Bike Round Oz - the bit I didn't do in 1983
- steve evans
- Aug 14
- 6 min read
Updated: Aug 15
As I walked into the outside dining area of the café we’d ridden to, I heard a thud. Warren had dropped his bike again — in full view of the café customers across the road.
“Mate, you can’t keep doing this,” I told him. “It’s affecting my street cred.”
To be fair, he hadn’t been on a motorbike for forty years when he agreed to join me. And the fully loaded BMW F750 GS he now straddled was a far cry from the 250cc machine he’d last ridden (and crashed). This was the last time he’d drop it… until we reached the creeks and gullies of the Bongle Bongles where we both suffered that embarrassment.Back in 1983, I’d ridden up the east coast of Australia from Sydney, across toDarwin, then down through Alice Springs, Oodnadatta, Adelaide, and back to Sydney — but I’d missed this stretch: the West Coast, the Kimberley, and the Top End to Darwin. A significant birthday ending in zero, the dry season in the Northern Territory when roads would be passable, and a chance to fit in a Lions tour match on the way back…. it was time.
We rented bikes from BikeroundOz. Not cheap, but the bikes were perfect: insurance included, breakdown recovery arranged, and just enough reassurance that if things went wrong, we might be rescued from the middle of nowhere before the dingoes moved in.
Setting Off
We collected two gleaming BMW F750 GS. Not new but valet fresh compared to the dirty battered machines they’d become in the coming weeks. Warren eyed his with a mixture of awe and concern. “It’s a lot higher than my old 250…”. This would become relevant when we got to the “leg over” problem — a challenge involving a loaded bike, a pannier, and a riders of a certain age and limited flexibility.
Perth to Geralton was the first leg. Long straight roads provided a great test day with including Warren’s first road train overtake and reaching the 100 mph mark. Geraldton, our first overnight, was not the most glamorous of stops but, lobster rolls, and Coopers ale made a for a contented, relieved first day. We could do this!
By Denham, we’d settled into the rhythm: long runs, fuel stops as focal points with the odd day off for snorkelling and swimming. “I’m enjoying this holiday,” Warren said during one of the kayak/swim days. “Wtf?!” I replied. “This is not a holiday! It’s a quest, a mission, a journey! Holidays are for wimps.”
Carnarvon brought Warren’s first Australian roadhouse pie, Minilya was notable only for two tractors from Lincolnshire we passed. They were on their own odyssey a hundred years ago.
Coral Bay was all snorkelling, sunsets, and our first campground to test my £20 Amazon tent. I suspected it wouldn’t handle rain - it didn’t rain through the entire trip.
Ningaloo Reef at Exmouth was our last luxury before the bull dust. The reef snorkelling was stunning — and the cold beer and a real bed equally so. We pointed inland toward Tom Price, a town, named the American mining engineer who opened a mines in the 60’s. (That’s the 1960’s). After taking in sweeping bends and empty tarmac before we hit 30km of gravel and corrugated bull dust. Our bikes, boots and clothes got their full bull dust baptism. This would last. And still does.
Karijini National Park is a visual feast: gorges, pools, and waterfalls hidden in the iron-red rock. We camped at a nighttime temperature of six degrees, retreating into sleeping bags with as many clothing layers as possible. Day hikes took us through Weano and Hancock gorges, wading through cool pools to reach amphitheatres of polished stone.
Mulga Downs to Auski involved a steep descent behind a 4-wagon road train doing 20kph, my visor ripped off in the wind mid-overtake, and the prospect of a 380km leg the next day. The first proper “fuel maths” conversation happened that night. With stops 300–400km apart, you plan differently: what’s the total capacity for 2 bikes including the fuel bladder and what max speed is possible to reach the next fuel station. Allow for headwinds? Have a buffer? Will the next roadhouse be open when we get there? Will it be out of fuel? Will the bar still be open? Could it even be a “dry” location?
Pardoo Roadhouse — 420km from Auski — was our introduction to the Donga – a prefab one bed self contained workers cabin. We’d see a lot more of these in the coming weeks. But not another Roman legion sunset like this one.
Roebuck added 444km in heavy crosswinds, coffee on the sand at 80 Mile Beach, and the first live kangaroo sighting. Three dead cows on the verge reminded us why overtaking cattle road trains requires the ability to “see into the future”.
Cable Beach in Broome gave us a sunset swim as the full moon rose over the dunes. And another view, rising over the tidal flats — the Staircase to the Moon.
Broome brought rest, beer, and a paise before heading for the serious stuff inland.
From Broome to Fitzroy Crossing and Halls Creek was hot, dry, and occasionally surreal — like discovering our motel restaurant closed at 5pm, or that the whole area was “dry” in the other sense: alcohol prohibited!
To get to the Bongle Bongles in Purnululu National Park on our road bikes with road tyres we had to leave all our luggage at a roadhouse and let some air out of the tyres. was five hours of off-road: 15 creek crossings, four bike drops, and one “man overboard”. The cry behind me didn’t sound good but Warren had fallen free of the bike and was just soaked and relieved. We decided that it would be impossible to get back that day as we’d be doing it in the dark so we found an eco lodge that had some spare space. And food! It was the hardest riding I’d ever done. I hadn’t told Warren that I’d never done that before nor crossed a river. Amazing how the bikes held up and restarted every time whenever stalled mid way across.
It was much easier getting out of the park the next day – we were experts now and flew through the creeks. It makes a difference when you know what to expect. Only one drop and that was on the last wide creek with all the big boulders in.
At the end of the track we met a chap with a compressor who kindly reinflated our tyres. Judging by the length of his beard compared to ours he’d been on the road a lot longer…
Kununurra followed, complete with the first pub with “Blokes” and “Shielas” toilet signs. Timber Creek, Victoria River Crossing, and Katherine each offered a change in scenery — more green, and more water, and crocodiles as we moved into the tropical north.
Nitmiluk Gorge was the £20 tent’s swan song, paired with kayaking and a Lions match on a campsite big screen. Edith Falls offered a last swim, Wangi Falls the last hike.
Edith Falls offered a last swim.
The run into Darwin was smooth — almost too smooth after weeks of planning fuel stops, dodging road trains, and wrestling with loaded bikes.
Later, the come-down hit: no fuel strategy to calculate, no need to select the least smelly kit, no bike packing, a feeling of lack of purpose but the quiet satisfaction of a journey completed.
Closing Thoughts
Darwin brought the end, but also a reminder: the journey is as important as the destination. From the coast’s turquoise waters to the Kimberley’s ochre ridges, from cold Karijini nights to hot, dusty roadhouse days, it was the ride I’d been waiting 40 years to complete.
Warren came for the adventure and left with creek-crossing credentials. I came to finish an old route, and left knowing we’d done it properly — bull dust, road trains, off road, fuel maths, dongas, leg-overs and all. What’s next?
Top Tips for WA & The Top End
Fuel: Never pass an opportunity to fill your tank. Roadhouses can be 300–400km apart. Carry a spare tank or bladder. Work out your real world consumption at different speeds. Carry your driving license where it’s easy to retrieve – some roadhouses won’t let you pump fuel without holding on to it! And some places won’t serve you takeaway alcohol without scanning it!
Accommodation: Book roadhouses a day ahead when you are more confident that you are going to get there. And check food and bar closing times.
Camping: Pack for cold nights inland.
Riding: Off-road skills make the trip far more fun.
Wildlife: Dawn and dusk = kangaroo and wallaby time. Be wary!
What a journey - and such a great description. Sitting here with regret (although super comfortable, morning coffee in hand, San Francisco in the distance…) wondering if I really was that over-scheduled, or if it was just that my balls were too small. Well done, laddies.