Ride Reports

[Serge C]

Day 2: Cape Tribulation to Helenvale.



We woke to a fine and sunny morning, and after the obligatory breakfast of bacon and eggs, we collected our bikes and back-tracked through the forest, back over the ferry and back along the main road to our first real challenge for the trip.....the iconic CREB Track.  The first step was to cross the Daintree River (again).  We re-grouped at the river’s edge, and Leigh gave us a few pointers.  The river was quite wide, reasonably deep and flowing fast.  As soon as you hit the water you could feel it pushing you downstream, so you had to focus on the exit point and aim for that. By this stage, we had started to sort out ‘who’s-who-at-the-zoo’, with the faster guys always at the front and so on.  Damian and I reached the opposite bank with no problems, so we stopped to watch some others cross before we headed off.  Leigh also advised that the CREB track had some steep hill to climb and descend, although being from Victoria, he knew what we call steep, and told us not to worry!  If the black-top to Kuranda was everything a road-rider could dream for, the CREB track was dirt-riders nirvana!  Short turns, sweeping turns, ups, downs, big ups and long downs to multiple river crossings, dark tunnel-like forest sections opening out to bright sunlit sections......this track had it all...all 65 k’s of it!  The last 10 k’s or so flattened out and gave you a bit of a breather.  We re-grouped at the end, and I asked Leigh if we could do it again.  He looked in my tank and said, “Nah, sorry!”  Bummer!  I could have run that track all day.





The CREB track was originally the service access track for the old power line to Cooktown, and it links  Daintree to Wujal Wujal, where we were stopping for lunch.  But first, we went into the Wujal Wujal Falls (a place that’s so good they named it twice!)  Leigh said that the waterfall wasn’t particularly spectacular at the moment, but during the wet season, it really pumps.



We lunched on some fresh Barra burgers and chips, then headed for the Ayton track which was a nice steep piece of single trail, stopping on the way to look at a couple of crocs, sunning themselves on the banks of a river.  From Ayton we headed through Rossville and onto Helenvale, where our digs for the night was the Lion’s Den Hotel.  Accommodation here consisted of bunk style tents that were raised off the ground, complete with balcony deck and equipped with fridge and coffee making facilities.  Upon arrival, we met Craig (or Cookie as we named him) as he was our cook and back-up driver for the rest of the trip.  After the day’s ride, some guys headed for the showers, while others (like me) took a plunge in the near-by river.
Dinner was at the pub (I had baked Barramundi)  It was an interesting place, people had written messages all over the walls, inside and out, and we enjoyed a few ales before hitting the sack around 11:00.  A good day’s ride of around 200 k’s.

[Serge C]

Day 4: Kalpowar to Archer River



Leigh warned us that today was gonna be a big day!

To give our colons a bit of a break, we munched on cereal and fruit for breakfast, filled our camel backs and re-fuelled the bikes.  Our support vehicle could carry 100 litres of water and 180 litres of fuel, the latter being dispensed via a hose and electric pump.  We also put together another pack lunch for a stop along the trail.
We headed north (surprise, surprise) into Lakefield National Park.  Our bitumen riding days were all but over.  It was dirt from here on in.  The landscape also started to change a bit as we headed further inland, tall, grassy plains with stilted tree or no tree coverage.  And sand....we started to encounter sand.  Most trails had been powdery dirt, but now there was a bit of sand in the mix.  You could feel it under your wheels.
 



We had a re-group sometime after passing through Bizant, and Leigh advised that we would hit our first patch of deep sand.  He asked how many of us had ridden sand before, and only a few of us raised our hands.  He went on to suggest that the best way to tackle it was to carry some speed in second, stand up with weight forward and allow the bike to move around underneath.  I agreed with most of that, except that I tend to keep weight back and keep the front light.  Anyhow, as soon as we hit it, it all came flooding back.  I was cruising through it when I came across one of the guys who had come off.  He waved me on, so I kept the momentum up and cleared the section.  We came to another creek crossing, so some of us had a little rest and waited for the back makers to catch up.  Onion was one of the first to arrive, with news that Adrian (the guy who had waved me on), was not well. Seems he hit the sand pinned in 4th, tank-slapped for about 100 meters and hit the deck....hard.  They got him back in the saddle (complaining of chest and shoulder pain), and he soldiered on.

We continued on through the Lama Lama National Park, taking another ‘private’ track, and arrived at Running Creek where we stopped for lunch (and another opportunity to fish in the croc ridden water-way).
 




Adrian arrived some time later, and he wasn’t looking good at all.  When he was on the bike and riding he was coping, but as soon as he tried to get off, it all went to poo, so the decision was made to keep him moving.  The private track terminated at Moojeeba, and we made our way to Coen via the main, un-made road which had short sections of bitumen as we passed homesteads and approached the township.  At Coen, we headed for the pub and a refreshing beer, while we waited for Adrian to limp in.  He was taken straight to the local medical centre, where he was diagnosed with 3 broken ribs and a cracked shoulder blade.  His ride was over, and was flown to Cairns for further treatment.

The sand had taken its toll on a few riders.  Charles was spent, drained from the effort (and subsequent failure) to keep his bike up-right, and he was looking for an escape route.  Fortunately, the trek to our next camp site was also via the main road, so it was back onto the long, dusty road out of Coen into Archer River.  Our camp-site here was on the banks of a beautiful water-hole, situated in deep, grainy sand.  I managed to pull corner-man duties about 100 meters from camp and it took all I could muster to complete that last stint.  On arrival, I stripped off and dropped into the cool, refreshing water (with a well earned beer).







Tonight we pigged-out on lamb chops, mashed spud and vegies followed by another one of Gal’s camp-oven creations.  Beds were laid out on the sand and we crashed relatively early after some 350 k’s in the saddle.

More to follow!

[colinp]

Serge, great report I've been thinking about doing this ride for a while, I'd better start saving. Colinp

[Serge C]

Day 5: Archer River to Bramwell Junction.



After our epic ride yesterday, some of us were looking for a slightly ‘easier’ day today.  “Tuff luck”, said Leigh, as he prepared us for another big ‘un.

We ate another hearty breakfast, re-filled our camelbacks with water and lunches, and headed out to the Archer River Roadhouse to fuel up the bikes.  After Leigh paid the bill, he and Cookie were discussing the attitude of the local Roadhouse manager, in particular the way he seemed very distracted and curt.  This was apparently not his usual nature.  We later found out why.  Someone had (allegedly) been murdered in his camp-ground that previous night!  That’s enough to put anyone off their golf game!

http://mypolice.qld.gov.au/blog/2012/08/17/suspicious-death-archer-river-coen-division/

So with full tanks, we headed off again.  I noted that at this point of the trip, the roads and general area had really turned red, and that it was time to start getting used to the dust that’s synonymous with this country.





Also, we had to get used to sand.  Everywhere there was sand...deep sand, shallow sand, grey sand, white sand, yellow sand, gravelly sand, rocky sand...sand, sand, sand!  Most tracks were easy to ride and keep a good pace, but often we would encounter a particularly nasty section that would catch you out!



The other thing that was different was how the vegetation would grow right to the edge of the track.  This proved to be the downfall of another of our group.  While hooting along an innocuous section of track, Mark strayed too close to the track-side scrub.  He felt his bike suddenly pull up, and then felt a click in his right ankle.  Damian and I were right behind him, so we stopped when we found him sitting on the side of the track, holding his ankle and complaining it hurt.  He tried to stand, but just collapsed and went grey.  We sat him back down and got him comfortable(ish), knowing that gal wasn’t far behind.  It was clear he wouldn’t be riding for a while, so gal told us to continue on and catch up with Leigh to let him know what was happening. 
We stopped (briefly) along the way to check out some rocky gullies, and to take in the flat plains.






A little further on, we noticed the track was starting to descend, and that the sand was somewhat damp.  We rounded a bend to find a line of parked 4WD’s, and a few people milling about with cameras.  We made our way past the cars and found out why, we had arrived at the Pascoe River crossing, a steep entry (over a log), deep deep water and a steep rocky climb out the other side.  The crew had re-grouped at this point and there were guys waiting in the water for the arrival of the bikes.  This was not a river for riding through, this was a carry across.





Although the water was above my waist height (yeah, yeah...I know...knee deep for everyone else!), it felt pleasant to plunge in, even when it hit my nether regions!  With our bikes safely across, we advised Leigh of the situation, and he headed back telling us to wait for his return.

This seemed like a good time and place to have lunch, so we removed our boots and other wet things, broke out our sandwiches and enjoyed the sunshine.  About half an hour later, we heard bikes.  Scott (who was waiting with Mark) was in front, with Leigh hot on his tail.  Because we were all on the other bank when Scott arrived, he had no idea of what he was about to do!  We all jumped up and shouted “Nooooo!” but it was too late, and with a fist full of throttle, he launched into the river.  Now, Scotty is no small boy, which is probably a good thing because the bow wake he put up pushed the water away from the bike, and although it was over seat height, he made it through to the other side.  We all watched, gob-smacked!  Leigh watched from the other bank, thinking he’d have a helluva time de-watering this one.  But when Scott was safely across, Leigh realized the challenge was on, and that he too, would have to ride through.  With grim determination he entered the river and almost made it to the other side when the bike stalled, leaving him kneed deep in water.  Fortunately, it was just a stall.  No water entered so he fired it up and rode out.  Legend status was bestowed on Scotty and Leigh advised us that mark had done a tib/fib fracture at the ankle, and was in an ambulance on his way back to Cairns.  Bummer!

Gal and Mark’s brother Greg were going to rendezvous with us at Bramwell SJunction, so we pressed on, taking the Frenchmans’ track to the Old Telegraph Road.  We had another re-group just prior to turning onto the road for another 40 k run in the red bull-dust.




We re-grouped, re-fuelled and rendezvoused at the Bramwell Roadhouse, when a tree paid monument to the many travellers that pass through this station.



We then ran the final 30 glorious k’s of the (much un-used section of ) Old Telegraph Road.  Like the CREB track, this was pure dirt-bike heaven.  It culminated in the rocky crossing of the Dullhuntly River, our camp-site for that evening.  The sight of the clear river water was too inviting, so we dumped out gear, grabbed some beers and plunged in.  This was one of the most rewarding swims so far!  The water was so clear, and there were many rocky reefs under it that you could fine a nice comfortable spot to sit and take it all in, including the bevvies.



Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, Cookie arrived, wading waist deep and carrying a tray of cheese, crackers, salami and smoked-oysters.....heaven!  Unfortunately, in our haste, no one brought a camera to record this!  Anyway, we sat there till it got dark, before heading back to camp for a feed of spag bog and more beers.
Despite the loss of another comrade, we had a good ride of around 300 k’s.

[Serge C]

Just for you, Al.

 

[Alwr]

Stuff this im ringing sick tomorow, and for the next six weeks and im off! Did they drag you blokes through Gun Shot or lead you around, as the rest of my group did. Gun Shot was a hoot and i still cant close the tail gate on the cruzier properly. Logan's and Nolans the last crossing before the end of the Telli where both deep enough to have water lapping at the bottom of the wind screen when we went through.
Al

[gms5]

great report serge, thanks for the effort.