Uneasy rider
By David Whitley | theage.com.au | 13 May
Oh dear. The smooth, sweeping dunes appear to have turned into little bumpy ridges and the bike clatters over the top like a drunk walking a tightrope. I'm unquestionably going a bit too fast and as one ridge turns into a vegetation-covered mound, the inevitable occurs.
The trusty steed careers away from beneath me, still going at full pelt towards the horizon as I tumble away at 45 degrees. P-tooh - there's nothing like a mouthful of sand to curb the more hoonish instincts.
I leap up, meerkat-like, and it quickly becomes apparent that major embarrassment has been avoided. Those in front aren't looking behind and the stragglers at the tail have their view obscured by the sandy peak in front of them. No one saw and thus it didn't happen.
This narrow escape acts as a reminder that quad bikes are not quite the fail-safe fairground ride that it's forgiveable to imagine them to be. In truth, the little chuggers haven't got all that much grunt but still enough to bring on a nasty injury if they're totally misused.
Far more humiliating than falling off, however, is not being able to make it up the hills. Stockton Bight is a large step above the usual beach. Stretched over 32 kilometres between Stockton and Anna Bay, it is the largest moving sand mass in the southern hemisphere. Because the sands are moving small distances inland every year, some seriously steep dunes have been created and the effect is an almost Saharan landscape.
Big dune and little bike is an occasionally dicey combination. To get up the steeper inclines, a bit of a run-up and substantial momentum from having whizzed down theprevious one are required. But, despite having gone at full pelt over the last stretch, my bike simply won't go those extra yards over the crest at one point. That extra pie for lunch was probably a bad idea.
Glenn, our guide, displays masterly diplomacy when explaining the problem. "Ah yes. This is a brand new bike, mate. The tyre pressure's probably a bit too high."
The tour, which weaves through extraordinary desert valleys as well as over wind-blown peaks, starts off on a different vehicle altogether. A big, bouncy four-wheel-drive truck is used to give a taster and take the willing victims to their mounts for the afternoon.
After a bobbing, bumping ride along the beach, we come to a coned-off practice area. This is the initial playground in which utter novices can get to grips with the bikes. It's astonishingly simple, really. One button turns them on, the accelerator needs constant compression from the right thumb and the steering and brakes are similar to those on a pushbike. Then just lean into the corners and off you go. It's not long before the initially timid are haring down the steepest part of the practice run, doing doughnuts and taking on tight corners with that thumb jammed down as hard as possible.
It's a tour in a very loose sense of the word. There's no requirement to follow in the lead bike's tyre tracks, just in vaguely the same direction. Glenn takes a suggested route but the more confident riders happily veer off to take on virgin territory and mix things up a bit.
At the occasional stops for the pack to catch up, there are brief lessons on history and culture. The area was given back to its Aboriginal owners last year, then leased back and there are still many significant sites and middens within the dunes.
There's also an important military history, which is unsurprising given the nearby Williamtown air base. During World War II, the beach was thought to be the most likely Japanese landing spot for a planned assault on Sydney.
It was heavily fortified and had such a staggering troop deployment along its length that the Japanese thought better of it. A couple of submarines managed to make a reconnaissance and quickly scurried away again, firing on Newcastle's Fort Scratchley as a diversion.
Eventually, we come across a rather surprising settlement. Among the dunes are a few corrugated iron shacks, albeit ones with satellite dishes adorning the sides, which give Tin City its name. This ramshackle town was used as a key location in Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.
The story of Tin City's four remaining residents is a hilarious tale of stubborn resistance. On numerous occasions, local councils have tried to get rid of the "eyesore" and created a series of regulations to make life as difficult as possible. Each time, the remaining shack-dwellers have managed to circumvent the rules, using all manner of ingenuity to make running repairs.
And long may they continue to be a pain in the backside.
The return journey is less convoluted but no less fun. It's time to speed along the packed sands of the beach, following in 4WD tracks as fast as possible and without taking out the innocent fishermen who look a little unnerved as we pass. They wouldn't be so jittery if they'd seen their tormentors face-down in the sand about half an hour earlier.
David Whitley travelled courtesy of Tourism NSW.
Quad Bike King's 2 1/2-hour Tin City Adventure Tour costs $130 and leaves from Anna Bay, Port Stephens, just over two hours' drive north of Sydney. Phone 4919 0088 or see www.quadbikeking.com.au.
First published by TheAge.com.au on May 13 2008
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