Crocs & Rocks on the OTL (Cape York Solo 4 of 5)

Cape York Solo: Part IV of V

The Old Telegraph Line (OTL) is the best-known and arguably most exciting run on Cape York.  Stretching about a hundred and thirty kilometers from Bramwell Junction to the Jardine River, it’s a rough-and-tumble ride full of unbelievable drops, tight fastblast sections, and enough water crossings to bog an MRAP.

The truly hardcore attempt it in April or May… at the tail-end of the wet season, when most crossings would sink a Land Cruiser to the windscreen and motorcycles have to be carried half the way.

To those who have done this; respect.

Timing was such that my crack at the OTL was in mid-November, at the tail-end of the dry season when the mud is all but gone and many of the river crossings don’t even get the front brake wet.

I’ll be the first to admit that, yes, this is when it’s easiest.

But it’s still a proper challenge and good fun.

I pulled up to the southern start point of Bramwell Junction late at night, having been distracted by the cutie pumping petrol at Archer River all day.

Next day my tent was set up pretty well next to the fuel bowser and I was ready for action at the first crack of sunlight.  No coffee needed, I was amped with anticipation for the track to come.

Tank full of petrol and a gut full of mango I powered up and hit it hard.  I came to the first obstacle, Palm Creek,  in short order.  A near-vertical drop followed by a similarly steep exit, I rode around in circles for a few minutes looking for a bypass… surely this wasn’t the way.

And yet, it was.  Less than three kilometers into the ride would be the first of many points I would consider turning around.

With a downshift and a shrug I crept into the creek, then powered on hard for a noisy exit.

Ah, that wasn’t so bad.

After Palm Creek I ran through a fastblast that snaked into a few sandy corners.  With my loadout more stable than ever thanks to a new cargo setup, I could step out the back wheel like a champ and not loose my sleeping bag.  Bloody brilliant.

Next obstacle was Delhunty River, about six meters wide but hardly ten centimeters deep.  Before crossing I caught sight of a few Land Cruisers camped up on the south side, so I strode over to have a chat.

I was bloody glad I did, because after a few minutes of talking they insisted on sharing their breakfast- cooked eggs, bacon, potatoes and coffee.

This was going to be a good day.

The track continues somewhat similarly to Frenchman’s… varied terrain, a few fastblasts, the only difference is river crossings.  There are a lot of them.

I tried to get out and take video of each, but after dropping my camera on rocks for the fifth time I started thinking the risk outweighed the reward.

I did film two of the more famous crossings, Gunshot Creek:

And a bit further down the track, Cockatoo Creek:

The difference in these obstacles between May and November is absolutely unbelievable.  Here I was walking through Cockatoo Creek without getting my shins wet, when six months ago we were belt-deep in fast flowing water at the same exact crossing.

I was told that crocodile metabolism increases in the summer heat, making them hungriest at this time of year.  Being too lazy to look it up, I had to defer to my instincts on whether or not I was being marked for a meal.  Fortunately/unfortunately I don’t have any drama to report on this; spent a total of almost three months on Cape York now and I still haven’t seen a bloody croc’.  Apparently this is a good thing… but as far as I’m concerned I’ve still got a box to tick.

Anyway, after Cockatoo there’s a brief transport section of Development Road you’ve got to take to get to the next intersection of the OTL.  Take the right toward Elliot Falls (which is a great place to camp) and then keep left when you get to the camping area.

This is where the track gets seriously hairy.

Deep, deep sand and craggy water crossings wrought with holes, rocks, sand pits and all kinds of nonsense to get hung up on.
I walked every crossing to suss out the danger factor, and as a result was soaked to the bone for the majority of the day.  A minor inconvenience, but largely alleviated by the fact that it was around forty degrees Celsius pretty much the whole time I was north of Archer River.

When I was nearly at the end I ran into a couple dudes on DR-Z’s who were southbound.  They warned of an exceptionally deep and complicated crossing a few kilometers north, and apprised me of a “bailout track” just before it.  Advice that would soon become invaluable.

At first I dismissed the idea of a bypass, and charged ahead toward the Jardine River and northern end of the OTL as planned.  The very next crossing was insane; steep, windy and very sandy descent into a deep and extremely boggy creek.  I crept down and examined the water hole.  The water was right around the front fender’s level… just about as deep as you can go in a DR-Z with anything resembling safety.

With the bike shut down and my gear left on the north side of the water, I made ready to push my rig through the water rather than ride it.  This would be safer in terms of keeping water out of the engine (a de-activated engine doesn’t suck anything in) but a lot harder in terms of relying on my physical strength for propulsion.

I got as much of a “running” start as I could wrangle and shoved the bike into the creek.  The bottom was like quicksand, forcing me to pull up on the handlebars as I pushed forward.

But with a hearty grunt a desperate push I got the machine through the water and safely on the north side- which was mercifully rock hard.

From this point every meter of the track was extremely difficult.  All the obstacles I had been dealing with the whole way up, plus massive ruts that directed my front tire at their will.

Finally I reached the massive crossing my southbound buddies had been on about… and it was nothing short of epic.

Crystal clear water striking a ten meter fissure in the sandy-soft trail that was so deep even the biggest croc-o-dillions could raise a family in there.  Gentle wind gave the palm trees a soft but steady bob like they were listening to Why Am I A Rastaman.  Water burbled over a few big rocks and the sound reminded me of a faucet in the bathroom of a really nice restaurant.  Which made me wish, just for a second, that I was at a really nice restaurant.  The rice and water I had been living off the last ten days was making mealtimes… not exactly something I looked forward to.

But I snapped back into adventure mode quickly.  There would be plenty of time for fine dining when I got to Los Angeles, this scene was too perfect not to enjoy.

Well, it would have been perfect, if it wasn’t making my route impassible.

I walked in and around it for half an hour trying to see a way through.  It was unbelievably deep everywhere, but unlike the last crossing the bottom was just too soft to push through.  In an attempt to overcome this, I started laying a path with huge rocks.  But as soon as I dropped them in the water, they sunk so deep into the sand that I couldn’t remember where I had dropped ‘em.

If the bottom wouldn’t hold a five pound rock, what would happen to my two hundred pound motorcycle?

With no other option making itself apparent, I had no choice but to turn around and use the exit track the other guys had ridden in on.  So I retraced my last couple K’s, including the deep crossing I had negotiated earlier, found the fork in the track and headed for the Development Road.  Once there I cut south with most of the OTL completed successfully.  Not a perfect run, but one hell of a good time.  Anyway… I’ve got to have a reason to come back, don’t I?

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