asked that before George, but thinking about it, it probably doesn’t help!” he replies.
The organisation tries to be as inclusive as possible as far as riders go. “Statistically,” he says, “our average rider is a business owner, is 57 years old and rides a Harley Davidson, which is basically me, apart from the Harley. We are trying to encourage youth as they are disproportionately represented in the suicide figures. We also have many women ride with us, so there’s no gender bias.”
The Black Dog Ride is registered with the Australian Charities Non-profits Commission and holds Deductible Gift Recipient status, which means they can issue a tax-deductible receipt which can by claimed against a person’s tax. “By doing that we accumulate funds and historically have helped the Black Dog Institute (people often confuse our two organisations), Lifeline, Beyond Blue, Head Space and number of other charities.” But that’s now changing under David’s stewardship as the Government has started to inject funds into the sector, allocating grants to the likes of Beyond Blue and Head Space in the last year or so. “There’s more money in those grants,” David says, “than we’d make in a few years, so we can now turn our attention to helping smaller grass roots mental health projects that can’t get on the Government’s radar.”
One such charity the Black Dog Ride is helping currently is the Kidman Foundation, founded by actress Nicole’s father Anthony, one of the great proponents of cognitive behavioural therapy in Australia. Kidman, psychologist, biochemist and academic sadly passed away in 2014 aged 75.
“He started what was the Health Phycology Unit of the University of Technology, which was recently re-named The Kidman Foundation,” David explains, “they’ve recently rolled out a scheme in Western NSW which is a school-based mental health training programme. So, they’re showing teachers how to deliver mental health training to students as part of their curriculum.”
Black Dog Ride representation is very strong in Western NSW as David points out. “Rural areas are awash with mental health issues,” he says, “and because everyone knows one another in these rural areas, the ripple effect is enormous.” And I feel sure that with the continuing drought, depression will be on the increase in the bush.
“I carry the grandiose title of CEO, but I’ve only got a staff of five!” David laughs. “One of the extraordinary things about the organisation is the volunteer army that does the vast majority of the work. David has put in plenty of time as volunteer, in 2015, ’16 and ‘17 organising the one-day ride in western Sydney’s Penrith and the Central Coast ride in 2018. “This year (2018) we will put 8,500 riders on the road simultaneously in 41 locations around Australia,” David proudly says. I raise my eyebrows and nod, acknowledging the amount of organising this would have involved. “On the Penrith ride this year, they stopped checking people in at 900. So, a ride of that size generates a lot of media attention, which is what we want.”
Each rider pays $30 to enter and, says David the one-day ride generates most of the charity’s income for the year. Merchandise is also sold on the day plus other fund-raising such as raffles. “If I can use the Central Coast ride as an example,” David says, “the bowling club puts on a sausage sizzle, the riders buy breakfast and the club kindly donates the profits to us.”
There are also secondary beneficiaries. On the Central Coast ride it was a local mental health project called Behind the Scene, who specialise in providing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder recovery training for first responders such as Police, Fire Brigade and Ambulance. These small charities, David points out, are too small to be noticed and receive funding and don’t have a big enough presence to make money from community events.
“So, it’s the day ride that keeps the door open,” he says, “and funds the running of the organisation because like any business, we have salaries, rent, phone bills, accountants, etc.”
Next year (2019) is the 10th anniversary of founder Steve Andrews’ original ride around Australia where he raised over $34,000 on his 26-day, 15,000-kilometre trip. On the 26th July the Black Dog Ride will set off from Steve’s starting point in Busselton in WA, to repeat that ride and David plans to ride all the way around.
Next month David will be driving the support vehicle on the Perth to Darwin ride. “I’ve never been to the north of WA and they needed a support driver, so I thought why not.”
“Well maybe we’ll bump into each other,” I say as David dons his gear, fires up his BMW and heads back over the bridge to the office to organise the next ride.
I, like many others occasionally suffer from the Black Dog of depression. I blamed my father for a long time. Or flatly refused to recognize that I might have a problem. As though sitting in an armchair, staring at a spot on the wall, expressionless was normal behavior. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always been a kind of stimulus junky. In my youth, I was like that Energizer battery man on the advertisement, never sitting still for five minutes in case the bad chemicals in my brain started to play up. Reading was fine, and I did it voraciously and still do for it proves a wonderful escape.
My wife Karen helped tremendously, as did bringing up kids. I remember going to a shrink about 20 years ago in Sydney. After an earnest chat where I tried to be brutally honest with the poor woman, I was ushered into a yellow-walled room where I sat on a comfy leather couch and wrote a letter to my dead father as instructed. To the accompaniment of whales singing from a CD player and the subtle whiff of scented candles I poured my heart out, damning him for his indifference and selfishness. Who can say if the visit to the shrink helped. I didn’t go back.
By far the best remedy was travelling. And travelling on two wheels in particular, where the activity at hand required your utmost attention and as you and your machine found your rhythm, you struggled up out of the dark country of depression to find worries (and the Black Dog) disappear like the sun burning off the morning mist.
My Kawasaki KLR 650, nicknamed ‘Percy’ finally arrives and after arranging an exorbitant insurance policy I excitedly twist the throttle and leave Mainfreight’s Botany depot. Next day, I park Percy on the pavement in Crow’s Nest, say a silent prayer to the traffic warden Gods and enter Warner Music Australia’s offices where my next interviewee is performing a couple of songs from his new album, Butcherbird for recording company staff. He’s a national treasure – as Australian as an Akubra and a pair of dusty Blundstones, and as iconic as Uluru.
Bush Balladeer John Williamson
I’ve been a huge fan of JW for many years and remember during tough times in Sydney when ‘the recession we had to have’ (as Paul Keating coined it) came along just as we’d taken out our first mortgage, his songs of a simpler life on the land were very comforting. He’s a busy man, having just returned from a small tour of South Africa and I’m very grateful for the chance to meet him.
After John’s well-received little performance, I chat with him in a conference room over a cold beer and I have to admit I’m a little bit nervous. I try to hide any sign of hero–idolatry as we shake hands and sit down. With his neatly trimmed beard he looks quite youthful for 72.
John’s big break came in 1970 when he won the TV talent quest show New Faces, performing Old Man Emu, a “novelty” song he’d written
