The Wild GeeseB M W Safari To Cape York 2006
Roost Goose leaves business card at Cape York
Well it may just about go down as the longest test ride in history – but we made it- First HP2 to Cape York, in Far Nth Qld. At 3.00pm on Tuesday 22nd of August, I dipped a toe in the waters of Australia’s northern most point, mindful of crocodiles I might add! I was lucky enough to be HP2 mounted for the trip which started from home, meeting the crew at Woodford for the 3 day trip to Cairns via Jimna, Goomeri, Monto, Biloela on day 1, Duaringa, Foley Vale, Burdekin Dam, Ravenswood & Charters Towers on day 2 and Cairns via Mt Garnett, Atherton and Kuranda on day 3 – An epic trip in itself with a group of 12 dedicated BM club riders from Brissie and our own Dave Osborne from Gympie. The trip was uneventful except Murray Brown almost collected a pair of emu near Marlborough and Rick Gard from Wackers did a great job of squaring off a GS mag wheel on the Burdekin development road!
Dave and I left the brissie group at The Lynd, Justin, Murray and the others were booked for a tour of the Undarra Lava Tubes, so we carried on to Mt Garnett with a date for tyres at Freshwater in Cairns with the Tyres for Bike boys. Back on the bitumen was a good excuse to use the rest of a well worn set of Karoo’s.
The roads through Atherton and Mossman are a scratchers heaven and the HP2 can devour roads with a smooth hand, like a good sports bike, so Dave and I played for a while until Dave had a close encounter of a blue kind, this reminded both of us that we were back in mainstream civilisation, so we set our cruise controls accordingly- well at least until the run down to Cairns!
Our first stop was at Freshwater, to the home of Tony Roberts, a good friend of Rob Turton’s and when Rob mentioned his name the week prior I thought I knew him from somewhere? It turns out we were both flying hang gliders around Cairns in the 80’s and we reminisced over bikes and flying for hours as the first cans of Bundy found their way into my alcohol system. Tony represented Australia with the pioneers of hang gliding in the 70’s and is an absolute legend in the sport. Tony had made his home the base for the hundreds of tyres that were to get changed ready for the trip north, a dead set legend and not surprising that he and Rob are good mates- The T4B boys are the backbone of the safari’s and if you get a chance to do one of Rob’s weekend Overlander rides you won’t be disappointed.
The rest of the day and night is a bit of a blur as I had a bit too much to drink, but from what I remember the Welcome Party was a good one!
After settling into Cairns and reacquainting with other GS friends at the welcome party we departed on the 20th August; 116 ambitious BMW GS riders setting off on an epic trip from Cairns to the northern most tip of Cape York via Cooktown, Bloomfield via the Bloomfield track, Archer River via Lakefield National Park and Laura, Musgrave Station, Coen and then Bamaga. This was the 2006 BMW GS Safari, and the most ambitious one to date, all on dirt, and most of this on cyclone ravaged sand tracks in the remotest part of Queensland.
The trip started easily with a leisurely ride up to the Daintree Wilderness region, surely one of God’s chosen places, and then across the Daintree river for our final taste of rainforest for the next 3 days – bitumen roads now extend right up to Daintree Wilderness resort, so the sides of the tyres got used for the last time until our return later in the week
P.K.’s backpacker resort at Cape tribulation was our last taste of the tourist belt and from there it was onto our first taste of dirt on the Bloomfield track. Overnight showers had settled the dust and this was an awesome run through the picturesque and undulating hills that form the path for the nearby Bloomfield River. Water was not close enough for the family whose camper trailer decided it would look better in burnt orange as an on board fire totally decimated the camper and no doubt the families holiday plans as Bill Padey and I went past. Bill was about 100m behind me and as I passed the inferno I heard the massive explosion of what I can only guess was the gas cylinder blowing! – Bill was still saying ”what” for hours later as the ringing no doubt subsided in his ears!
Further on the twisty descent into Wujal Wujul became sliders heaven as the HP2 (Hard 2 Pass) took on a very wide persona as it was backed in corner after corner, much to the environmental disgust of a group of mountain bikers, who I managed a one handed wave to whilst crossed up – “hey you wish you were on it” I thought as we roosted past, as I recalled days of pushing the pedals on my own MTB’s around Glass House Mountains – not today boys as the dust plumed in their general direction.
Up ahead the historic Lions Den Hotel beckoned as we arrived right behind the “two Steve’s” (Steve Adcock from BMW and Steve Marshall from Marshall Cutting) who were the lead riders for the expedition. We marvelled at the stories told on the walls of travellers heading north and the many nights of drunken merriment that this shanty has seen.
Cooktown was but a short distance up the road, and no doubt we were the fastest things this old town had seen for a while – we settled into this quiet and relatively unspoilt fishing town to await the arrival of the more leisurely riders.
I mentioned to Bill and Steve Adcock that today would give a good barometer of how most of the riders would handle the trip, and we were soon to find out! – Quite a few had fallen in the first of the creek crossings, and word from the Mogo Zoo recovery truck was that Dave had two bikes on it already. .
As the XXXX cooled dusty throats at the old “Top Pub” and the sun set on our first day, the stories grew larger than the Cooktown fish and a local character called “Lizard” went about bartering for one of our Safari T-shirts, the lizard insignia was fate in the making, as was the bench racing and the talk of riding sand – tomorrow in deed was to be another day!
Monday – a work day for most became an epic for the Safari. Bill, Dave, Robbie and I gave chase after the lead riders, and in my wheel spinning antics I totally missed seeing the Endeavour Falls fuel stop – oh well, a quick U turn and we were back grabbing some precious fuel for our rear tanks.
Fuel, Water and half a clue are the three essentials in this part of the country if you are going to get anywhere and sometimes just to survive- so appropriately filled we were off to enjoy the dampened roads of Lakefield National Park – now where did I put that half a clue!!
Dips, creeks, crossings and deep sand patches rolled out as a Russian roulette of traps for the unwary and Aldo on his adventure was one of the first to fall victim to the sand trap – his bike pointing back at me as I approached pretty much summed it up; as that was where he was heading– the safari over for this guy but his mate Craig was to become a good riding companion for our group for the rest of the trip. Pushing on, my mind contemplated the distances we would cover over the next 2 days and I reminded myself to stay focussed and apply myself to the riding, as the consequences for stuff up out here can be very costly in many ways. Now where is that throttle- HP - “Hold Pinned!”
Isabella Creek and Normanby River were much easier than indicated from the recce trip and it’s amazing what a difference a month without rain makes in this country. Saltwater creek was also an easy pass but the sand just a few k’s north of here was loaded with surprises – one deep trench caught out more than a few as our mate Phil was to bear witness to; as this became “Fotofasts Folly”, a cruel end that had the potential to catch out even the most vigilant riders. Phil later was airlifted out with broken ribs and a punctured lung and a very bent R1100GS.
He was later joined by 2 others for the trip back to Cairns with the RFDS – a service up here that BMW riders were beginning to understand the importance of. The sobering reality that this was a safari different to all before was hitting home, and the red dust covered faces that left Musgrave station for Coen and Archer River were going to toughen up over the next 2 days on our quest to the tip – the sand that followed out of Lakefield was some of the deepest and chopped up of the trip and this claimed countless victims most without anything more than damaged pride – The repair bills were starting to add up!
Straight as an arrow we shot up to Archer River on easier roads with an array of locally named dips for entertainment, Lucky Dip, Dip Shit, dip and dive, skinny dip- who said the locals had no sense of humour!
My first encounter following a road train, and the cat and mouse game trying to pass it were just in front of me. I fly planes in my spare time and there’s an old saying that you have about 40 seconds once you enter cloud before you become disorientated and another 40 before your dead – well I reckon the same applies to dust clouds!
About five k’s of advancing with clear view then retreating in dust before he slowed for a dip – this was to me the most dangerous part of the whole trip and I reckon I’ll still be getting dust out of the gear for years to come- I am not a patient man but I reckon you would learn to be up here or the dust would be six foot deep over your head – in a grave that is!!
Arriving in the aboriginal settlement of Coen, I recalled how I nearly had to work here for six months in the late eighties, and with the same enthusiasm I passed quietly through, figuring this would be a real dive to get stuck in! – Not so one of the later HP2 riders whose mark at the local bar was only surpassed by his later efforts in a dip further north, where he came undone rather unceremoniously- this was later to earn him “ The Two Pot Screamer Award!”
Out of the dust the turn into Archer river roadhouse and a XXXX call is heard as I order beer first and fuel second, the Steve’s are sitting in the makeshift bar lounge already, and Steve Marshall waits like an expectant father for the riders to straggle in.
He never gives much away, but I guess behind the eyes he is wondering how everyone will fair, and the tone today is a call from the Coen Police, who are relaying a message from the Laura police - I didn’t get the gist of it but no doubt everyone in the area knew the BM safari was in town!
Now, there’s a price to pay for getting in early, and it is paid at the bar- Dave Anstey and I proceeded to go head to head, shout to shout, I kept saying “I gotta have a shower to remove half this road train excrement from me”, but the trip to the bar was shorter and so it went as the rag tag relay of dusty demon’s kept rolling in – worst days riding is better than the best days work – damn straight!
Archer River became tent city as Brett, Donna and his crew performed miracles to feed and water our crew, and I must say it was great to have everyone together – tents got pegged, riders got plastered, food got devoured, female grader drivers got chased, and Craig even got some crackers off – life was good.
The sun rose on our dacron tent city and after a great breakfast spread it was off for Bamaga via Bramwell Station and Fruit Bat Falls to the Jardine Ferry. Smooth sailing up to Bramwell with a quick feed and fuel and then up past Old Moreton Telegraph station and Heathlands to the junction of the telegraph track, it was here that the tracks again turned to deep sand and we came across Steve Adcock, the lead rider with a nicely squared off rim – it had broken the bead so Steve was fitting a tube to carry on – there were lots of hidden rocks and ruts under the cover of sand, and you were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t- not enough speed and you were at the sand’s mercy – but get it going and you were bound to hit something camouflaged in the sand!
The Steves told us to lead on so Bill and I worked our way up to Fruit Bat falls and I vowed not to return on this bypass road- it really was shit.
I don’t know whether it was the lure of a swim in the crystal waters or that we were glad to get on a different surface – but the deep sand double track into the falls was an invite to roost, perfect erosion bars and deep bermed corners had me and the HP2 in heaven.
A short little stint that became a road block later as the bigger bikes struggled once again. A waterfall massage, a wash of some overdue clothes and a swim later – “where’s Bill gone?’ I questioned Craig and Dave. “He left about ten minutes or so earlier- something about beating you to the tip today…” was the curt reply.
Right! – we’ll see about that, after negotiating the incoming carnage of bikes on their sides in the sand, not an hour ago I had roosted down, I was back on the northbound track – a hunting we will go – Bill hunting on his HP!
He’s a bastard that Bill – I’m sure he still hasn’t stopped laughing as I tore past him not twenty minutes up the road – parked in a shady spot, the continual smoke from another Malboro wafting in the breeze. He was baiting me again – I should have realised even the lure of the tip was not enough to overcome his nicotine addiction. So we headed up together to meet the Jardine River, where the song Don’t pay the Ferryman rung out in my head as the till rang up thirty three dollars for the return trip- this was going to be a good day for the operators today!
Well after the first group had accumulated for the ferry, some fifteen bikes in all; the motors were running and revving as the bridge dropped – surely these crazy bastards weren’t thinking the same as I was?
The clutch dropped, I put the HP in Hard to Pass mode and charged northwest to Bamaga. I can’t tell you how good this thing is at speed,’ cause they’d probably throw me in gaol, but at the bypass turnoff to Bamaga the coast was clear with not even a sign of the other riders in the dust behind.
It’s absolutely amazing that when you get to Bamaga there’s not one clear sign to show the way to our northern most point – with a myriad of trails near town this would be a dirt riders paradise – so a little probing from the locals and then disregarding everything they told me, and I was on the way to the tip. Afternoon showers were building as I headed north for the last time, and as I whipped past the “croc tent” on a mildly watered track the most beautiful section of track lay before me. Pristine wet rainforest with a grippy, sinuous ribbon of sandy clay, corner to corner, perfectly serene, no traffic, warm shards of filtered afternoon sun- I must have crashed earlier and gone to heaven- I thought, as the jungle panorama seemed to roll on forever. But it did open up, and I was soon at the parking area for the trek out to the tip itself.
I contemplated trying to ride over to the rocks but thought better of negotiating the forestry walk, so laden with pack I trundled off for the short walk over the rocks-well not so short but life was good and I need the exercise!
The scheduled visit was for tomorrow, so as I crested the rocks a lone family on holidays were gathered around the famous sign, drinking champagne to celebrate their journey in a 4WD from the Sunshine Coast as well – Mark, one of the guys introduced himself announcing that he had met me at the dealership earlier in the year – small world this place! So after some shared photos and some time to reflect on the journey so far I proceeded to walk back. It wasn’t long before I was met by Dave and Bill who had guessed I would be here already – all three of us then revelled in our arrival and compared stories from the day’s ride- We had made it!
The return trip commenced on Thursday 24th and was a much more sedate affair for everyone. After a days rest in Bamaga, we retraced our steps to the Jardine with a small group of us heading down the northern section of the old telegraph track – This section was led by the infamous Roy Kunda, owner and operator of Cape York Motorcycle Adventures – who knows this area like the back of his hand. I followed Roy closely down through Cockatoo creek and further to the Heathlands turn off where Roy had been instructed to return with us to the bypass road. A small group of us were keen to head further south on the old track but Miles Davis, newly appointed BMW Marketing assistant – was under strict orders to have us return via the bypass – try as I might he wasn’t letting me out of his sight, and in his efforts to cover my tracks, three others who will remain anonymous managed to escape to the glory of Gunshot and beyond – a beer that night confirmed that the OTT was the better option, with far better tracks, and far less carnage than we were greeted with as we got back to the main bypass track.
Archer River Roadhouse became the dumping ground the second time for battered bodies and bikes, and our mate Dave Shaw was kept busy again on the recovery trail in the big six wheeler- we set up camp for him this time and settled in to an afternoon of pate, dips and trusty XXXX.
Thoughts now were turning to friendships and stories made, the vast array of scenery and the conquest of the cape. The end was near for an epic adventure for BMW and there were mixed emotions, sad to see it all end, but glad to be on the home run.
My trip was focussed on getting to know the HP2, and having it showcased in its’ natural environment – there were nine on the trip and they made easy work of the tough going in the rough and the sand, that awesomely torquey motor and supreme stability allowed you to easily get up to speed and out of the sand and it always steered with security you could bank on. You could have seen some rider’s jaws drop as my mate Bill went past them with the thing all loose with a fag in his mouth as he gave them a friendly wave! Issues of comfort and fuel range were dismissed early in the trip with my bike consistently getting 190-230klm out of the main tank and only needing the Nomad 5l on 3 occasions. As for comfort, the seat itself is not too bad and the Airhawk seat cover my mate Dave Pearce from Aussie Bike gave me was awesome.
I think many riders on the trip will take a much closer look at this bike as a creditable long distance off road bike, and don’t get me started on how good it is when the going gets tough or fast – the HP2 is a credit to BMW Motorrad.
There are so many aspects that make the BMW safari’s such great fun, the Cape York trip this year was testament to the ongoing evolution of off road riding in this country, and the key part that BMW and the safari organisers are playing in paving a new direction for adventure bike touring- the pioneers in the eighties started it, Ewan and Charlie made it popular and BMW Australia, and a devoted and fast growing family of GS riders get to live out the dream – 2007 GS Safari – “Bring it on!”
Neil Schaefer
Coastline BMW Motorrad
Sunshine Coast, Qld Australia
Category Rides ~ Category Dirt Rides ~ Category Long Distance ~ Category Camping ~ Category Rallies
