Part 5
We were still in dune country, though for the most part, the Hay dives up the swales between them. We found the going fairly easy. About 10 km on, Paul had a close encounter that he wasn't counting on. A 6 foot (1.8 metre) Big Red (Kangaroo) leap across the track, right in front of him, the 'roo looked around, looked through him and was gone. It was a close call and a reminder to us all, that even here, in what appears a very dry environment, there's Kangaroos about, something I have to say, I'd never seen in the Desert.
Ahead of us we had a set of about 12 dunes to cross. These had been of some considerable concern as all the information we could get about them suggested that we were in for a long afternoon of digging, traxing and towing to get over them, if we could at all. Several reports referred to them as monsters. Given the temps by late morning were already in the very high 20's 70's F), we had given some consideration to calling an early day at the base of the first of these monsters. Sure, we'd give it a go, but we could already feel the sand under our treads was soft and dry.
On our way North, we could hear some chatter over the CB of a party heading South, before long, we came across them. They were a professional tour group in their Mercedes G Wagons. Stopping for a brief chat, they let us know that there was another of their vehicles ahead of us, broken down in the track. As the issued seemed to be gearbox related, they were unable to move it, though they assured us we'd get around it OK. They admired our Mokes but did let us know that we'd get bogged on the other sides of all the dunes ahead of us. It was depressing news that made for a quite drive until we reached them. On sizing the first of these dunes up, I felt that they were yet ahead of us, but a quick check on the GPS confirmed that this was indeed them. It didn't appear too big but definitely looked soft. I thought I'd give it a taste and see how we'd go. Next thing, I was over, I felt a huge relief. I called for Jack to come over before heading off to the next. Over then next 20 minutes or so, it was mostly rather routine. We didn't get bogged as the tour group suggested, though the Eastern sides of these dunes was deeper, steeper and softer, it was in equal parts that we drove and slivered down some of these. Towards the last of these, I heard a call over the CB from Paul that he was stuck on a dune. As Roger was not far behind him he stepped in to assist Paul while Jack and I waited a little ahead. We could hear an engine reving, then we saw the flag on the up side, before the nose of Paul's Moke appeared. It stopped just on the down hill side. From where we were, we couldn't quite see what was going on at this point, however after a short pause, Paul appeared to be driving rather recklessly on the down hill side of the dune. Jack and I also noticed Roger running after Paul, with Jack and I thinking 'what the hell ?' before Paul came to a rest near the base of the dune. This was most unusual for Paul. A few moments later, we saw Paul walking down the dune towards his Moke. At first, Jack and I thought this was a neat trick before realising that Paul's Moke had made it's own way down, without a pilot ! It was all comical to watch, it could have ended disastrously, however and thankfully, no one and no Moke was worse for it.
The dunes in this section for the next roughly 10 km were covered in a beautiful purple wildflower, they sure made for a pleasant distraction.
Beautiful Wildflowers covering the dunes.
The Temps during the day had been in the low 30's (85's F), this combined with the fact that we'd not bathed in about 9 days by now was getting rather uncomfortable and likely smelly, though, we were all in the same boat, so none of us seemed to notice. Not much for it, other than press on and look forward to a hot shower in a few days.
We received a call over the CB that there was a party heading South towards us, before long we caught up with them. One of the fella's travelling with his wife, introduced himself as Brett, who, as it turned out, was a retired Mini Mechanic. He worked for many year for none other than Jack and later Matt Read at ReadSpeed in Brisbane. They were travelling with another couple, Wayne and his wife. We stopped to exchange war stories of both the cars and the track before cracking on with it. A couple of hours later, we made camp for the night.
Day 6 in the Desert saw us heading off towards one of the Madigan Line junctions. During 1939, Madigan lead a party from Alice Springs to Birdsville through the Desert (and returned to Alice Springs). Madigan was also part of Mawson's group to the South Pole, some years earlier. His Desert Expedition was founded by Alfred Simpson (of the Simpson washing machine fame and after who the Desert is named) and was touted as being the first major expedition across. There were daily live broadcasts on the ABC Radio during their crossing. At the conclusion of their expedition, Madigan famously said " no motorised vehicle will ever penetrate the Desert ". I find some amusement in this as later, Madigan was a lecturer at Adelaide University, where one of his students was a little know fella by the name of Reg Sprigg. In 1962, Reg, together with his family, were the first to drive a 'motorised vehicle' across the Simpson. While few know of Reg, the legacy of his work touches our lives just about every day.
By around morning tea, we'd reach Madigan's Camp 16, which the Hay River Track also runs through.
Camp 16 of the Madigan Line. I'm no botanist, but isn't that a Gum Tree ?
I had been here back in 2017 on a trip organised by Alan across the Madigan, just on the tail end of the period before it became a popular Desert track to cover. We'd 'popped out' at camp 15 on to this shared part of the track, before heading off East again here at camp 16.
The air temperature was sure pushing hard at this point, before midday, it was already banging on the door of 30 degrees (85 F). I also found the UV quite hard, I'd learned many years back that it was best to cover up on trips like these to not only keep cleaner, but also to stop getting sun burnt, despite covering up, on these mornings, since heading North a few days earlier, I found that my hands were starting to get burnt, fitting the screen (mesh) side curtain on though, helped no end for that. After a brief break here for a bite to eat and after making an entry in to the visitor's book, we pressed on for Madigan's camp 15, about 17 km (10 miles) further on.
As we were approaching this next land mark, we could again hear some chatter over the CB from another group. We felt sure they weren't behind us, they were either heading South or more likely, coming in from the West. Before long we found them, a group on Trail Bikes who'd come over the Madigan Line and had stopped, waiting for their support crew at Camp 15. They were headed to Birdsville and hoped to be there that afternoon or early the following day. As Paul and Jack were looking low on fuel, we negotiated to buy from them some of their spare fuel.
These guys had also come a long way, from Old Andado, about 200 km (125 miles) to the West. On reaching Birdsville if they were looking in good shape, their plans were to turn around and head back the same way, all the way back to Alice Springs in fact.
A chance meeting with some bikers at Madigan's camp 15. Is that another gum tree or two ?
After spending about half an hour exchanging war stories with the bikers and their support crew, we bid our new found friends farewell, at least until we all likely meet up again in Birdsville, with the day heating up, we pressed on. We were well within the tail end of the Hay River here, although the map was showing we were almost in it's bed, there was little to see of it here. The Desert had given way from the scrub we'd had the past couple of days to an area of what appeared to be a dead forest, though looks can be deceiving here. I am assured they are alive an well. While I don't claim to be a botanist, it would appear these are a type of curara or dead finish tree, seems an appropriate name !
For many km on the track north, we passed through this forest of leaf-less dead finish trees.
A few hours later, we made our 7th desert camp. I was starting to appreciate how Madigan likely felt, though we had donkeys over his camels, or was it in fact we were the donkeys all the way out here ? With the afternoon heat getting to us, we had again pulled up stumps earlier than planned, though our good progress certainly allowed for this break. At the time, reflecting back over where we'd been since leaving Burra a life time ago, it was hard to take it all in. We had all been snapping off photos and Rich too had been keeping a daily blog, in time I knew it would all sink in.
Our 7th camp, about 30 km / 18 miles North of Madigan's camp 15, just on sunset.
Another cloudless morning saw us pushing on. Soon, we were starting to weave a little around the gums of the lower Hay River. A couple of hours later I received a call over the CB from Roger, that he'd broken a drive shaft, on a trip like this, it's just about expected and somewhat surprising that none of us had done one, until now. I do have to lodge a complaint here though, not for Roger breaking the drive shaft, but not being considerate enough to do so under the shade of a tree, of which by now, there were a few about.
Changing out a broken driveshaft while Rich enjoys the shade.
Working in the full sun, heat and flies Roger and I soon had the shaft changed, before long, we were all mobile again.
By now, we could feel the reach of the Hay River itself, although we couldn't quite see the bed, for the area around the track was becoming thicker and looking more and more like the Aussie bush. Another hour or so later and we caught of first sights of the dry River.
Our first glimpses of the Hay River's dry bed.
This region had been explored in the 1880's, no doubt in search of lands suitable for running cattle. While they may have survived in few wet years that occur, their survival outside of that would be doubtful. In the 1950's and 60's other parties of geologists had also been through in the search of oil. Given there's few test wells in this part of the Simpson, it sees that nothing seemed favourable to them. In 1970's the government sunk a test well to explore this outer edge of the artesian basin. The well, though in a different form still exists to this day, known since 2010 as Dingo Well. It sports a solar powered pump, though like most things to do with present day renewable energy, despite the panel being in the full glare of the sun, the pump didn't work and looks like it hasn't for some time.
Dingo Well and it's failed Solar Pump.
By late afternoon, we were crossing the Tropic of Capricorn, another land mark point in the adventure. I have to say that it sure made me feel humbled but just how far we'd come and just where we were - a long way from anywhere ! Once again, we were greeted with a no expense spared sign to let us know we'd reach this milestone. When approaching such marks, there's always feel of anticipation.
The Desert Rats at Tropic of Capricorn with the no expense spared sign to mark it.
The track by afternoon was just a series of turns, left, right, left, right, most nearly at full lock with no straight parts between, just turn on turn. After a few hours of doing this on low tyre pressures we found hard work, there was no let up, though, the reason for the turns was to guide the track between all the trees, mostly gums, that were here. We both praised them for the shade they offered and but also cursed them for the hard work they were making for us. Centimetre by centimetre, metre by metre, kilometre by kilometre, we were moving on-ward and up-ward, with he high temperatures, it was becoming a real grind. Around 35 km from the Tropic of Capricorn, we made camp. It was both sombre in that this would be our last in the Desert and also celebratory that all going well, the following day we will have accomplished a double crossing of the Simpson Desert, it would also mean we could have a shower !
Our last morning saw us heading off to Batton Hill, at the very northern end of the Hay River Track. It was a mix of rough, smooth and light corrugated sections. The going was easy, though very much an anti-climax after what we'd just been through. By mid-morning we'd come to the gate that marked Batton Hill.
Batton Hill. This marks the end of the Hay River Track.
Before reaching the Plenty Highway, ahead lay the Batton Hill Road (track) that shoots off around 80 km to the West. We'd been hearing for weeks of this track as being quite a horror stretch of sever corrugations, all the way and with no let up. None of us were looking forward to what lay ahead here. It didn't disappoint. As Roger and Rich had lead us in to the Desert, it felt appropriate for them to lead us out again, this put me as tail end charlie.
The heavily corrugated Batton Hill road. The only changes over its entire 80 km / 50 mile length was the odd large rock and hole.
After waiting around 5 minutes to leave a dust gap, I set off, just 80 km / 50 miles and this would all be over. After trying a few different speeds to smooth out the corrugations, I found 95 to 100 kph (60 mph) worked well, they just settled in to a load hum, however I also found that I was catching those in front. Slowing to around 5 kph (3 mph) for 10 minutes in order to gain a dust gap once more, I started off again. This went on until about 1/2 way down the track I found that both my engine mounts had broken, largely from having had to slow down and then try to 'get on the plane' again. Roger and I changed these out in the blistering heat of the day and also that coming off the hit engine. While the flies were about, thankfully, they weren't in full force. Repairs done, we set off once more, settling in to the depressing routine of that dreaded track. Eventually, the track turned towards the north, this marked the last couple of km before reaching the Plenty Highway. I just had the main road in sight, when I'd lost all power. With the main road only about 200 metres (220 yards) away, I'd run out of fuel !! We put some petrol in from a jerry, then headed up to the road. 1048 km (655 miles) across the Simpson Desert in a double crossing. We were there, we'd done it !
The Desert Rats victorious on reaching the Plenty Highway and successfully 1048 km / 655 mile double crossing the Simpson Desert.
Part 6 to follow ! Yes, there’s more,,,,,,
