Originally Posted by
RonAndrews
Having arrived in Victoria from the UK in January 2011, and acquiring my first 4wD six or so months later, it seemed to make sense to gain some experience alongside more seasoned drivers, hence my joining the Club mid last year. Beyond a day the previous week on the Enfield run, this was my first outing with the club. I had looked forward to this event for some time, particularly given that recent solo expeditions in the Otways had resulted in a call to the RACV (running the winch without the engine going), one full-scale recovery by some friends (broken CV joint) as well as some minor mishaps (tyre sidewall damage, puncture etc.). These are true examples of a fool rushing in where angels fear to tread. Behaviour which has ultimately led to my wife forbidding me to go out unless accompanied by responsible adults.
The Geelong 4wD club contingent for this trip comprised three cars: myself and son Greg in a Landcruiser, Darren Thornton and Danny Sparks-Cousins (who we affectionately named ‘Dano’) in Nissans. Given that we were joining a Nissan 4wD meet, I guess this made sense. Darren was accompanied by his wife, Naomi, son Zach and daughter of only a few months Amelia. Dano’s POB (passenger on board, was his daughter Shea. By the way, Dano bears a striking resemblance to that bloke off of the 4wD programme on the telly – Pat something I think his name is.
The journey began promptly at 0800 on the Friday morning, with Dano arriving soon after and Darren joining us around 0900. Then began the ritual known to four-wheel drivers everywhere, the subtle testing of car and driver with questions such as “so yours has independent front suspension doesn’t it? I guess that a certain expectation has been set by the likes of Top Gear’s Hammond, Clarkson and May that the male population if the UK is largely comprised of various ranges of petrol head. I guess that the others’ worst fears were realised when it slowly became apparent that from a four wheel driving perspective their fellow traveller was a complete imbecile. The clues were all there from the start: ‘it’s got a leak’ (aircon condensation); ‘it’s got a fuel leak’ (overfilling of petrol tank). This one was going to be high maintenance!
The 800km journey to Loveday was relatively uneventful with the exception of a near-zero visibility dust storm for a couple of hours. We passed through one town which appeared completely uninhabited. A bit like a 1950’s ‘B’ movie, you could also imagine the silhouette of giant ants in the background. Maybe half an hour from the park, you travel through Berri and a number of vineyards. We finally arrived around dusk. As you enter the park, one is reminded of a post-apocalyptic wasteland reminiscent of Mad Max. On your left is an area festooned with what appear to be 20-30 metre termite mounts. It is only as you get closer you begin to notice that they’re actually 2-3 metres wide and covered in tyre tracks. This is ‘The Playground’. The focal point of the Camp is ‘The Tavern’, which is actually an open-fronted tractor shed with a bar in the corner.
Soon after arrival, as we pitched camp, Darren threw himself wholeheartedly in to his duties as Trip Leader. Unfortunately, it was from the top of his bonnet resulting in bruising and ligament damage. At this point, Naomi tool on the role of a long-suffering 70’s sitcom wife, raising her eyes to the sky as hubbie once again becomes completely dependent on his spouse. This injury put paid to any driving on Darren’s part leaving him free to tend to the needs of the newbies – Us.
As we met up with the rest of the gathering, we once again began the 4wd ritual with a new group of companions, further demonstrating the depth of our ignorance. It would be unfair to say that the Nissan Drivers’ forum is feral, but as we sat by the campfire there was a certain tribal vibe to the whole proceeding: perhaps it was the nicknames: ‘Growler’ and ‘Fixer’ to name but two.; perhaps it was the trials of strength, such as the competitive chilli eating.
The next morning, after a refreshing wash in the Murray River, Greg and I drove the 5 minutes to the Tavern and on to The Playground for our 4wD experience. Bottoming out on a particularly large tyre obstacle, we were a little surprised when no-one responded to our calls on Channel 14. We were however lucky enough to be recovered by a passing adventurer.
A short while later, we put the ‘L’s on the car and Greg attempted some of the bigger holes. On one particular one, there was a sign saying ‘wrong way’. Unfortunately, it was unclear as to whether the wrong way was along the track or over the hill. It did however become clear as we climbed over the brow of the hill that the right way was around the track. At the bottom of the hill was a deep bog – we had effectively climbed over the exit hill of a series of hills and bogs in order of increasing (or in our case decreasing) difficulty.
‘Never look back. Never surrender’ is almost certainly the motto of some gritty military outfit (or possibly The Wiggles?). Looking back wasn’t an option at this point as it was at a forty-five plus degree angle behind us. We therefore rushed in ‘Where angels fear to tread’ and wellied it into the bog. Unfortunately, at this point, the engine flooded – up to the bonnet with bog water. Had we continued our momentum, we probably would have made it, but it wasn’t to be and we eventually slid back into the boggy hole. Once again, there was no response to our distress calls, so Greg climbed to the top of the hill and began a series of International Distress Signals whilst I continued to try to drive the car out.
Help arrived and we were pretty quickly winched out. It would have been slightly quicker had I released the handbrake. However, during that time, we had attracted the attention of a large cohort of Nissan drivers who flocked to enjoy the spectacle of a Toy Motor stuck in the mud – I guess it doesn’t happen that often, so fill your boots boys! At some time during this hilarity, we were made aware that the emergency channel was in fact 15 not 14, hence our inability to summon assistance. There is probably a vineyard somewhere in the area that is even now being circled by search and rescue ‘copters however.
On the way back to camp, a number of dashboard lights indicated that all was not well. Relying on the expertise of Dano and Darren, we were made aware of a flooded alternator. A few trips to the high pressure hose did not fix the problem: as evidenced by a flat battery on a ‘drying out run’. We eventually managed to limp back to our site as dusk once again approached with the assistance of another of the drivers and a relay recharge.
Next morning, like a couple of naughty schoolboys in detention, Greg and I remained in camp as the rest of the group went to play on some of the courses. I think actually that this was a bit of a relief to Dano, who was clearly vexed by how he was going to have to explain the presence of a Toyota at a Nissan meet – he had actually borrowed a Nissan to maintain his Street Cred with the Lads. We weren’t completely abandoned though. Before leaving, we were offered lots of help with what to do and how to do it. In saying that, this advice ranged from ‘If I was fixing it, I wouldn’t start from there’, and ‘take the whole engine out. Turn it upside down and shake’, to ‘set it on fire and claim on the insurance’.
Armed with our Gregory’s manual and a little red box of tools, we set ourselves to the task in hand. During the next few hours, we supplemented our kit with Dano’s pristine set of spanners and Darren’s ratchet set to name but two. Our progress over the day can best be described as ‘sawtooth’: brief and steady but interspersed with regular points of extreme failure.
At this point, my comments on the value of the Gregory’s manual should be made a matter of public record. The best way to describe it is that if it was a manual on flying 747s, in the section on landing, it would describe in microscopic detail the instructions on how to reach the last 8 metres, The next paragraph would begin ‘once landed……’. A practical example of this was ‘remove the four screws securing the fan’, this activity took something like 1½ hours and involved putting one of the screws back on in order to gain sufficient leverage to remove the fourth. You also have to ask yourself hy the alternator – perhaps one of the pieces of the engine that is most affected by water and mud is lowest down in the car and difficult to remove. Haha! It’s because those boffins at Toyota put it on before putting the engine in – so the radiator assembly isn’t in the way! So much for ‘walk a mile in my shoes’!
At regular intervals, members of the group came back to view progress and offer further advice. As time developed, their involvement increased – especially that of Darren and Dano who I think were beginning to consider the impact of having to swap car batteries every hour on the 800km journey home the next day. Eventually, we extracted the alternator (by removing the fan and loosening the power steering pump). We then took it to Tony – the camp owner, who as you can imagine, was somewhat of an expert in gritted-up alternators. He pulled the brush assembly out. Said ‘ you won’t like me doing this’ and then, with a pair of pliers, snapped a large lump of plastic off of the assembly. ‘It’ll be fine now’ were his final remarks as we set off back to camp surveying the journey through tear-stained eyes. Frankly, at this point, returning from South Australia via public transport over a period of three to four weeks looked a more and more likely possibility.
Having spent the last four hours removing the offending part, Greg and I set a (personal) record in replacing it in around and hour – on our own! The boys were playing in the sand. They returned to the sound of a fully-functioning LC with the dulcet tones of Green Day meandering along the Murray Basin!
After clearing up (and removing what we could of the sand from Dano’s no longer pristine spanner set), we were free to enjoy some of the facilities – this included the shower block which we had previously been unaware of – hence the dips into the Murray. We then spent an hour or so driving the sand tracks before returning victorious to the campsite.
That night we joined the campfire having earned our spurs, we were even allowed to take part in the riveting 30 minute conversation on tyres. ‘You’re on fire, Ron’, someone said at one point. I thanked them for recognising my latent engineering skill before narrowly avoiding being wrestled to the ground and rolled in the dirt. Maybe that last piece of eucalyptus branch was a little much with hindsight. Despite being accepted into The Clan, we felt that partaking of the chilli-based Scorpion Sauce was probably a step too far.
The next morning, we began our dust-free journey back. Despite the best part of three days evidence, Darren continued to test our technical ability with questions such as ‘what is the rating of your UHF aerial?’. Come on Darren. Join the dots!! I can however confirm that GE 1.5s wind generators have a capacity of 1.5MW and a blade length of 35.25m. At a total height of 99.95m, the area swept by the blades is 3,904 sqm. At an RPM range of between 11.1 and 22.2 , the maximum blade tip speed is around 183mph.
Adventures are always scary when they’re happening. We expected our adventure over this weekend to include lots of driving. Looking back, we probably spent more time under the bonnet that weekend that I personally have in all of the cars I have ever had combined. One thing was beyond doubt however, without the support and camaraderie of our fellow visitors, we’d probably still be on some once-a-week bus from the border to Mildura. Many people helped and offered advice and experience, but I can’t thank Dano and Darren enough for their toleration and support of a newbie. This was why I joined a 4wD club, forsaking my solo ways (apart from my wife telling me I had to). I can’t guarantee I’ll not break anything next time out, but I can be sure I’ll be a little wiser and more experienced thanks to these guys.
Roll on the next trip!
....... I'm a lucky bugger! I've got 2 of em!
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