STEVE Rankine knew it was a good stack. 

The mountain biker was coat-hangered by gravity and sent sprawling on a bulldust canvas north of Irvinebank.

His lips pashed the outback. The grit of the barren river bed was in his mouth, grinding between his teeth, before it was spat out.

"You can see on that one I’m just about gone," Rankine says pointing to an image of himself.

The Mossman native is hunched over the computer of Crocodile Trophy media manager John Flynn in a cabin at Chillagoe Caravan Park.

Flynn is downloading pictures of the day’s 157km stage and Rankine’s inelegant tumble is the gallery’s feature.

 The slideshow of four photos is displayed on the laptop. Rankine’s attention is on the first shot, which shows the former triathlete a swear word away from hitting the ground.

"I had a bit of speed coming down the river bed. You have to pick your line and I sort of made a last-minute decision to cross to the other side of the wheel ruts,’’ Rankine says.

"My front wheel dug into the sand and the rest is history.

"I took a bit of bark off but I’m OK. I’m lucky it was sand and not rock though."

More of John Flynn's Crocodile Trophy pictures

After sharing a few laughs about his dalliance with the dirt, Rankine leaves Flynn to continue his work.

Flynn has been officially involved with the Crocodile Trophy for six years and is a one-man media centre.

Cables criss-cross his desk like a fibre optic spider web as data destined for local, national and international news agencies is sent.

"Today’s a good day because we are in a pretty civilised area," Flynn says as he peruses his photos.

"It’s not like the first night when you arrive at Lake Tinaroo and it’s raining and you’re in an outdoor setting but you’ve still got to get the information out.

"This is the most extreme event to cover from a media perspective.

"Most cycling events you go to, the media are generally pampered and put in nice hotels and looked after really well.

"This is a hardcore event."

The Crocodile Trophy is less a race than a tour of duty.

Stages trespass through millennia-old rainforest and sun-gnarled scrub.

Neither terrain is willing to grant passage without sacrifice.

A toll of cramped muscles, split skin, cracked bones and shredded tyres is demanded during the Crocodile Trophy’s 10 stages.

The race has broken riders before. It murders resolve and leaves the corpse to rot in the sun alongside road kill.

Flynn documents the competitors’ struggle to conquer such hostility the best he can.

"My dream crew would be to have two fulltime photographers on the event, at least two cameramen, a fulltime editor and a fulltime communication specialist," Flynn says.

"Hopefully we can prove to people in high places the level of exposure this event is capable of.

"With a bit of luck and a lot of good planning and foresight from people in high places in Queensland and Australia that support will come."

Outside Flynn’s room and the caravan park has been transformed into a tent metropolis.

Many of the 99 competing riders are from Europe and some wander through the canvas avenues in a sunburnt daze.

"I’m feeling OK,’’ says one tall Scandinavian, whose arms are tattooed with tan lines below the elbows.

"Except that I might be about to faint."

He does not though and disappears into a tent for a voluntary lie down.

A few of his northern hemisphere brethren are more energetic and clean off the day’s grime by swimming in the park’s pool.

Other riders are on the masseuses’ tables, leaving the duty of uncorking their muscles to strong-fingered volunteers.

Relaxing in foldout chairs outside their tent is Cairns couple Abby and Scott McLennan.

The husband and wife represent two-thirds of the Rattle & Hum team and are replenishing fluids while their washed uniforms dry on a nearby line.

Crocodile trophy lures husband and wife

Abby is arguably the strongest Australian female rider in the race. The beautician is a multiple winner of the Triple RRR Classic and Paluma Push mountain bike events.

But she appears sapped of her effervescence after four stages of the Crocodile Trophy.

There is a hangover of exhaustion with every body movement and the underside of her right elbow is bloody.

"It was only the one stack but it was a good one," Abby says after showing off the wound.

"I’ve had a touch of gastro and I haven’t been feeling well and that made today very hard.

"The first half was very tough. You go up a big rock and it’s a very technical climb with lots of trenches.

"And the descents – you can’t afford to relax on the way down.

"You’re concentrating using every bit of energy and you’re getting bounced a bit.

"It really wore me out."

Husband Scott is spritelier. He stayed vertical during the stage and did not have an upset stomach to contend with.

"You try to get through every day without falling in a heap," he says.

"You try to look after each other to give yourself every chance of being strong.

"But the thing with this race is that there is a lot of preparation to do for the next day.

"You have to get your water bottles ready and all that other stuff.

"It would be good if you could just lay down for the rest of the night but you still have got a lot to do to get ready for the next day."

Jurij Robic looks incapable of being rushed.

The Slovakian soldier’s cabin remains neat while he sorts clothes that need to be washed at the park’s coin laundry.

Robic is as streamlined as a bullet and has the talent to ride like he was fired from Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum.

But a crusty scab on his right elbow hints he is slightly below peak fitness.

"A few weeks ago I had a really bad crash in a road race and I broke my collarbone and my sixth rib," Robic reveals.

"I’ve only been training on the ergometer for three weeks. No bike.

"The muscle was so painful I didn’t know until two days before I left if I could go or not."

But despite the gnawing pain, Robic is happy he made the trip.

This Friday afternoon, in a one-pub town where blowflies outnumber people, there is no place Robic would rather be.

"This is the most beautiful race in the world," he says.

"The outback, the rainforest – a lot of races around the world you’ve never seen anything like this and you go ‘Wow’.

"In Europe, you go from one town to another town and you see a sign that says you have only 85km until the next town.

"In Australia, you have to add a zero because the outback is so big."

Bart Brentjens is learning about the vastness of the Australian outback with every kilometre pedalled.

The Dutchman is a legend of his sport and exudes a Steve McQueen cool while leaning in a plastic chair outside his cabin.

He is dressed in skins whiter than a supernova and sips a soft drink as his mechanic adjusts the gears on his mountain bike.

"I didn’t expect the course to be so technical today," Brentjens says.

"The first hour was really technical. Then you had the old railway lines, the sandy parts, the rocky parts and you have to concentrate all the time.

"Mentally you have to be so strong for five hours. It’s easy when you are on the road but off the road you have to watch the stones otherwise you ride over them and get flat tyres."

Brentjens yawns and stretches his arms above his head.

"You do get very tired," he says.

"The temperatures are extremely hot and it’s hard to recover.

"All these things make it hard. You have got to wake up early every morning and be ready to race.

"There are a lot of good riders here and you can’t afford to take it easy."

The sun has started its final descent into the western horizon but six riders remain on the course.

Time has not been a concern for them the past nine hours – only survival.

Perth’s Chris Neal is at the back of the group and is marinated in sweat.

"I’ve got an infected big toe, an ingrown toenail, and I’m basically a bit of a girl," is how Neal explains his position.

"But the group that’s just up ahead has kept me going. They’re a good bunch of guys that’s for sure.

"We’ve been together pretty much all day."

Neal passes a Crocodile Trophy marker that says there is only 2km until the stage’s finish line.

"The race hasn’t surprised me. I knew it was going to be painful," Neal says with a grimace.

"I just hope my body holds out until the end."

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