Australian Adventure: Log 3

Camping on the beach in my converted Toyota Landcruiser, I was up at 3 AM to hopefully find that the emergency services crews had cleared the three separate flooded sections of the highway. To my excitement, I breezed through with no issues; however, one of the crews told me that the highway was still flooded several hundred kilometers up, and that I may want to try an inland route if I had any hope of making Brisbane. However, they said it with a chuckle, making me think my chances were slim at best. Stopping off at another Information outlet, I picked up a local map and planed my route. From Kyogle I would make my way north to the Lindesay Mountain pass in hopes that it was high enough ground to stay uncovered on my way to Beaudesert. However, as I left the town, the rain was falling harder than I’ve ever seen rain fall and more of the landscape was under water than not.

It didn’t take long to find a familiar sight; traffic signes, caution signs and a roadway that sank into the murky depths of the flooded low lands. However, this time there were no Emergency Services Crew standing guard, and measuring the roadside indicators, I knew that this body of water was only about a foot deep, even if it was travelling across the road with some velocity. With the speed of the water, I nosed in much more cautiously this time, not worried about depth, but of the possibility that the road surface was washed away underneath. After a good 15-minutes and several hundred meters of water crossed, I was on the far shore and shooting north once again.

 This was a situation that would show itself two more times as I crossed the water logged low-lands, however, my wary disposition turned positive as I left the farmlands and began to lift up into the lushest green tropical rain forest I’d ever seen. Massive tall standing eucalyptus and Gum trees where surrounded by shorter fern trees with a forest floor packed full of yet even more ferns. The gentile winding country road was already quite pleasant working its way through the hills before the forest, however, once in the forest, the nature of the road changed quite radically.

With the rain pouring down, the Lindesay road began to jerk and kick its way through the thick undergrowth. Long open bends quickly turned to sharp narrow bursts that wound up into the mountains, the forest spilling out over the road with the weight of the water pouring down. However, that cruel bitch, Mother Nature, wasn’t done with me yet. About 20-kilometres up the road, a large pile of red mud had obscured the roadway in front of me. This time, 4-Low was locked in and the increased ride height saw me not only safely over the 100-meters of dirt in front of me, but another nasty washout shortly down the road.

As I began to descend down the East side, the rain began to become more and more violent, and having been through this situation for the last few days, I knew that I was now in a race with the water to get down to the lowest point. Before I knew it, the tropical rain forest was being replaced with open meadows as the road continued to wind just a viciously down through the undulating and hilly topography, however, still lined with several layers of trees to keep the corners blind. What wasn’t blind anymore were the rather serious drop-offs that now lined the left side of the road. With no barriers to save me if I locked up a wheel, my slow speeds in the 4x4 allowed me to momentarily look away from the road, and straight down a 200-metre drop. All of a sudden, this road, race with Mother Nature and situation just got a lot more serious.

Finally I broke out of the trees and into the meadows, although I was still racing the water down the mountain. Great rivers of water were now flowing across the roadway and undermining the side edges. I soon came to a bridge signed “Tamrookum Creek bridge #7.” Having crossed over several bridges before, I was hoping that these numbers would be going up, however I was not very surprised to find “Tamrookum Creek bridge #6” only a short distance down the road. The race was on for “Tamrookum Creek bridge #1” as that will likely be the lowest in the rapidly flattening out terrain, and the most likely to be covered by flood waters. The suspense built as my fears were coming true, each bridge was getting a little lower to the ground, the water getting a little higher as the countdown continued.

Finally I rounded a sharp corner, spraying water to both sides of the road, to find that “Tamrookum Creek bridge #1” was still over the water, at least just as I rocketed over top, crossing the finishing line. I had felt like I had just won a long distance marathon with mother nature, and I really couldn’t ask for a better battle ground for the fight to take place. Despite not having a machine that would give me the greatest driving pleasure on such a road, I never would have found it if it wasn’t for the fording and off-road abilities of my Britz 4WD camper. Thank goodness I did have it, as this was one of the most epic roads I’ve driven yet.

The pressure was off, and I could now meander my way to Brisbane, only a short, and finally dry, 150-kilometres. I arrived at my destination, the home of Marks nephew… kinda… inlaw, who has graciously put up the team. Both Mark and mechanic Craig, my fellow ground crew member are waiting, and they even have the vehicle that we will be traveling in around Australia, a beat up old Nissan Patrol. After three days on the road, I finally get a well-earned shower, and can finally relax as we wait for Glen, the fourth team member who wasn’t so lucky getting through the washed out mess I had just endured.

Australian Adventure: Log 2

My relaxed sleep at the truck pullout was sound, but short. Before the sun had even had a chance to send some rays over the hilltops, I could start to hear a slight hiss, and began rummaging around the camper looking for a gas or air leak. Now I was becoming frustrated, now fully awake, trying to find the noise that was get louder and louder. It wasn’t until I broke out through the rear doors that I realized it was emanating from the jungle wall that I was parked up against. As the sun rushed up into the sky, the buzzing sound coming from the forest had grew to the point that it was nearly deafening. Sleep was no longer an option, time to make my way north.

I’m to be in Brisbane by the 28^th to drop off the rental 4WD Camper at the airport, however, I’m told by the team leader, Mark, who is already there, that my chances are slim in arriving on time, as torrential summer rains have cut off the North from the South completely. I spark up the Landcruiser, and decide to take my chances anyways.

Slipping off the main highway, I make my way up the coastal road, and it’s not long before the clouds begin to darken, and the rain to begin. Winding my way through the coastal hills, I’m greeted with some spectacular ocean views, storm driven waves crashing on the rocky shores. The rains turn from steady, too hard, to driving, to “holly crap the roads going to wash away.” Windshield wipers at maximum, I only get split second glimpses of the road before another wave of water crashes against the windshield. My pace is slow, and good thing, as my first glimpse of a Kangaroo is short before it disappears out of vision under my hood. Not to worry, I only got his tail, and he didn’t look worse for wear as he bounded off into the forest, however, if my senses weren’t heightened enough before, they were maxed out now.

However, it didn’t seem to matter. With the rain letting up for a few short minutes, I was driving along an easy straight, when SMACK, something small and feathery bounced off my windshield right in front of my face. If the poor bird that darted into my path didn’t die on impact, it certainly did on the windshield of the poor sucker riding my ass behind, witnessing the kill shot in the rear view mirror. “Bloody hell where did that come from?” SMACK…. AGAIN! This time it was one shot one kill as yet another bird shot from the forest directly into the metal bumper. Ok, this is getting ridiculous now, just as I pass a “Caution, Koala’s crossing next 22km.” I’m thinking to myself, “my animal loving, soon to be sister in-law is going to kill me, as I slowly kill every cute little animal I come across. My first glimpse of a Koala better not be by pealing one off my front differential.”

Simply following road side signs north along the old Pacific highway, I’d stop in at information booths to for a quick map of the area, and word of the roads ahead. After yet one more bird killing, I stopped in Urunga, for some coffee and word of the road ahead. Other travelers coming from the north said that the road was flooded over in three different spots; however, the State Emergency Services were still going to allow single lane traffic for the next hour. If I wanted to get through I needed to be north of Coffs Harbour in the next hour. I jumped in the truck and shot north yet again, cursing the torrents of rain falling from the sky. I wanted to make sure I made it to Brisbane in time to drop of the camper, so not to incur any overdrawn fees or expenses.

Blasting through Coffs Harbour, my stomach aching from 12-hours without food, the rain was relentless. Pushing up the highway to the town of Woolgoolga, my fears came true. Traffic came to a stop, and no one was moving. One kind motorist was telling the rest of the line the issue. “The roads flooded over, they may have it open around 6pm.” For some reason, this wasn’t good enough for me. I swung around, pulled over and studied some maps for alternate routes. A couple side roads pushed through to Orah Way, another smaller highway that could detour me through to Grafton. Slipping up one of the connecting roads, I’m not alone in my quest for Grafton, however, to all our misery, the came to a quick end, with a mountain or water rolling over it. Quick detour, and a shot up the next road, this one is covered as well, but not as violent. There is already someone out in the middle wading up to his waist in the murky flood water. So another adventurous soul with a 4WD and I try our luck.

With the Nissan Patrol ahead of me making it through, I follow a short minute later. With the transfer case set in 4WD, I ease into the water and get a good wave going off the front bumper. As the depth increases, I hold a good steady speed behind my bow wave, following it up to the opposite shore. A short bit of uncovered roadway leads to another flooded out section, and in I go again. However, this time the current is much stronger, the depths much deeper, and the truck is starting to drift off to the right around three quarters of the way through. A little counter steering and a slight increase of throttle had me straighten out and climb out onto another shore. Back in 2WD, and I’m feeling pretty good about myself, that is until I see the Nissan Patrol that was in front of me, coming head on. Damn, yet another valley blocked.

Back across the two crossing I had just forded, I pushed back to Woolgoolga for some much needed food. After some map studying, and listening to the weather reports, it seems as though all attempts would be fruitless tonight, there is just no getting north. So I head back to the traffic stop, were the services crew told me maybe around 2AM they might allow 4WD’s to ford up the highway. So, I head back, found a lovely beech to pull over at, and fell sound to sleep, finally getting the hypnotic sound of crashing waves that I had wanted the night before. My alarm was set for 2 AM, to attempt another strike northward.