Tag Archives: motorcycle adventure

The Long Way to Wauchope | Part 1 | Buying a T7 & Setting Off

Long Way to Wauchope

With Mark Battersby


I still have dust collecting on my ’80s and ’90s Paris to Dakar VHS tapes I watched over and over as a teenager, dreaming of one day owning a high performance desert crossing machine.

Somehow road bikes found their way into my life, and a 10-year stint living in the USA saw me seduced by the dark side, owning several Harleys and immersing myself in the culture of orange and black merchandise.

While HD took me to some amazing places and events (like the insane Sturgis Rally), adventure was calling and I wanted to blast across deserts, explore forest trails and jump endless cattle grids.

I loved the ‘Rally Ready’ look of the much touted Yamaha Tenere 700

Fast forward a few years the big 5-0 hit and I was no closer to living out my dream. I was missing two key ingredients; an adventure bike and the skills to ride one. While I had several hundred thousand kilometres on road bikes, I’d never owned a true dirt bike.

Choosing the bike proved the easy part as I loved the ‘Rally Ready’ look of the much touted Yamaha Tenere 700. Of course finding one was the real challenge. As luck had it, I went bike shopping on my 50th birthday to a local Yamaha Dealer and as I walked in I saw two Teneres sitting on the floor, naturally assuming one was a demo and the other was sold.

The salesman was unsure when asked, looked up the details and then muttered the words, “It doesn’t appear to be allocated yet.” My credit card went down like a fat kid on a seesaw and she was mine.

So what now? I’m still missing the skills and of course I need all the accessories to at least look the part. I dove into YouTube and every Facebook group I could, immersing myself in information overload.

Two months later the bike is fitted with the necessary bling to look cool at my local coffee shop; bash plate, crash bars, Barkbusters, pannier racks and more. However the embarrassing reality was my T7 only had a pathetic 200 km on her and I had no idea where to ride or whom to ride with.

The Tenere 700 prior to fitting all the bling

During my research I discovered there was a dedicated Tenere 700 Four-Day Off-Road Navigation Rally staged by RideADV that promised adventure and exploration. It sounded perfect, if somewhat daunting, but there was one downside. The starting point was in Wauchope, NSW some 1,800 km away from my home in the Barossa Valley in SA.

The event was run by Greg Yager and his RideADV team and I had become a fan of their unedited and down to earth YouTube videos comparing various Tenere 700 accessories. A few Facebook messages, emails and phone calls and Greg had assured me it was going to be a great event and tapped into my just-do-it personality.

The clock was ticking as it was now less than two weeks before the Rally commenced, and I was far from prepared. As I read through the pre-rally notes I started to realise just how under-prepared I was.

‘No 50/50 tyres permitted’, ‘No soft sided adventure boots’ (more on this later) and being a GPS Navigation ride I kind of needed a GPS. A few more calls to Greg and I had tyres being shipped to Wauchope and a GPS ordered. Suddenly I realised I needed camping gear, an adventure helmet and I’d be away for the mandatory 1,000 km service so I need to have that done early.

Only days prior to departure and I still had no idea which route I was going to take to arrive at Wauchope. It just felt wrong to take a bike like the T7 on a 1,800 km bitumen ride, so I reached out to various Facebook groups seeking ideas for scenic off-road routes, which proved to be extremely helpful.

Sunday departure was aborted due to lack of preparation and was pushed back to noon on Monday. I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety, ‘What are you doing Mark? You’ve never owned a dirt bike, you don’t know which way you’re going, your riding solo and you don’t know anyone at the rally,’ I asked myself.

My partner came home for lunch to wish me good luck and take the necessary departure photos. I could sense the concerned look on her face as I rode off.

There was a couple of must-do stops, including to DMK Design

I only had two deadlines, be in Mudgee Friday morning to have custom Dakar graphics fitted by DMK Design, and Wauchope Saturday morning for pre-rally scrutineering.


Day 1

Day one saw me heading towards to Renmark and depending on time, the recommended ‘Rufus River Road’ passing Lake Victoria, testing my new gear as I went. I’d fitted a GoPro to my helmet and had been given a drone by my brother and sister as a 50th present, but had no idea how to use either of them.

I started to get used to the riding position and feel comfortable on the bike, only having amassed 600 km prior to departure. The run to Renmark was easy especially with my gel seat topper fitted and I felt like I was just on a really easy to ride road bike.

In contrast, as I turned onto Rufus River Road I realised this was going to be my first dirt sections. I was excited but also somewhat apprehensive. My naivety or ignorance saw me maintain 30+ PSI on my Pirelli STR tyres.

Confidence started to build on the loose gravel surface and my speed climbed accordingly. Suddenly I was exactly where I’d dreamed of, blasting across wide open plains, awkwardly standing on the pegs on a beautiful evening with the sun setting behind me.

The road surface changes, and the front wheel wandered as I hit a sandy stretch. My off-road inexperience saw me do all the wrong things, I slowed abruptly and landed my butt on the seat. All ended well, as I pulled to the side of the track, reminded myself what I’d read about sand riding, and took off again.

It’s amazing how quickly I regain my confidence, no doubt motivated by the spectacular scenery as I passed Lake Victoria and continued towards Wentworth. I glanced in my mirrors to witness a stunning orange glow at sunset and thought this was a great opportunity to stop and grab a few pics of my Tenere 700 on dirt roads instead of outside cafes in the Barossa Valley.

Rufus River Road, heading into Wentworth

It’s about an hour after sunset as I ride into Wentworth to grab some fuel and find some accommodation. After settling on the main street motel that adjoins a busy looking pub, I decide to reward myself with few beverages and a pub feed. My advice when stopping at pubs is to ask, what’s great on the menu? – lets face it they want you to have a great meal. The special was steak and giant onion rings, and it lived up to its reputation being an Instagram worthy dish. Day one done, and no idea where I was heading on day two…

Some late night research and suggestions from Facebook adventure groups had me eyeing the Darling River Run visiting towns dotted along this route. The days riding was coming together when I read a disclaimer in one group, “Do not attempt after rain as clay roads will be impassable.”

A quick Bureau of Meteorology review revealed heavy rain and storms in the area, and with my ADV skills being at the shallower end of the mud pit, this route was quickly discarded.

An alternative trip materialised thanks to another Facebook member, “Ever seen the Mad Max Museum at Silverton?”. ‘Seriously Mark?’ I said to myself. I’ve been a Mad Max fan since my teen years, and I’ve never been there – this was a must visit!

The Mad Max Museum seemed a worthy attraction to add to the list

My eyes wandered further up the map seeing where this would take me. Suddenly in the back of mind was what seemed like a CRAZY suggestion from the early stage of my planning, Cameron Corner. The theme of this trip was going to be unplanned, spontaneous and adventurous, so let’s head north – maybe.

Day 1: Total kilometres: 400.  Highlight: Rufus River Road. Must do: Wentworth Pub.

Stay tuned for Day 2….

Source: MCNews.com.au

Heather Ellis releases second book

Victorian rider Heather Ellis has released her second book, Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi.

It follows her first book, Ubuntu: One Woman’s Motorcycle Odyssey Across Africa, in which Heather documents her solo ride on a Yamaha TT600 through Africa in 1993-94 at the age 28.

Ubuntu: One Woman's Motorcycle Odyssey Across Africa by Heather Ellis epic
Heather on her African adventure

Over 15 months, Heather travelled 42,000km through 19 countries.

The book is still on the Amazon best-seller list and includes an endorsement from Ted Simon author of Jupiter’s Travels which inspired Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor and Cheryl Strayed author of Wild. 

Second book

Her second book, Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi, is an extension of the African tour on the same Yamaha dirt bike.

After her African trek, Heather was diagnosed with HIV in London at the age of 30 and given five years to live. It was 1995 when death from AIDS is inevitable.

Instead of giving up, Heather rides along the fabled Silk Roads of antiquity to Australia, thinking it would be her last adventure.

Her second book is available online for $25 plus $5 postage.

You can get a copy signed by Heather for $25 at the official launch on Sunday (7 April, 2019) at Russian House, 118 Greeves St, Fitzroy, Melbourne.

The free book launch includes food, beer, wine and soft-drinks provided for gold coin donation.

Please contact Heather via email for bookings.

Book extractheather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi.

From Chapter 15: A Moment of Madness, Uzbekistan to Tajikistan, while Heather was travelling with three Frenchmen from Uzbekistan to Kazakhstan.

Together, the four of us walked into the Tajik border post, a small tin shack where it was standing room only. In the cramped confines, the heat was oppressive; none of the Frenchmen wore deodorant. A middle-aged man in a sweat-stained grey military uniform, the buttons straining across his round belly, sat behind the desk. Two other younger men in the same grey fatigues stood beside him. The only other item of furniture was a tall wooden cabinet. Behind the official was an open window, which framed a spindly tree. A small bird sat on a branch tilting its head inquisitively.

‘Passeports,’ he demanded, the sweat beading on his brow framed by a stock of thick greasy black hair.

‘You no cross. Pay one hundred dollar!’ he boomed.

‘We are transiting to Kyrgyzstan,’ Fabrice replied while Patrick and Frédéric vocalised their objection in French with a few phaws.

An evil smirk spread across the guard’s face that dropped as a series of folded bristly jowls onto his collar. ‘You pay. No cross.’

Fabrice stood his ground. Hands on hips. ‘We have permission to transit. We have a Russian visa.’ As if anything to do with Russia was still held in high esteem in this backwater of the former Soviet Union.

I kicked his foot and leaned close to whisper: ‘We must pretend we don’t understand.’

At this point, a vehicle pulled up outside in a cloud of dust. The Tajik border official and his two off-siders pushed Fabrice aside as they headed towards the door. We filed out behind them. The vehicle was a four-wheel drive with UNHCR emblazoned across its side. A huge man unfolded from the vehicle. He stretched to well over six foot and was enormous both in height and body width. Not obese, but his sheer size demanded instant respect. Proclaiming his support for refugees, he wore a black T-shirt printed with the words in white, ‘Einstein was a refugee’.heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi.

‘Where you from?’ he asked. We pointed to our motorcycles parked opposite saying France and Australia. ‘Long journey,’ he said nodding to me when I said I’d ridden through Africa. ‘I was in Rwanda. Very bad what happened there,’ he added and told us he was from Bosnia and stationed at Osh in Kyrgyzstan.

Since Soviet independence, Tajikistan had been gripped by civil war from infighting amongst its various clan groups, but foreigners were allowed to transit the stretch between Bekobod and Kulundu, a distance of about fifty kilometres. But we were not at this ‘official crossing’ for foreigners. Instead, we’d ridden over a narrow bridge to cross the Syr Darya and across a semi-arid plain; it was as if a finger of the Karakum desert had followed me all the way from Turkmenistan. I’d read that nearly 50,000 Tajik villagers had died from the fighting between the clan groups, leaving more than half a million refugees. Russia had stepped in, and around 25,000 of its troops were stationed in Tajikistan, effectively making it a Russian protectorate. This peacekeeping force also made it safe to transit into Kyrgyzstan as long as we kept away from the Afghan border where there were still skirmishes between the faction groups.

It made little sense as to why Stalin, back in the 1920s, had so unreasonably carved up the borders where three Central Asian nations met: Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. I could only assume it was to ensure the countries remained linked like the entwined fingers of lovers so they would forever retain a close and loyal bond.

‘Is there problem?’ the UN official asked the Tajik border guards.

‘Nyet. Nyet problem,’ the man in charge replied meekly.

‘It’s alright guys. You can cross.’ The Bosnian climbed back into his vehicle and with a wave, was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. We all watched speechless as the vehicle disappeared in a trail of dust.

‘You pay,’ the lead official boomed from behind us. Then the three officials marched back to the tin shack. We followed.

‘Can you stamp our passports please,’ I asked in demure politeness pointing to our passports stacked on the desk.

‘No. You must pay five dollar.’

‘Okay,’ I said. At least the Bosnian’s arrival had saved us each US$95. The Frenchmen nodded, and we filed out of the hut to retrieve the money from our money belts so their prying eyes would not see our booty, especially Frédéric. He had told me he carried US$5000 in cash strapped to his belly. Fabrice and Patrick, I imagined, carried the same. ‘Aren’t you worried you’ll get robbed?’ I asked in disbelief when he’d told me. ‘This never leaves me,’ Frédéric had said patting his round stomach, his money belt hidden under his T-shirt with it all held in place by a wide kidney belt. It not only protected his kidneys and vulnerable insides should he crash, but also gave no indication that he carried a small fortune in a country where the annual salary was US$600.

Knowing you are going to die does strange things to your way of thinking, namely in the risks that you’d otherwise never consider taking. In the weeks that followed my HIV diagnosis, I rode around London with no regard for speed limits, road rules and consideration of other road users. Perhaps those vodka-infused days in Turkmenistan where I’d nearly come to grief several times while riding inebriated were also part of this disregard for my own safety. This wasn’t a conscious decision. It was just what happened. I was beyond thinking I might get hurt or I might die. What happened next at that Tajik border post, I can only think, had something to do with this unconscious death wish that occasionally took control of my behaviour.

But it was also a desire to seek approval, seek forgiveness from my father. The offer of a gift that would please him. A parting gift that was so significant that it may even go so far as to nullify the perceived shame I’d brought on my family. These were my distorted thoughts on that day.

When I’d walked into the hut, a grey Russian army cap lay on the desk. I’d picked it up, saying, ‘I give you ten dollar.’ The official sitting at the desk snatched it from me and threw it behind the cabinet. When he’d gone outside as the UN vehicle pulled up, I’d quickly retrieved it and stuffed it under my kidney belt and zipped up my jacket.

We paid our five dollars and with our passports stamped, were about to file out the hut, when the border official in charge pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Fabrice’s head. I held my breath thinking he’d thought Fabrice had stolen the cap. Patrick and Frédéric stood motionless beside me. Fabrice turned white. The two other guards smiled as if they shared a private joke. The Tajik with the gun flashed a demented grin, his finger on the trigger. Then he turned and fired the gun through the open window at a small bird sitting on the branch. It looked like the same bird as before. Unbelievably, it did not fly away. Like us, I expect, it was too shocked to move. The Tajik fired off another four shots, deafening us all in the tin shack, and still, the bird did not move. Only when it was quiet, and the Tajik had returned the gun to its holster, did the bird fly away. Without a word, we slowly filed out of the hut then ran towards our bikes.

Just as I was about to hoist my leg over the TT, the Tajik in charge stormed out of the hut, pointing to his head, his two assistants closely behind. I knew exactly what he meant, but the Frenchmen looked at him dumbfounded. I rushed back inside the hut, the Tajiks following close behind, but I reached the doorway first and knelt down near the cabinet and pulled the cap from under my kidney belt dropping it on the floor. The Tajik in charge grabbed my arm lifting me off the ground and shoved me against the wall.

‘Your cap. There it is. Remember, you threw it behind the cabinet.’

‘Duzd, Duzd,’ he repeated his face contorted in anger as he squeezed my arm. I assumed this was Tajik for thief.

‘Fuck off, you bastards!’ I screamed pulling my arm away and pushing past the three men like a deranged woman. ‘Go! Go!’ I yelled at the Frenchmen who sat astride their idling motorcycles.

The TT fired first kick. Pumped with adrenalin, I dropped the clutch and opened the throttle. The bike launched itself and me to freedom leaving the three Tajiks standing in a cloud of dust. I fully expected a bullet to lodge into my back, but no shot was fired, and yet again I’d escaped a respectable death. As I followed the Frenchmen, I realised I risked pulling them down with me. For their own safety, it was time I moved on.heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi. heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi. heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi. heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi. heather ellis Timeless On The Silk Road: An Odyssey From London to Hanoi.

Source: MotorbikeWriter.com

Legendary 10% discount for our readers

Indian-based motorcycle tour company Legendary Moto Rides is offering Motorbike Writer readers a 10% discount on their three 2019 Himalayan tours riding the highest motorable roads in the world.

To score the discount, just type in the code “MBW10%” when making a booking. Riders can save from about $A330 to $A450 with the 10% discount.

The tours are the Ladakh Trans Himalayan Sky Adventure, the Grand Ladakh Ride to the Tour of the World and Himalayan Heights.

All are ridden on traditional Royal Enfield Classic 500 motorcycles.Legendary Moto Tours Himalayas Royal Enfield Classic 500 10% discount

Legendary tour with MBW

If you would like to tour with me, I plan to take the middle option; the Ladakh Trans Himalayan Sky Adventure tour from June 23-July 6. There are three more dates for the tour in July and August.

Prices before the special 10% discount are $US2650 for riders, $4750 for a ride and pillion and $US2290 for a car passenger.

The cheapest are the Himalayan Heights tours in June, August and September.

Prices start at $US2390 for the rider, $US4000 two-up and $US1800 car passenger.

There are three Grand Ladakh tours in July and August.

Prices before the discount are $US3300 for a rider, $US5800 for rider and pillion and $US2700 for a car passenger.

If you want some privacy, add $US395 to the prices for all tours for a single room.

Costs include just about everything except your flights and even include a farewell dinner with “unlimited beer”. Now that’s value, especially the way some of us Aussies drink!

Altitude sicknessLegendary Moto Tours Himalayas Royal Enfield Classic 500 10% discount

All tours include riding the Khardung La Pass which is the highest civilian motorable road in the world at 5606m above sea level.

I’ve ridden to the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado at 4302m and felt like I had a slight hangover and feet of lead.

An extra 1.3km straight up should really be a challenge.

Legendary Moto Rides spokesman Bharat assures me that riders will have time to acclimatise.

“In Trans Himalayan we start from Manali (altitude 3979m) and slowly slowly we go on high altitude so we get habitual with altitude and do not face any altitude sickness,” he says.

“Other High Himalayan Heights Motorcycle Tour we need one day complete to get acclimatised or maybe two days.”

Click here for tips on riding in high altitudes.

Apart from literally taking your breath away, riders will see ancient monasteries, deserts, snow, waterfalls and colourful local villages.

Along the way they will stay in hotels or “glamping” tents.

Legendary Moto Tours Himalayas Royal Enfield Classic 500 10% discount
Glamping

Legendary Motor Rides tours include accommodation, most meals, all ground transfers from arrival to departure, motorcycle hire, fuel, English-speaking road captain and staff, first-aid medical kit, refreshments during rides, luggage support vehicle, plus all fees, taxes and permits.

Exclusions: International flights, domestic flights to and from Leh if relevant ($US250 extra), lunch, personal medical insurance (compulsory), bike damage, extra drinks, visa fees and items of personal nature such as tips, laundry and alcohol.

Source: MotorbikeWriter.com