Compass Ruined by Magnetic Field

Well, I was on South Gap Station in the arid region of South Australia. The turn-off from the Stuart Highway is about midway between Port Augusta and Pimba. Then it’s 60km of reasonable dirt, station roads.

My camp at Gum Creek, near Lake Torrens on South Gap Station, darkness having overtaken me.

Leaving my ute at the South Gap homestead, I traveled several kilometres on the bike and made camp by the dry creek bed where there was a bit of fire wood, darkness having overtaken me.

In the morning, I got going as soon as it was light enough to see a bit, leaving the camp and trailer, but with the GPS waypoint recorded.

As the morning wore on I found myself on a dead straight track that followed the fence and was visible for quite some distance ahead. Quriousity had me. Could this track possibly take me to an interesting spot on the western shore of Lake Torrens? So out with the map and compass to work out the direction of the track.

Well, I was looking, more or less, straight at the Flinders Ranges, maybe 80km away to the east or south east, on the other side of Lake Torrens. But the compass told me I was facing north west. Impossible!

Sunrise over Lake Torrens, looking toward the Flinders Ranges.

Moving away from the metal of the bike, I checked the bearing again. The track that I thought was heading south east was heading north west, according to the compass.

So I checked out the bearing with the GPS which confirmed my bush instinct that the track was headed south east.

“Magnetic annomoly! You little ripper! I’m on top of five hundred billion dollars worth of uranium or some such!”

Nah. I had the compas in the box on the front rack of the bike. Also in the box was one of those torches that need no batteries. When it goes dull you shake it and the magnet goes back and forth inducing a current to charge the capacitor, thus giving light till it goes flat again. The magnetic compass and the magnetic torch just weren’t a good combination. The compass was had it! Ah well, lesson learned.

Track following the fence to the south east.

I’ve had that compass for a long time; fourty years, in fact. I bought it when I was a twenty year old as part of my safety and navigation equipment for a trip from Melbourne to Doomadgee Mission, in the Gulf Country of Far North Queensland.

That compas has been a long way in my pocket, served me well and got me out of trouble on several occasions. Even going through the washing machine didn’t do it any considerable harm. But now it’s had it! Souvineer value only!

Ah well! It can go with my collection of special rocks from special places and the horse shoe that just may have come from John McDouall Stuart’s grey mare.