The Macleay Valley air was a mix of early morning fog and exhaust fumes, and you could already hear bikes revving and stuck up on the ridgeline. We were only 3km into the ride, and the faint line that passed for singletrack had turned into a huge bottleneck.
Heavy rain the night before had made the bush as slick as a seat covered in Armor All. Fallen timber was everywhere – from slimy logs to greasy saplings crisscrossing the trail at all angles. As I picked up the mighty DR, with a wheel either side of a slippery sapling, I helped a bloke drag his KTM back onto the track. A huge, slimy off-camber log had catapulted his bike off the side. I started to wonder – had I been stitched up? Maybe my party-crashing days had finally caught up with me.
I Have Friends?
The balloons popped up on my page – an invite to Rider X’s party at the famed Bellbrook Hotel in the Macleay Valley. Hmm… who do I know down there? The name didn’t ring a bell, but it turned out to be the crew from my Party Crasher story (ADB 509). Seems they read ADB and tracked me down. My cover was blown.
A few years back, I was pulling on warm gear when a bunch of riders pulled up and asked if I was heading out. I bluffed my way into a brilliant ride through remote bush and prime private property, all starting from the Bellbrook pub. I’d lucked into a locals-only ride and a free feed. And because I didn’t know anyone, I could go feral – and why not? This crew sure did.
Fashionably Early
I bolted for Bellbrook early. After 150km of slippery gravel backroads and a bit of bush, I cruised the last few clicks of tar into town. Just one rider was waiting near the pub. Over the next hour, 34 more enduro bikes rolled in – a surprising number of young blokes with race numbers and a dozen or so old hard guys who were very cagey about where we were going.
When asked, all I got were knowing smirks and the ride leader’s best Dr Evil laugh. I figured they were joking.
The rider briefing pushed the usual “behave around cattle on private farms” message. I was told I wouldn’t be doing cornerman duties because I had a media pass – today I’d be getting the royal treatment. Everyone cheered. I thought, ‘what a nice bunch’… Little did I know.
Media Pass
The DR650 stuck out like a sore thumb (I already had one – deeply sliced my thumb a few days before, but there’s no time for stitches when a ride’s on). Making the most of my media pass, I slotted into the front – until 100m into the bush when a bit of timber stuck in my brake and sent me straight to the back. Not off to a great start.
The private property was a tangle of small regrowth and heaps of fallen timber from the fires a few years back. Even at the rear of the pack, there was barely a trail. Greasy saplings crisscrossed everywhere – some hidden in grass – and big logs stopped progress every 100m. Some were bypassed via slick off-camber detours; others needed jumping, often at weird angles.
Smoke and revving soon filled the air as a huge bottleneck developed. With enduro bikes struggling, the best tactic on the DR was to get in the way and hope someone helped. It worked.
Royal Treatment
Steep, rutted clay uphills littered with logs and saplings were everywhere. Bikes were boiling. After an hour and only two kilometres, steam was pouring from my helmet – I was doing my best redhead impression.
Track making (or clearing) clearly wasn’t a priority around here.
A kind young bloke grabbed my DR, clicked it into third and vanished – leaving me his KTM 350. Everything suddenly felt easier. Sadly, at the 4km mark on top of the ridge, he took it back.
Four kilometres in two hours – on terrain that could’ve easily been bypassed – had me wondering what kind of royal treatment this was. Maybe crashing that party all those years ago wasn’t such a good idea. Or maybe this crew actually likes this stuff?
The Grass Is Greener
Finally out of the log-infested bush, we hit something that resembled a trail and began to descend. Soon, we were flowing across lush green paddocks and farm tracks – pure bliss after what we’d just endured.
We crisscrossed ridges, splashed through slop, waited for cows to shift, and popped out in the back of a valley. More flowing bush followed, with lots of stick litter that tightened up before a creek crossing and more singletrack.
I got a heads-up about a nasty clay hill – log-strewn and steep – that had everyone talking at lunch. An easy bypass led us to the next photo op. Back on familiar ground, a few of us carved up the snaky Hickeys Creek fire trail to the top of the ridge.
More Special Treatment
Rider X – aka KTM Spark – must’ve felt bad I missed the singletrack, so we dropped into a mystery downhill trail. Judging by how overgrown it was and how few tyre marks we saw, no one else knew it existed either.
Being 60 must take a toll, because Spark had a little lie-down on some slick, oddly angled logs. I took them one at a time – trying three at once hadn’t worked earlier.
It was all downhill and spectacular in places. We eventually joined a well-used trail where the rest of the crew would pass, and they left me by a creek to prep lunch.
The creek crossing techniques were amusing – some riders blasted through in a ball of spray, others tiptoed over the black Macleay River rocks.
Kilprotae, No Way
Over a steak sandwich (or two) and a cold beer, Coke or water, they let slip that the arvo loop would be Kilprotae – a rainforest nightmare of slick clay, nasty climbs and off-camber horrors. We’d be tackling it north to south – the harder way.
A third of the group opted to head back to the pub. The brave – or foolish – pressed on.
Two hours to cover just over a kilometre gave everyone plenty of chances to fail. Some hills were so steep and slick you couldn’t stand up. Even the guns needed three goes, while the younger or fitter riders helped shuttle bikes up.
A nasty log near the top finished off anyone with energy left. The rainforest reeked of two-stroke, burnt clutch and smoked rubber. It was chaos – but unforgettable.
Party On
The Bellbrook Hotel was an oasis of cold beer by the time the last of us rolled in. The smart riders had already started celebrating, while the rest of us arrived tired, dirty and full of wild stories about monster hills and big stacks.
Lucky it was Rider X’s 60th birthday – any harder and it would’ve been an ADB emergency feature. Hopefully we’re even now. If I get another invite, go easy on the payback. Stitch-ups suck.
THE MACLEAY VALLEY
The Macleay Valley is a rider-friendly region with abundant enduro and adventure trails – well worth a visit.
There are two standout pubs:
– Willawarrin Hotel, owned by one-armed legend Cooper Gray, who completed the entire 60th birthday ride with one hand on the ’bars. Food and accommodation available. See www.facebook.com/willawarrinhotel
– Bellbrook Hotel, owned by a long-time motorcycle supporter. With nearby cabins and accommodation, it’s the ideal base for a big crew. See bellbrookhotel.com.au
