Healey's Across Australia
From Sydney to the National Rally
Albany WA - April 2004
Friday, March 26th, was the beginning of our 8,700km, 19 day road trip from Sydney to Albany and back via Broken Hill,
Adelaide, Hay and many places in between. It was to be a father and son bonding session with my dad, Ernie,
sharing the driving.
Instead of boring you with lots of town names and “next we did this and he/she did this” I’ll try to add a
bit of the real enjoyment of the trip – the humour, friendship and non driving experiences encountered along
the way. I’ll include a summary of the Rally which of course was the pretence under which we abandoned
reason and common sense to make this journey in 40+ year old English sports cars. But that will be in future chapters.
Chapter One
We dutifully met up with John and Carolyn Kent and Graeme and Glenda Degotardi at Lithgow at around
9.30am on Friday morning. Barry Roulsten from Trangie had rung me the night before warning us of the
impending attack of grass hoppers (thanks Barry for the warning). At Molong the little devils appeared and by the
time we stopped at Wellington to put a mesh screen over
Graeme’s grill they were thick on the ground, thick in the
air and thick on the cars. Cobar was our destination on day one and we got to see most of the towns in between
as we had to stop at each for a cool drink (it was 38 degrees in Cobar when we arrived), a stretch and most
importantly to clear the bug screens of layers of grass hoppers. Based on the sound they make when they hit
the windscreen, I firmly believe they have a Kamikazee squad who all eat tiny stones before hurling themselves
in the path of oncoming vehicles. These were no pigmy grass hoppers either, they were full size, about two and a
half inches long. Cobar was a welcome sight after that first full day. The motel pool beckoned some while the bar
fridge offered the necessary relief for others.
Our Queensland companions arrived at around 7.00pm, after a delayed start to their day, due to a
mischievous harmonic balancer on Peter Janetzki’s BJ8. A total of five banana vehicles joined our convoy,
Peter and Rod Sheppard (Qld President) in Peter’s BJ8, Noel and Helen Standfast (BN7), Phil Alder and daughter
Matilda (BJ8), Bob Case (BN4) and Howard and Carol Prior (TR3A).
By this time we were all hungry so we headed for the local Bowling Club. Graeme Degotardi has a thing
about oysters, he even enjoys them for desert! He tried to tell us that the kitchen made a mistake and brought
them out late but we now know it was no mistake. Graeme and oysters were to have an ongoing love late
(yes with an L) relationship all trip.
An early start was agreed for the half day run into Broken Hill. I drew the short straw to lead and we
were about 50 kilometres out of town when skippy paid us a visit. We were at our cruising speed of 110km/h
when a warning from the passenger’s seat alerted me to the bouncing shape off to our right. Knowing how
unpredictable these native creatures are I lifted off at the precise moment skippy decided to turn left across
our path. I always said that the brake booster I fitted to my car would come in handy one day.
I STOOD ON EVERYTHING and we missed by a tail. John and Carolyn witnessed our little moment of excitement,
to the point of almost catching up too quickly. A few deep breaths and we all continued, with eyes peeled for
any more moving obstacles.
We passed through many dying country towns on our trip, none as sad as Wilcannia. To see what was
once a prosperous rural centre containing some magnificent period sandstone architecture reduced to metal
shutters and security grills is a tragedy. Modern road transport has brought about the end of these towns
but those who still live there, should, I believe, try to look after the heritage. Unfortunately the inhabitants
of Wilcannia appear to have other priorities.
Broken Hill was reached without further excitement. A lunch time arrival allowed a bit of sight seeing.
Some visited Pro Hart’s Gallery, others went out to Silverton while dad and I decided on the old south
mine from which you get a panoramic view of Broken Hill and surrounds – an oasis of green in a sea of red.
The carpark was large and almost empty so I decided to hide in the far corner away from trouble. The only
problem was I was followed by an excited gentleman in an XD Falcon who’s brother’s girlfriend’s, second
cousin on his uncle’s side, owned a Healey back in the sixties. He had seen us arrive earlier in the day and had
been trying to track us down. After the normal pleasantries he resolved to visit the
Broken Hill Hilton (tongue
firmly in cheek), where we were staying, to see all the other cars. If it wasn’t obvious to me before, it is now
clear that the best way to advertise and promote our cars is to get them out of the garage and drive them.
The spark that they ignite in people is a joy to see. If only a small percentage of these people one day buy a
Healey then our clubs’ collective future is assured. Most people were both shocked and impressed that we
would drive these cars across the country.
Graeme ordered oysters for dinner.
Did I mention my battery had started to play-up in Cobar? Well, day three started with a push to
get going and by lunch at Port Augusta we had bought and fitted a new battery. Has anyone else noticed
batteries these days have a life equal to the warranty period plus one day and when they die they go
instantly without much warning?
The portion of our trip from Broken Hill to Port Augusta was, in a word, HOT. Northerly winds across our
bow and a warm outback sun had all the temperature gauges edging up passed 200 degrees. An air
conditioned roadhouse lunch and gallons of Sports Plus helped. With eight cars it was impossible to all
stay together so we arrived in Port Augusta at different intervals. Bob Case volunteered to let the rear
guard know what was happening, while the lead cars went off to find suitable fuel and yours truly to buy
and fit a new battery. What we didn’t know was that the rear guard had already declared it too hot and
stopped for lunch well before schedule. In the confusion poor Bob was left alone wondering if he needed
new deodorant. Mobile phones are good but when everyone is ringing each other all you get is an engaged signal!
All was resolved and we headed off under a cloudy sky, at least it would be cooler! It sure was cooler and
wetter. The tail end of a cyclone from north west W.A. had made it down to the Eyre Peninsula and dumped the
Indian Ocean on us. It seemed odd that we cooked in the morning and had to stop for a hot chocolate in the
afternoon to keep warm. We arrived damp and cool at our planned stop over, Wudinna (pronounced
Wood-a-na – as we were informed) a small wheat town about half way between Port Augusta and
Ceduna. Noel and Helen from Queensland were determined to travel across Australia with the hood down. They
arrived at Wudinna with their goal intact - and their clothes dripping wet. Healey owners are a hardy bunch!
We were now half way across Australia.
Graeme ordered oysters for dinner.
I would have to describe the next morning’s stint as one of the best drives I have ever experienced in my
Healey. The skies had cleared, the road was very good, undulating curves and relatively empty, the temperature
was just right for SU’s and the scenery was spectacular. For some reason, which I can’t quite put my finger on,
we reached Ceduna about half an hour ahead of schedule – a mystery to me, officer. All the drivers had a smile
on their dials and the passengers had white knuckles.
From Ceduna it was on to the Nullarbor, the Great Australian Bight and Western Australia for our
overnight stay. What did we see and do on the way?
Chapter Two
Ceduna is the last real piece of civilization before the long straights and poor vegetation of the Nullabor.
Peter J from Queensland had to stop and replace a tyre tube at Ceduna after a flat the day before (this
would become a common theme with the soft models for the next few days). His harmonic balancer
was loose again so he and Rod were taking it easy while thinking of the best time, place and method of
fixing the problem once and for all.
The whole convoy set off as one out of Ceduna heading for Yalata about two hours down the road.
This is the stretch of road that sees the wheat belt give way to the arid plains. The occasional road houses
are the only chance for rest or any sort of sustenance. It is surprising how friendly people become at these.
Every time we stopped someone would approach one of us with a question on what type of cars we were
driving or where we were headed. Mind you we also approached any interesting people ourselves. On one
occasion we talked to a small group of bike riders who had been to some east coast event and were trekking
back to the west. Both bikes had two people and a small trailer for the luggage. If you think riding in, and packing,
a Healey for this sort of trip is hard, spare a thought for the bike riders. No weather protection, even less
space for clothes and spares and I can’t imagine how it feels on one of those things when a road train
comes past at 120km/h!
There was some debate at our lunch break regarding where to stop and view the cliffs of the Great
Australian Bight. We finally resolved that we would use the free lookouts “just past” the Nullabor Roadhouse.
On this trip the words “just past” usually meant about “100 kilometres past”. We eventually found the camera
signs that indicate you should stop and take a picture. The view of the Bight was a highlight of our trip. A
word like spectacular only goes so far in describing the view and cameras cannot really show the grandeur
and scale of the place. The Kent’s decided to be unsociable and took off ahead of the pack. The picture
they eventually took made us all regret we didn’t follow them as they found a track which got their car
close to the edge and this picture shows what a sight it was.
All cars arrived at Eucla around 3.30pm local time. Most of us took the chance to visit the old telegraph
station and jetty which is located down the hill near the beach. The ruins of the telegraph station are all
that remain of the old village which shipped wool and other produce and serviced the local farmers, until
the early 1900’s when the telegraph station closed. Shipping produce from this area would be hard work
today, let alone 100+ years ago! The durability of our forefathers was astonishing. Eucla is now a quiet
place with only the motel/caravan park/service station/restaurant to feed the never ending stream of
weary Travellers. You have to be quick though - dinner is from 6.00pm to 7.00pm. I think Graeme had oysters.
Eucla to Norseman was our longest day on the trip across, 712 kilometres including the longest
stretch of straight road in Australia. It is a short 90 miles long and we believe the only reason a curve
was eventually made is because the chief road engineer feared for his job after 90 miles of doing nothing.
The motel at Norseman was, to be polite, basic, however the restaurant proved to be a revelation. We all
gathered at 6.30pm for our evening session of lies and story telling from the day’s driving adventures. Some
people took advantage of the well stocked buffet while others ordered what we thought would be light meals.
Carolyn Kent had a Chicken Schnitzel; the only problem was that it included almost a whole boned chicken.
I ordered a Caesar Salad for entree and Lamb Rump for a main. I got the salad in an overflowing 14 inch bowl
at the same time as my lamb rump arrived. And, as in Carolyn’s case of a “whole chicken” schnitzel, I got the
“whole lamb” rump. True to our group etiquette, Graeme and Glenda’s meals didn’t turn up and when they
did the sizes were consistent with the first arrivals. Graeme almost got his oysters for dessert again.
The following day was our “insurance day” for the trip. Spare time just in case of delays. A short two hour
run to Esperance which allowed us to do some sight seeing and have a relaxing afternoon. Peter and Rod
had continued on from Norseman the night before to give themselves a full day to repair the harmonic
balancer properly. Hence the term “insurance day”. The rest of us looked around town and we all gave
the cars a good hose off at the local coin operated wash bays. For the whole trip we had filled with fuel
each evening ready for an early start the next morning. So we duly located the best fuel and topped up.
The young pin cushion (too much piercing for my liking) in the local BP was excited to see such a “sick”
looking car. His questioning went something like;
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Q: What sort of car is it?
A: Austin Healey.
Q: Do they still make them?
A: No, not for over 35 years.
Q: What does it have in it? Pointing at my car.
A: Three litre straight six. I guessed that was what he meant.
Q: How fast can they cruise?
A: At the speed limit, 110km/h. (just in case the local off duty officer was also around)
Q: Do you have anything left for overtaking?
A: Just a little, they’ll do 100mph plus if you want to.
Q: How far have you come?
A: From Sydney.
NO WAY MAN, THAT’S THE SICKEST THING I’VE HEARD IN AGES.
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At that point I was about seven feet tall and rather proud. But I did have to think about the translation.
Later in the afternoon we came across a group of five cars from the Victorian club who were looking for a
place to stay. We all ended up at the same motel which made the owners’ very excited and brought out the
camera for their reception brag wall.
You may recall from Chapter One, that young Matilda Alder was travelling across with her dad, Phil. Matilda
was a real trooper, putting up with all these grown-ups behaving like children. Well, our day in Esperance
was her ninth birthday and we decided to have a BBQ party in her honour. It was a great night, with everyone
enjoying the party hats and whistles as well as a very nice meal ably prepared and co-ordinated by Carolyn
and Glenda. Graeme was disappointed we did not have oysters that night. The Ice-cream cake made up for it though.
Finally, our last day had arrived. Esperance to Albany and our rally destination. A little over 450 kilometres
of wheat farms and some very slow grain trucks. These vehicles had three trailers and were full both ways so,
no matter what, you were going to get slowed down at some point. I already had somewhat of a dislike for
them as one had thrown up a stone and put a nice bullet hole shaped chip in my windscreen the day before.
Our cleaning in Esperance caught up with Graeme at Ravensthorpe, our first fuel stop. Graeme had given
his car a thorough clean and check over, even removing the dizzy cap and rotor for an inspection.
MENTAL NOTE TO ALL MEMBERS - Everyone please remember to put your rotor on properly. If you don’t,
they break and you almost get left behind in the south west corner of Australia.
A spare was quickly fitted and Graeme and John K enjoyed their little game of catch-up.
A group of us took the long way to Albany via Borden and the Stirling Ranges. It was good to see
some decent hills at last. On the way we stopped for lunch at a Dutch windmill. What is a
Dutch windmill
doing in such a remote part of the country, I hear you ask? Extremely good question, but it is there none-the-less.
We arrived in Albany mid afternoon with a real sense of achievement. For Ernie and me it represented
the half way mark in our trip. We still had to get back across this vast and inhospitable land but at least we had
all made it with, relatively, little drama. Peter Janetzki’s trip was far from trouble free and in fact he went on to
win the Hard Luck trophy for the rally. One thing was proven however. No matter what went wrong, the car
could be repaired and on the road again without major drama or delay. We passed a few modern cars on the
trip with their bonnets up going nowhere fast. Once your computer chip goes it's tilt tray time.
We still had one more surprise in store for us. As we expertly navigated (guessed) our way through
Albany to the hotel we saw a Healey approaching. Not totally unexpected as the rally was in town.
What was unexpected was that we immediately recognised it as our own Murray Streeter. Murray had
decided to attend and had driven over alone about 10 days earlier. So now the “AHOC NSW Inc” had six
people attending the Rally with 100% vehicle attendance. Not a large contingent but we were all happy to be there.
All that remained was to give the cars another good clean and await the Rally.
Chapter Three
So, our convoy successfully arrived in Albany on Thursday afternoon – April 1st by some strange coincidence.
We began unpacking and tidying up after 6 days on the road, then we had a relaxing afternoon. As mentioned
earlier we came across Murray Streeter upon our arrival in Albany. Apparently Murray
had an urge to drive his car to Albany and had made the trip alone some days before everyone else. Murray
gave us all the low-down on Albany and even had a deal with the local car wash bay for us to take advantage of.
As usual the Rally officially started on Friday afternoon with registration including the obligatory regalia
and raffle sales. This is the first chance everyone has to meet and greet old friends and introduce ourselves
to new ones. The whole rally was themed around the whaling history of Albany with “sailors” and "wenches"
everywhere at the Friday night’s welcome party held, appropriately, in a boat restoration shed. The WA club
had created a running competition for the length of the Rally. The first challenge was to guess what was
wrapped in brown paper at the party. After much consternation and a little bribery we were all confident that
we still had no idea what we fondled – fortunately no one was arrested. A great ice breaker for the Rally.
Saturday started with the car display adjacent to Albany’s enormous harbour, at the end of the main street.
It was good to see so much local interest in the event. I understand the W.A. club had a PR shoot with the local
TV so this probably helped. The afternoon was optional with either a self guided tour or a motorkana. The tour
included a visit to the old whaling station which only closed in 1978. Those guys worked hard! An interesting
point which the guide made on our tour was that the town now makes more money out of whale watching
than it ever did out of whale killing. Go figure! Keeping to the theme for the Rally, Saturday was a pirate
fancy dress dinner at the local sailing club. Now, packing a Healey with spares and clothes for a return
trip across the country does mean that you have to be a little creative (and broad minded) about the
costumes you take. While we didn’t get the prize for the
best costume all our club’s attendees were far
from disgraced.
Sunday was a non speed navigation event which included “tulip” instructions and some cryptic questions.
While my dad, Ernie, knows a great deal about Healeys he wouldn’t know a tulip from a pansy, so, I navigated,
Ernie drove and mum sat up in the back looking for the answers to the questions. With this trio we were happy
just to make it to the winery and final picnic destination. A quiet afternoon followed in preparation for the formal
dinner. The West Australian club did a superb job in dressing the room for this dinner. A pirate's cave opened
out into a large display of cars surrounding the tables all still themed perfectly with nautical paraphernalia. Peter
Janetzki deservedly won the hard luck trophy for his arduous trip. Rod Sheppard, Queensland President, won
the Alan Jones Memorial trophy as national club member of the year. Congratulations Rod and, as I understand
it, well deserved.
Monday’s farewell was held at the old fort on top of the hill overlooking the bay. This fort was the
staging point for the first detachment of Australian and New Zealand forces sent to the Middle East during
World War One. This consisted of some 30,000 soldiers including the troops who would soon fight in Gallipoli.
Albany was to be the last piece of Australia many of these brave souls would see. Appropriately, the
fort is
now a memorial and museum dedicate to the memory of all service personnel.
After a repack and check Ernie and I, together with Bob Case from Queensland, turned right and headed
for home. The return trip via Norseman, Eucla and Kimba to Adelaide was relatively uneventful with the exception
of more grass hoppers just out of Balladonia in WA, a very stubborn Wedge Tail Eagle who was not going to
leave its meal for anyone, and a very wide load which we had to pass twice - once in the evening just before
our stop and again the next morning. There are plenty of moving obstacles on the highway, not all of them alive.
We took advantage of the Healey Hilton in Adelaide with the generous hospitality of Grant and Bronte
Trotter. In fact many of the S.A. members came out to welcome us and the Victorian team who arrived the
same day via train. A convoy of Healeys went up to Mallala on the Saturday of Easter. Two of the ERA’s which
were at Phillip Island and the Grand Prix had stayed on for this event. Unfortunately, one of them ate its
gearbox in the first race. I imagine this meant it would be an expensive trip down under for the owner.
Sunday included a visit to the national motor museum at Birdwood in the Adelaide hills. A most impressive
collection of all sorts of cars, motorbikes and trucks, but much to our dismay, no Healeys. Perhaps a little
lobbying is required.
Sunday was to be our last day in Adelaide and as mentioned the S.A. club made us all feel welcome with a
dinner at John and Jenny Read’s house. I’m not sure how many BBQ chickens we consumed but it must have
been less than the bottles/cans which were consumed.
We set off on Monday morning for Hay and then home via Gundagai on Tuesday. What an adventure.
We all know driving a Healey on open roads over any distance can be a great pleasure. Driving for over two
weeks across a continent and back is a once in a lifetime experience. I recommend it to all enthusiasts.
Do it at least once.
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Some Stats:
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Distance travelled:
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8913 kms (5,500 miles)
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Fuel used:
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965.6 Litres (212 Gal.)
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Average price per litre:
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$1.13
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Highest price per litre:
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$1.48
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Miles per gallon:
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26
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Bottles of Lead Supreme:
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2 (needed 4)
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Other Stats:
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Litre of Water consumed
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See fuel used
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Tyre Tubes used by John Kent
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43
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Dozen oysters consumed by Graeme Degotardi
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43
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Bird Strikes
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4
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Near misses with wild life
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6 (incl. one Echidna)
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Number of Grass Hoppers killed
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Lost count at 500,000
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Number of people who asked questions of us
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12
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Number of ear plugs used (three guys one room)
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6 pairs
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Dingoes spotted
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2 live / 1 dead
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Wedge Tail Eagles spotted
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26
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Wedge Tail Eagles that cared who we were
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0
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Stephen (in love with my car) Clark.
For some pictures of the rally, please click here.
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