South Ballina Beach

March 3-4, 2001

 Sometimes you find yourself inundated with offers to write a trip report, and other times nobody wants to put their hand up. For this trip, there were plenty of offers. Unfortunately, the reality is sometimes far removed from the promise. This is one of those cases, so yours truly decided to write something. Because this trip was definitely worth writing about!

 Peter Green had decided on a meeting time of 9.30 in the park at Murwillumbah. Of course, our party of Kathy, Alex, Kathy’s sister Cherie and her boyfriend Jason, Rik and myself (who had all partied HARD the night before, celebrating Kathy’s birthday) had a later time in mind.

 So, after a few mobile phone conversations (when in range – good one Vodaphone) and later a few chats on the CB, we eventually met up with the remainder of the group at Uki, where everyone had stopped for brunch. So it was time to say hello to Peter and his friend Chris (from the Tweed Valley 4WD Club) in the Defender, Dave Martin in the unstoppable Brumby, Arnold and Pat in the Dyna, Gaven McGrath with Julie Laws aboard in the Triton and Doug Tilley, Shan and Sean in the L Series. Knowing that we were going on a beach trip, Doug had put some balding Commodore tyres on his car. The group had just finished a short 4WD through the hills behind Murwillumbah, and was eager for more. We, on the other hand, were deep in recovery mode. Alex (who was the only one in our group not in need of a dozen Beroccas) found a swing-set in the park and wanted a push. Over I went and helped him out. Then he wanted me to swing beside him on the other swing. After the head spins and stomach churning had subsided, I actually felt a lot better – have I found a hangover cure here? Pity about the other party animals, apparently just watching Alex and me made them turn a few shades greener.

 Arnold had some work rearranging the Dyna’s fridge after breaking a shelf in the morning’s drive, and Julie had a mess to clean up after smashing her eggs. There went Sunday’s breakfast.

 Our illustrious trip leader decided it was time to move on – but not to the beach yet. We’ll just have to wait to work on our suntans. So off we all drove – west towards Mt Warning, and into Mebbin State Forest.

 We turned off the main trail through the forest onto one of the side tracks where Gaven promptly bogged the Triton. A quick recovery and we were on our way again. We rounded a bend and found a decent sized bog hole. The Defender made it look easy, and then it was Kathy’s turn. With the BFG All Terrains fitted, we had the right artillery for this (or so we thought). Half way through and the Mazda wouldn’t go any further. So out I jumped to get the snatch strap, and I promptly did the splits as I slipped in the mud. Doug’s crew enjoyed that one! Next was Doug’s turn to give the balding Commodore tyres a go. He tried a different line to us, but with the same result. Gaven followed our lead and bogged the Triton for its second time. Rik made it through at high revs, then the Dyna attempted the bog crab-like but without success. Rik hooked up the snatch strap and gave the onlookers a good laugh as he weaved back and forth attempting to pull out the big truck. His rear wheels left the ground more than once. Gaven eventually came to the rescue and pulled Arnold out. Dave made it look easy.

 On we went to our next obstacle. We didn’t have to go far. This time, it was a steep descent into a creek, followed by a steeper ascent which was washed out, slippery and rocky. Julie and Pat both bailed. Julie, having dressed for the beach, was NOT having fun – she didn’t like the mud or the leeches. Where was the sand? Anyway, the Defender made the climb look easy. Kathy screamed the whole time as she made it most of the way. After a few failed attempts, it was time to use the snatch strap again. Doug found the Commodore tyres didn’t quite give him enough grip (surprise, surprise) and needed a snatch; as did Gaven, who was still coming to grips (no pun intended) with the Triton. Rik’s motto was “I think I can… I think I can… I thought I could”, as he left half of his rubber behind on one of the rocks. The Dyna once again found the going too tough. Gaven to the rescue. Dave made it look easy.

 Next was a slippery uphill with lots of clay underneath. Not too many dramas, except the balding Commodore tyres assisted Doug’s car in kissing a tree. Superficial damage and dented pride the only battle scars. Once up the hill, Kathy found a new way of bogging the Mazda. She attempted to miss a small bog hole by driving around it, but the rear wheels slipped in. So she ended up at close to a 45 degree angle to the track and couldn’t go forwards or backwards. Doug pulled her out backwards.

 An easy downhill under normal conditions was a skating rink with the clay surface wet from the recent rains. Everybody gingerly made their way downhill, with the Riksta sliding too far off course and almost collecting a bank.  Down the bottom, we came to a section of track with a number of large rocks jutting up out of the track. Vehicles could easily negotiate around them either left or right. Kathy asked me which way to go, and I suggested the obvious – “whichever way you like”. She promptly drove straight over them, hit the underside of the car in about four different spots on each of the rocks. Rik, who was too far back to see what Kathy had done, later remarked “Did you notice some idiot had driven straight over that patch of rocks on the track”. I’ll know to be clearer with my directions next time.

 We regrouped at the end of the track and surveyed the damage. Everyone’s tyres were at least one inch higher and two inches wider than when we had started, and Doug’s went close to completely filling up the wheel arches.

Peter decided, much to Julie’s relief, that the group had played in the mud long enough, and so we headed off through Nimbin (stopping for Arnold to replace a tyre which was quickly going down) and Lismore (stopping for a quick bite to eat) before arriving at our overnight camp at South Ballina Beach Caravan Park. With the tents quickly set up before dark,  it was a late Happy Hour.

Some of the troops headed down to the beach for a very cold, windswept hour or so, before heading back for the more comfortable surrounds of the campsite. Happy hour might have been late starting, but for some it was even later finishing. Julie and Doug out-stayed most and kept going ‘till the wee small hours. Kathy, Rik, Peter and Chris partied long into the night until Chris literally fell into his tent. The sensible ones, meantime, had a good night’s sleep.

Next morning, we awoke to almost gale force south easterly winds and an overcast sky. Julie still wasn’t going to enjoy this trip to the beach. Most of us had breakfast and packed up. Chris, after too much scotch the night before, slept it off. When he eventually awoke, packing up his tent would have to wait - he polished off more scotch instead. Healthy breakfast or what!

It was time to hit the beach and head south towards Evans Head. Even though it was close to low tide, the sand was very soft which made for slow going.  We all let our tyres down. Dave, under-prepared as usual, had forgotten his tyre gauge, as had Doug. With our lower tyre pressures, the going was easier but still slow. The wind felt like it was pushing us 1 foot back for each 2 feet forward that we travelled.

We reached the coffee rock and it was time for some fun. Coffee rock is not true rock, but is actually hard-compressed sand that is a dark chocolate brown in colour. Under the weight of a fully laden 4WD, it crumbles away a bit and rough edges can be chipped away, if necessary, with a shovel. The stretch of coffee rock was a few kilometres long, and the onshore winds blew the waves a lot further up the beach than would be expected. At times, we had to stop and count waves to drive on the sand below impassable sections of coffee rock. Negotiating the coffee rock involved precise wheel placement, as rock pools suddenly appeared in front of the vehicles.

We arrived at a spot which gave the drivers an option: count the waves and take the chicken route via the sand around the obstacle, or test out the clearance and wheel travel through a steep downhill, across five metres of sand, and up an even steeper section of coffee rock. Peter made it look easy. Gaven was next and made it down onto the sand, then positioned the Triton for the climb. With his suspension extended to its limit, he managed a lot of wheel spin and not quite enough traction, and had to eventually give up and travel along the sand around the obstacle. Next was my turn. Even with the LSD in the back working at the max, I was about to suffer the same fate as Gaven. Then Arnold found a piece of driftwood, put it in place, and up I went, wearing away a decent portion of coffee rock in the process. Dave followed, and made it look easy. The rest of the group decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and preferred to look after their underbellies.

Soon we left the coffee rock behind us, and continued down the beach to Evans Head and our lunch stop. Just before lunch, we stopped at the lookout on the headland. Chris needed some shoes and had left his in the tent, so he borrowed Kathy’s for the short walk to the lookout. Nice look, Chris!

We found a shady lunch spot by the river, and had a quiet lunch. Except for Chris, who borrowed Kathy’s shoes again and headed off to the pub for a refuel. And I thought publicans aren’t supposed to serve intoxicated people. Hard to believe, but he resurfaced 45 minutes later $150 richer courtesy of the pub’s pokies.

Time to head off. Peter, still in the lead, appeared to be attempting the world land speed record as he disappeared into the distance. Just before Ballina, Arnold had a super hairy moment when a rear tyre let go BIG TIME at full speed. With this tyre now useless and the spare already on the vehicle from the previous flat near Nimbin, the flat tyre needed a plug and a top up with air. Peter, who had a full kit for puncture repairs, turned around to give Arnold a hand whilst the rest of us rested in the sun by the side of the road.

The Dyna was back on the road, proudly displaying the self—destructed tyre with its gaping 6” hole in the wall. And as we headed off north of Ballina a suggestion was made to detour via Byron Bay for a swim (after all, this was a beach trip). So we ventured to Watego’s Beach, well protected from the howling south easterly winds by Cape Byron for a most enjoyable swim. Peter and Chris showed up a little later after having to return to the Ballina campsite to pack up. Chris, still a little unsure of his footing on land, was an hilarious sight in the waves.

It was soon time for us all to head home. Peter needed to make one last pit stop on the way – via a bottle shop to allow Chris to purchase ANOTHER bottle of scotch. We hear Chris has finally dried out – last week!

Thanks Peter for what was a most interesting and highly enjoyable weekend. I’m sure that this is one trip which will be discussed around the campfire for years to come.

PS: Peter, we will all be better prepared for your next beach trip. But we still don’t know what to expect from your next bush trip.

 Greg Bryant SC480

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