TK Ride

Just had this sent to me, thought you may like to read this about the TK Ride !!Very good read.
Cheers fish

I have been going to Arkaroola in the Northern Flinders Ranges with John (Yap) Williams on and off for the past decade as the back up driver for bikes. Yap and I are both Mobile Intensive Care Paramedics at Mildura. Yap being an accomplished speedway rider and I a trials rider in our distant youth.

Our last trip was in 2009 near the end of the drought with the usual Mildura suspects including our good mate Jeff Power just weeks before he succumbed to cancer.

For me, it is a magical place; it just keeps drawing me back! This year following the big wet I asked Yap if he intended to go again. He indicated that he was going on the TK memorial ride and could I tag along in my normal capacity.

I had a distant recollection of him and Hedge (John Hederics) being leaders for a magazine ride some years ago. So I did what we all do these days and googled Tony Kirby that revealed that I had indeed come across his work having casually read Sidetrack in the crib room at work over the past years.

One article that I have vivid recollection of being titled “Crop Circles” (May June 2003), which nailed the symptoms of depression, which TK had faced, and how he was dealing with the condition. That article rang alarm bells for the “black dog” and me, which I have being dealing with it ever since. “I have had that dog chained up down the back yard for some time ”

The following is a log of types, of my time on the Tony Kirby Memorial ride.
Saturday Day one.
Yap picks me up in his son’s Ute complete with a 450L petrol tank, jerries of diesel for the Ute, drinking water for all, his bike and various camping gear etc. We travel to Wentworth just over the border from Mildura. Pulling into the local garage there are some 25 riders refueling (they are already an hour late). The first thing I notice is that each bike and rider has an extraordinary amount of gear somehow loaded on the bike or the rider. It reminds me of the postie at Morgan S.A. – some 200kgs and only six letters to deliver.
I start to think that either they have Balls the size of Coconuts OR the Brains the size of Walnuts if they intend to ride all that way so loaded up with gear. But that’s what adventure riding is all about I am told! Soon we are off heading up the bitumen to a rendezvous point half way to Broken Hill while the riders headed via the dirt through station country.
At the rendezvous point we wait and wait. Finally Witty (Ian Whitfield) and an off-sider arrive and tell us that one of our number has come a cropper and we better head back and assess him.
Some 45mins later we arrive to find the poor bloke prostrate on the ground in a fair bit of pain. At first glance Andy (Andrew McGuire) seems to have all the right numbers from an ambo’s perspective with the limited gear we have (It’s hard without all our toys). Wise heads have already used the Sat phone to get an Ambulance from Wentworth on the go. Some wonder why no chopper has yet appeared (No such thing this far from the great divide, you are in the outback you see!) Soon the ambo’s arrive and load him up with analgesia and ready to transport him back to civilization and medical help.
Then we are off, now about 3 hours behind schedule (I am informed that this is true to TK’s plan). We are travelling through some beautiful country now, which resembled a moonscape two years before. There are lakes out here now and the saltbush is silver with a new flush contrasting with the brilliant yellow of the acacia flowers in the afternoon sun.
We have a few stops and drop off a fuel dump for the return journey. A refuel at dusk and it’s off into the dark with varying degrees of effective lights (if any) to Yunta, still 2 hrs away.
Now I think to myself “It’s both Coconuts AND Walnuts!”
Finally we arrive at Yunta and are served up a fine feast by the girls at the Caltex roadhouse who are more than helpful. A word to the wise, don’t bother with the Pub, the miserable bastard is not interested in customers!
I am introduced to Rusty (Russell Coxall) who has been one of the main movers from our end. He proves to be a very personable bloke with great organizational skills and a natural leader.
I start to appreciate the mix of blokes from all over the eastern seaboard who have come on this ride. Scrivo, Pete, Scotty, Col, Phil, Matt, Geoff, Steve, Justin, the list goes on! The age demographic for most being – lets say mature! They have all the same things in common, the love of riding bikes and memories of Tony Kirby, whether they have met him or not, or have just read his mag. Following the days debrief, we find our camp spots around the roadhouse and bed down with the sounds of a newly arrived fully loaded cattle truck and snoring riders competing for the loudest distraction to sleep.
Sunday Day two.
It’s up at sparrows. Again we are fed by the good lassies, fuelled, briefed and head off again using the corner man system (A very smart idea) first stopping at an old mining town with its ruins and huge smelter stack then onto a hill with a communication tower.
One rider comes to grief busting his foot while attempting to go between some fence posts, not seeing the offending wires. It’s only pain Steve, we must ride on!
Lunch and a refuel are in a creek bed and I am now starting to see the great array of different makes and sizes of bikes (the same goes for the riders). There is endless banter about which bike is the best for adventure riding. I nod knowingly while this goes on (actually I have not a clue). But the general consensus is that the yellow bikes (Suzuki’s) are the best value for money, even if they hate the color!
It’s here that I notice that TK’s ashes are being carried in turn by various riders, each of who feel privileged in doing so!
Then on to Rawnsley Park just south of Wilpena Pound for the next camp. We dine at the Woolshed restaurant and are treated to some fine food and banter by our host Jon Dean.
I learn that TK was an ex Kiwi, self-made writer, editor, publisher, who wrote not just about dirt bikes but was a wordsmith. Writing from a rider’s perspective, having a natural and inclusive way of writing which inspired many a rider and an enthusiastic promoter of adventure riding.
A debrief and presentation of the dickhead of the day award follow (Witty is in his element here!).
Monday Day three.
Up early again. News has reached us that Andy who came to grief on day one has been flown to Adelaide hospital with significant aorta damage. He is lucky to be alive and could have easily bled to death on us in the middle of nowhere.
Jon at the Woolshed restaurant again fed us, and then off on a loop of private track provided by Rawnsley Park, then through Brachina gorge and onto the Prairie Hotel at Parachilna for lunch. This is easy riding compared to the first two days, but I start to see signs of the occasional diversion by Scotty’s boys (parallel lines into the scrub followed by black marks where they have re-emerged). This 17 and 19 year old are Scotty’s progeny and hopefully the next generation of adventure riders.
We arrive early in Blinman and take over the town (well just about every bed and camp spot) then dine at the North Blinman Hotel (There must have been a south at one time). Here we are joined by riders from all parts, including, QLD. SA. WA. Some have been mates of Tony Kirby or have been readers of Sidetrack or like myself are here on happenstance.
Phil Hodges arrives, having ridden solo from QLD, now bare foot, in shorts and a king brown in hand, sleeps on the pub verandah, “Legend”.
Rusty holds a briefing on the next day’s plans, which is for a three-tier ride for differing levels of rider, which has been organized by Doc (Neil Walker).
Doc proves to be an interesting and resourceful bloke who runs the Peterborough Caravan Park and has many connections in these parts having ridden in the Flinders more than most. He also knows a far bit about fund raising with his involvement with cancer support (suffice to say his family has been touched by cancer).
A bucket is produced to raise funds for Motor Neuron Research with a $500 anonymous donation to kick it off.
This disease, which struck TK, as explained by Rusty is a dog of a disease. It’s like a stealth bomber, that strikes seemingly healthy people slowly destroying your motor functions, starting with weakness to parts of your body then your breathing; swallowing etc. while your brain function stays normal. There is no cure and treatment is symptomatic. Just google it, to find out more.
As an example as an ambo, I recently attended a patient one evening. On walking up the driveway I notice a road bike in the carport. We are met at the door by a woman in a wheel chair who directs us to a bedroom to a 46-year-old bloke in advanced stages of Motor Neuron disease (he was losing his swallow reflexes). The irony being that just six months earlier he was her carer, now she is his carer!
Tuesday Day four.
All line up in Blinman’s main (only) street and a briefing is held prior to setting off. Danny Wilkinson an expert photographer is there, taking pictures with TK’s old camera. We number about 50 riders now and the day is spent with some excellent riding with people trickling back to Blinmam over the course of the afternoon with even more arriving by car and bikes from various parts of Australia to pay respect to TK.
An odd thing I notice in Blinman is that the local church is made of cement blocks. Two questions here – Firstly why not local rocks? There’s no shortage! – Secondly why a church when you are surrounded by a natural cathedral? Don’t start me on religion!
The evening is spent in and around the pub with many a tale being told of TK’s exploits. It is obvious that each person who knew him had a special memory of TK and held him in high regard. I don’t think “awe” is the right word, but just a deep appreciation of his friendship and work. They speak of a gypsy type life, where they would get a call out of the blue “What are you doing next month/day/in two hours” or, he would just arrive! He would pick up a relationship as if he was there yesterday, even if it was months or years since you had last seen him, then off again, not one for goodbyes! It seems his only annoying trait was his laugh, which was recognizable from the other side of a crowded room!
Near the end of the evening the publican hands Rusty a $500 donation with a further $50 from the lady at the local store. The effort put in by the staff at the pub and store on short notice was admirable. It’s important to note that the primary purpose of the ride was not to raise money for Motor Neuron Research, but it certainly reflects the caliber of people involved.
Some ask, “What’s so special about Arkaroola?” “Rocks and lots of them” I reply, warning them that this place is addictive and they will most likely want to return!
This is where Hedge (John Hederics), six times Safari winner on bikes and three times in a car (with Yap as his navigator) came to master them. Geologists from all over the world come here to study them.
Arkaroola Wilderness Sanctuary was setup by the late Reg and Griselda Sprigg who where true adventurers of the outback. If you want to know more, google them or read, “Dune is a four-letter word” by Griselda Sprigg.

Wednesday Day five.
It’s up at sparrows, the serious riders have a big day ahead, first via a route devised by Doc to Angepena, then by Yap, via Mount Rose smelter to Arkaroola. Others are to make their way by gentler routes.
I am to refuel the first group at Angepena. I arrive and wait, reading old issues of Sidetrack. In one issue there is an article on an epic trip that TK and Phil Hodges did across the Canning (I think) where they came across some German backpackers showering in the nud. I scan the horizon “No such luck”! Another had an article on bike electrics (101), just a good practical no bullshit read! Anyway I digress, another refuel and they are on the way to Arkaroola via Mount Rose.
Mid afternoon at Arkaroola, a briefing is held prior to departing for the “Echo Camp Back Track” to spread TK’s ashes. Two routes are arranged to enable everybody who wishes to partake.
An hour or so later we arrive at the eastern edge of the ranges (just before you descend down to the plains over looking Lake Frome). On top of a hill immediately to the left we gather. A cairn is constructed with the ample amount of rocks at hand.
It’s late afternoon now, just on dusk, the light in these parts at this time of day is magical. An eagle saws overhead with just a zephyr of a breeze from the east.

Words are spoken, memories revisited, poem read, ashes spread, tears flow, quiet moments, glasses raised, pictures taken. It’s a moving tribute, even for me, a mere spectator.
I can only imagine what it meant to those who held TK as a friend. It was a beautiful way to pay homage to “Tony Kirby” the man!

(I have long ago decided where my ashes are to be spread. I can now add an extra condition, “Dusk”)
Then we are off back to Arkaroola, “In the dark”, again true to TK’s plan. Geoff comes to grief falling and badly damaging his shoulder. It has not been a good trip for him with his XR’s electrics sulking every time it gets warm under load. He somehow held it together when given endless “experts advise” as to what was wrong. Even a replacement stator had not provided a remedy!
The staff at the village put on a BBQ, many tales are told, and the dick head of the day award is again presented by Witty.

Friends are asked to recount memories of TK.
There many heart felt recollections recalled.
Melissa Hederics had some very moving words. Finishing with “TK was part of her and others families. While not having a family of his own, He was, never the less, a family man”

Doug Sprigg forgoes the normal charges for traversing the “Echo Camp Back Track” in lieu of a donation to Motor Neuron Research.
Some indicate that they will be back. They too, have been bitten by this place!

Thursday Day six.
Up at sparrows again with people departing in all directions and routes. Our contingent heads via the dirt to Yunta, refueling at the dog fence.
You know that “Black dog” I spoke of earlier – I reckon he was let off the leash somewhere on the other side of the fence. Hopefully I will never to see the bastard again. Such was the effect of travelling with this great bunch of blokes for those few short days.
We are again fed by the good lassies of Yunta roadhouse at lunchtime. Yap and I are to part-company with the rest of our group who will go on dirt via station country to Mildura while we go on bitumen via Broken Hill. They make a point of thanking me. I am embarrassed and reply that it is I who should be thanking them for allowing me to be part of this journey!
Yap and I arrive home that afternoon with no problems. Not so for the rest, with leaking radiators and fuel injection glitches. A Sat phone link direct to the Husaberg service manager saved a long tow to Mildura. Still, it proves to be a long ride back. Again TK’s plan comes into being!

Rusty informs us that a total of $3000 was raised for Motor Neuron Research. Not bad, given that this was not the given purpose of the ride.

Ride on — Maintain the passion.
Cheers David Guild.

Disclaimer: The above is the ramblings of a mad man so don’t bother suing me. I have had certificates to prove it and could get them again! And I don’t give a shit if you copy any of it!

P.S. If you have any news on the wounded it would be appreciated.
djguild@hotkey.net .au Ph 0407256545