Riding the Birdsville Track
Exploring the legendary Birdsville Track had been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. In 2012, fate smiled upon me during a work assignment in Mackay, Queensland, when I found myself with a few weeks of well-deserved vacation time. It was the perfect opportunity to turn that dream into reality.
I began planning my adventure, and as fate would have it, my good friend Hooper expressed interest in joining me. With our spirits high and our gear ready, we eagerly prepared for the journey ahead. I relied on my faithful KLR650, while Hooper opted for an older Yamaha Tenere. With our bikes prepped and our excitement palpable, we were all set to hit the road.
As the sun snuck over the horizon we bid farewell to Mackay, embarking on our adventure in the early morning hours. The crisp air greeted us as we navigated the winding roads that led us through the picturesque ranges behind Sarina, setting the tone for the journey ahead.
As we ventured further inland, the landscape transformed before our eyes. The once winding roads gave way to long stretches of straight highway, each kilometre bringing us closer to our destination of Birdsville and the start off the Birdsville Track. With every passing kilometre, the roads grew narrower and less frequented until they eventually turned to dirt, signalling the final leg of the first part of our journey.
Opting for a leisurely pace, we divided this 1,495km first stage of our trip into two days, spending the first night at a hotel nestled halfway along our route. Under the cover of darkness, we pressed on, eager to reach our destination, arriving in Birdsville after the sun had set. The final couple of hours of the trip were hard work riding directly into the setting sun on our first taste of dirt for the trip and watching out for kangaroos and other wildlife that are active at this time of the day.
After setting up camp on the red dirt at the caravan park for the night we made the compulsory trip over to the Birdsville Hotel for a well earned cold beer. I have been to a lot of places in Australia but it was without doubt the most expensive beer I had ever drank. Glad it was icy cold. The town has a population of around 100 people which swells to over 7,000 on the weekend of the Birdsville Cup horserace. I’m glad we weren’t there then.
Rising with the sun, we packed up our gear and set off for another day of adventure. Our first stop? The Birdsville Bakery, where we fueled up with a hearty breakfast to kick-start our journey. The food was not only delicious but provided the perfect energy boost for the road ahead.
As we made our way back to the bikes we spotted a patch of Sturt Desert Peas blooming along the roadside opposite the bakery. Captivated by their beauty, I couldn’t resist snapping a few photos to capture the moment. To me, they epitomized the unique allure of the outback.
However, our encounter with nature wasn’t the only highlight of the morning. Parked nearby was a massive road train, a formidable sight to behold. These behemoths of the outback command respect, especially on the unpaved roads where their rear trailers can sway unpredictably, akin to a dog’s wagging tail.
After bidding farewell to the bakery and its colorful surroundings, we made a quick pit stop at the local pub. With our bikes proudly parked outside, we immortalized the moment with a photo before setting off on the next leg of our journey—the legendary Birdsville Track beckoned, promising new adventures and unforgettable memories.
The Birdsville Track was a lot wider and in better condition than I had expected. It seems that with the increasing popularity of coach trips and caravans, this once rugged outback route has been considerably tamed. Despite its newfound accessibility, the sense of adventure still lingered as we cruised along at a steady 100km/h, taking in the breathtaking scenery along the way.
However, our differing travel styles soon became apparent. While I found myself frequently stopping to capture photos or simply soak in the surroundings, Hooper preferred to maintain a brisk pace, eager to cover more ground. This led to a bit of frustration on his part as he steadily pulled ahead.
To strike a balance, we agreed to a rendezvous further down the track, allowing each of us to travel at our own pace. This compromise ensured that we could fully embrace the journey in our own way, whether it be through moments of stillness or the thrill of the open road.
For me one of the most remarkable sights along our journey was undoubtedly the Gibber Plains. Stretching out before me, these vast expanses of flat terrain were covered with shimmering red gibber stones, creating a breathtaking landscape that left a lasting impression.
As I paused to capture the scene through my camera lens, I couldn’t help but imagine the awe and trepidation experienced by the early explorers who traversed these plains. The sheer vastness and seemingly endless expanse would undoubtedly have presented a daunting challenge to those pioneers.
Leaving the track and venturing a short distance into the plains, I gained a newfound appreciation for the potential dangers that lurked within. With no distinct landmarks to guide the way, it was easy to understand how one could quickly become disoriented and lost. It was a stark reminder of the importance of navigation skills and a keen sense of direction when journeying through such unforgiving terrain.
As we pressed onward toward Mungerannie, our designated stop for the night, an unexpected encounter added a touch of intrigue to the journey. A herd of brumbies came into view, accompanied by an unlikely companion—a camel seamlessly integrated into their midst. It was a sight both mesmerizing and unusual, highlighting the adaptability and resilience of the outback’s inhabitants.
Continuing along the track, yet another surprise awaited me as I rounded a bend. A dingo stood nonchalantly in the middle of the road, its gaze meeting mine with a curious yet composed demeanor. Before I could reach for my camera, it calmly trotted off into the distance, leaving me momentarily stunned by the fleeting encounter. Though I missed the opportunity to capture the moment on film, the memory of that chance encounter lingered, a testament to the untamed beauty and unpredictability of the Australian outback.
Arriving at Mungerannie in the late afternoon, we secured a couple of rooms for the night before settling in at the hotel for a well-deserved meal and a few cold beers. The atmosphere was rich with history, and the publican regaled us with tales of the area’s past as we soaked in the ambiance of the bar. Above us, a colorful array of hats adorned the ceiling, left behind by fellow travelers who had passed through, adding a unique charm to our drinking experience.
Outside, relics of a bygone era dotted the landscape, remains of the vehicles that once carried mail through these remote regions. As evening descended, the distant howls of dingoes filled the air, a haunting reminder of the wildness that surrounded us.
With the night settling in, I indulged in a warm shower and a well-deserved rest, eager to recharge for the journey ahead. Tomorrow, our sights would be set on completing the Birdsville Track and visiting the majestic Flinders Ranges, promising new adventures and breathtaking landscapes to explore.Â
The journey along the Birdsville Track culminates at Maree in South Australia, tantalizingly close at just 205 kilometers from Mungerinnie. With the promise of a leisurely day’s ride, we looked forward to a casual run along the scenic route ahead. Our plan was to extend our journey beyond Maree, pressing on towards the majestic Flinders Ranges, adding another 200 kilometres to our day’s tally for a total of 405 kilometres. To ensure we had ample time to explore the amazing landscapes of the Flinders Ranges, we had arranged to stay in a cabin nestled within the Flinders Ranges for a couple of nights, affording us the luxury of a full day to immerse ourselves in the natural wonders of the region.
The day began in high spirits, but soon took an unexpected turn when a fuse blew on the KLR, bringing us to an unexpected standstill. Swiftly replacing the fuse, we resumed our journey, only to face another fuse failure within a short distance. Perplexed, we  inspected the bike as best we could for any glaring issues, but found none. With just one spare fuse left, we cautiously pressed on, yet our hopes were dashed as we blew the final fuse mere meters down the road. Left with no choice, we maneuvered the KLR to the roadside and began pulling it apart to uncover the underlying problem. Despite a thorough examination, no clear issues emerged.  I improvised a solution using a strand of wire from a spare electrical cable as a makeshift fuse to get us moving again. After reassembling the bike, we cautiously resumed our journey, only to be confronted with smoke billowing from beneath the fuel tank after a few meters—a worrying development to say the least. I shut down the engine and rolled the KLR off the road, acknowledging that our journey would have to be postponed until the issue could be properly addressed.
Resigned to the fact that my bike predicament might not see a quick fix we setup camp on the roadside for the night before starting work on the bike again. However, as we delved into dismantling the KLR, a glimmer of hope emerged. A burnt-out wire along the bike’s frame backbone became glaringly evident. At least we could now see where the problem was. With uncertainty clouding our next steps, I took a leap of faith, cutting out the damaged section of wire and using a strand from the same cable to bridge the fuse again. With nothing to lose, I turned the key, and much to our amazement, the reliable old KLR sprang back to life. Despite my limited electrical expertise and minimal intervention, the bike purred like a charm. After confirming its functionality through a few trial starts and stops, we reassembled the bike and settled in for the night, grateful for the unexpected twist of fate.
Early the next morning we were up and packed and pushed on to Marree, the end of the Birdsville Track. The journey to Marree was pretty uneventful except for Hooper getting a flat tyre. We pumped it up and found it had a slow leak so we pushed on slowly and made it to Marree without to much worry. Overall it had been a great trip and one I had always wanted to complete. Time to cross it off the bucket list. It was a lot easier than I had anticipated and the bikes went well except for my electrical issue. I have no idea what the problem was but all the switches and engine operate as they should to this day in 2024 which is 12 years after the incident. I love the simplicity of the KLR and the ability to be able to work on it on the side of the road without needing a computer to tell me what is wrong with it.
We pushed on to the Flinders Ranges and and a pre-booked cage dive with the white pointer sharks down at Port Lincoln but that is another story.
