#dlra

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”. 

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.