By Morri Berhmann
TRIP REPORT
The annual Beachport pilgrimage is a staple of our club calendar, and Labour Day 2026 certainly lived up to its reputation. A total of 15 vehicles tackled the sand, with arrivals staggered from Wednesday through to Friday night. By 7:00 am Saturday, the early birds were fueling up at Kingston SE, and by 8:00 am, the full convoy departed for the 42 Mile Campground beach entry. To keep the recovery logistics manageable, we split into two groups, with Karl taking the lead for the second contingent.
Soft Sand and Early Lessons
The “adventure” began almost immediately. Within fifty meters of the entry, the first group hit a wall of powder. Group leader Russell was bogged first, followed by Andrew and Phil in quick succession. The sand was deceptively soft, demanding immediate recoveries. While some managed to rock themselves out, others required a snatch.
Once clear of the entrance, the first group maintained a steady clip along the high tide line, with every driver hyper-focused on maintaining momentum. However, a realization soon set in: our expected 45 km trek was actually a 100 km slog through fuel-sapping soft sand. Those who had skipped the final fuel stop in Kingston began eyeing their gauges with growing concern.
However, the serenity was short-lived. By nightfall, a southerly gale whipped up to 40 km/h, forcing a frantic downing of awnings. By morning, the wind had shifted south-easterly, sand-blasting every swag and vehicle. It’s fair to say not everyone woke up refreshed.
The Fuel Crisis and the “Road Train”
A Sunday morning fuel audit revealed a dire situation: one vehicle was dry, and four others were “on the vapors.”
The Plan: Geoff (in the V8 Landcruiser) would tow Tania’s petrol Suzuki, which was running on a 66-litre tank that hadn’t been topped up. To conserve what little fuel remained in the other vehicles, we decided to exit early at Tea Tree Crossing, cutting 40 km off the beach run.
At the pre-trip briefing, Russell closed with the fateful words: “Every one for oneself.” He didn’t realize he had just fired the starter’s pistol.
Chaos on the Shoreline
What followed was a literal race. Half a dozen cars charged for the hard-packed sand at the water’s edge. The lead car hit a hidden “razorback” dune, caught significant air, and tested its suspension to the limit—followed instantly by the second car, which had no time to react.
The drama wasn’t limited to the terrain. Near the surf, a group of fishers had cast lines across the beach. Several of our lead cars inadvertently drove through the lines. When Rob and Deb drove through the final remaining line, they stopped to offer a sincere apology. Tempers flared briefly, but the situation was defused, and the journey continued.
The Final Push
The mechanical toll continued to mount:
• Dean and Kim lost their clutch and bogged.
• Geoff, while towing Tania, got bogged; Russell had to drag him out while Tania stayed on the throttle to assist from behind.
• This trio eventually formed a three-car road train to reach the exit
We finally exited at Tea Tree Crossing, aired up, and drove toward Kingston. Tania made it to the pumps under her own power, but Dean finally ran dry and had to be towed to the BP by the other Geoff.
The Verdict
No car was left behind. By the time we gathered at the pub that evening, the stories had already become twice as long and three times as outrageous as the reality. This trip will go down in club lore as one of the most eventful, challenging, and memorable runs in years.
AND to the most amazing women who love the adventures – Happy International Women’s Day!
