A desert Odyssey
8 August 2019
The sun beat down as I inspected my torn rear tyre. I looked around for a solution. I thought about packing the rear with grass and foliage, only problem was there wasn’t a blade of grass or greenery anywhere. I was deep in the heart of the Tanami desert completely alone with only a few litres of water. Normally, this sort of situation would have the best of us feeling uneasy, but after all I had been through, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. I decided to keep riding my WR250R into a mine site approx. 40km from my position. My back end was wagging up the road like the tail of a dog. I hadn’t shaved or changed my dusted clothes in over a month. My feet were blistered, my eyes bloodshot, I looked like I had ridden straight out of a mad max movie.
The security girl on the gate had a particular type of look on her face, one I had become accustomed to seeing this past month.
I met her gaze with a big cheesy grin. She looked confused, my face just didn’t match the sight she was presented with.
‘What the hell are you doing out here mate, where the hell have you been?’
‘I just came out of the desert.’
‘Jesus, you’re bloody game. Why are you so happy?’
‘I just set a new Guinness World Record.’
In January of 2019 I had just come back from a trip that had seen me ride into some of the wildest parts of the country. Within hours of returning to Melbourne I was back at work and being bombarded with questions as if nothing had ever happened.
I wasn’t ready to go back, and I knew after all that had happened on my last adventure, that I had so much more to give the world than what I was giving it.
My mind is an active one, and before too long I had hatched a plan that would see me push myself into some of the largest deserts in the world. My friends and family expressed their concerns for my well-being, but I knew I could do it, I knew, after all I had failed and fallen short of in life that I could get this job done. And I had to do it, for myself if nothing else.
I had always wanted to push the limits of my abilities, however, at the age of 36, for whatever reason, I hadn’t reached those heights, and I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I could do something special.
Crossing the ten deserts of Australia would see me traverse over 6000km of sand dunes, track and corrugations, not to mention the 2000km it would take to get me there. I had a 2008 Yamaha WR250R dirt bike with a home-made set of panniers holding my postie bags on.
The first real challenge of the trip came in the Simpson Desert, I woke early and sat atop the 2nd of 1100 sand dunes to watch the sun rise up over big red. It was an impressive sight, and I looked out across the endless dunes in front of me. I knew I would need to dig deep today, my bike was loaded for 40 days in the desert, there was a lot of pushing up the dunes, unloading and reloading the bike.
The nights were cold in the Simpson, I woke with ice on my tent each morning.
It took me 3 full days to cross the Simpson, on the morning of the 3rd day, I was just spent.
The sheer physicality of it had nearly broken me at times.
Riding through to Oodnadatta the next day, I spoilt myself and ate 3 T-bone steaks for dinner. Before riding onto Coober Pedy, and the next leg of this crazy expedition.
From Coober Pedy, the next challenge was the Great Victorian Desert,
There was no fuel or water resupply for nearly 800km west of my position.
I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling I had.
On the second day, the sand kept getting deeper, the track tighter. During the afternoon, I rode through a long stretch of badly burnt land. I had this really unsettled feeling as I rode through. It was weird, like the fire had gone through years ago, but nothing ever returned to life. as I rode through, I couldn’t help but feel like the charred bodies of the dead trees were staring right through me, offended at my presence, their clawed branches pointing at me to move on.
On the third day across it wasn’t long before the problems started to pop up.
Around mid-morning I crested a sand dune and bounced my bike like a pinball off a tree. Somehow, I managed to keep the bike upright and power out of the sand. But when I pulled up, I had burst one of my water bottles. 1.5 litres equates to about 6hours of life out there. Not long after that, I lost the nipple on my bladder and lost another 12 hours of life out of my back pack. Shit! I did a quick sit rep.
I was nearly 500km from the nearest town. I had only seen two cars in nearly 3 days. At the current rate, I had nearly 2 days of travel to get to my next resupply, and less than a day of good water left. The situation wasn’t horrible, but I knew I had to make up some ground or spend a very thirsty day on the bike.
I bottled my urine from then on, and then the sandstorm came blowing in. Gusts of wind started pushing me across the track and blew the wheel ruts clean. As I stopped to fix yet another water leak, I watched my own tracks get blown over. Suddenly I felt very alone, vulnerable and afraid.
On the morning of my 14th day in the deserts I wrote the following sit rep.
23 July morning feeling sore. Wrote down the following sit rep.
· 5 days on pegs
· 3 days no cars
· Muscles sore
· Back and traps sore from heavy pack – 15 kg
· Feet, palms blistered
· Hands numb, no feeling in my right three fingers
· Hard work
· Freezing, shivered all night
· Feel my clothes getting bigger losing weight.
· No human contact, bike has been tortured, how can it keep going?
· Only half way
I chose this life. I wanted this life, this challenge. My friends and family told me I was crazy. That it can’t be done. Who do I think I am? Pure insanity, no one has ever done it!
Yet I spent the money, I persevered with it. Love or hate, it’s up to me. I can go home any time. Win or lose, live or die, it’s all on me. love this trip or hate it. All depends on how I perceive it. Get up Brundin and own this life!
For me that morning was a real moment out there. With gritted teeth, I pushed on.
A few days later I pulled into the isolated town of Wiluna and then onto Canning Stock Route.
I spent a day in Wiluna resting up and servicing my bike. Other travellers told me I was crazy but after all I had come across; I knew I could do it. I knew that I would do it. I had just on 2000km left of the wildest, most remote desert track in the country to traverse, and that just didn’t scare me at all.
I went into the CSR with excitement and open mindedness in my heart, feeling much different to the other legs of the journey.
By the time I got 850km into the track, I was starting to realise that what I was doing was a bit special. I set camp one night and made a cam diary where I spoke about not being able to go back to my old life. After all that I had overcome and achieved out here, I knew that I just couldn’t go back to my old life. I knew that I had more to give the world than what I had been giving it. I felt like this ride was the journey that was going to project me into my new life, whatever that may be.
The riding itself didn’t get any easier. The track could change so dramatically from deep sand to sharp rocky outcrops, there was never a time I felt I could relax. And again, there were some real ‘oh shit’ moments that I just don’t know how I survived.
That last day on the Canning I was up and about. I tore through the bush with all the confidence of a man on a mission.
I was tearing across the dunes all day, it was reckless, dangerous. I nearly had a head on with a jeep at one point. I Stopped in at well 49 to have a quick wash and eat.
The next day I finally made it up onto the rim of the Wolf Creek Crater. For me, I had envisioned myself standing there 1000 times. I had even drawn a picture of it and put it above my sink at home. I had made it. I had successfully crossed every desert in Australia. And it was just the Tanami road to get past to finish it off.
It had been the journey of a lifetime, my saddle bags were held together with over 100 cable ties, the bristles of my toothbrush were stained red from the fine dust. I had lost close to 10 kg during my time in the sand. It had been nothing short of an odyssey and I owed it to myself to make sure something came of it.
By facing my fears out there in the desert I had learnt so much about myself and what I am capable of. I get a bit nervous when I think about what I could achieve in the world. And that’s the exciting part. You just never know what is coming at you again. And sometimes you just have to smile, grip the bars and go with it. life is a daring adventure after all.