Beer, Flies and Bulldust 3
Lucky I had packed an extra 5 litres in the milk crate. It didn't take me much longer to make it into Birdsville. I took photos welcoming me to the place and wondered where my fellow riders were, I was supposed to be staying with them over the weekend here, and I had no idea where we were meant to be staying.
A quick look down the river bank before turning back to the road into town, and finally, I saw a familiar bike. So I proceeded to chase him down. Luckily the speed limit was 50 or something like that, and it didn't take long before everyone else had gathered beside us in the main street right in front of the pub. I'd beaten the bastards there, some 387km in 7 hours, with an hour stopped time all up. Hot damn I felt cocky!
It didn't take long to find our spot in the caravan park, right on the riverbank -- such a gorgeous spot it was too. I set up camp, got the beers out, kicked back and relaxed. I'd bloody made it to Birdsville on a postie bike and no support. What a feeling that was.
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Down by the river side, where Thommo's gonna study war no more |
Thursday night I spent getting to know my new camp mates and their mighty steeds, including a KTM640 Adv. That I tried to steal. I did my best, but I simply couldn't make a postie bike look similar to a KTM640. One of the blokes had made advanced preparations, arranging with a with a mate of his to take a whole heap of booze out and camp in the same spot. It didn't take long to do a head count of all of us there and chip in to cover the costs, 35 bucks each had it sorted, we had beer in the fridge. (Ken had a wicked setup, including a couple of yabby pots and a kayak thingy).
We all had brought tucker with us and cooking gear, so we were living like royalty on the banks of the Diamantina. Friday morning we all decided to head out to Big Red, the largest sand dune in Australia, or something like that. It's pretty big, but all the sand dunes out here are big. Massive in fact. The postie bike was quickly converted into the booze bike. With a garbage bag in the milk crate, a bag of ice, and a carton of beer we went off for the short 35km jaunt out to Big Red. There were a few people out there, and the boys on bikes soon made short work of charging up and down the massive dune, whereas those 4 wheel drives on the other hand, were making hard work of things…
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Budding motocrosser gets hinky on FJR-1300 |
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And dirt squids play in the sand |
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After spending a few hours out at the dune, and making short work of our legal amount of beer, we set out back to Birdsville before coming to a screeching halt. Glen, riding a 1000 V Strom wanted to swap with me and bring back memories of riding a postie bike. Jumping aboard the V Strom after being on the postie was a little different. The thing felt like a gigantic monster! I think these bikes are amongst the ugliest around, but when you sit on one riding down the dirt, they are all I have heard about them. The whole way in, I took it very steady, postie speed in fact, the last thing I wanted to do was drop the damn thing, Glenn still had to get home to Brisbane yet, and I sure as hell wasn't going to wreck his ride. As much as I enjoyed the chance to ride the big V Strom, it's not a bike for me, simply way to big and too much for me to handle on rough terrain. Perhaps I could get used to one given if given the chance to ride one for a few days. The rest of the day I spent wandering around, getting pissed, heading out to the races and perving a little, and just enjoying life in general.
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The famous Birdsville Hotel |
Saturday ended up being a very hard day, I received news about the death of a long time and close friend. I spent most of the day keeping to myself. The gloss had suddenly dulled on a great trip…
Saturday night was mostly spent wandering around town and the pub, but I ended up back at camp, I simply didn't feel like partying and dragged out a bottle of snakebite and decided that it needed a good touch up.
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Birdsville camp |
Sunday I was up at a reasonable hour. I broke camp, said my good byes to the blokes I'd got to know so well over the weekend, and joined the hordes heading back up the track to Windorah and beyond. It was a late start, nearly 8 30 before I finally cleared the town, and I hit a head wind. It was hard going, and again I set a plan of every 50km, pull up and have a break, check the bike over, let it cool for a bit and keep pushing on. The other blokes soon passed me, they were heading for Innamincka, and once again, I was back to travelling alone.
