THE GREAT ARB OUTBACK EXPERIENCE
G’day mate... ya on ya pat?... Good on ya!! Pull a tennie from the esky and join us for some tucker. Ya good on the fang? Take a squiz at the snags on the barbie, no salad pushers here mate. Let me translate the above greeting from Aussie speak to Yankee English.
“Good evening, are you traveling alone? (Aussies like things that rhyme: “pat,” as in Pat Malone, rhymes with alone. So if you are “on your Pat,” then you are traveling alone. Make sense? Ok, not really. But when you pass through the equatorial zones heading for the land down under, the world takes on a different look. I digress: “Grab a beer from the ice chest and join us for dinner. Are you hungry? Check out the hot dogs on the BBQ, no vegetarians here ay? Ahhhh, Australia. It is a place everyone should experience: Australians’ have a perpetually humorous fashion and a different word for everything.
Tucked in between the Coral and Tasman Seas to the east, and the Southern and Indian Oceans to the west, Australia sat alone, “on it’s Pat,” as an island for centuries after the Americas were discovered. It wasn’t until Englishman Captan James Cook sailed his crippled ship, The Endeavor, into a safe harbor that became Cooktown in 1770 that Australia was claimed by a European entity. In 1787, England dispatched the First Fleet in an attempt to colonize their new acquisition. Early the following spring, a flotilla of 11 ships loaded with livestock, seed, solders and 736 convicts landed near what is now Sidney on the continent’s southeast coast. With an overburdened prison system, England deemed this remote southern island to be the perfect depository for the unwanted dregs of its society. The result was a two-fold win for Britain, alleviating the prison issue and colonizing their Empire’s newest acquisition.
It was a prison with 10,000-mile thick
walls, only the shark-infested waters of
the Coral Sea separated Australia’s
newest residents from freedom. On
completion of a sentence of hard labor,
if they survived, convicts were given
the same rights as solders and the
Crown’s respectable colonists: 20
hectares of land. At that point, freedom
lay on the western horizon, beyond the
black swamp. As sentences were carried
out, freed ex-cons took advantage
of the opportunities of this new and wild
land. It is from these arduous and humble
beginnings that Australia’s citizenry
developed its rough-and-ready, nononsense
disposition.
By the 1850s, settlers had moved
west towards the current port city of
Melbourne, and then north into the continent’s
great red center, the Outback.
With the vast interior uncharted, these
same hearty individuals homesteaded
tracks of land and laid the foundation
for what would become Australia’s
leading exports, textile quality wool and
beef. The overland routes that were
established became the economic
arteries for the country. They were used
to transport supplies in, and cattle and
wool out. This past May, we joined up
with the crew from ARB to retrace the
wagon tracks and footprints of those
intrepid Aussies of yesteryear.
Besides keeping him in shape for the main event, the private
track has some strategic advantages: “It’s good to have
something like that so when you come into a Supercross
event, no one knows how you’re riding,” he explains. “You
know, you go out to the Honda track and there are 10 guys
and all sorts of people are watching you. So I got my own private
track where no one sees me and I can come out
swinging without showing my hand too early. I keep working
hard and training hard; that’s the most I can ask of myself,
and you can’t really do any better than that.”
Over the course of eight days we
would cover over 2,000 kilometers of
dirt two-tracks, visit cattle stations larger
that some U.S. States and follow the
path of the Great Australian Cattle
Drive. We would also meet 6th generation
cattle drovers, descendants of the
original settlers, and get a taste of the
Strzelecki, Sturt Stony and Simpson
Deserts. When the sun set low on the
horizon, we would circle the wagons,
belly up to the chow wagon and have a
good chinwag around the fire. Our
swags rolled out under the astral skies,
unmolested by light from any urban
sprawl, we’d lay back and watch the
southern constellations traverse the
horizon. This would be an Outback
Experience we wouldn’t soon forget.
Broken Hill and Kangaroos
The pre-dawn light illuminated the
horizon as our contingent rolled out of
Broken Hill towards Silverton near the
Southern Australian border. Broken Hill
is home to the Australia’s premiere 4x4
endurance rally, the ARB/Warn
Outback Challenge, and the decaying
remains of Silverton are probably better
known as the filming location of Mel
Gibson’s, The Road Warrior.
We had a fleet of ARB’s test vehicles
ranging from a right-hand drive Super
Duty F-250 and 100-Series Toyota Land
Cruiser, to a left-hand Jeep Sahara and
FJ Cruiser. ARB has a long history of
extensively field-testing its products
prior to releasing them to the public. All
were sporting BFG tires, and several
were fitted with ARB prototype suspensions
and shocks. With a group of 13
four-wheel drive journalists from around
the world, every bumpstop and rev-limiter
would be put to the test during the
course of the week.
The tires hummed along a narrow
strip of bitumen (asphalt pavement)
east of Silverton. Cresting a gradual
rise, a desert as flat and limitless as a
russet ocean stretched into the distance
for as far as the eye could see.
This was Mundi Mundi, a place where
the planet filleted an unblemished sky
like a land-born contrail: A place where
the curvature of the earth spills slowly
off to the north and south in divided
symmetry. As Silverton drew our
curiosities in the early light, the moon
setting on the western horizon was
spectacular. Near the spot where the
Road Warrior flipped his sand-laden
semi into a cloud of red dust, we
watched the Never Never (Aussie
terms for the Outback) come alive.
The bitumen transitioned to dirt as we
made the turn to Eldee Station, our first
brekkie (breakfast) stop. Eldee was one
of several dozen stations (Aussie for
cattle or sheep ranch) we would visit.
The Schmidt family has been in the
region since the 1860s, acquiring an
Australian Land Grant for the Eldee in
the 1920s. Just 55km from Broken Hill
and with good access to points north;
the Eldee is often used as a base camp
for the Outback Challenge.
Our destination this day was
Cameron Corner at the three-state
boundary. The dirt two-track north from
Eldee twisted its way through the Barrier
Range on the eastern edge of Mundi
Mundi. In the arid Outback, the economy
and lives of its European settlers
often balanced on environmental
JANUARY 2008 13
changes. During spells of drought, the
land could support fewer livestock. As
economies suffered, many stations
closed up shop, the owners giving up
land grants and moving to urban areas.
The crumbling remnants of numerous
stone ranch houses bore witness to the
struggles of the region’s early residents.
While seemingly barren and desiccated,
the desert supports an
abundance of life. A couple of Eastern
Gray Kangaroos, referred to as skippies,
bounced across the road and into
the brush, and Wedge Tailed Eagles
flew above our convoy. The terrain was sparsely vegetated rolling hills for most
of the 500 kilometers to Cameron
Corner. 
About 10 am, we stopped at
the crossroads of Paringa and the
Silver City Highway (most outback
“highways” are actually graded dirt
roads), and experienced a proper
British tradition, morning tea and
snacks. Our cookies for our ARB
roundup were Michael and Joanne
McCulkin, owners of Tri-State Tours
(www.tristate.com.au). With decades of
experience in the remote corners of the
Outback, they were good all-rounders.
Michael is an expert on Outback flora
and fauna, and Joanne’s charge was to
keep our posse from starving with the
help of Vickie and John. On a traditional
cattle drive, the cookies would ride
ahead and scout out a suitable site for
meals and camping. We would suffer
through this tradition of tea each morning
and afternoon.
Cameron Corner, the Dingo Fence
and Birdsville
At the intersection of three states,
Southern Australia, NSW and
Queensland, lies the Cameron Corner
Road House. In a world where distances
are measured by the number of
extra jerry cans you need to carry,
Cameron Corner is a necessary fuel
stop and a great place to toss back a
stubbie (beer) and grab evening tucker
(dinner). Cutting the continent nearly in
half, Australia’s 5,600-kilometer Dingo
Fence, the longest fence in the world,
passes through the Corner. Built in
1884, the fence was to keep Dingos
(wild dogs) from preying on cattle and
especially sheep in the southern stations.
Following the 29th parallel along
the Dingo Fence, we headed into the
Strzelecki Desert and north to
Innamincka station. Innamincka sets on
the banks of Cooper Creek, the primary
water source for the region and location
of the base camp for the ill-fated Burks
and Wills expedition to exploration
Northern Australia.
As we trekked north, the parched
and desolate landscape revealed the
secrets of its geology. Although this is
one of the driest regions on the continent,
raging waters crafted the
waterless creek beds and washes,
which defy their names and lay void of
water through most years. Camp this
night would be several hundred kilometers
to the north on the edge of a dry
creek bed near Cordillo Downs Station.
Originally homesteaded in 1875, the
7,500 square kilometer station ran up to
85,000 sheep and produced some of
the country’s best wool for export.
Threatening clouds loomed on the
northern horizon and it appeared that
Australia’s 10 year drought might be
coming to an end.
The following morning was quite wet
and we heard on the VHF radio that
heavy rains had closed several tracks
to the north: Possibly the east leg of our
intended trek through the Simpson
Desert. 
Light rain had crossed the area
through the night and would be with us
for most of the morning. The Outback is
known for its bulldust (red silt). And
when it rains, bulldust turns to a slippery,
gooey paste akin to a mixture of
clay and oil. It made for some awesome
driving conditions. We played a game
of high-speed slip-and-slide for several
hundred kilometers and had an excellent
opportunity to put each vehicle’s
stability control system to the test.
Unpredictable in nature, the clouds had
parted and the Australian sun was
again searing our brow by the time we
pulled into Birdsville.
Birdsville, the central settlement and
supply center for a county with a population
of only 326, lies nearly 300
kilometers from its nearest neighbor. It
is also home of the famous Birdsville
Races. Originating in 1882, each
September the town’s population swells
to nearly 6000 during race week.
Birdsville also sits on the eastern fringe
of the Simpson Desert. Swinging the
double doors open to the Birdsville
Hotel, the aura of Australia’s Wild West
greeted us. With all the appeal of a
southern biker bar (which we like),
soiled Akubra hats from long-dead
drovers and faded photos of early stationers
canvassed the 16-foot stone
and stucco walls. Behind the bar, several
dozen personalized stubbie
holders (for regular patrons) sat next to
long rack of draft beer taps. ARB had
booked rooms (very cool) and we proceeded
to rub elbows and toss back
tinnies with the locals and shoot pool
under a small squadron of giant moths:
An authentic Outback Roadhouse
experience replete with the late night ruckus of Birdsville’s citizenry.
Big Red, The Simpson Desert And
Submerged Super Dutys
Deep shades of magenta illuminated
the eastern horizon as the stars faded,
unveiling a shallow body of water in
what is normally a cracked and fissured
dry lakebed. Cattle egrets and white
Ibis pecked in the shallows for water
bugs that had lay dormant since the last
rain. The sun crested the red sands of
the Simpson Desert, bathing the newly
formed lake with golden hues of morning.
Our tires dug into the crimson sand
as we nosed off the summit of Big Red,
the tallest sand dune in the area (we
were told it is the highest drivable dune
in Australia). Ok, so it only takes five minuets to climb on foot and is 40-
meters from top to bottom. So it’s not
that tall, but from the top you can see a
100 kilometers into the Simpson. We
headed west, following a sandy twotrack
towards the first of 1,400,
north-south running dunes. They are
some of the longest parallel dunes in
the world, and an east-west crossing of
the Simpson would take about a week.
Over the VHF radio, we heard news that
the previous rains had inundated our
intended exit route with 12 feet of water.
After 40 kilometers of dunes, we would
have to return to Birdsville and take an
alternative route.
Eyre creek would be our turnaround
point. Lined with a wealth of vegetation,
hundreds of birds of a dozen species,
Eyre was an excellent example of an
oasis in the midst of a desert caldron.
The only problem is that the water was
about three-and-a-half feet deep: Well
over the hoods of most of our rigs. In
first position was the Toyota 79-series
Land Cruiser pick-up, followed by the
100-Series Land Cruiser and the F-250.
After the first three rigs were through,
the ruts in the soft mud bottom were getting
deep and we opted to head back to
the base of Big Red to camp. The return
crossing was not so smooth, burying
the Ford in the mucky seat-deep swamp
water (yes, the seats in the cab).
Considering the rig was on loan from
ARB owner Andy Brown, (his personal
rig) this was a bummer. Back at Big
Red, another moon would rise over
Australia and another brilliant night was
upon us. We were at the northern most
point our Outback trek and would be
heading south in the morning
These are not the places you’ll visit if
you follow the “suggested trips” of your travel guide. And you won’t be bothered
by busloads of backpackers or
the Sun City senior crowd. This is real
Australia, beyond the black stump,
Back’o Bourke, the Never Never. if you
were on foot, the area would have a
semblance to a great prison without
walls, only the mind-numbing expanses
of sun-baked desert. The Outback may
be the place where Australians go
when they want to get back to their survivalist
roots. Join us next month as we
explore the Birdsville track and follow
the trail of the Great Australian Cattle
Drive, then to the site of the fateful Page
Family Grave, and into the Flinders
Range for a homestay on one of the
regions historic cattle stations.