A few years ago, Peter Cameron, a Model A and Model T Queensland, club member decided to organize an outback T Model run to remote outback Cameron corner, where the borders of Qld., NSW and South Australia meet on the eastern edge of the Strzelecki Desert.  As soon as I heard of it, I contacted Peter for more information and asked the question, “Can I come along in my 1930 five window Coupe?”

​

At that stage, it was intended to be a T Model only event and if anything changed he would let me know.  Sometime later, the idea went on the back burner as every day things like work and family commitments took priority until the later part of 2017.  Then, once again, the dream began to stir Pete into having another look at it.  So the planning began in earnest, this time with an open invitation to other likeminded lunatics who had a yearning to see just what was over the next sand dune, while driving their old cars through the far outback

.

Along came 2018 and, all of a sudden, there were twenty-six or seven T Models, three Model A’s, a 1940’s Jeep and a Jail Bar ute signing up for the trip.  Cars came from NSW, Vic and Qld.  Then the master went to work.  Pete secured sponsorship and arranged a rally pack for each entry containing water bag, cap and flag, all embossed with details of our rally.

​

Accommodation and an exact route was decided and all towns, big or small, were contacted and made aware of our impending visits.  So, on Monday 25th June my good mate Ralph in his 1924 T truck and I began our first leg of the journey with a short stop at Clifton to change the first of quite a few flat tyres. Then on to our first night’s stop at the Cecil Plains pub.

​

On the road early the next day to Moonie, we met Lewis Jenkinsen from Kingaroy in his 1928 Tourer and back up family members Neil and Nicky, Richard and Marg. Anderson from Murwillumbah, our tour organiser Peter Cameron and wife Geraldine, who have been since promoted to Captain Pete and Lady Geraldine and our first of many roadside boil the billy lunchtime stops.  Ending the day in St George, we were scheduled to meet with the remainder of our Qld. contingent and spend the next twenty four hours checking vehicles, buying supplies and partaking in a few cleansing ales.

​

Thursday 28th:
After a line up along St George’s main street and questions and photos from many of the town’s locals, our now fifteen strong cavalcade was finally under way with Cunnamulla the next nights stop - distance 300 ks.  Once again, Captain Pete had a treat in store with a campfire get together and a bush poet.  All this was topped off with a few more drinks to celebrate Peter’s 60th birthday on a very nippy night.

​

Friday 29th :
A very cold morning but Ralph offered me the chance to warm up and, at the same time, learn a bit about Model T Fords.  Apparently, they are easier to start on a cold morning if one rear wheel is raised off the ground and, Ralph being wise to these little tricks, had made a special block of wood tapered at one end and a piece of two inch square tube for a levering bar to raise said wheel.

All he needed was some dill to get behind his car, place the timber in an upright position, place said bar over the timber and under the left hand side of the diff housing and, on the signal, “Ok now!!”, push down with all his might. When said wheel was in mid air and, with his face about two feet from ground height and in direct line with the back wheel with tread full of red muddy dirt, the elected sucker was to yell, “Righto mate”.  Result, a face and mouth full of red mud.  Guess who he graciously gave the job to?

​

Lunch at interesting Eulo.  Pretty little town with lots of history including an Anderson air raid shelter still in its original position since world war two.  On to Thargominda for the night.  The town was expecting us with a welcome T Model Rally sign hung over the main street and many locals turning out to greet us.  A nice easy 200 ks for the day.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

Sat 30th:
In to Nocundra where I had booked the local hall for $50 per night and a chance to roll out the swags on the old dance floor.  I think the snores and other bodily noises coming from six blokes in the hall that night would have equalled any dance band that had ever played in that old hall.  Nocundra was to be our last day on tar sealed roads for the rest of our run to the edge of the desert and many questions were asked about road conditions as, at that time, the desert road was closed because of bad weather the week before.  Another easy day on good road. 180ks

 

Sun. 31st
All out in front of the famous Nocundra pub for a photo and Captain Pete had a yarn to Macka on 4QG.  Then, with seven hundred ks of pot holes, bulldust and corrugated road ahead, we made our run for Tibooburra, crossing into NSW through the dingo fence at Warri gate.

​

The road was everything you can imagine.  Sometimes large 12 inch deep muddy water holes covered the entire road, then you could go for twenty five ks of horrendous corrugations, followed by fifty ks of bulldust that slowly filled the car.  Travelling no less than a kilometre apart was the only way to see where the next hazard was.

 

My maximum speed for the day was no more than 30 kph.  I followed Ralph in his T Truck all the way and have to say I saw more of the side of it than the back as, all of a sudden, he would hit a bad patch and his truck would just go sideways across the width of the road. About midday, both of his rear mudguard brackets had broken and were now held by a ratchet strap from one guard up over the roof and down to the other guard then winched tight.

 

After one particularly bad wipe out that saw him twenty feet off the road, we stopped at the border gate, 180 ks from our start that morning to check the cars and, as Ralph pulled in and went to turn off the track, he found the steering would not turn.  On examination, he had bent the steering damper at about 30 degrees so had to remove it before he could continue.  Lucky for him, there were no bends in the desert track for the last thirty or so ks since his wipe-out and he had not had to turn the wheel too far.

​

Back on the track with 60 ks to go, we drove into Tibooburra at 4.00pm all pretty low on fuel with the T Models already having to fuel up out of jerry cans mid afternoon.  Another thirty ks to go and we reached our destination at Mt Wood shearers quarters just on dark.  This was where we were to meet up with the 22 T Models from NSW and Vic.  We found they had arrived a few hours ahead of us and were already settled in.

​

So, introductions all round, a look at the additional cars to the group, a quick shower then a 30 k drive back in to Tibooburra for an a prearranged meal for us and a great night getting to know our new friends.  Again, a great night organised by our leader Captain Pete.  270 Ks for the day and nearly ten hours to do it.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

After a top night at the pub and a thirty k drive back out to the shearer’s quarters, I think all were glad to get some sleep time.  Not a real comfortable night on shearer’s bunks and chilly rooms with a thick layer of ice on the roof of the Model A in the morning

.

Monday 1st:
All up early with our cavalcade now 38 in number all headed into Tibooburra for a last fuel up, supplies from the road house cafe and a full line up of all vehicles in the main street where the local school-of-the air kids and teachers were all allowed a break from class to look at the cars.  

Little did we know we had not seen the worst of what the desert track had in store for us, but with the magnificent sunsets, the never ending spectacular views, the vastness of the desert country, the beautiful starry nights and the perfect weather, every one of us was eager to get started on the next part of our outback adventure.

​

I came back from the roadhouse in beautiful downtown Tibooburra, where I had bought some lock tight to tighten up a few nuts on the Model A and reset the fillings in a couple of my back teeth that had rattled loose on the trip from Nocundra to our present position.  So, with the formalities over, we all bravely headed west on the final leg through the desert to Cameron Corner.

​

I was lucky enough to have a T Model from Victoria behind me with a dash cam so, for the first thirty ks, I was the star attraction, even if it was only shots of the rear of my car stirring up bulldust.

At this point, I came across Ralph and his son Trent at a T junction recording the cavalcade as it rattled by, so I pulled out of the line to drop in behind them.  Within two ks, I had to call Ralph for an emergency stop, as his kettle, which was swinging from the back of his car, went sailing through the air and into the scrub.  Off again and what a sight.  Spread out in front of me, and across the never ending sand dunes, were T Models as far as the eye could see.

 

About midday, we topped a rise and, in the distance, was a covered wagon with a bloke sitting up front watching us go by with a magnificent old draught horse hobbled nearby, obviously taking a break from the noonday sun.  What he was doing in the middle of nowhere just watching the world go by I have no idea?  One of our group went off road to talk to him and said he was crossing Australia from south to north, but they did not learn why.

​

Past the turn off to Innaminca and the corrugations are getting worse.  The sand hills are about one kilometre apart and, at twenty-five mph maximum speed by the time you get a third of the way up them, you have run out of road speed because you cannot accelerate for fear of breaking an axle. So, it’s back to first gear and bounce your way to the top, then set off down the other side to the next one.  And so it goes for the rest of the afternoon.  Then, over one more dune and there it is, Cameron Corner, and the place was jumping.  Tourists, caravans, trail bikers and tents dotted all around this pub and camp ground on the South Australia/New South Wales/Queensland border.  

Into the bar, a refreshing beverage, pay the fee for sleeping on a bit of sand dotted with the odd prickly burr and some very friendly ants and, for the first time in my life, erecting a one man tent.  Right, place ground sheet on sand.  Unpack one man $15 K Mart tent and spread out.  A couple of bendy type fibre glass rods threaded through some slots and, bugger me, I have my own little house, right beside the Model A, so when I emerge in the morning, I can grab the door handle to get back up on my feet.  

​

We had paid in advance for a two course meal at the pub, so a good time was had recounting the day’s events, a few cleansing ales and a rundown of what was in store tomorrow from our fearless leader, Captain Pete, then off to try and find my way back to my little tent in the middle of the desert on a pitch black night.  Probably two hundred meters from the pub.

​

Ok, I’m inside the tent and not too bad.  The sleeping bag seems warm enough.  I have my overalls wrapped in my over coat under my head, because I never, for one minute, thought of packing a pillow, durr!  Settle back, look up and notice a square hole in the top of the tent covered with mozzie netting and stars above that.  Just great, by morning I will be soaked with heavy dew and obviously very uncomfortable. Cor!

​

Unzip the mozzie door, unzip the outer flap, worm out of sleeping bag, reach up and grab the Model A door handle and get upright.  Find my thongs, prickles, then fossick round the car for a piece of blue plastic tarp I knew was there somewhere and drape it over the top of my tent.  That’s fixed that. Another five minutes of squirming and I am back snug in my sleeping bag.  Then, as I watched, with one puff of gentle desert breeze my piece of blue tarp sailed off and disappeared into the night.  Meanwhile, all I can hear from my neighbour Ralph in his far superior sleeping arrangements is happy snoring.

​

Next morning, a new day and things to do.  A round of golf had been organised by Capt. Pete where one can play a hole in each of the three states, then pack and fuel up.  A photo shoot at the corner marker and then the return journey to Tiboorburra.  On my phone a distance of one hundred and fifty ks and taking six hours. (and that’s in a modern car).  I am sure the corrugations were worse on the way back.  Anyway, back into Tibboburra late and our farewell dinner to our southern friends. Trent, Ralphs son and also chef and St George baker, had prepared curries and deserts for all of us, frozen them and carried it all the whole way in the back of his T Model bakers van - a truly amazing feat and fed us all.

​

So, next morning, an early start, say our goodbyes and begin the two hundred and fifty km return to Nocundra.  Not so fast, Trent was at the roadhouse getting fuel and noticed something amiss with the front end of his T Model.  On closer inspection, three broken spring leafs so, with the help of a local forklift and much grunting, a replacement spring was fitted.  This one had extra leafs so the next problem was the u bolts were too short.  So, with a length of ratchet strap, he wound and twisted and tied the spring pack into the front cross member and with a, “That’s about as good as we can do”, to dad Ralph and two hours behind the rest of our team, we headed out again.

Another half a km and the bottom tank on his radiator let go, dropping all his water.  Out with the kneadit putty and some severe plugging stopped the flow and we were once more ready to roll.  Finally away and at least two and a half hours behind now.  Driving much faster on such terrible roads was not fun for me in the Model A, but the bigger wheels on the T Models coped much better’  After each stop during the day, within three ks, they were out of sight.  So, I was really holding them back.  

​

At an afternoon stop, fifty ks from our destination for the night, I decided to keep going to try and get to Nocundra before dark and they would not have to wait for me.  As it was, I arrived just after dark with the T’s somewhere out there behind me.  I was later to learn they travelled three abreast to stop dust and use their combined lights to see.  A very hard, long and stressful day. Also, as I arrived, I noticed my engine would not idle and made a note to check it out in the morning. More pressing matters were at hand, a meal and eleven or eight drinkies.

​

Next morning, forgetting about the idle problem, the old girl would not start.  On lifting the bonnet, I found my carby was hanging by one bolt and IT was loose also.  How it even ran is beyond me.  So, back on bitumen and Thargominda the next stop.

​

Capt. Pete had arranged a catered meal and open air movie with the town tourist centre and, although very cold, was a huge success.  Then on to Cunnamulla where he had organised a camp fire and damper night with a resident bush poet.  Another ripper night.

​

Final night:

We arrived in St George and Trent and wife Elizabeth put on a massive pizza tea at their bakery.  With a final debriefing by our amazing rally organiser Capt. Pete and Lady Geraldine, sadly, our Cameron Corner Adventure of a lifetime was nearly over.  One more treat was in store for us.  Lewis Jenkinsen, Model A club member from Kingaroy’s Tourer, turned ninety years old that day.  Lewis supplied champagne for all plus a healthy glass was poured into the old girls radiator and we all sang happy birthday.

​

Our long awaited adventure is now another fantastic memory to put with so many others that have come my way.  Thanks to my fellow members of the Model A Club of Qld. and the friends I have shared so much with for many years.  Also, never forgetting Henry Ford, the bloke who started it all.