Darwin for Dinner: Part Three
Ancient Roman road-building techniques uncovered - the Via Cunnamulla

The road between Three Ways and Barkly Homestead Roadhouse is typical of Northern Territory standards - wide and smooth with ample shoulders to pull off the roadway when necessary.  After 40 to 50km I was up to highway cruising speed, basking in the warmth of the morning sun and looking out over some of the finest cattle country in Australia - the Barkly Tablelands.  I pulled into a roadside rest area, about 100km (62 miles) out of Three Ways and stretched the legs.  The rest area was so typical of Australia's northern end with the ubiquitous windmill and water tank adjoining the picnic table facilities.  A quick walk around the bike for a physical check (standard practice everytime I stopped) and I was then back on board and heading east again - with just over 87km and about 45 minutes into Barkly Homestead.

Rest area on the Barkly Highway

The Barkly Tablelands, Australian prime cattle country

The ride was superb, the road smooth and straight as an arrow to the horizon, when …….bang!!  Honestly, I thought I'd just taken a heavy calibre bullet to the right forehead or, for some unexplainable reason, the world heavy-weight boxing champion had materialised from nowhere and punched me in the head for no apparent excuse!  My sunglasses right lens was smashed, the arm had broken away on the right side and a smelly stickiness was spreading across my face - being smeared more quickly by wind blast over the screen.  With vision still okay in my left eye I reduced speed rapidly, keeping careful note of the road's approaching edge.  The remnants of my sunglasses swung down to the left and totally obscured what remaining vision I had and with my left hand I pulled the broken frame away from my face a flung them aside.  A quick check of the left mirror assured me I was alone at the moment and didn't have a monster roadtrain or any other menacing vehicle close behind.  Bringing the bike to a near stop, I idled slowly off the road, parked on solid soil and was then able to make an assessment of my current medical dilemma.

Just great, I thought, I'm in the middle of nowhere and I've been shot in the head! Not only that but now my brains were leaking out.  And if that wasn't enough, my brains are green in colour, sticky and they smell.  All this considered, I thought, "I'm going to have a pisser of a day!"  But an interesting observation - from the existence of this odorous gunk, the right forward portion of the brain must be that which deals with taxation and other boring government issues.  Fascinating!! Removing my helmet, including the remains of my sunglasses frame and broken right lens, I retrieved one of my water bottles from the top case and gave my face a wash.  I felt the rear of my head for any unnatural holes, orifices I wasn't aware of during the first 40+ years of life and was satisfied there were no exit wounds present.  Therefore, the bullet must still be inside my head.  That's okay, I carry my Swiss Army knife and surely there must be some type of appliance on the knife for performing roadside cranial examinations.

But hold on, there wasn't a hole in the front either - nothing other than a slight swelling and tenderness of the right forehead.  Where on earth did this horrible foul-smelling gooey green muck come from?  It was then I saw a couple of the culprits sitting on my luggage.  Dearest readers and avid consumers of suspense - at 120kph my sunglasses and delicate forehead had impacted one of the world's biggest bloody grasshoppers you've ever seen.  Two of the horrid critters were sitting on my luggage and a quick scan around the landscape observed a number of them in flight - obviously setting a trap for the next luckless rider to come along.  Oh well, I limped the last 40km into Barkly Homestead (excellent fuel, food and camping facilities for the touring motorcycle rider), gave myself a good clean in the rest-room, and sat with a coffee contemplating my near death experience.

But let's not dwell on the negative dear friends - I had highways to ride. Filling the Ultra with as much fuel as I could fit in the tank I prepared for the next part of the journey, the 267km (166 mile) ride into Camooweal with nothing in between. No fuel, no mechanical services, nothing - except for a roadside telephone and police station at Avon Downs Station about halfway across. I knew with my usual 120kph cruising speed I could get a 265km range so I left Barkly Homestead and settled into a 90 to 100kph pace to increase my chances of getting into Camooweal. Brian and Chris had advised me of this section and it was comforting to know they were only an hour or so behind - carrying additional fuel on their trailer. Brian had given me instructions that if I broke down or ran out of fuel, just find a comfortable rest area and they wouldn't be far away - that's one of the things I love about being a Ulysses member, the camaraderie! Before too long, as I motored across the Barkly Tablelands and some of the finest cattle country on earth, I realised I was heading into a headwind and kept my speed at a steady and economical 90kph. Hhhmm, I don't know what effect this will have on my fuel range!

But fear not, consumers of adventure, just after 3pm I entered the borough of Camooweal and rolled into the service station - the Ultra having about 1 litre or 16 to 17km left in the tank. Not a problem, heaps of fuel! With the bike refueled, I wandered into the diner and, after enjoying one of the finest burgers I've had in a while, I pondered my journey for the remainder of the day. I had about 2 hours of daylight left and 187km separating me from Mount Isa - but I'd been warned about that 187km by many people….. many people!! The road conditions between Camooweal and Mount Isa were reputed at being the worst you are likely to encounter on any major Australian highway. Secondly, don't attempt the road in darkness and allow three hours for the journey. Well, it is daytime ….and 2 sounds pretty close to 3 for me. Let's go!!

What can one say about Australia's Highway One east of Camooweal? I've never ridden along a more abominable stretch of road that a state government has the audacity to claim as a main interstate artery. During the Second World War the Australian government accepted an offer by US forces to construct a bitumen highway, basically linking Townsville on the Queensland coast to Darwin in the Northern Territory. Sections of paved road existed already but the offer was gratefully accepted to improve the road's entire 2,500km (1,554 miles) length to assist in rapid transport of troops and equipment. Well, I can tell you nothing has been done to improve the road conditions around Camooweal since they were laid in 1942!

The bitumen surfaced road comprised nothing but a "goat track", one lane wide, with severe drop-offs approximately 100 to 150mm height (4" to 6") onto fine dust and gravel; scary and unpredictable riding conditions for a large touring motorcycle. Because of the damaged and irregularly patched road surface I could only travel at a maximum speed on the Ultra of 60kph (37mph) without bottoming the suspension on some of the bumps. When you met any type of large vehicle coming in the opposite direction, particularly a 40+ ton road train towing three trailers, it required getting off the road as soon as possible and stopping. Those monsters ain't getting off the road for anyone - particularly a 350kg motorcycle! For a distance of 130km (81 miles) east of Camooweal you encounter only 20km (12 miles) of good road, the rest being a trial of machine and patience.

Well, here it is folks, Australia's Highway One between Camooweal and Mount Isa

With the late afternoon sun setting and cold shadows spreading across the countryside I eventually reached better highway conditions where I could return to normal cruising speed for the last 50km into Mount Isa. Just before 7pm I entered the outskirts of the western Queensland mining city and idled slowly through the town checking the accommodation potential. The night was getting cool plus I was feeling a trifle saddle sore and road weary ….okay, a motel it is. I rolled into the Copper City Motel on the eastern side of town and, after unpacking the bike, retired to my room and it's comforting 1960ish decor. Hey wow, satellite TV and about 623 stations to choose from. Yeah …right ….goodnight.

Out with the list and tick …. Day Eleven Thursday 25^th May. I had to use all my fingers and toes for these calculations but by my reckoning I had 6,113km (3,800 miles) behind me with about another 2,400km (1,492miles) to my front door in Sydney - I don't think I'll be home tonight. But I knew I had about 1,400km (870 miles), or around two relaxed riding days, to my home state border of New South Wales - so let's get out of here! I rode the 117km (73 miles) east along the Barkly Highway from Mount Isa to Cloncurry, through hills and emerging plains along quite good road conditions. Approaching Cloncurry I crossed a long, high concrete bridge over the Cloncurry River and, looking over to my left, I saw the remains of a low concrete bridge that once served the town; one end of the bridge long ago destroyed and partially swept away by flood water. A short distance after leaving the new bridge I turned left onto the section of old highway that led to the old structure, where I rode down onto its dilapidated platform to take a short break. The Cloncurry River was peaceful as it ran through this picturesque setting, the surrounding scenery being very much typical of Australia. Photo opportunity ……click ……this ain't getting me anywhere ……let's get outta here!! I rode through Cloncurry, travelled east a short distance and then turned left onto the Landsborough Highway to travel south through central Queensland.

Flood damaged bridge at Cloncurry

Typical Queensland rest area

Roadtrains at Longreach

The highways of western and central Queensland …..hhmm ……I'm going to have to be a bit diplomatic in the way I approach this issue. One important aspect of Australian outback motorcycle travel, one factor that needs mindful consideration on the highways - the ever present roadtrains in the northern regions. What exactly is a roadtrain? In the United States you have heavy vehicles comprising, I think you call, a tractor-trailer combination. Elsewhere in the world I don't know what terms you have for these highway behemoths but in Oz we call them a prime mover-trailer combination. A roadtrain is a prime mover with up to three trailers, 60+ wheels and weighing in excess of 40 tons. I'm sure these vehicles exist in other countries, particularly the USA or Canada, but what makes highway encounters exciting with them in Australia is the narrow thoroughfares we term highways.

Picture this. You're motoring along an outback highway when you see one of these monsters approaching from the opposite direction - say about 4km (2� miles) away. The highways are fine (well, I'll get to that) and with an average lane width of 4m+ (just over 13 feet) you have plenty of room to play with on your side of the road. But don't forget, I'm not talking concrete multi-lane freeways here - I'm talking dual carriageways where that approaching contraption is going to pass within about 3 to 4m of you. You're riding at your usual 120kph and the truck's speed is no doubt 100+kph. So you're starting to get the drift of this scene? Imagine standing on the side of the road and the wind blast from a 50+m (164 foot) long, thundering thingie with over 60 wheels and weighing in excess of 40 tons as it passes within 3m (10 feet) of you at a terminal velocity of 220+kph (137mph). Merde (evil smelling goo). Okay, that's what it's like passing a roadtrain when you're travelling at normal cruising speed - that's why you throttle off to about 50 to 60kph (31 to 37mph), move as far as you can to your side of the road and hang on for the accompanying wind blast.

I'd experienced the roadtrains ever since leaving Port Augusta and with South Australia's and the Northern Territory's wide roads, including well constructed smooth surfaces and wide shoulders, you had a bit of room to maneuver and slow down. But, readers of adventure epics, not in central Queensland! I'm going on record here and will no doubt be condemned to purgatory from this moment on - the 1,400km (870 miles) of major highway linking Cloncurry in Queensland's north to the NSW border at Barringun has got to be one of the most spine tingling rides outside a theme park! Overall it's of narrow construction, built of a material resembling a patchwork of multi-coloured bitumen - and I don't think has seen a lot of repair or improvements since Julius Caesar played fullback for Rome Boy's College. Of course, the thoroughfare was probably of Roman origin - the famous Via Cunnamulla. Judging by the diverse hues in the macadamized road surface, I take it that the road repair crews must call themselves the local golf club - they just go out and do 18 holes a day!

Queensland stock grids - oh boy, can't they be an experience when you cross the boundaries of adjoining cattle and sheep stations. I think the grids must have been built around the same time Columbus and the boys set out from Lisbon, and haven't been repaired since. They're in a state of varying decay and the roads leading up to them aren't in much better condition. Generally the grids are lower than the road surface which seems to have resulted from constant vehicular battering over the aeons, subsidence of the soil under the grid structure, or addition of bitumen to the road surface in an attempt to superficially rectify the problems. They obviously cause concern for heavy vehicles as the road surface leading up to each grid is generally rippled and cratered from these 40+ ton monsters braking before contact. The riding style to negotiate most of the grids is, providing you have a clear road ahead and behind, decelerate and move to the incorrect side of the road, where the trailing edge away from the grids isn't damaged as much. Complete your braking and reduce speed to a walking pace, then cross the grid diagonally to exit on the trailing side on the correct side of the roadway. Still the bike's suspension would be jarred as you crossed the rough constructions.

I won't chronicle the detailed events of the next two day's riding - the 1,300km (808 miles) of bone shuddering, thump, shaking and crunching from Cloncurry to Cunnamulla other than to say that the road did improve in some sections - dare I say it where the highway wandered through marginal electorates! The Thursday and Friday were simply two long days of trying to get central Queensland behind me, about 20 hours total travelling time through some excellent sheep and cattle country marred only by the memory of the thoroughfare which carried me. The towns of Winton, Longreach, Barcaldine, Blackall, Tambo, Charleville - all just names on a map which supplied fuel, a meal or a bed.

Two aspects of travel over the two days I will mention is the excellent accommodation I found in Longreach, and an interesting chap I met in the small rural town of Augathella. About 100km from Longreach I encountered a shower of light rain, the first damp conditions encountered in the trip so far and just after 6pm on the Thursday evening I rode into a service station at Longreach. The service station owner, a Ulysses member and Honda ST1100 owner, advised me most strongly from continuing onwards in the now prevailing darkness - once again with local reference to dangerous wildlife conditions (kangaroos and emus). I was feeling a little road weary at this stage and, in respect to his well intended advice, I decided to seek lodgings for the night. He advised of a camping and caravan park in an adjoining street so I followed his directions and rode to the Gunnadoo Caravan Park in Thrush Road Tel: 07-4658-1781. I booked into a timber cabin for the night, complete with double bed, stove, fridge, sink, coffee facilities and all for $30 overnight. The staff were apologetic that they didn't have a cabin available with telephone or television, and did I need bed linen or towels? Touring motorcyclists - thumbs up to Gunnadoo Caravan Park and if you intend staying in the Longreach area, don't pass up the motorcycle friendly services offered there.

The gentleman in Augathella? When I was stopped for fuel he came up and introduced himself and we spoke about Harley-Davidson motorcycles; he being owner of an Electra Glide Sport around ten years old. He owned a heavy earth moving business, a couple of rural properties in the region, a holiday home overlooking Queensland's Sunshine Coast, plus not to forget a couple of classic late 1940's American limousines. From his introduction I could tell our respective bank managers probably greeted us differently. But we ventured into the area of Harley maintenance and the subject of lubricants, and I didn't mind his approach.

"Look", he expounded, "they sell the bloody things for a high price in the first place and then they try to rip you off with servicing, spares and accessories. Now you tell me Harley want these things serviced every 4,000km? Well ….I say bullshit! Mate, I service mine every 10,000km and that's probably because I run up some reasonable miles out here in the bush. You live in Sydney, eh? Well the chances are you'd probably need to look at it more often, maybe 5,000 to 6,000km. You're out here running up some pretty big miles on your trip, so mate, you're the same as me - just service the bugger every 10,000! And get used to servicing it yourself - you'll save yourself a packet! Oil? I buy 200 litre drums of the bloody stuff (he did mention it was a BP product) and I use the same oil in the tractors, the bulldozers, my cars and the Harley. The Harley's ten years old and it's got over 100,000km on it - and mate it's like new. I've never had a problem with it. You listen to the dealers and they'll rob ya blind - just buy yourself the right tools, a factory servicing manual and ya laughing".

So there you have it folks - bush Harley maintenance according to the bloke from Augathella. It's no doubt how he ended up with a bank balance a lot healthier than mine. Where do I now stand on the issue of correct Harley maintenance - believe me, I'm a bit more befuddled than I was before. But on I rode and at 6:00pm on that evening I wheeled into a chilly Cunnamulla, found myself a warm motel room and, after having a long shower, collapsed into bed at 8:30pm.

Saturday 27^th May and the big day - the final run back into Sydney. By my calculations I had just under 1,100km (684 miles) ahead of me which, providing I made a reasonably early start, should have me pulling into my driveway around 9pm that night. I'd set the alarm for 5am and was idling out of the motel car-park an hour later, firstly calling into the service station on the highway to refuel for the day ahead. The morning was pretty fresh so I donned my full winter riding suit, at least for the next couple hours until the sun warmed the countryside a little. With the bike filled I wandered into the office to pay and was met once again with "wildlife warnings" from the couple working the early shift. By this stage of the trip I'd learnt to heed local knowledge and certainly wasn't going to disregard their well intended advice. The highway would have to wait until 7am while I hit the coffee urn in the back of the store and really enjoyed an hour's conversation with the roadhouse owners, whilst giving the local fauna ample opportunity to dine and bed down for the day.

Finally with the warm morning sun at my left shoulder I rolled out of Cunnamulla and went through the usual day's procedure of bringing the bike up to normal highway cruising speed. In the bike's warming up process you have to remember, not only are you considering elevating the engine lubricant temperature to an optimum range but the primary drive and transmission fluids are designed to operate within particular limits as well. Look at it this way - you're bringing both the machine and yourself up to operating conditions for the long day ahead.

Approximately 118km (73 miles) south of Cunnamulla I arrived at a most welcome point in the day's ride, not to mention the trip overall - I crossed the border from Queensland into New South Wales at the town of Barringun. As I left Queensland I had to cross one last cattle grid and this contorted monstrosity, which had to be negotiated at a speed no greater than 10kph, was almost saying to me, "we really don't care if you enjoyed your stay in Queensland ….please don't come back!" The change in road conditions was so dramatic it really highlighted the pitiful differences between state bureaucracies. The northern side of the grid was the poor road standards typical of central to western Queensland, whilst the south side opened to a wide, smooth bitumen highway - features very similar to South Australia's leg of the Stuart Highway. It was a pleasure to get back onto a good highway and the 136km (85 miles) quickly passed by as I motored on towards Bourke.

A most welcoming sign on the last day

The day was simply a distance covering activity as I continued on through the towns of Nyngan, Trangie and Narromine and finally pulled into Dubbo around 3pm - 637km (396 miles) out of Cunnamulla and still about 400+km to Sydney. Geographically this meant that I'd left the wide open plains behind and from there into Sydney I'd be riding though the western slopes of Australia's Great Dividing Range. Finally, about two hours out of Sydney, I would be crossing the Range for the run down the last 100km across the coastal plains and entering the city. But for the moment I was in Dubbo, I was hungry and the outside air temperature had dropped to 6� C (43� F) with a strong south westerly wind. After filling the beastie I certainly needed some good solid fuel myself for the remaining part of the journey, and retired to the warmth of the roadhouse where I treated myself to a healthy steak and veggies. Whilst tearing flesh and sinew from bone, in a ravenous attack on my roadhouse culinary indulgence, I heard a grave sports report from the caf� radio, "… and just repeating, the schoolboy rugby match at Orange had reached its closing stages in falling snow". That dear readers would be one of the next major towns I'd be passing through about 150km (93 miles) towards Sydney! So at 4pm, resembling Scott of the Antarctic with every piece of riding apparel I could attach to/hang off my body, I eased out of Dubbo for the final leg down to the coast.

Onwards I rode through the late afternoon sunlight and, reaching the town of Wellington, the sun at last dipped below the hills. The cold and the darkness set in and numbed me to the bone. Many overseas FLH riders probably travel in temperature conditions much lower than this but to Australian motorcyclists, we're not used to temperatures below the 10� C (50� F) level. A quick comfort stop in a park at Molong allowed me to warm a little before continuing towards Orange. I entered Orange's deserted streets just on 6pm - the afternoon snowfalls having passed and had been replaced by patches of cold rain. The bike's motor radiated a relaxing warmth to my lower body so I reached a touring equilibrium - keep the road speed around the 90kph mark where a heat pocket developed behind the fairing. Besides the damp road conditions, intermittent roadwork and increasing traffic density didn't allow a safer speed in excess of this anyway.

I rode towards and eventually through Bathurst, where just before 7pm I pulled into my favourite Mobil diner and service station on the Sydney side of the town - in distance terms this was the halfway mark between Dubbo and Sydney. I don't mind admitting - I was absolutely bloody freezing! I'd covered 854km (531 miles) in the previous 12 hours from Cunnamulla and still had another 200+km remaining. That meant about 3 hours in the current riding conditions! I spent an hour in the diner, downing two large mugs of coffee, while I endured curious stares and inquiring remarks from the other patrons. They couldn't believe a person could be out riding a motorcycle on a night like this - after all, the temperature at Bathurst was now 3� C (37� F)!

I'd left the last of the rain halfway between Orange and Bathurst and at 8pm, hitting the starter button, I checked out the starry night sky which gave me confidence of dry conditions for the run over the mountains. The Great Western Highway from Bathurst east is of high standard with sections of new freeway construction, and allowed me to resume my normal 120kph cruising speed with the Ultra's high beam and driving lights turning night into day ahead of me. As I approached Lithgow I noticed the moon had moved in behind heavy clouds (how do they actually weigh them I thought) and light rain started to fall. The bike's high beam illuminated the raindrops as they fell gently and were whooshed up over the windscreen. But this was strange. Normally a fair amount of rain will be redirected in the airstream up and around the bike, with the balance wetting the screen and rider. But these drops - they were all going over or around the bike. The screen was dry, my helmet was dry. As the highway passed through Lithgow I stopped in a well lit area and checked out the rain. This wasn't rain - they were snowflakes! Light snow fell over my shoulders, my upper arms and over the tank. Well bugger me with a salad spoon, this was most unusual for the average Aussie motorcyclist - merde, once again!!

The light snow lasted another 23km (14 miles) until the base of Victoria Pass and it really hadn't caused any riding dramas along the way. This was my first experience of riding in snow conditions so I took it pretty easy all the way. Victoria Pass is a steep ascent where you come off the western slopes and climb over the Great Dividing Range. Thinking snow, thinking ice…. I took it pretty easy up the Pass and onto the Range plateau where to my peace of mind, I found a strong breeze was blowing across the mountain tops. Wind generally means no frost, no ice - but still I took it pretty careful. Around 9:30pm I made one last smoke and piddle stop on the mountains with about 100km separating me from home. I'd pulled into a 24 hour service station at Katoomba where the wall mounted thermometer indicated 3� C, so the temperature had remained constant since Bathurst. However, the cold stage with light snow at Lithgow had felt noticeably colder and I'm sure would have been around zero. The Ultra's ambient air thermometer had registered in the low 20'sF during that period but I really don't know what influence wind chill factor has on the gauge.

I donned my helmet and gloves for the final stint into Sydney and eased my aching bum gently into the seat. I pushed the starter button one last time and as the Ultra idled reliably I gave her a gentle pat. Well old girl, this is it, this is the last stop before our final run home. With a warm feeling of confidence in the Ultra I eased out onto the highway, motoring down the east side of the mountain range and onto the F4 freeway leading into Sydney. Near Parramatta I joined the M2 motorway, as I wanted to experience a night ride through the harbour tunnel and enjoy the city nightscape to know I was really back home. Around 11pm, some 16 hours and 1,073km (667 miles) from Cunnamulla I pulled into the driveway, let the motor idle for a short while…… then turned the ignition switch to the off position. I sat on the bike and simply let the silence and stillness invade my senses…… 11 riding days and 8,584km (5,335 miles) later…… I was at last home.

Epilogue

How did the fuel economy for the Darwin trip compare against the Ultra's first 16,000km of its life? Well as I remarked earlier the Ultra had spent it's first 16,000km being ridden at an average highway speed of 100kph (62mph or 2,500rpm in top gear) - riding style and distance returning an overall fuel economy of 19.7km/l or 46.5mpg(U.S.).

I'd now covered 8,584km (5,335 miles) at an average highway speed of 120kph (75mph or 3,000rpm in top gear). So what was the fuel consumption going to be for a 20% increase in average highway speed - less than 20%, a 20% increase or greater than 20%? Consider also that I was carrying approximately 30kg (66lb) in luggage.

Let me digress here as I'm going to throw a few figures in to assist our colleagues from the USA. The following calculations, including those used for distance conversions in the above article, are based on:

1 gallon (U.S.) = 3.785 litres

1 mile (statute) = 1.609 kilometres, therefore,

1 kilometre per litre (km/l) = 2.35 miles per gallon (U.S.)

Reference: Marks' Standard Handbook for Mechanical Engineers (Avallone & Baumeister Ninth Edition - 1987)

In the 8,584km (5,335 miles) I used a total of 509.7 litres or 134.7 gallons (U.S.) - this returning a fuel economy of 16.84km/l or 39.6mpg(U.S.). A quick calculation will show you that an increase in sustained highway touring speed of 20% resulted in an increase of approximately 17.3% in fuel consumption. It surprised me considering the additional load I was carrying in comparison to my normal riding days in the first 16,000km - without the load it would no doubt have been better fuel economy.

Average price of fuel for the trip? I'll be entirely anal here and tell you the overall average was $1.01 per litre (I could have said $1.00 but to hell with it, I am a Queen's Engineer after all). So brace yourself my American friends - that converts to $AUS3.82 per gallon(U.S.) and with the current exchange rate of $AUS1.00 = $US0.60 (16 June, 2000), then it's the equivalent of you guys paying $US2.29 per gallon(U.S.) for your fuel!