Adventures with Jamesy

My ventures down to the snow inspired my good mates Will and Brent to make their way down to the lodge yet again for one last hurrah! What ensued was a solid 72hrs of in-jokes, alcohol and ruckus. After getting drunk from what alcohol was on hand at the lodge (mainly goon, Baileys & Whisky) we decided to make a small kicker out the back of the cabin. #goodtimes.

I’d caught the snow bug yet again and subsequently made my way down another 2 times. Once Solo, and the second time with the #squad(s)?  A trip sponsored by #Bosshunting, #Thredbo, #Fordaustralia, saw my mate John and I headed to a dealership in Sydneys CBD to pick up the 2018 Ford Ranger. We then began the rounds of Sydney collecting ski gear and squad members. Pumped some tunes and made the 5hr dash to the snow.

While the squad slept in, Johnny and I were up getting some shots of the Ranger we’d traveled in, (the old iphone doesn’t take the best of photos)

Unfortunately our #Thredbo experience was ‘dampened’ by the classic Australian alpine weather. A solid day of drizzle made for a guilt free extended recess in the pub.  The following day was much better, where we had a solid 9-5 snow sesh. Followed by VIP Apres with #GHMumm #Champagne.

The 6am alarm sounded announcing a new day had begun. The air was a chilly 25C and the atmosphere at the campsite was filled with anticipation. The air was still and as we chowed down on cornflakes and coffee we discussed our movements for the big day.  There was a sense that today was the day that peoples hopes for the event were going to be met or broken. The convoy of cars stretched for a km as all competitors made their way to the pit area, anxiously awaiting the go ahead to line up at the starting grid.

The air was still cold (around 30C) , enabling the engines and crews to run more efficiently. We stood in line at the grid, waiting for our turn, striking up friendly conversation with other racers and looking at their magnificent creations that they’d be strapping themselves to in hope they’d be the fastest.

It was our turn. The stand was removed, Craig was kitted up, the bike was warm, and then the lights went out. A chirp of the engine and rather anticlimactic roll away from the start line and he was off. The exhaust note echoed uninterrupted across the barren landscape as he went through the gears. I counted, 1…2…3…4…5…6 gear changes, and then the engines shrill wine plateaued at 13,000 rpm (he would’ve easily been going over 300km/h at this point) 

Upon returning to the pits, I met Craig who was doing a little dance on the bike looking rather impressed with himself. He told me he’d done it, and in doing so had broken the electronic dash of the bike. He’d traveled so fast for so long that the computer had packed it in and shut down all of his display in a rather exotic fashion with lights and alarms flashing and beeping. 

A 10 minute wait had confirmed his accomplishment, the CB radio crackled into life “rider 1353, 202mph over the ¼ mile”. 

Their were two racetracks, well, two streatches of barren landscape plotted out with black markers. One two mile track and one nine mile track. The shorter two mile track was designated for training and licensing whilst the longer nine mile for record setting.

The tracks ran roughly parallel to one another and were separated by a huge void, this was to avoid any chance of high speed collisions in case a vehicle lost control.

The speeds of vehicles competing each track were recorded by a van situated between the tracks.

The operations of the track were simple, reach speed within 4 miles, speed recording was done between 4 and 41/4 miles you then had 2 miles (5 in a car) of run off to slow down and leave the track.

Day one was set for qualifying, where Craig had to get his 70mph, 100mph and 150mph licenses. Basically, ride to the designated speed and hold it without going over. This was to ensure each rider/driver was capable of handling the vehicle at speed and familiarize themselves with the surface and track

Day two involved mostly shakedown runs and modifications to the bike. Seeing how the bike behaved when held at high speed and high revs for sustained periods of time. The electronic BMW software made tuning the engine, observing the behavior of the bike and recording the speed an easy task.

The atmosphere of the racetrack was unreal. The extreme heat intensified by the reflecting barren white salt, the sound of engines being pushed to their absolute limits in the distance, the smell of twostroke and comradery of fellow racers made the time spent in the pits something to remember.

Each run was followed by a half an hour huddle around the UHF radio anxiously awaiting our number and speed.

“Rider 1353. 190mph over the quarter mile”

We set up at the established camp 30 mins away from the salt, a tent city stood amidst the arid red sand of the Australian outback. Here there was a sheering shed where meetings were held, four shipping containers with about 12 hammocks in each “premium accommodation” and a shower/toilet block. The campsite had quite the ‘post apocalyptic community feel to it. 

Living conditions for Craig and I were quite lavish, Craig had an 8 man tent, which had two rooms, one for storage of gear and food, one for sleeping. I had my own roomy 4 man tent which was fantastic to sleep in because it was so hot. Sun up was at 6am, with it the heat and flies came. The mercury was pushing 30 by 9am and there were no less than 12 flies buzzing around your head. Inland at the hottest part of the day, it got to a blistering 48C.

After driving to the salt flat, we had to de-dust the car with leaf blowers in order to preserve the pristine white salt lake. It is quite a surreal experience driving out to the pits, an entire community established in a barren landscape with machines of all shapes and sizes being taken apart, resembled and modified. Think star wars episode 1 only with motorcycles, cars and lakesters. “now this is podracing”

The pits setups of different crews altered significantly, from simple tarps on the salt with a box trailer to the most admirable setups where entire semi-trailers were kitted out with spare tyres, welding equipment, gas and televisions. One New Zealander whom we met in Port Augusta had nothing more than the Toyota Hiace van which he slept, worked and traveled in.

Our pit setup was a giant tarp, gazebo and the trailer kitted with tools, tyres, sprockets and fuel. Out here on the salt, the temperature was reaching 50C and the risk of serious sunburn perpetuated by the reflection of the white salt. 

The Hay Plain is about as fun as it sounds, about 45C during the day, and not a lot to look at.

After the bike mods were done, we began the long journey west through NSW. Our trip of approximately 24hrs straight driving, stretched into 3 days with rest stops. Travelling into the hot arid regions of Australia was made more difficult with the lack of a functioning air conditioner in the car.

There’s not a whole lot to say about NSW other than there’s a whole lot of space and not many people. We stopped in Hay NSW, spent the night on the side of the road just east of Balranald and slept in the trailer that was full of gear, the bike and fuel. 

The next day we pushed into North Western Victoria, through Mildura and onto Port Augusta in South Australia. The landscape hadn’t changed much since we crossed the Great Dividing Range two days earlier, other than the fact everything was getting more and more dry. Turns out Port Augusta is one of the major crime capitols of Australia, a fact made evident when we arrived at the caravan park where we’d be staying. The park was surrounded by 3m high fencing capped with barbed wire, our greeting had a friendly reminder to keep all valuables locked away in the car overnight, as well as to secure and lock the trailer we’d be sleeping in.

For those of you who don’t know, I like motorbikes, over lunch one day a good friend of mine started talking to me about the ‘Dry Lakes Racers Australia’ meet. This is an event that takes place on the Lake Gairdner salt flat over a total of 10 days in February every year. A spectical where rev-heads from across the country come together to try and drive/ride as fast as their machines (or confidence) will allow them. 

My friend, Craig, required a pit-crew as he was entering his BMWs1000rr into the ‘modified production 1000cc’ class and was hoping to break the then currently held record of 198mph (318kmh). With my then limited knowledge of mechanics and racing I was recruited, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.