The River Road

 

After some time we found ourselves at Dwelingup, a small town Southeast of Perth. As always we sought out the road less travelled out of town, and followed a track winding beside the Murray river.

It had rained recently and there were some bog holes in the track filled with water, but the majority of it was a bit rough, but dry. Meandering along the river bank, passing some clear spots in the vegetation, giving us a glimpse of the river surging over rocks and gliding past the muddy banks, it was an enjoyable drive.

Enjoyable, that is, until, we came to a stretch in the track, covered in water. With a false sense of security, I ploughed straight in and got half way across then came to an abrupt halt.

The wheel ruts of previous vehicles had dug deep into the mud and I had slipped into these ruts with the diffs dragging on the centre hump. Not to mention, poor old Ned wasn’t even in 4wd.

Nothing for it but to get out and start digging. I could back up enough to start digging where the front diff had dug itself in deep enough to stop Ned in his tracks, so I dug a trench from there to the point where the ruts got shallow, throwing the mud into the deepest rut. After some time, and Ned now in 4wd, we were able to drive out.

Continuing up the track, it was getting late in the day, so when we came to a clearing beside the river we pulled in and camped up.

Just as well, a bit further up the track were two more bog holes, these ones much deeper and no way around. I walked these and discovered the wheel ruts were up to my thighs and full of muddy water. It was doable, if I stayed on the high points between the ruts and didn’t slip off and dig the diffs in as before.

We stayed there for a few days and I spent my time walking the bogs and picking my line through as well as throwing what rocks I could find into the deepest spots. I also took the front hubs apart on Ned as I had been hearing a loud squeak when braking. I cleaned all break parts and repacked the wheel bearings with fresh grease and put it all back together.

After a few days of nervous thoughts of worst case scenarios, we were ready to head off again. Crawling up to the first bog hole, we lined ourselves up and with Din holding tight and screaming COME ON NED, we dove in. With water spraying out the sides from the tyres we managed to stick to the high bits and cruised through. Hooting and laughing we pulled up to the next and last hole.

This was the deepest and most worrying one. Studding the best line to take, we again plunged into the mire. All was well, till a meter or so from the end, when Ned slipped into the deep ruts. Fortunately we had enough momentum to claw our way to dry ground. Another burst of sequels and laughter and we were on our way.