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From adventure to nightmare, all before the camping began...
This was supposed to be a trip report like no other, a weekend visit to one of my favourite places on earth. Where the Trout are thick and the Brumbies are wild, where the countryside is rugged but the drive in forgiving. The Snowy Valley townships are bound by ice and snow half the year and the weather forecast was fine, seemed like a perfect opportunity to flow over the Brindibella Ranges and to weekend freedom.
Our destination was Paddy’s River Dam, just outside of Batlow and nestled deep within the Bago State Forest. It had been many months since I first was shown this amazing place, Christmas period last year to be precise. Even back only 8 months my memory was as vivid as the oversaturated images I managed with my digital camera. The car was packed to the brim, gleaming with all its shiny do dads and what nots. The motza feeling appeals even more when its taken off-road, I had pride and it felt like it had its place. Leaving Canberra at 3:37pm we aimed for a 3.5 hr trip only interrupted by sheer brilliance and awe along the way… This was not to be.
Everything was smooth, bar the last 30km till we reached our destination. This road into the Dam is heavily soiled with logging truck reminance and slush puppy mud, not the kind of place you want to be travelling to in low light conditions with your mind set on erecting the tent (Quickly I might add). All of a sudden I lost control of the vehicle and mounted the bush, literally. It all happened in slow motion too, slow enough for me to realise what was going on. I braced for the worst, encouraging my partner to do the same. As we hit the closest tree we careened onto the next, snapping it in half and coming to a dead stop.
I feared the worst but realised Claire was shaken but unharmed, my mind quickly turned to the damage on my car. I have been in this position before and was kicking myself so hard for making another mistake that would harm ‘Big Willie’. I reversed out and quickly shut him off, inspecting the outcome and scratching my bruised ego. To say I was relieved initially would be an understatement, it was dark and any damage appeared minimal. Apart from a small ding in my upper bar I figured we were getting away scot free, the pored in money and SubaXtreme had done their job. Accessories aren’t only for posers like me but they seem to protect too.
Cautiously moving onward to the camp site the road grew worse but my awareness of trouble seemed to become stronger. The smell of rubber filled the cabin every time we drove below 20kmph, something was eroding away. The campsite loomed and a started looking round for the high powered torch even as we pulled in to grounds. ‘Big Willie’ had indeed taken more damage than I first thought, the front bar had almost fallen off and my rear left strut was bent enough to scrub out my tyre. I was humiliated but honoured no one was hurt in the progress of once again learning from a mistake. Our eagerness to arrive, descending a tiny incline and the muddy ruts had taken its toll. Luckily for me I was being followed by the king of all bush mechanics.
Needless to say many drinks were consumed that night; I was a smidgeon away from topping a whole bottle of Jack Daniels. This seemed to numb the brain but reality was sure to kick in the morning, best case scenario is I would limp home on Sunday; worst case was a flat bed truck tow home on a Saturday (A likely outcome). I chose to ignore the car most of the following morning, choosing to fish for Trout using my kayak and land based methods. The going wasn’t easy and it took me all day to land the prettiest fish I had seen in ages, complete with par markings and an undersized stature. After releasing the fish I spied my wounded warrior through the trees, neglect him I could do no more.
Those that know me know I am mad, spend thrifty and completely obsesses with this car. My mechanical skills are non existent and servicing even seems out of my league. Nothing but the best will do, I am a show pony in a world of big horses and my trick count is little or none. Still, having poured my wallet out a few times I felt sorry for my partner and any future incurring costing due. I had been emotional wreck for weeks before, this definitely wasn’t helping. Enter Oliver Coakes and his FC101 Land Rover and gross mechanical skills. The man tried everything to win me over, applying undulating loads of 8 tonnes of winching pressure to realign the bar and gradually straighten any worry out from my minds bend. Turns out the bar was only just holding on by the nylock nuts, he shunt had bent it down and away and it had definitely saved my radiator and subsequent panel squashing.
The strut was criminal; he bent it back enough to allow travel without damaging the others. The decision was made to drive for additional hours on the journey home and give up trying to rush progress (And get this car home). Considering Sunday rained from the moment I woke to the moment I arrived at our abode I was in good spirits, even if the strut was less than 2 weeks old and the wallet had only just refilled. As we woke on departure day the heavens opened and the downpour began, while bearable the temperature drop was a nightmare on the bare hands. Packing as swiftly as one could we needed to retrace our footsteps to the crash site and beyond rather slowly, our Geolander AT-S excel in anything but muddy terrain. Slippery dipping around we found my offroad trail and located my missing Narva light cap and surveyed the scene.
As it all happened in slow motion and was dark I was getting the bigger picture almost immediately, even in slushy light conditions. A rise was encountered which created a decline and a slight bank left, as we descended our horizontal vision was diverted forward rather than below. The car was extremely loaded and recovery of the four wheel spin impossible. Still, we drove away with no injury to ourselves or massive deconstruction to the vehicle. The drive home was slower and diverted; we bypassed more dirt roads to combine speed and safety with the margining of the Barton Highway. My left hand rear tyre was scrubbed out due to the bent strut and supplied us a wafting, melting smell for many kilometres. I was happy to limp back into Canberra and looked forward to the diagnosis on ‘Big Willie’. Craig Hall Automotive booked it in the following day and kept him overnight, turns out the only real damage was yes, a bent rear strut.
$1000 later and he is back sitting in my driveway, on closer inspection he has a small ding in his front bar which missed my driving lights by millimetres. I started writing this report as I was excited of the images we took of the bush mechanics and the area and wanted to showcase them online. Unfortunately my house was robbed yesterday and amongst the $10,000 worth of stuff missing were my beloved cameras.
Woe is me, alive but woe…
Our destination was Paddy’s River Dam, just outside of Batlow and nestled deep within the Bago State Forest. It had been many months since I first was shown this amazing place, Christmas period last year to be precise. Even back only 8 months my memory was as vivid as the oversaturated images I managed with my digital camera. The car was packed to the brim, gleaming with all its shiny do dads and what nots. The motza feeling appeals even more when its taken off-road, I had pride and it felt like it had its place. Leaving Canberra at 3:37pm we aimed for a 3.5 hr trip only interrupted by sheer brilliance and awe along the way… This was not to be.
Everything was smooth, bar the last 30km till we reached our destination. This road into the Dam is heavily soiled with logging truck reminance and slush puppy mud, not the kind of place you want to be travelling to in low light conditions with your mind set on erecting the tent (Quickly I might add). All of a sudden I lost control of the vehicle and mounted the bush, literally. It all happened in slow motion too, slow enough for me to realise what was going on. I braced for the worst, encouraging my partner to do the same. As we hit the closest tree we careened onto the next, snapping it in half and coming to a dead stop.
I feared the worst but realised Claire was shaken but unharmed, my mind quickly turned to the damage on my car. I have been in this position before and was kicking myself so hard for making another mistake that would harm ‘Big Willie’. I reversed out and quickly shut him off, inspecting the outcome and scratching my bruised ego. To say I was relieved initially would be an understatement, it was dark and any damage appeared minimal. Apart from a small ding in my upper bar I figured we were getting away scot free, the pored in money and SubaXtreme had done their job. Accessories aren’t only for posers like me but they seem to protect too.
Cautiously moving onward to the camp site the road grew worse but my awareness of trouble seemed to become stronger. The smell of rubber filled the cabin every time we drove below 20kmph, something was eroding away. The campsite loomed and a started looking round for the high powered torch even as we pulled in to grounds. ‘Big Willie’ had indeed taken more damage than I first thought, the front bar had almost fallen off and my rear left strut was bent enough to scrub out my tyre. I was humiliated but honoured no one was hurt in the progress of once again learning from a mistake. Our eagerness to arrive, descending a tiny incline and the muddy ruts had taken its toll. Luckily for me I was being followed by the king of all bush mechanics.
Needless to say many drinks were consumed that night; I was a smidgeon away from topping a whole bottle of Jack Daniels. This seemed to numb the brain but reality was sure to kick in the morning, best case scenario is I would limp home on Sunday; worst case was a flat bed truck tow home on a Saturday (A likely outcome). I chose to ignore the car most of the following morning, choosing to fish for Trout using my kayak and land based methods. The going wasn’t easy and it took me all day to land the prettiest fish I had seen in ages, complete with par markings and an undersized stature. After releasing the fish I spied my wounded warrior through the trees, neglect him I could do no more.
Those that know me know I am mad, spend thrifty and completely obsesses with this car. My mechanical skills are non existent and servicing even seems out of my league. Nothing but the best will do, I am a show pony in a world of big horses and my trick count is little or none. Still, having poured my wallet out a few times I felt sorry for my partner and any future incurring costing due. I had been emotional wreck for weeks before, this definitely wasn’t helping. Enter Oliver Coakes and his FC101 Land Rover and gross mechanical skills. The man tried everything to win me over, applying undulating loads of 8 tonnes of winching pressure to realign the bar and gradually straighten any worry out from my minds bend. Turns out the bar was only just holding on by the nylock nuts, he shunt had bent it down and away and it had definitely saved my radiator and subsequent panel squashing.
The strut was criminal; he bent it back enough to allow travel without damaging the others. The decision was made to drive for additional hours on the journey home and give up trying to rush progress (And get this car home). Considering Sunday rained from the moment I woke to the moment I arrived at our abode I was in good spirits, even if the strut was less than 2 weeks old and the wallet had only just refilled. As we woke on departure day the heavens opened and the downpour began, while bearable the temperature drop was a nightmare on the bare hands. Packing as swiftly as one could we needed to retrace our footsteps to the crash site and beyond rather slowly, our Geolander AT-S excel in anything but muddy terrain. Slippery dipping around we found my offroad trail and located my missing Narva light cap and surveyed the scene.
As it all happened in slow motion and was dark I was getting the bigger picture almost immediately, even in slushy light conditions. A rise was encountered which created a decline and a slight bank left, as we descended our horizontal vision was diverted forward rather than below. The car was extremely loaded and recovery of the four wheel spin impossible. Still, we drove away with no injury to ourselves or massive deconstruction to the vehicle. The drive home was slower and diverted; we bypassed more dirt roads to combine speed and safety with the margining of the Barton Highway. My left hand rear tyre was scrubbed out due to the bent strut and supplied us a wafting, melting smell for many kilometres. I was happy to limp back into Canberra and looked forward to the diagnosis on ‘Big Willie’. Craig Hall Automotive booked it in the following day and kept him overnight, turns out the only real damage was yes, a bent rear strut.
$1000 later and he is back sitting in my driveway, on closer inspection he has a small ding in his front bar which missed my driving lights by millimetres. I started writing this report as I was excited of the images we took of the bush mechanics and the area and wanted to showcase them online. Unfortunately my house was robbed yesterday and amongst the $10,000 worth of stuff missing were my beloved cameras.
Woe is me, alive but woe…
