APC Rally 2011 - The Yunta Starters - by Crom-o

[Crom-o]

For those of you who aren't familliar with the APC Rally, it was held from 23rd July 11 to 5 Aug 11 and entrants covered +7000km unsupported.

More information regarding the rally can be found here:

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=595715

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=717440

http://rally.australianpropertycentre.net.au/

And photos of my time on the rally can be found here, thanks to John Hudson (Rally Organiser):

http://apcrally.smugmug.com/Adventur...473170_4b67fCx

This is my first ride report, so my appologies if it's a bit long winded.

[Crom-o]

Seven months had past since I’d committed and paid my deposit for the 2011 APC Rally back in January and it had been closer to 12 months since PodgeNT had put the idea of entering in my head, so the excitement about throwing a leg over and heading off was at boiling point. After a couple of photos and saying my goodbyes to the missus, I headed off for the start line at Yunta and to meet up with Ian and Kevin at the Pub. I had a nice route on the dirt sorted which I’d pre-run a few months before and loaded it into the GPS so I could get even more used to following the pink line which would guide the way during the rally. Thanks to KevS69, the section from home to Burra was sorted after having pre-run it with him earlier in the year. I’d also gone back over this route and onto Yunta via Faraway Hill and Lilydale during another ride. I left home at about 1300 and pulled up out the front of the Yunta Pub by about 1630 after an easy ride on well graded tracks. The only drama was that the GPS kept turning itself off. After grabbing a beer and finding the other guys, I quickly pulled off the fairing to check the GPS wiring. All looked good so I put it back together, wrapped a bit of tape around the power lead going into the GPS and got on with more important things, food, more beer and some bench racing.

As the pub was booked out I’d planned to roll out the swag, so after a night cap of port I went in search of a good sleeping place. I ended up across the road from the pub under the tourist information shelter thinking, great no need to set up the fly and there’s a dunny near by for my morning constitutional. About 5min after getting into the swag I hear a diesel Landcruiser Ute pull up and the driver head into the dunny. Then he ends up talking on his phone for the next hour to anyone who’d listen to his woes much to my annoyance. Anyway, got my head down and spent the night dreaming of what was to come.

[Crom-o]

This being the first official day of the rally we had a half hour late start, not that I slept in. After a quick brekkie at the Roadhouse, we were all ready to head off by 0800, well we were actually watching the clock tick down before heading up the Arkaroola Track for the first leg into Hawker. Spacing our selves out to stay out of each other dust, Ian took the lead with Kevin in the middle and me running sweep. Keeping an eye on the GPS I saw our first turn coming up, Ian was out of sight but I could still see Kevin, he’d missed the turn. I though great start this is, first turn and I’ve gotta chase him down already. I got along side him and signalled to stop, Kevin didn’t respond, so I gave it a quick squirt and then got hard on the breaks and pulled up. I thought to myself, well the idea of this is for each rider to navigate their own way and figured he’ll work it out soon enough, so I turned back to try and catch Ian again. I caught Ian at our first gate and explained what was going on. Ian and I agreed to keep going as Kevin was only doing part of the rally and may have had other plans for this section. After winding our way through some beautiful gullies crossing dry creek beds and getting into a nice rhythm we arrived at Hawker, time for some fuel and a quick coffee. Whilst enjoying the coffee and getting some warmth back into our bodies, Kevin arrived. After a quick chat to see how he was travelling I came to realise he didn’t have the route loaded in his GPS, hence he had no idea where the corners were and the exact way we were going. With this knowledge we pulled out and settled back into the same order heading through even more of the scenic Flinders Ranges via Wilpena, Blinman onto Parachilna. Pulling up at the Hwy, Kevin and I thought “where’s Ian?” We hadn’t passed him and he wasn’t waiting, so we pushed onto Lyndhurst where Kevin needed to get fuel. We still hadn’t come across Ian and my phone started yelling at me saying it had a message. The message was from John Hudson, the organiser of the rally, telling me that Ian had stopped in Parachilna and we’d passed him. With time getting on and our goal to get to Mungerannie by 1800 slipping away, Kevin and I were still discussing what to do when Ian rolled in. He was all smiles and said there was still a steak sandwich waiting for both of us back in Parachilna where he’d pulled in for lunch. Apparently he’d told us that was his plan, but in all the excitement of the first day we must have missed that one. Back together again and making sure we all knew what each others plans were, we opened up the 3 Katie’s and legged it up to Marree for a quick refuel and then kept pushing on up the Birdsville Track. Approaching the signs for the Cooper Creek Ferry detour I saw Kevin pulled up and looking over his 690R. He told me it’d been running like a dog since Lyndhurst and had died as he was slowing for the corner and that he was having trouble getting it going again. While Kevin investigated the problem I tried getting on the UHF to let the guys at the ferry know that we’d been held up and to let Ian know. Kevin ended up adjusting the fuel map setting, thinking he may have got crook fuel in Lyndhurst and also cleaned and re-seated a wire in the CDI and the 690R purred back into life. As we rolled up to the ferry we could see Ian had already loaded up his 690R and was waving for us to come straight on. A very quick trip over the very flooded Cooper and we were back on our way and still looking pretty good to make it to Mungerannie by 1800. Riding along side Kevin along the dirt super Hwy that is the Birdsville Track I could hear and see his bike was still running rough, with not far to go we pushed on and pulled up out the front of Pub just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. Ian had booked a room, so he sorted that while I fuelled the bike and gave her a quick going over and congratulated her on a great days riding. After a couple of beers and some Barra which I was told “Out of a cardboard box” when I asked where it’d come from I rolled out the swag under the carport for Ian’s room and kept the bikes company for the night.

[Crom-o]

Still getting into our routine, we all were ready early and almost headed of half an hour before our official start time of 0730, bloody interstate time zones, anyone ever heard of Zulu? Whilst I was packing the bike, I thought “This would be the perfect time for a coffee and crank up my new JetBoil” I set it all up and continued packing while waiting for it to boil. Before I knew it Ian was saying “Hey, I think this is ready.” Barely 2min had gone by, I was suitably impressed. So after waiting around and realising that we’d been rushing for nothing, we were once again holding the throttles wide and before long we’d done approx 150km and pulled up for smoko. Kevin needed to top up his fuel being that he was running the standard tank and carrying bladders low on his pannier frames, being well practiced, he’d done this in no time and we were away. We pulled into the roadhouse at Birdsville on 1030, where Ian and I dumped a bit of gear of the bikes into the back of Barnsey’s Ute for safe keeping while we did the loop out to Big Red. I turned around at one point to find Kevin rolling out his swag, thinking I hadn’t kept him up that late, I asked what he was doing? Which he replied, “I can’t find my wallet!” Oh shit I thought. After some frantic searching he found it sitting on top of one of his pannier bags where we think it had been sitting for the last 150kms, he must have been the luckiest man in Birdsville that day. Kevin was parting ways from here and heading to the QLD coast for work, so as Ian I fired up to head out to big red, we said our farewells and wished him a safe ride. Ian and I had a 104km return run out to Big Red which took us about 2hrs, with only a few stops to catch our breath in the sand and 15mins of looking at the amazing views from atop the dune. The volume of water to the east of Big Red was unbelievable. Back in Birdsville we had a quick lunch while loading the bikes and chatting to Barnsey, who Ian had competed against in a few Safari’s many moons ago. Back on the road by 1400 and aiming for somewhere between Cordillo Downs and Innamincka for the night, with the hope we’d get a good run and make the later. There was a remote fuel stop organised out near the Qld/SA border for us where we both topped up the bikes from a 44Gal drum. The run through Cordillo Downs was a very nice station track which for the most part had been recently graded. Coming out of the bottom of the station we came to a T-Junction where we pulled up, got our bearings and discussed our plans for pulling up. It was decided we were looking good to make it into Innamincka by a bit after 1800, so we pushed on. The track from here on became a bit more sandy, but still well graded, so we were able to keep up a good pace through some nice flowing turns which I was really enjoying. With the sun well below the horizon we pulled up out the front of the store at 1830, a bit over our cut off but at least in “civilisation” and some where with beer. We discovered that the store was closed and that we wouldn’t be able to get fuel until 0830 the next morning, oh well, we’d run over time a bit the last two days. What I hadn’t realised was that Ian (The old wise bull, making me the young dumb bull) had booked a room for use at the Pub, and what a room it was. After fighting our way through a packed car park of grey nomads to find the room, a hot shower and chucking on some clothes that would make the tourist pass out from the smell, we went and had a lovely dinner of Sunday roast, washed down with some Coopers Stout and a night cap of Green Ginger Wine (I was trying to reduce my load).

[Crom-o]

Having to wait for the Pub restaurant for brekkie and store to open to get fuel, we had a casual wake up and I had a quick check over the bike. After a hot breakfast, we headed back round to the pumps to wait for the opening. There was a group of older ladies waiting as well and as the door to the store flung open, we were greeted buy the owner in a very ‘pleasant’ mood yelling at the old dears “Why don’t you lot just FUCK OFF, can’t you see I haven’t even got me sign out yet? Just go fuck off and talk to your friends!” Ian offered to put the sign out for him and was quickly told to bugger off. As the dust settled we were told we could start pumping fuel. By the time I’d filled up and walked in to pay the owner couldn’t be nicer to me, even wishing me well on the trip. Ian must have buttered him up, but I got a good laugh out of it all and thought it was great to see that the Innamincka I had experienced 12 years earlier was still there, even if the Pub had gone a bit fancy and the barman looked like he should have been serving Fluffy Ducks in a night club in Kings Cross. By 0845 we were on our way, having lost 1hr 15min wait for fuel, and headed east in search of the southward turn down the Bore Track. Ian had been talking to John about what was to come and was told we could expect to riding in a dry sandy creek bed, but if we looked hard we’d find a 4x4 track which ran along side it. Finding the turn off and having a quick stop to check how each other was travelling, we dropped into the creek/track. I took the lead and was surprising myself as to how well I was handling the sand, even starting to get into a rhythm and enjoying it. Coming to a stop at a Y junction I though was a good place to pull up, have a drink and make sure Ian was still behind me, I waited for what seemed like forever, think shit what’s happened? I decided to turn back to find Ian, as we well away from anything or anyone that might be coming along our path. Thankfully I hadn’t got far when Ian came into view, the first thing I noticed was that his aftermarket rally fairing was looking very out of shape, shit I hope that’s the only thing damaged. Ian had high sided it and hit the deck fairly hard, having a quick look over his bike we couldn’t see anything that was going to fall off, so with Ian’s confidence a bit down we set off to get into Cameron Cnr. where we could do some bush mechanics over lunch. Not far down the track it opened up and we passed across some large flood plains where the local cattle casually watched us go by, with the odd young bull standing his ground in the middle of the track. Our route notes said we needed to pay a donation of $10 each for the privilege of having just survived the Bore Track at the station homestead we passed through. Wandering into the yard we were greeted by a little Jack Russel, who couldn’t have been happier to see us. Not finding anyone around and thinking the dog would just leg it to the pub if we gave him the money, we ended up tucking it under the door with a note. We got into Cameron Cnr. by 1200, quickly chucked some fuel in the bikes and got the backpacker serving us to sort a sandwich and drink for us while we got stuck into Ian’s bike. Turns out the backpacker was into bikes and wanted a bike to go exploring on out there and was more than willing to help us out. Using some brute force, large shifter and some well placed 100MPH tape, we had the fairing and mounting bracket back in shape in about 1hr. Looking at the map we realised there wasn’t much between us and Noccundra, so that became our aim for the night, pushing onto Thargomindah if we still had time. Luckily one of the guys working at Cameron Cnr. told us that there was a mistake in the distance between Cameron Cnr. and Noccundra in our route notes and that it was 261km and not 131km. About 120km out of Cameron Cnr. we came across an elderly couple who had two flats on their Pajero and nothing to fix them with. As I walked over to them I heard Ian ask where they were headed and old bloke who seemed a bit overcome by the situation replied “I’d have to look at a map to remember the name of the place.” After looking at the map, we worked out they were going to Tibooburra. Looking at their tyres I couldn’t believe how bald they all were and how they’d made it this far. Ian got on the SAT phone to Cameron Cnr. and filled them in and asked if they could get someone out ot help them as we didn’t have anything to fix tubeless tyres ourselves. Making sure they had plenty of water and food, Ian and I were about to get underway when another couple pulled up and said they had all the gear to help them out, lady luck had popped up again. It was then that I noticed the front axel pull nut missing on Ian’s bike, having heard about a guy crashing out on the way over to the start from WA, I checked all the clamp bolts and we got going. Not 10min down the road I saw Ian had pulled up, thinking shit what’s happened? I pulled up along side him; he decided to call his long time mechanic and arrange to get a replacement nut sent to Goondiwindi where we were going to get new rubber in a few days time. Thinking the nut might not make it from Adelaide on time; we also range John who was straight onto arranging one to be sent out from his end in Brisbane. Having lost more time it was obvious Noccundra was going to be our stop for the night. Arriving well before our finish time of 1800 we sorted a donga out the back of the Pub which my old man had told me about and settled in. I did my usual end of day maintenance while enjoying a beer and having a chat to 3 guys who where planning on pretty much following our track in reverse to spend a few days down in the Flinders. Dinner at the Pub finished with some locally caught yabbies for dessert.

[Crom-o]

Woke up to the sound of the guys from last night getting their bikes sorted, 1x WR250’s, 2x DR650’s. The little 250 was blowing a lot of smoke and Ian and I thought “Shit, hope that things just been in storage with some oil down the cylinder, otherwise his going to have an interesting trip.” The run into Thargomindah was a single lane of bitty which reminded me of the Plenty Hwy in the NT where I used to live. Having nice wide dirt shoulders either side of the black crap, I ended up sitting off in the dirt keeping a watchful eye out for wildlife as we ran into the rising sun. Fuel for the bikes and coffee for us Fergies in Thargomindah. Taking the back way to Toompine we were dodging Roo’s and Emu’s along the black soil plains. About 5km out of Toompine I pulled up along side a Jackaroo who’d stopped for a smoke and was putting off meeting the in-laws for a few more minutes. He was on a DR650 which was decked out with a car style UHF with an external speaker and a few other essential bits and pieces someone working the land may need. While having a quick chat he mentioned he’d been mustering out west on the big DR and was having to change the oil in it daily due to the heavy going in the sand. I thought to myself “Hmm, must remember to do an oil change when I get home”. We passed through Toompine without stopping and we’d later find out from John that there was interesting cemetery out the back of the Pub to look at. Oh well, just an excuse to head back another time. Stopped for fuel and lunch in Quilpie where I managed to do a Ewin when the pump didn’t shut off, ending up with me and the bike covered in fuel. This seemed to amuse the fat stinking inbred attendant who thought it was a great laugh. I didn’t think it was that funny and “kindly” asked him to get me something to clean it up with. Not wanting to hand over any more of my hard earned to this wanker I choose to head down to the bakery and grab a pie, which my old man had been raving about how good they were. The pie wasn’t that great and Dad would later tell me it’d been a few years since he’d had one from there, anyway I was feeling better that I hadn’t eaten from the servo, even if Ian thought his sandwich was very nice. We kept tracking north until hitting Adavale where we were at the most northern point of the Rally and about to start the downhill run. I’d made into town a few minutes before Ian and pulled up to a building which I took for the Pub which looked like it was undergoing renovations. A couple of guys came out to the some of the bike to tell me that it was actually the heritage listed town hall which they were in the process of bringing back to it’s former glory and that if I turned around I might notice the big XXXX sign which usually indicated there was a Pub within. Just as Ian was rolling in I headed for the Pub and signal for him to do the same. Being mid afternoon and still having a fair few miles to go for the day we elected to have a squash and got chatting with Deb the licensee. Deb was your typical welcoming bush Queenslander and told us that she had a couple of offers on the pub after we’d asked about the for sale sign. She let slip that for anything over $137K we could walk in and take over there and then. Checking the time we realised we’d betted push on if we were to make our goal of Charleville and beyond for the day. Passing through Mariala National Park on fast flowing pea gravel I was heading into a left hand corner to see a Ute coming at me on the wrong side of the road. I ended up running very wide and left the driver to keep his line. In the usual laid back Qld fashion a quick wave from the driver and a, thank Christ I survived that from me, and it was done with. Pulling up for fuel at about 1600 in Charleville Ian and I discussed our next move, we worked out if we kept going for a bit that we should be able to make it into Goondiwindi the next day before knock off, where we had tyres waiting. Pushing on we got in another 100km before pulling up and making camp for the night on the side of the road.

[Turborob]

Well done!