At last, the 2010 Cannonball Charity Ride in the name of Endeavour Foundation had arrived and preparation was in full swing in Dalby, Queensland. This 4th running of the event was heading to Darwin some 11 days and 4500km later. Previous rides had included Mt Isa to the Gulf, Cairns to Broome and Toowoomba to Tassie. The riders, many repeat offenders, again armed themselves with a full array of weapons. The obligatory enduro bikes were there for the masochists, so too the big BMWs and KTMs equipped with everything bar an espresso machine. All of the bikes would be loved or hated and that position would change as the terrain did! I was about to christen my new 990 having never actually ridden it, but having ridden a similar bike, I thought it couldn't be that different.
The Cannonballers started to arrive with riders registering, fixing last minute issues, packing and repacking support vehicles. S ome slipped downtown to visit legendary adventure rider and all round good bloke Craig Hartley and the Dalby Moto team for last minute tyre changes, parts and a few of those 'oh crap I forgot to bring' items. Others sought out balaclavas and thermals as the day had started at 3 degrees and sent a strong message about being prepared for all conditions.
Two tutus (say that with a few beers in you) were handed out during the official welcome dinner. These, like previous years were passed on each day to the most outstanding riders, they who had the biggest off or were witnessed doing something silly (like fuelling up their Kato with diesel), or maybe hitting a cow in a support vehicle. No-one was safe. Once again, Katie warned everyone to get an early night as the route was going to be tracks from the barely visible between the grass to black soil two-track with corrugations and wheel ruts up to your knees, sand, bulldust, stones, deep sand with washouts, dry creek crossings, fast open dirt roads and everything in between. Once again, first night adrenaline saw this advice ignored.
With bags packed and on the trailer by 7am, breakfast at 7am, and ride out at 8am, all in 3 degrees, the first rule for new chums was learnt. Do not, and I repeat, do not ignore Katie's advice! The local Scouts knocked up breaky and sent us on our way with military precision, as is the organisation Katie puts into these events. We left a very depressed Mr Hartley and Dalby Moto team behind to do an honest day's work while we quickly found ourselves on back roads before ending up in state forest. These areas were still dry and dusty so a few minor spills occurred in the morning as boys sought to be boys, as you do when testosterone flows and the pack is sorting out the pecking order for the days to come.
Veteran cannonballers knew this was no race, and pacing yourself was the way to tackle 4500km (and many pubs) during this adventure. After lunch, the track turned to sand, the deep white stuff that had a lot of riders thinking 'what have I done'. My 990 was proving a handful and then I remembered the similar model I rode wasn't in talcum powder at the time. I stopped to help a few blokes and then a few blokes stopped to help me. Apparently this ride is about raising funds, raising skills and on many occasions, raising bikes. All in team spirit, after the photos had been taken and you had been helplessly filled in. Roma was only 300km away or 440km by our route, but with the support vehicles carrying first aid, luggage, fuel, and of course the eskys, different people were glad to see them for different reasons at the completion of day one.
Winding out of Roma the next day saw us on a variety of back roads, station tracks, along fence lines and on the way to Tambo, a little town where a whole mob of dirt bikes rolling in was a bit of a spectacle. After 440km for the day, the support vehicles and their precious cargo were again a pleasure to see.
Day 3 and another cold start had us on the bikes heading for Winton 621 km and a lot of dirt away. By now the muscles and butt were starting to hurt and the guys were starting to realise that it’s still a bloody long way to Darwin. Bikes were starting to show minor problems, mine having a bit of a fuel pump problem (a dirty tea bag) for anyone who knows 990s. I'd have to pencil that one in for our layover in Tennant Creek as it was a big job to fix, especially without parts handy or knowing what a tea-bag was or how to fix it.
The knobs were getting screwed off at speed and flat tyres soon slowed us up. Darren was Dunlop King, keeping a whole ute full of spare tubes primarily aimed at keeping his BMW moving forward. A particularly stony section had some huge rim dents showing up and re-shaping required that night. Muttaburra was both fuel and lunch stop, the corner store blokes having steak sandwiches cooked up on the barby and awaiting our arrival. Winton proved to be a quiet town on the surface, but it was also the first night where bikes were tampered with by unknown persons. Nothing sinister, but one of our two lead riders, Craigo, had amongst other things, hot pink tassels fitted to his hand grips. Whilst a lesser man would have been upset with his pride and joy being tampered with, Craigo suggested it went well with some special outfits he kept at home for social occasions and all most looked pleased at the result.
Our usual start to the day took us through diverse country again and the 450km day had us out in Min Min country (Google that). Dave the other lead rider asked for someone to come up front and support him for a while. Darren quickly took up the offer but by lunch Dave had managed to scare the hell out of him and walked off swearing 'you can keep your bloody fluoro vest, you're insane!' or something similar, much to Dave's amusement. Dave was overheard later saying something about 'wicking it up' with Darren, whatever that meant. Boulia was believed to be another quiet spot but sometime during the night the local law arrived stating there had been reports of shots fired in the general vicinity and to be careful. Being a veteran Cannonballer myself, I had a theory on what it might have been and didn't involve firearms or Min Min lights, but it did involve the aforementioned lead rider Dave and his bag of tricks!
Boulia also served as an unscheduled repair stop and overnight a frame was welded up, tyres swapped over and other running repairs done. The Warthog, Jeff's big red BMW with a tank the size of a 44 gallon drum had a problem with the computer not recognising the key. Without parts handy, the module was stripped out, pulled apart and with brain surgeon-like skill, painstakingly re-soldered back together, then retrofitted into a matchbox and siliconed up to seal out the wet stuff. The Warthog fired up and he was able to continue the ride. Desperate times call for desperate solutions and well done Matt, a little Aussie ingenuity goes a long way in the desert. Next day we dropped in on the 'Min Min Encounter' exhibition and then on our way to Camooweal and a further 530km of gravel tracks, wide open dirt roads, sand and bulldust in changing order.
Somewhere on that 530km leg my bike unexpectedly ran out of fuel. Waiting for support not far behind, I pondered how desolate this country was and what a problem I would have had if there was no backup. For the once-a-year adventurer, the peace of mind of organised support is what makes these events so valuable. With limited leave available in the real world of mortgages, jobs and family, not using it up stuck on the side of the road, but on your bike riding is what makes these events to popular. A fully supported ride is also great as it gives riders the chance to ride at their own pace, with the quicker riders catching up to the lead riders and then taking a break as corner men. Even the more macho men amongst us who can ride unsupported through the worst mother nature has to offer, agree that sometimes it's nice to have organised support and just enjoy the riding without the additional weight and worry of going it alone. Good to see some of these blokes on the ride as well. A remote cattle station lunch was amazingly good and the location itself impressive with paddocks claimed to be bigger than some European countries. We had a blast through the station on fast open roads, to tracks with those kind of corners that sneak up on you when you are making good time. Luckily out here they leave heaps of runoff area for road trains. The rumour was even a few of our lead riders had used these areas, marking the hazardous with skid marks, purely for the benefit of those further down the group...of course.
Today there was all sorts of wildlife, Darren hit a roo but the weight of the Beemer practically tore it apart and no damage was sustained to rider or bike. Yes there are practical uses for BeeM's. Crash the sweep rider (not a name for a sweep rider to instill confidence mind you) and I, were making good time trying to catch up to the group later in the afternoon because of a flat battery when I nearly hit an eagle, good to combine a spot of golf on your holidays I suppose, but bloody scary all the same. Flat tyres saw the group spread out making for a long day and dry throats had to be well lubricated again. More tampering with bikes late in the evening saw amongst other things Karl's Aprillia swapped for a pit bike. Next morning saw us on the bikes at the regular time, minus one lead rider. Parts were required for Craigo's bike and he had to shoot straight up the black top to Tennant Creek to be there on time to pick them up.
There isn't much to see from Camooweal to Tennant Creek and so any early arrival saw much needed maintenance and repairs undertaken and some extra time to recharge the batteries. Karl on the Aprillia was wishing he had taken up the pit bike swap, after his mount threw a gearbox. Deano's KTM ran a bottom end bearing to contribute to his birthday celebrations, but frantic phone calls had parts sourced and a team volunteered to drive the 500km each way to Alice Springs through the night to pick them up. Then after receiving the parts his 640 was rebuilt at the motel, run in, and then ridden to Darwin. My tea-bag job seemed rather insignificant. It was a pretty mean feat and there were a whole bunch of guys who helped put this bike back together against the odds. Some missed a day's riding but were welcomed into the Daly Waters Pub at 10pm after the State of Origin had finished. A welcoming committee in the main street, complete with beef and beers certainly showed the team efforts were appreciated and made up for not seeing another crushing win by the Maroons, one of many this year I believe.
Tennant Creek was hot and humid but four inches of rain that night saw the black soil country turn into a quagmire. Newcastle Waters was our lunch stop and the hospitality there was again fantastic. With permission to ride through the property, the newly cut track was truly awesome. The loose black soil, now again dusty and winding through the scrub saw heaps of feet up power sliding. “Feet up and sidewards” is the Cannonball motto and it was truly lived up to. Having now covered 3000km the event was past halfway and the guys were getting into a groove, well, more like a wheel rut. I think this was about the time I crashed right behind the tutu wearer (thank goodness) but a little further on, I dropped the bike again in front of the same Tutu wearer. My fate was sealed, but during the afternoon Wayne thankfully?? flipped his XR600 over a barbed wire fence, in front of another tutu wearer and Dave a veteran Cannonballer and Finke race entrant, flipped his bike over a cleverly disguised termites nest (which was marked with a bright orange witch's hat). So I managed to sidestep the tutu for two more far deserving riders.
Katie had managed to find more sand for us to play in on the way to Nitmiluk, first stopping at Mataranka hot springs for lunch and a swim. It was hot and humid again but we found a pool and proceeded to spend the evening in it. Some undertook flights over Natimuk (Katherine Gorge) in the morning before riding to Batchelor that night, a small township in the Litchfield National Park not too far from Darwin. Arriving early a breakaway group rode out to Litchfield for a bit of a look around.
The last day had come, and in true form Katie had found, at the last minute, a ripper of a track into Darwin. It was a rough 4-wheel-drive track through Litchfield, then through 3 meter high grasses, across creeks and mud holes, single track and a whole variety of other terrain, including some middle of the outback wide open throttle type of roads. It is never over until it is over!
We pushed on into Darwin, not wanting the trip to be over and having to depart from new friends, but knowing once again we had raised funds for good cause while having a ball doing it. Closure was brought on by the official dinner where wives and partners joined us for the night. Each year more and more join us knowing that a good holiday experience is usually not found in a theme park. That was the end of Cannonball 2010 but 5 of us had planned to ride home in all different directions, two went on through the Gulf, two through Borroloola and my return trip was longer than the ride itself-via Alice Springs Uluru and then home.
Personally I'd like to thank Katie the ride organiser, all of the sponsors who make this possible, and the volunteers who man the support vehicles. These volunteers, who pay out of their own pocket to go, also do the catering, drive the fuel truck, and place marker ribbons and hazard cones and the like and then pick it all up again. Are we on again for next year, you betcha! Bribie Island, Queensland to the Barossa Valley in South Australia via Uluru in the Northern Territory. Numbers are again limited to 20 - 25 riders, so if you are interested in riding or volunteering for a cause, call Katie now (0402 750 900) and book an experience of a lifetime. Positions fill fast on a first in, first served basis. I will be back renewing old friendships, riding awesome country and visiting new pubs - what more could you want.
