Fly By the Seat of Your Pants

Cape York, Red Dust, and Bum-Clenching Glory

Picture this: wild country, dirt tracks that stretch for days, and the northernmost tip of Australia calling your name. Now throw in a KTM 640, a wild idea, a splash of madness, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a full-throttle baptism of fire.

This is the story of how I, with barely 50 kilometres of dirt riding under my belt, found myself gripping the bars of a borrowed dirt bike, flying headfirst into six weeks of red dirt, river crossings, and oh-my-god-how-do-I-stay-upright moments, all the way to Cape York.

“Let’s Do This!”

It all started, as my adventures usually do, with an enthusiastic shout of “Let’s do it!” followed by Mark (my partner in life and all good schemes) quietly making it happen. Before I knew it, we were heading off on one of the most iconic rides in Australia. I was riding his KTM 640 (bless that beast of a bike), and he was on his BMW F650 GS—steady and reliable like the man himself.

We hadn’t even hit the dirt yet, and already I was vibrating down the blacktop with knobby tyres digging into the bitumen like a stubborn goat. A thousand kilometres of bone-rattling tar before the real fun even began.

“Adventure is worthwhile in itself.” – Amelia Earhart

Bikes, Blokes & Bush Banter

Somewhere early in the journey, we pulled into a roadside stop and bumped into a gang of 20 uni blokes on Postie bikes. Yes, you read that right—little red postman scooters! They’d just come back from the Cape… with a few broken bits and wild stories, all in the name of charity. I stared at them, mouth agape. “You did WHAT?! On that?” I couldn’t help but laugh—and worry. These guys were heading home. I still had the real adventure ahead.

Their spirits were high, and their stories were hilarious, but I knew my path would be a little more… let’s say, gritty. My bike was powerful, yes, but it wasn’t going to ride itself. I had to lean, shift, power up, and hang on. This was no Sunday cruise.

Cape York: Wild, Raw, and Oh So Real

Every single day was different. Every day brought new terrain, new lessons in survival, and yes—a few ego-bruising moments. But no broken bones! I learned more in six weeks of dust and determination than in years of cruising sealed roads. The ride was raw, and the land was humbling.

Some days I’d be giggling in my helmet like a kid on Christmas. Other days? Clenching every muscle I owned hoping to stay upright through sand, bull dust, and slippery creek beds. But that’s the beauty of it—you feel alive.

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” – Helen Keller

Respect for the Trailblazers

As I rode through that wild country, I couldn’t stop thinking about the people who had done this long before me—on foot, on horseback, or in rickety old wagons during the gold rush. No horsepower. No gear. Just grit. And a thirst for discovery.

At night, we’d unroll our swags and sit by the fire, reading about the early explorers who battled every inch of this unforgiving terrain. I’d stare into the flames and feel a deep connection to their courage and spirit. Their journey was survival. Ours? Adventure. But the land demanded respect, either way.

Tragedy on the Trail

Adventure isn’t always sunshine and sunsets. The bush telegraph brought heartbreaking news one day—two riders had been killed in a head-on collision with their backup crew. A tragic reminder that even in this age of horsepower and high-tech gear, the Cape doesn’t take prisoners. That was a quiet night. One that stayed with us.

The Tip! The Glory! The Dust!

And then—the tip of Australia. We made it. Dusty, exhausted, and completely buzzing from the inside out. I stood at the northernmost point of the continent, heart full, boots dusty, and a grin stretched from ear to ear.

That red dust felt like home. It reminded me of my childhood in Darwin and the NT—raw, real, and full of spirit. I didn’t want it to end. I could have stayed another three months, exploring the islands, the people, the stories, and soaking in the sheer diversity of this incredible region.

Lessons in Dust, Sand, and Soul

We carried our own gear, rode without backup, and made plenty of rookie mistakes. But we learned. Oh, we learned. How to ride dirt. How to tackle sand. How to stay upright in bull dust. And more than anything—we learned how to live out loud.

“The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams.” – Oprah Winfrey

Even now, we’re still finding red dust in crevices of those bikes. A gritty little reminder of the adventure of a lifetime.

To Anyone Dreaming of the Cape…

Do it. But do it with heart, humility, and a sense of humour. You’ll sweat, laugh, swear, cry, and grin like a lunatic—but you’ll never regret it.

Happy riding, my friends.
And remember: stay upright, stay curious, and stay wild.

— Linda McCall

Would you like this version turned into a storytelling Instagram carousel, a narrated podcast script, or a visual travel blog format? I can adapt it further if you’d like to share it with your community.

Written with fun and the passion for adventure!
Linda McCall