourne, the Adelaide police escorted arriving competitors through the evening traffic to the Control, where an enormous crowd had assembled.
On Wednesday morning, the field of 72 was reassembled and despatched in reverse order. With another 314 miles to the overnight control at the mining centre of Broken Hill, Joyce Aylmer was first out in front of a crowd of 500 wellwishers. It was another cold but largely uneventful ride, but things were about to change, notably for Gordon McDonald. “I got almost to Gawler when a loud noise caused forward motion to cease. The conrod had broken and on the way out had broken the piston, barrel and both sides of the crankcase. I dismounted and just walked away. I couldn’t, at that time, look. Shortly, along came Neil Mitchell on his Vincent. The last time I’d seen him he was upside down beside a mile-long very deep mud road. I was so exhausted I could do nothing but ride
past. We looked at each other and I’m sure Neil knew how I felt. No apology or recriminations, Neil offered me a lift to Gawler. Then at Gawler George Morrison offered the pillion off his swinging arm BSA B33 up to Kapunda.”
Send in the doctor
Broken Hill is situated in one of the driest and most rugged parts of the country, but a freak weather pattern had swept in over the area to virtually coincide with the trial’s arrival. Lashing rain turned the road to Menindee, which was little more than a cart track at best, into a quagmire. Max James, who had been amongst the leading group, crashed 17 miles out of Menindee. A local grazier discovered James lying on the side of the road, with a fractured right thigh and in shock. He was finally airlifted to Broken Hill Hospital by the Royal Flying Doctor Service. The section soon became impassable, with bogged machinery piling up faster than it could be towed out. By day’s end, a 140-mile sea of mud had claimed a total of 13 competitors. To get around the morass, some had taken to side tracks and ended up miles off course, even riding over miles of ploughed paddocks in the pouring rain.
Just before the day’s final check at Hillston, Bryan Stansfield, who had started number one, hit a kangaroo at full tilt. Stansfield was luckily uninjured, but his Matchless was wrecked. However his adversity was the saving grace for the eventual winner, Keith Stewart. His riding partner Roy Dungate’s lights had failed completely before Adelaide, and Stewart’s machine had a faulty rectifier, meaning that the lights only barely worked when the engine was revved hard by being ridden in a lower gear. The pair had soldiered on, lightless for days, riding through steep mountain country with sheer drops from the edge of the tracks, yet they maintained their clean sheet. Then they came upon Stansfield’s destroyed Matchless and set about plundering parts. By pinching the rectifier, relay and some switches (many parts such as rims, forks, frame and engine had been pre-marked or sealed and were unable to be changed), Dungate’s bike once again sported some form of illumination. The Hillston control was in chaos as the decimated field struggled in, or failed to arrive within hours of their expected time. It had taken some riders 2 1/2 hours to cover just 20 miles. Gradually, local trucks began arriving with mudcloaked bikes and riders aboard, who then pushed or dragged their machines into the control. Accommodation was also in short order. Even the local gaol was pressed into service but soon filled to capacity, leaving the latest of the latecomers to sleep outside beside a fire in the freezing rain.