A DAF semi-trailer, three Ford F-150s and a Baja-winning race ute rolling in convoy from Melbourne to Alice Springs. Some 2,300 kilometres through the heart of Australia – with one goal. From the rolling hills of SA’s Riverland to the parched red dirt of the NT, we help transport the Ford Ranger Raptor racing ute to the starting line of Finke Desert Race
For the uninitiated, Finke is Australia’s toughest off-road race, marked by bulldust-filled whoops that swallow entire cars and gruelling weather that spans four seasons in a day.
Thick ochre-stained dust engulfs the track as vehicles launch two-at-a-time into a full-speed race against the clock, and each other, some 226 kilometres from Alice Springs to Finke (Aputula) – and back again.
Imagine driving through thick red fog, surrounded by trees, dodging deep ruts and whoops, and doing it at 10-tenths pace.
Trucks also travel the rural tracks throughout the Territory, and outback truckies know this area better than most. They don’t do 250 clicks across the desert, but they too know bulldust and weather that turns on a dime.
Some teams actually remove the shocks and put old ones in for the journey there.
The job of a truck driver is similar to a racer, in a sense, aiming to get from A-to-B without a second wasted. It’s a case of the tortoise and hare, though, because while many racers don’t finish Finke – due to mechanical failures or an ‘off’ – truckies rarely come up short.
Slow and steady wins the race in the road transport game, so when Ford Australia asked if we’d like to see how the other half do things, the answer was absolutely!
Day One
We meet the Walkinshaw Performance team, tasked with transporting the Raptor for Ford Performance, at its facility in Clayton before the sun rises. For those who remember, which is probably most of you, Walkinshaw started life as HSV. The iconic Australian manufacturer was formed after Holden and Peter Brock had their famous falling out – over ‘healing crystals’ no less. That’s a story worth googling, by the way.
We set off around 6am, after checking over the trailers and filling the water tanks. The team is quietly excited, but also undoubtedly nervous about whether they’ve packed everything – surely someone has forgotten their toothbrush or a 10mm socket.
It’s a tight-knit group, made up of engineer Nick Verboeket and his brother Shannon, mechanic David Elliot, and engineer-come-truck-driver Ashan Pieries.
The convoy travelled 2,300km through the heart of Australia to deliver the ute to the Finke start line
As is often the case in racing, the crew is made up of employees and call-ins whose roles all mesh into one. The common thread is that they’re all motorsport-obsessed.
As we take a left onto the Monash, after a weary-eyed twilight run through Melbourne’s western suburbs, we pass the birthplace of HSV at Notting Hill. David, or ‘Gov’ (short for Gov’ner) as he’s known in racing circles, turns to tell me it’s where he worked on the VL Group A back in ‘88, shortly after emigrating to Australia from the UK.
“There’s actually a couple of Group A VLs with dents in the boot from where we ‘clearanced’ them for big racing tyres,” Gov recalls.
“I’m not sure if the owners would have noticed it, but they’d still be out there. They only made 500 after all.”
Gov and I are pulling a two-axle car trailer, the Raptor peeking at us through the rear window, while further back in the convoy a brand-new Road Owl camper van is hitched to one of the other F-150s. A third F-150 darts up and down the convoy, as our photographer snaps photos of the action from the passenger seat.
There’s a lot of courtesy involved and you find truck drivers have more of it than car drivers. They’ll wave you round and no one else seems to do that anymore – a lot of drivers just look after themselves.
The DAF CF semi-trailer joins us on the road, having departed from a different Walkinshaw site, carrying a Ford Transit van chock-full of tools, a shipping container loaded with every spare part imaginable and, much to our surprise, a full-size smoker. The 525hp DAF is overkill for the single trailer, effortlessly holding pace with the convoy.
While it may seem most logical to put the Raptor and tools on a truck from Melbourne to Alice Springs, the Walkinshaw Performance team is responsible for more than just transport. They handle end-to-end logistics and set-up for Ford Performance, and even fire up the smoker to prime the crew with slow-cooked meats during the race – talk about full service!
The reason for the F-150 utes is that the team needs to be able to transport the car and tools across the entire length of the race, running them at pace along the support track. Short of a Tatra 8×8, not much else comes close to an American pick-up truck for heavy off-road work like this.
Sitting behind the Raptor for a stint, it squats and bobs on the trailer in front, Fox suspension and custom bar work visible under the jacked-up rear end. Much of the bling on this race ute is under it, with shiny shocks and heavy-duty arms hinting at its serious off-road potential. The shiny fuel cell in the tray is the other giveaway.
“Some teams actually remove the shocks and put old ones in for the journey there,” Gov tells me. “You want them to be as fresh as possible and we drive carefully for that reason, so the shocks don’t do much work.”
The convoy passed through many rural towns along the Victoria-NSW border on its way into SA
We drive towards Bendigo, holding a steady pace in the three F-150’s. There’s less banter over the radio than we’re used to, so we bite our tongues. It’s a convoy of engineers, after all, so we’ll let them set the tone.
A quick stop at Woodend for fuel and to check the straps, and then it’s onto Sea Lake for more of the same. Jumping between the convoy at every chance, I’m now riding shotgun with Nick, who I can already tell is having a blast.
“I love it,” he says, smiling as he checks the convoy out in his side mirror. “You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t enjoy it, right? It’s hard work, but as an engineer, motorsport is just so fun.”
That’s a realisation Nick came to early on, having been involved in some form of motorsport at every juncture in his adult life. Formula 1 sidecars during his university years in New Zealand, self-funded track work in his Toyota MR2 after that, tinkering with two-stroke sport bikes like an RGV 250, and now major events like Finke Desert Race with Walkinshaw Performance.
“I did this trip last year too,” he says. “It’s good to be heading back because I love this side of the job.”
I kind of wish I was in a bonneted truck, though. It’s all Kenworths out here!
Driving towards the South Australian border on the Calder Highway, we detour at Ouyen – a name that’s easy to say and tricky to spell – for fuel, before shooting onto Red Cliffs, just outside the tri-state town of Mildura.
After passing through Mildura, we slow through the many rural towns along the Victoria-New South Wales border, on our way into South Australia.
The DAF leads the convoy now, with Ashan unencumbered by driving range, like the rest of us, but with a tight timeline to ensure he doesn’t max his driving hours.
“I’ll keep going while you fill up,” he radios. “You guys can catch up.”
It’s a straight shot across the border and onto our stop for the first night at Barmera, nestled alongside the stunning Lake Bonney some 200 kilometres north of Adelaide.
The 525hp DAF is overkill for the single trailer, effortlessly holding pace with the convoy
Many consider Barmera the jewel of the Riverland region, which we’d have to agree with. The sun sets over the convoy, parked up by the lake, a well-earned beer in hand.
“I’m really enjoying the DAF,” Ashan says, after parking up for the night. “It’s easy to drive and I especially like the radio.”
Probing further about the radio comment, which we found odd at first, Ashan informs us his day job is at Directed Technologies, as its engineering program manager. The same company that designed the radio for the DAF. Small world.
Day Two
We leave Barmera before sunrise, cutting through unusually thick fog as we drive north-west through South Australia. Rolling hills turn to arid plains, as we make our way towards the Northern Territory.
I ride with Gov, closely trailing the DAF, as we settle into bouts of silence followed by excitable ‘car chat’. He shares his love for Detroit Diesel two strokes, Rolls Royce Merlins and even talks me through a recent Hudson straight-eight rebuild he took on for a guy who couldn’t find anyone else who would touch it.
It’s big rig country out here, with a healthy supply of Kennys, Stars and Macks carting serious freight along the Track.
“He called me the first day he drove it to tell me how hard the motor pulled,” Gov says, clearly proud of the performance he elicited from the old engine. “Turns out it made so much power the owner lost it in the wet!”
He’s quick to bring up another project he’s working on, being that he’s a huge Elfin Sports Cars fan and a well-known name among owners of the obscure Australia brand.
“Right now I’m rebuilding a Repco-Brabham 4.4-litre V8, for an Elfin 400, and I’ll overhaul the Hewland gearbox while I’m at it,” he tells me, noticing my interest with the mention of ‘Repco’. “Oh, it’s from a time when Repco did engines too. They did parts, built their own engines, the lot of it.”
I could talk engines with Gov all day, but it’s time to stop for fuel (again). The tow vehicles are averaging between 30-35L/100km – right up on the weights. This gets us around 300-350 kilometres between fills, of course not wanting to run them too close to empty.
It’s three degrees as we roll into Burra to fill up, our numb hands clutching yet another fuel nozzle.
The iconic Stuart Highway is a long, desolate arterial that runs from Port Augusta to Darwin
Ashan tells me the DAF is averaging 45L/100km, which isn’t much more than the yank tanks – however, it’s “pretty light”, as he puts it.
“It’s got heaps of power, so it’s pretty easy to keep up with you guys,” he tells me through the window.
As we make our way to Port Augusta, a flapping strap is a good excuse to stretch the legs. When the cargo is a race ute that has to turn up in perfect condition, we’d rather stop and check the straps than worry.
“I’ve got respect for the truckies on trips like this,” Gov tells me as a truckie gives us a two-finger wave from the side of the road. “You’ve got to work with each other out here. There’s a lot of courtesy involved and you find truck drivers have more of it than car drivers. They’ll wave you round and no one else seems to do that anymore.”
Giant wind turbines tower over the land around Port Augusta, dotted across Flinders Ranges in the distance. It’s unsurprising they’re here, because it’s flat, windy and there’s no shortage of space.
I’ve got respect for the truckies on trips like this. You’ve got to work with each other out here.
Once in Port Augusta a small crowd assembles around the trucks, most eyeing off the Raptor but some eyeing the F-150s that are still a new sight in Australia. This is the first time we’ve been stopped by a crowd of race fans, but it won’t be the last.
There isn’t much between Port Augusta and Coober Pedy, bar a short detour to Woomera if we end up needing fuel. It looks likely we will, unless a mighty tailwind helps us along.
We’re now on the iconic Stuart Highway, which is a long, desolate arterial that runs from Port Augusta to Darwin, known to many as ‘the track’. It’s one of the straightest, longest continuous sections of road in the country, passing through iconic rural towns like Katherine and Tennant Creek.
The Royal Flying Doctor Service even uses designated sections of the highway for emergency landings, which puts into perspective just how rural this stretch is. It’s also rare to spot the constabulary, who tend to leave the Stuart alone.
Along this stretch the roadside terrain appears to remain static, as if on a giant bitumen treadmill. It isn’t boring, but don’t eat a carby lunch or fixate on a caravan ahead because it’s a lot of the same. Music and good company help keep us alert, with the Walkinshaw fellas ticking the latter box.
There isn’t much between Port Augusta and Coober Pedy, bar a detour to Woomera if we need fuel
We drive. Drive some more. And keep on driving. The fleet of F-150s charge down the dead-straight road, crossing the desert at an admirable pace. Caravans don’t stand a chance as we thunder past. The 110km/h speed limit isn’t kind to those towing, but American pick-ups are the exception.
“They just want to keep going,” Nick tells me, accelerating up to speed with the caravan in tow. “There’s no shortage of power.”
It’s big rig country out here though, with a healthy supply of Kennys, Stars and Macks carting serious freight along the Track. Big bangers reign supreme and we can’t help but wish we were in the cab of one right now.
“It’s a really smooth section of road, I’m loving it,” says Ashan from the truck, rubbing it in, as he leads the convoy. “I kind of wish I was in a bonneted truck, though. It’s all Kenworths out here!”
We reach Coober Pedy – the ‘opal capital of the world’ – by nightfall and suddenly our convoy blends in as race car transporters fill the streets of the old mining town.
I love it. You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t enjoy it, right? It’s hard work, but as an engineer, motorsport is just so fun.
It’s a flat town, baked orange in every direction, relatively untainted by buildings. Back when Coober Pedy was populated, locals opted for ‘dugouts’ to avoid the blistering heat, so much of the town is underground. By day it resembles a giant machinery boneyard, which explains how it ended up in films like Mad Max (the old one).
Day Three
Getting ready to set off on day three, with Alice Springs in our sights, we strike (double) trouble. One of the fellas has woken up crook, which means a quick hospital stop and, to top things off, the DAF has a flat tyre on the rear trailer axle. We drive to the one tyre shop in town, only to find it’s closed. A call to the owner, who was not happy to be woken, leaves us stranded with a timeframe of “I’ll be there when I’m there”.
When he does decide to turn up we are called a variety of colourful names for waking him. He tells us to “bugger off” and leave him to work, but reminds us “it’ll cost extra for parking a truck in my driveway”. Not that there’s another customer in sight, or anywhere else to park a truck. We’re in the bush, so we’ll play by his rules.
Finally, we’re back on the road, some four hours later, a grand poorer for the new tyre and (likely) ‘wake-up fee’ tacked onto the invoice.
Our first stop is Cadney Homestead, where the coffee is hot and the beer is cold – or so the signs on the road tell us, spaced apart every 200 metres to lure in thirsty travellers. Sadly, it’s only coffee and unleaded for us at this stop.
Getting ready to set off on day three, with Alice Springs in our sights, we strike (double) trouble
We realise further north at Marlow, after fuelling up and checking Google Maps, that we aren’t going to make the four-and-a-half hour straight shot into Alice.
The unladen F-150 will easily do it, averaging 11L/100km, but the other two are loaded to the brim and range is a concern. Short of syphoning fuel from one of the many upturned, burnt-out commodores on the roadside, we won’t make it on a 136-litre tank. Jerry cans it is – hopefully 40 litres will do us.
The Stuart doesn’t change much, but feels a little more desolate every 100 kilometres or so, as we venture deeper into the desert. As the Northern Territory border draws closer, there’s nothing to do now but drive. Big bangers are replaced by a sea of smaller transporters and car trailers. We’re getting close.
On a side note, the food along the Stuart Highway isn’t too bad, which leads me to think outback truckies are better fed than their interstate counterparts. There’s the usual assortment of fried delicacies tempting you from behind the warm glass of a bain-marie, but there’s also home-style meals and a decent cup of coffee at most roadhouses out here.
As far as I can remember, the Golden Arches don’t appear once on the Stuart Highway, between Port Augusta and Alice Springs, which is refreshing.
It’s a big investment of time and money and effort and brain damage to come and do races like this.
Driving across the Northern Territory border, the collective mood lifts as we near our final stop. The arid landscape changes quite dramatically as we drive through the gorges south of Alice Springs, due to all the recent rain. Light-barked trees replace woody shrubs, and signs of life emerge as herds of Drought Masters wander the roadside. It’s tough going for cattle out here, forced to scour the red dirt for patches of grass.
The Stuart Range pokes its head up in the distance, a reminder that we’re around 100 kilometres out of Alice. Sometimes the last hour is the toughest, as we start counting the minutes.
Finally, we roll into Alice Springs and by now it’s dark. We’re all knackered, so we plan to be up at dawn to unpack, set up camp and that’s when we will see the fellas off. Aside from Ashan, who has earnt the bunk in the DAF, the team sleeps in swags at a property just outside of town.
Pre-race goodbyes
Local off-road racing legends Jamie and Jordan Lawson – a father and son team that competes in a tube-framed VE Commodore ute – opened up their shed and yard to the Ford and Walkinshaw crews after meeting them at the race last year. “I’m so excited to help these guys out, because production cars need to make a comeback – you know, cars that are real cars,” Jordan says.
“I was racing last year when Ford came up to us, because we’d done pretty well in Prologue (the off-road racing equivalent of qualifying). They came up to say they were worried about us, but we had a $15,000 car so we knew we wouldn’t keep up once they hit the woops. We got chatting and I told them they could stay here and use our shed and tools next time – so here we are.”
It’s big rig country out here, with a healthy supply of Kennys, Stars and Macks carting freight
His old man, Jamie Lawson, is actually the man behind the long-standing Road Boss Rally, and before it the Great Endeavour Rally founded by his father back in ‘88, raising money for charity through rugged cross-country adventures.
Ford Performance drivers Brad and Byam Lovell – also a father and son team – are gearing up to start pre-running the 226-kilometre Finke track. They’re hungry for another win, determined as they come, and reckon a production car record could also be on the cards this year.
“It’s a big investment of time and money and effort and brain damage to come and do races like this,” Brad laughs.
“Whether it’s Baja or Finke, we’re racing to win. So yeah, I do think we can win and we’re hoping to get a record. You can’t control everything in a race, but if we have a good day it’s something that’s attainable.”
The father-son duo tell us that despite their shared DNA, when they buckle up it’s all business. They’ve got one job to do once the hammer drops: win.
Being able to put our differences behind us, being able to move on quickly from disagreements, that’s crucial.
“We have to put that relationship aside, because both of us need to have an equal amount of say in the car,” Byam says.
“Being able to put our differences behind us, being able to move on quickly from disagreements, that’s crucial.”
Just like that, our time with Walkinshaw and Ford is over. We bid our farewells, over a schooner at the nearby Alice Springs Brewing Co, and wish them luck – promising to pray to the gods of speed.
Trucks travel these roads day in, day out, and have done so for nearly a century. They’re still king of the outback, but for one weekend a year racers rule the red centre. We’re glad we got to see how the other half do it.
At the time of writing, we received word that the Raptor crossed the finish line in first place, winning the production class at Finke.
