For those up for a challenge, Frenchmans Track in FNQ has it all

We’ve been agonising over the decision for the better part of two hours, and I can procrastinate no longer.

Brad, Josh and myself have half walked, half swum the Pascoe River, crossing more times than I can count, and it’s finally my time to bring the Gladiator across the sizeable flow of water.

As I inch down into the current while simultaneously spooling in the winch line I run through the list of reasons I really don’t like this crossing. Firstly, it’s deep. Wading across proved the main channel to be up to my belly button, and when I stepped in the occasional hole it quickly nudged my armpits. Comparing this to the bonnet height of the Gladiator, I fully expect to rely on my snorkel for this one.

Secondly, the riverbed is littered with large boulders, making the bottom extremely uneven and unpredictable.

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Though we have tried our best to scout the best line through the boulders, and even moved a few around, the sunlight and the fast flow make it very difficult to see through the water from the driver’s seat. Any of the larger boulders could easily hang up a diff or lower control arm, stranding me in the deep water.

Thirdly, the river is really flowing. This is by far our biggest concern, and we are all worried about the possibility of the water pushing us downstream, over a row of boulders and into much deeper water.

We’re hoping to avoid this at all costs, and I keep the winch line so tight it actually moves the Jeep. I’m really hoping the tension on the line will at least keep the nose of the Jeep pointed in the right direction.

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Finally, there might be crocodiles in this river. I don’t just mean little freshies, either, I mean their much larger and toothier salty cousins. It’s insane this is the last reason I don’t like this crossing, but that is an honest review of the situation. The depth, boulders and flow are more concerning at this point in time than man-eating crocodiles.

I inch forward over a few more boulders and can hear nothing other than sloshing water as it slowly begins to flow up and over the front of the bonnet.

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The Frenchmans Track

Pushed through the jungle and scrubland, Frenchmans Track was probably built in the 60s to access the Iron Mountain Range during a rush of gold mining exploration.

To this day Frenchmans remains as one of the more challenging four-wheel drive tracks in Far North Queensland, only a stone’s throw from the northern tip of the Australian continent. Traversing the entire track involves crossing two major rivers, the Pascoe and the Wenlock, which change in depth and flow dramatically over the seasons.

Even during our visit in the ‘dry’, when it isn’t supposed to rain much, the depth of the river can change by several feet in a matter of hours.

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Only the most well-equipped vehicles tackle Frenchmans, and it would be foolish to attempt this one solo. With safety and vehicle recovery in mind, we team up with Josh and Georgie in their Troopy and Brad and Kristy in their very flexy GU Patrol ute.

We last tackled the CREB Track together, where Josh demonstrated he has no fear of monster wheel lifts, and Brad demonstrated his love of using his right foot. No matter what happens on this one, I am certain it won’t be boring.

We rendezvous at stunning Chilli Beach in Iron Range National Park, one of Australia’s most isolated and northerly beaches. At only 12 and a half degrees latitude south, we’re so close to the equator that this part of Australia looks like a tropical paradise, complete with white sand, turquoise ocean and an abundance of palm trees laden with wild coconuts.

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Unfortunately, at these tropical latitudes we also have to contend with the local inhabitants: monster saltwater crocodiles and deadly jellyfish. It’s a sad irony that the more tropical and stunning northern Australia becomes, the more deadly the water is.

Though the air and water are both at perfect bath temperature, the water is absolutely off limits, and we all stay well clear to give the salties a wide berth.

On a happier note, after a short walk along the white sand I have a handful of perfectly ripe coconuts, and with the help of a metal stake I husk them in a few minutes each. Soon we have a heaping pile, and we take turns drinking the delicious milk.

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And while the milk is delicious, I have always loved the firm white flesh, and soon I have an enormous zip-lock bag stuffed full. Keeping it in the fridge provides the perfect road snack during these hot and sticky days, and I stash plenty more husked nuts in the back for good measure.

In the late afternoon the wind whips up a fury, so we move back into the shelter of the tropical jungle to camp, and right at dusk Georgie spots a family of cassowaries scratching around in search of dinner, complete with a fuzzy little black and white chick.

It is extremely rare to spot cassowaries in the wild, especially with chicks.

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On The Trail

After airing down and a quick team meeting, we make good progress for the first couple of hours through large wombat holes and deeply rutted sections of track. On the straighter sections the track is badly corrugated, forcing us to keep the speed down.

The jungle gives way to dry and dusty scrubland with commanding views over the Iron Range mountains. As we move deeper into the track we begin to encounter enormous grey termite mounds.

These towering dirt columns are often taller than me, and are built by billions of termites to serve as their home high above the seasonal monsoon rains. The architecture of these mounds has been studied for decades, and they are built perfectly oriented to the points of the compass to maximise cooling and minimise heating from the sun.

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Across Northern Australia termites build their nets in a variety of designs, each perfectly adapted to the particular environment in which they are located.

The deeply rutted sections of track and large wombat holes are the perfect opportunity to show off the immense flex of the Gladiator, and with Katie at the wheel the big Jeep easily crawls through every obstacle while the cab barely tilts. It’s fascinating to watch the three vehicles take identical lines and come through with very different results.

While the articulation of the Jeep allows it to crawl forward with all four wheels always finding traction, the big Troopy can barely keep even two wheels on the ground, and more than once has to reverse and take a different line for fear of a roll over.

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We drop down a series of very rutted ledges, signalling our arrival at the mighty Pascoe River. In flood it is a rainy torrent many metres deep, and at very low water the rocks are exposed and it’s possible to walk across without getting wet feet. In either of those two extremes the decision to cross or not would be easy, and basically makes itself.

As we wade into the river, we quickly realize the decision we have to make sits somewhere in the infinite grey zone of maybe we should and maybe we really, really shouldn’t.

Josh and I are both reluctant to risk our vehicles, but Brad does not want to turn tail and backtrack. Eager to keep us moving forward, we all make a pact. Brad volunteers to go first, but if he makes it across relatively unscathed, we must follow.

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Swapping the order of the vehicles in the severely rutted track turns into a low-range 4x4 challenge, and after reversing as far as I can possibly go, Brad is barely able to squeeze up to the front of the line.

Josh wades across and secures Brad’s winch to a solid tree on the far side, and will act as spotter while also pulling in the winch line if it’s not needed. I’m at the rear of Brad’s truck with Josh’s winch spooled out and ready – if the signal is given I will jump into action and pull Brad’s truck backwards out of the river. After running over the plan multiple times and with everyone in place, the time is now.

Brad eases into the flow, and just as the depth starts to be a serious concern he uses his patented right foot technique and in a matter of seconds has crawled over rocks and out of the deepest section before soon reaching the far bank in one piece.

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While Josh and I are relieved everything went to plan, our adrenaline quickly begins to peak, because Brad’s successful crossing means we have to go next.

After resetting all the winch ropes, Josh lines up and soon a repeat performance plays out and he slowly inches into the water before rapidly moving up and out of the deepest section. From my vantage point at the rear the crossing looked straightforward, though later in the day Josh and Brad confirmed the fast flowing water nudged the LandCruiser sideways and it was a battle to keep it moving in the right direction.

Being last in the lineup means there is no backout plan for me, no matter what happens I’m committed to pushing through. I let the winch pull the Jeep for the first three or four feet, and just as the river starts to flow over the front corner of the bonnet I use a little throttle to climb up onto the biggest of the rocks.

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In low range first with both diff locks I have no trouble with grip, and I move forward up and onto the larger boulders with ease. I don’t feel or hear any undercarriage bangs or scrapes, and soon Josh is working overtime to pull in the winch line as I drive confidently through the river, arriving at the far bank unscathed, grinning like mad.

With a GoPro stranded on the far back I wade back through the water solo, and can’t stop thinking about crocs the entire time. When we were all in the water the danger seemed somehow less real, but all alone I feel particularly vulnerable.

Coming back for the final time I move as quickly as I can, trying to keep my nerves under control.

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Mudholes and washouts

After all the excitement we stop for a hasty lunch above the river before continuing on, feeling proud to have cleared such a large obstacle. With little idea of the track that lies ahead, we’re all certain we don’t want to turn tail and retrace our steps across the Pascoe.

As we push further north the vegetation continues to change, permanently leaving the tropical rainforest behind for dry and dusty red dirt that is caked on all the trees and plants that line the track. We tackle the occasional mud pit and soggy section, and all manage to keep enough forward momentum in the sticky stuff.

Later in the afternoon we arrive on the banks of the Wenlock River, which we quickly see is much wider and shallower than the Pascoe.

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This river is a little lower and a little swampier, and I can’t help feeling it looks a little more like croc habitat, so we all stay back from the bank and decide not to walk this one first.

In the vehicles we enter the soft sand one at a time before driving along the riverbed for a hundred meters. The bottom is very firm, and none of us has any trouble leaving the water before tackling a short and steep climb up and out of the riverbed.

The shadows grow longer as we tackle the final wombat holes and corrugations, before bursting out onto the Peninsula Development Road just as the sun kisses the horizon. As we air up and share high fives, the already stunning orange and red dirt road flashes into a stunningly bright display of colour.

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An adventure to remember

While dreaming of an Australian adventure I planned to tackle the hardest four-wheel drive tracks of my life, and Frenchmans was everything I dreamed of.

I pushed my personal limits, successfully fording the most technical river I have attempted. Experiencing how the Jeep handled the severely rutted and washed-out track was confidence inspiring, with all four wheels almost always glued to the track.

We worked together as a team to overcome the challenges in our path, and I’m extremely happy with how well we communicated, planned and then safely executed each obstacle.

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I’m always thankful to spend time with people who approach difficult situations in the same careful and analytical manner as me, though I certainly learned a thing or two from Brad’s slightly more gung-ho approach.

Tackling Frenchmans with friends meant I could push harder than I’m comfortable with when out solo, and it also made for a lot of laughter and good times. If you ever find yourself in Far North Queensland, I highly recommend you take the detour and have a crack at Frenchmans.