Day 1 – Perth

I flew down to Perth from Broome late on Tuesday night. After the usual crush of mine workers at Perth domestic taxi rank I made my way to Clive's house in Cottesloe, which was going to be my base for the next few days as I got the s***box ready.


I polished off about half a bottle of Jamesons Irish catching up with Clive. The less said about that the better

Day 2 – Perth

I made my way to the Perth offices of my company to pick up the Toyota Hilux Ute I had agreed to buy from the brother of a colleague. It looked rough and drove like a dog, so I had no worries it wouldn’t fit in.

There were a couple of administrative problems to overcome, as my colleagues brother was in China, and his filing cabinet was both in Rockingham, south of Perth, and also considerable disarray. The papers could not be found. After several international conversations, the cause was considered lost and the transfer of ownership proceeded via scanned and emailed transfer papers, via various mobile phones, etc.

I decamped up to the Rockingham department of Transport and presented the scanned/signed/mailed papers, paid the transfer fee and headed back to his house to pick up a large, flimsy and totally NOT dustproof tool locker for the tray. I bid my colleague farewell, and drove the s***box back to Cottesloe where I parked it on Australia’s most exclusive median strip. The neighbours all pretended my s***box wasn’t there, probably a temporary courtesy but I still smiled and waved at them all just to avoid them calling the cops overnight.

Day 3 – Perth.

The next morning I grabbed some paint and brushes from Clive’s workshop, and did my best to decorate the s***box with a reasonable Jellyfish motif. One curious passer-by wandered over and asked what I was doing. I pretended Clive owed me money and I was driven to desperate measures. Not sure whether he knew Clive or not but he scurried away before he got any more involved than he already was.

Once that was done I took the s***box up to Keystone Autos so Clive’s mate Troy could give it the once over. He replaced several drive belts and all the fluids and told me he thought it would make it to Darwin and probably back again.

I drove round Cottesloe till the paint dried and then went back to Clive’s for dinner.

Day 4 – Perth

I drove out to Perth airport to pick up my co-driver, Andrew. He was already waiting for me and was halfway through telling me about a Bikie who had met his girlfriend (who was on the same flight as him), had a big smooch, immediately followed by a bigger bust-up right at the luggage claim, when we drove up behind the police roadblock and raid deployed by WA’s finest expressly for the happy couple.

We shot straight up to Bridgestone for 4 new tyres, which turned the s***box into a completely different car, and then hit the hardware and camping shops to finish the Bill of Materials needed. We ended up in a Hungry jacks trying to get a quick bite to eat while the teenage staff tried to put a kitchen fire out behind the cashiers. Funnier than it sounds.

We decamped by to Clive’s median strip to complete preparations, screwing down both the toolbox and the bench seat (bolted down on one side only), slapped on the stickers and final details and then headed in to the Perth Convention centre for the Rally kickoff and briefing.

We didn’t manage to meet any of our team members, but we had a good look at the other s***boxs in the car park and decided we were both under-prepared and under-decorated, but we had a few drinks and headed back to Clives ready for the early start the following morning at Kings Park.

Day 5 – Perth to Meeka

We stopped on the way into the start at the local 24 hr Supermarket to get the last minute, but critical supplies (water) and headed in to the start.

This was the first time all the s***boxes had been together and there were some truly spectacular efforts. A Barbie bus, a mobile Internet live streaming - logon to change the song – web enabled extravaganza. Also Priscilla Queen of the Desert, 2 Ghostbuster cars, 2 Jurassic Park cars and a 6 wheeled Monsters Inc. car (Actually a Ford Festiva). Again we felt inadequately prepared but then a couple of young guys in an undecorated complete ******* parked next to us, and we felt we had probably put more into the car than they had so we cheered up and looked for our team. Because we had arrived from the posh side of town, we had parked on the opposite side of the park from the rest of the team and so still didn’t manage to meet them.

A quick briefing and then we were assembled into our team and waved off. 3 years waiting, 3 days in the making and 6 full days ahead of us.

The first stop was Meekatharra (Meeka), a little more than 700 ks up the Northern Highway. We found that the sponsor’s stickers had very **** adhesion to the washable house paint I had found in Clive’s workshop, so we spent the first few hours trying to catch the peeling stickers. Andrew actually managed to retrieve one that had peeled off and got stuck on the coat hanger doubling as FM ariel at 100 ks.

The first fuel stop was really the first opportunity to meet the rest of the team. Ironically, our team had the "Where’s Wally" entry and they were already lost. They found us about half an hour later (many shouts of “found him”, “There he is”, etc).

We spent the rest of the day in and out of convoy, various items getting sucked out of the ute tray into our team members path, heading to the Meeka Oval for our first stop. We got there after dark and had to put up our recently purchased and never unpacked tent in the dark. The tyre compressor we had hoped would double as our inflatable mattress inflator was hopeless for the task, and it was so cold that neither of us got dressed into our Top Gun aviator suits for the mandatory fancy dress. Instead we stood in line for our BBQ dinner and knocked back a few very cold beers and crashed into our tent. Our inflatable mattresses began deflating immediately.

Day 6 – Meeka to Marble Bar.

Next morning we both woke up cursing our cheap **** mattresses. Andrew went to check out the ablutions but came back quickly with a “F*ck that” look on his face. So instead we lined up for bacon and egg “one-handers” and coffee, quickly packed up our tent and mostly deflated mattresses, dressed up warm, commiserated with our fellow s***boxers about the temperature and waited for the daily briefing. We were heading to Marble Bar

Marble Bar is simultaneously Australia’s hottest and dustiest town, and is a further 700 ks north from Meeka. The last 300 ks are “unsealed”.

We head north to Newman over mainly uninteresting terrain, stopping at a small and completely unprepared roadhouse. This is mining country, so there are road trains with giant machines on the back and numerous core drilling rigs visible from the road as we head up. Just before we get to Newman we drop a right hander into Marble Bar road. After about 30 ks the road becomes “unsealed” and we all pull over to let some air out of the tyres. While we are doing this another car pulls over and 2 other s***boxers (Steve and Everard, the Close Shaves) pull over and ask if they can tag along. Several other buddy group members make Wolf Creek jokes but they seem genuine enough so we quickly agree, shake hands all round and then get on with it. Marble Bar road is a very dusty and windy, so 300 ks of this road quickly becomes tedious and at times quite dangerous. We reach Nullagine covered from head to toe, plate to plate, in dust. My co-driver Andrew is pretty sensitive to dust, and it’s difficult to get a good balance between clear air and a comfortable speed (too slow and you hit every corrugation, too fast and you drive into the dust cloud in front). By the time we leave Nullagine it’s starting to get late in the afternoon, and the combination of dust and shadows from the hills with the sun low in the horizon makes driving hard. Andrew and I change around several times just to keep fresh, and we reach Marble Bar about 5pm, just before the sun sets.

The amusingly named Marble Bar Holiday resort (if anyone has actually had a holiday in Marble Bar I’ll be bloody surprised) is overwhelmed by the s***box rally. The toilets and facilities can’t cope, and we are packed in like sardines, but the camaraderie has begun to develop and we gather in groups to share drink and stories.

It’s clear that the rest of the rally has also struggled with the dust and teams are arriving in camp up until we head to bed about 10:30.

Everyone’s got a dust horror story, and the smell of sweaty dust can’t be avoided. A distress flare is let off, either to celebrate just reaching Marble Bar, or possibly the s***box’s first wedding at the Ironclad Hotel in town.

Either way, we find out at the briefing the following morning that a grass fire was caused by the flare, and that only good fortune prevented it from being a serious matter.

Day 7 – Marble Bar to Broome

The next morning is “Where’s Wally” day. Our group already has a “Where’s Wally team, but most s***boxers dress as Where’s Wally. One team comes as Wally Lewis. Several come as Anti-Wallys or some other variant. Andrew wears a striped shirt and declares that’s as far as he’s prepared to go. At the briefing James talks about the flare and is at pains to stress that this behaviour will not be tolerated. He uses “disappointed” twice. The cops “randomly” breath test every car on the way out of town and Andrew and I speculate that this is not completely random or unrelated.

There are 80 ks more of unsealed roads, complicated with unfenced stock and severe corrugations which makes driving difficult. Several teams drop completely ridiculous and dangerous passing manoeuvres on us, including overtaking while we were stationary waiting for cows to cross. The sharing caring part of me speculates these teams must have had bad **** the day before and just want to avoid eating anymore dust but Andrew won’t have it and quite rightly declares several teams as ********s or F-wits. They clearly are.

We hit the Great Northern Highway, and sealed roads, just north of Port Hedland, regroup while pumping our tyres back up. Our compressor is much better than the rest of the teams, so I work up some karma getting everyone in the group back on the road double quick. We head north, stopping at Sandfire Roadhouse to refuel before heading up to Broome as quick as we can. My family were still staying in Broome so they came out to welcome us in with a home-made banner, and once we signed in we gave camping a miss and headed to the unit for a proper meal and a few drinks down the pub, before crashing on proper beds. Not having to reinflate the **** mattresses is a real talking point the next day. Small things…

Day 8 – Broome to Fitzroy Crossing

The morning briefing is not at the Broome campsite, but down at the Broome jockey club at Gantheaume Point. It’s a leisurely affair and Georgi and the girls arrive to get a look at the rest of the teams and have a general look-see at the bedlam. It turns out that Georgi knows Mel, James Freeman’s co-driver, so while they catch up I introduce the kids to my team mates and then get them to add a few more bits and pieces to the Jellyfish artwork. They paint smiley faces on the Box Jellyfish, which instantly improves the look of the car.

After mooching about and circulating among the other teams, we wave goodbye to Georgi and the kids and head off to Fitzroy Crossing at about 12 o’clock. Our team has already refuelled and so we bypass the massive line at the Roebuck Bay roadhouse and somehow end up in the front of the rally and in the frame for the 60 minutes film crew as we pass over a single lane bridge near Willare Creek. They ask us to turn around so they can get a second shot. Someone responds over the radio with “yeah, right”. And we keep going.

One of the cars (The Bowel Movers) overheats and we hang on the side of the road while they cool down. The Boab trees dotted along the roadside are freaky and very Tim Burton, so the conversation turns toward horror movies for a while until the support crew arrive. They listen to the conversation for a few seconds and begin to look worried, but they look at the overheated car, do absolutely nothing for a few minutes and then they tell us to take it easy. They make a hasty exit and we all hop back in our cars and cruise lazily into Fitzroy Crossing.

We’re in good time, and the Fitzroy Crossing campground is top notch, so we set up camp, shower and line up for dinner. The shower and the dinner are both excellent.

Back at the group campsite we discover we have pitched our tent near an ants nest. 2 of the guys fill the nest with WD40 and set it alight, but Andrew is not convinced and claims the ants will extract revenge overnight. However we are awake several times that night to reinflate our **** mattresses, so I expect the ants decided we were too stupid to worry about and they left us alone.

Day 9 – Fitzroy Crossing to Mt Barnett roadhouse.

Breakfast is the now ubiquitous bacon and egg one handers, and the briefing is almost pithy. “It’s a short day, take in the sights and have fun”.

We deflate tyres for unsealed roads and head on into the Gibb River road. On the way we stop at Tunnel Creek, which looks cool, but we cut that short and head over to Windjana Gorge. Windjana Gorge is beautiful. And there are 4 freshwater crocs sunning themselves on the sand, but they take one look at us s***boxers and head into the water and safety. After a suitable amount of time to take in the ambiance, we head back out in convoy and begin the trip up the Gibb River Road to Mt Barnett. It doesn’t take too long before we realise that this won’t be the doddle we’d been led to believe. The road is just so variable, dusty and winding that we can’t find a steady pace. Our first river crossing is steep and muddy on the exit. Before the first hour we are spread out and getting mixed up with other groups. The terrain makes radio comms across the whole group too difficult, so we just stick to radioing bumps, water and rocks back to our team mates behind us. The Toyota HiLux reliability is tested and not found wanting. Despite the corrugations, rocks and just bloody hard going, the Hilux skims over the top with hardly a complaint.

When we pull into the camp we are all surprised to discover that we’re amongst the first arrivals. We listen pitch up and open a beer, and wait for the meals and entertainment to begin. The rest of the groups arrive in drips and drabs and it’s soon dark. There’s been some carnage. Front wheel drives have taken a hammering on the corrugations and the Monsters Inc. 6 wheeler has broken an axel. The triage and pits are buzzing all night. The “2 Girls, 1 is Mad” team Mazda 121 is almost declared dead, but the girls are pretty and they cry, so the mechanics work a miracle with a dead Festiva and get them going by (somehow) putting a Festiva clutch, flywheel and gearbox into their Mazda, and ending up with an operating car. This is the true spirit of the s***box in action and despite that fact that their car now mirrors their self-diagnosed split personality, it runs and drives and keeps them in the rally.

The locals put on a decent feed of roast beef, coleslaw and cheesecake and we spend the evening listening to very bad karaoke. One of the s***boxers is murdering an Eminem song. It’s a complete travesty. We can’t take it anymore and head for bed, to the sounds of an equally dreadful Loveshack.

Day 10 – Mount Barnett to Victoria River roadhouse

This is the big one. Over 700 ks, 400 of which are (still) the Gibb River road, with all its temperament and character intact.

The morning is a real hive of activity. There are still cars being worked on and much revving and swearing. At the morning briefing James stops short of apologising but does admit that he didn’t think it was going to be so bad. He urges us to “dig deep” and drive safely, and reminds us that we have several river crossings, including the croc infested Pentecost River later in the day. We line up and effectively leave last, only to join the rear end of a long line of cars waiting for the first river crossing, which is no problem at all to the HiLux.

We spend the morning either dodging or rattling over the rocks and corrugations, eating dust from other cars, changing drivers (it’s not at all relaxing) or stopping at lookouts and taking in the incredible views along the way. Andrew declares that this is all sheer madness, but I find that I’m enjoying the whole thing right up to my eyeballs. For a Kiwi and South African, were as Aussie as it’s possible to get. Driving a s***box over a road that is out to get you, through some of the most memorable scenery the country has to offer. I think this is the point I decide I’m going to try for a gig next year, and Andrew decides he’s not. The dust is getting everywhere, and he’s no good with it.

The Close Shaves call they’re overheating and need to stop. While we turn around and go back to help, the remainder of the groups drive past, leaving us last. The tail end support vehicle shows up at the same time as the Close Shaves have identified that their radiator reservoir has cracked and won’t hold water, so the car is loaded onto a trailer and we divvy up their gear. Since we have a ute, we cop all the big items, and the guys hop into the Bowel Movers and New to NT cars and we head off. The going is still pretty tough, but not too tough for the HiLux. There are a few new rattles, but nothing serious. We keep going, arguing about following distances verses speed, and looking at the scenery. There are a few flats in the group, but we keep up a fairly steady pace until we hit the back end of the line of cars waiting to cross the Pentecost.

A quick reconnoitre revels that the river is not high, only just up the bottom of the doors, and that most cars are crossing unaided. Probably lucky for us, as plenty of cars have built home-made snorkels out of PVC pipe, but we never really had the opportunity.

We have time to watch a road train crossing from the other side. It has absolutely no problem, just driving straight across.

One by one the cars in front make it across. There’s one rescue and Andrew and I decide to put the towing strap on “in case”. When our turn to cross the river comes we just drive over at a steady pace, pushing a small bow-wave only and driving out and up the slippery bank like a Toyota Hilux ad from the 90’s. No problem at all.

Once the group is all across, we regroup and press on. It’s getting dark now and so we need to step up the pace. We still have about 300 ks to go to the Victoria River roadhouse. We soon hit sealed roads again and the Jellyfish compressor makes relatively short work of pumping all the teams’ tyres up again. We press on into the night and soon hit Kununurra. We are all hungry and so we spend 30 minutes refuelling car and body (with Rosie’s Chicken – Australia’s Best) before we peel out and begin the long drive to our camp.

Both Andrew and I are knackered, so we need to take turns at driving. We stop several times to change drivers while the other dozes. Those 15 minute Powrernaps you read about. We pull in about midnight local time (we crossed the border to WA past Kununurra), pitch the tent, go get something to eat and then hit the sack. Biggest day ever. Nearby the s***box rally triage and pits are in full swing. The day has taken its toll on a lot of teams but the trusty HiLux has just kept on going and isn’t showing any signs of stopping.

Day 11 – Victoria River to Darwin

The final day of driving. The morning briefing is short and sweet. The list of dead cars is not disclosed, as the pits are still trying to resurrect several, including James, the rally organisers. We form up and pull out. It should be a relatively easy drive up to Darwin. We stop briefly in Katherine to refuel, and then again in Adelaide River for a pit stop. While we’re all hanging out a reporter/presenter from ABC Radio in Darwin, Lisa Pellegrino, walks over and asks to interview us. We have a bit of a chat to her and she promises to put us on the radio early the next morning. We regroup and drive up to Darwin, making good time and pushing the Toyota to full speed (less than the NT 130 kph speed limit).

One final stop for “Where’s Wally” to put his giant Wally hat on the car and then we all line up and drive to the finish line at the Hilton Doubletree on the Esplanade.

Georgi and the kids are there, and see me first. Matilda comes running over and shouts “Daddy”, just before Andrew and I drive across the finish line.

4250 k’s in 6 days of driving, just over a quarter on “unsealed” roads. Which means the Ute, Andrew and I are covered from head to toe in dust and dirt.

Georgi’s found an apartment worthy of the celebration. On the 21st floor of a new apartment complex with a huge balcony which looks straight out to the sunset. We crack open a cold beer, watch the sun go down and then head for the showers. It takes me 2 showers to get properly clean, and even then the towel is straight in the wash.

Pizza, more beer and then bed.

Day 12 – The Auction and the ****-Up.

We head out to the Darwin show grounds for the final official duty, auctioning off the Hilux for charity.

About half the teams have bought their cars back for the nominal fee, but Darwin is about as far from Melbourne as it's possible to get, so somewhat reluctantly Andrew and I put the HiLux up for auction.

There’s plenty of buyers and some interest in the HiLux, despite the dodgy paint job. We’re lot 70, but the auctioneers are powering through and we’re soon standing on the tray of the HiLux watching a farmer and a tradie fight it out. She goes for $1200, which is the 5th highest price.

After the auction we all get on a bus and head out to the Darwin Ski club for beers and burgers. It’s a beautiful day and the ski club is in a prime location, so we kick back and spend the rest of the afternoon hanging **** on one another and talking up our cars.

It’s hard to argue that the HiLux wasn't the best car in the group, having never once missed a beat, used the least amount of fuel and sold for more than the rest of the teams cars combined.

With all our donations, the car and the refund on the registration, Andrew and I raised just on $5700 for theAustralian Cancer Council. A great cause and one I hope to support, but never need.

Maybe next year we'll choose something more challanging