Our Town

When he's not out earning a living, or interviewing bands for dB Magazine, long-time contributor Steve Jones can be found riding his beloved BMW K100RT motorcycle through the Adelaide Hills, or doing long distance runs to Phillip Island. Recently, with nothing better to do, he accepted an invitation to link up with like-minded individuals for the Annual Border Run, a dash to the SA and WA border which has become something of a tradition among those in the know, and those who own a bike capable of taking on a 2600km round trip...

According to legend, it was on the first weekend of August 1977 that a few members of the Western Australian chapter of the BMW Owners Club sought somewhere different to go for a ride. After deciding on the WA/SA border some guys from our side caught word of the trip and haphazardly saddled up to meet them there for a few drinks and a counter meal. A good time was reportedly had by all and the ride was dubbed as 'The Meeting', from which an annual - and still somewhat unofficial - run was borne.

After twenty-five years of touring it had long been my ambition to make it a date so this year I chucked a few pairs of jocks and socks onto my 1985 BMW K100RT and joined the ranks of the faithful, albeit somewhat unprepared for what lay ahead. After all, with no set agenda nor official organisers as such, 'The Border Run' as it is now known, still maintains its place on the motorcycling calendar as an event for like-minded enthusiasts from all around Australia.

Just as the run's pioneers had done, the idea was to meet up for a few drinks and a counter meal. Leaving Adelaide on the Friday morning, it was during my first petrol stop at Port Augusta that I met up with the first of my riding buddies, John from Melbourne aboard a R1200RS Beemer, and by our next stop at Kyancutta, 540km from home, we were joined by Bazza from Broken Hill on a Kawasaki 2000cc Vulcan. We stopped for the night in Ceduna, and left before daylight heeding the many warnings about wombats, which cause plenty of damage should you hit one. We were also warned about rogue camels and kangaroos, and given tips on road-train etiquette.

A mere 70kms up the road, we stopped for breakfast where Dave (who on a Kawasaki GTR1000 had ridden virtually non-stop from his home near Noosa Heads in Queensland) joined us, forming a group representing four states. Encountering many other bikes along the way, we entered the Nullarbor Plains stretch, and battled strong and deceptive head-winds that chewed through my fuel reserves faster than I planned, and it wasn't until we reached Yalata that I found out that the roadhouse had closed down a couple of years earlier. With 90kms to the next town and only a few litres left in my tank, my best option was to stay put and wait to flag down the next passing sidecar and borrow some petrol from their jerry can.

Forty-five minutes later, and I was back on track, but it was while we were at Nullarbor that the first of two known mishaps for the weekend occurred. With light drizzle and spilt diesel on the driveway leading into the roadhouse, John from Adelaide on a borrowed K1100LT came down heavily, totally ripping open his crankcase and sustaining an injury to his left shoulder. On a bus back to Ceduna hospital the weekend was over for him, as it was for a rider from Geelong on a Moto-Guzzi California III. With the whole incident caught on a video camera mounted on his mate's dashboard, an octopus strap holding his sleeping bag to his seat came off, resulting in the bedding being wedged between his rear wheel and mudguard! Sensational footage to say the least, but such a sad end to such a beautiful bike and luckily, very little injury to the rider.

At the border village, motel rooms were snapped up and tents pitched with around 70 attendees looking for food and refreshments. A quick trip to Eucla, 12kms into WA, for a coffee and walk along its pristine beach reinforced the fact that I'd entered another state and then it was back to 'SA' to rejoin the gathering. It was later in the night that the much revered 'Pudding' was brought out and its legacy to the throng furthered.

What started as an uneaten dessert taken to another bike run over thirty years ago, this Big Sister pudding now encased in clear resin has been passed on like a baton and carried for many runs by trusted members across Australia. A true symbol for those in the know, and with many riders now in their 'senior years' having attended quite a few Border Runs, it's a friendship symbol of what compels motorcycle riders to endure many miles without the creature comforts of a car. The cameraderie, together with the telling of old road tales, affirmed why anyone who has never had motorcycles in their blood would not understand.

One rider on an early BMW R75/5 from Victoria told me that he'd bought the bike secondhand back in 1974 and, after two rebuilds he'd clocked up over 600,000 miles - that's close to a million kilometres in new money! Then there's Tom from Adelaide having been to a staggering 28 of the 31 runs. By 9am Sunday morning, most of us had begun the long haul back to whence we came, and with no urgency to be anywhere both Bazza and I took time to do some whale watching at the Head of the Bight, getting home around noon on Monday. A definite 'must do' should you have both the bike and the stamina, and not forgetting a comfy seat to do so. A spectacular weekend.