In Search Of The Bat Cave

The plan was simple enough, we were to head out from my place, over into the Samford Valley, and go for a little bit of an explore on the local trails.  We knew of an abandoned railway tunnel a few kilometres north of the town of Samford, but had never actually been there.  The old tunnel was now home to some big colony of bats, so the legend goes.  Just to ride straight there seemed too easy, so I plotted out a slightly longer route that would take us across some dirt roads, access tracks and country lanes to our destination.  There was no need to pack much food, or water, or any of that kind of stuff –after all would only be gone a couple of hours.  At the very leisurely time of eight o'clock, Rudi and I set off from my house for a morning of easy adventure.

Rudi has his first mechanical failure of the day, about 10 metres from my front door

We rode west along Samford Road until we reached the Ferny Grove train station.  At this point, most cyclists head straight over the range to Samford on the popular Sunday morning coffee route.  We headed off the main road, to seek out a section of rail trail that supposedly offered an easier pass into the Samford Valley.  This section of railway line used to run all the way to Dayboro, about 35km north-west of Brisbane, and was decommissioned in 1955.  The line used to run where Lanita Street is now, just behind Ferny Grove station.  Although now a suburban street, the easy gradient, gentle curves and cuttings of an old steam train line are clearly visible.

A happy camper on Lanita Street, Ferny Grove - site of the old railway line to Dayboro

Given how excited I was by the fact I could distinguish this street was once a railway line, I think I've turned into a rail enthusiast

Slight confusion about where to go at the top of Lanita Street.  Just head up the rough track to the top of the bank and you'll end up on the old rail line

Here we are – smooth, flat, easy rail trail riding only 5 km from my front door

This section, known as the Lanita Rail Trail, was really surprising.  We were literally only a stones throw from the edge of Brisbane, yet we were in total seclusion, on a short section of rail trail rivalling that of the Brisbane Valley.  As we blasted up the smooth trail, we passed a few confused looking mountain bikers, who were clearly a bit unsure about our drop bar touring bikes.  We gave them an effortless wave and adopted a look of "this is so easy on this bike I am literally about to fall asleep", and were greeted in return by the usual staunch look of an overweight mountain biker trying to look all hardcore.

Only the sound of whip birds and tyres on gravel.  This area must surely be one of Brisbane's best kept secrets

There have been a lot of fires around Queensland lately, including out here in the forest.  As we rode everything was bathed in an orange, hazy glow from the smoke hanging in the air

I find railway cuttings very exciting these days.  Maybe because they are technically three-quarters of a tunnel, maybe because I've gone a bit peculiar in the head...

This rail trail is the easiest way over the Samford range, with a gentle gradient heading back down to the valley.  No traffic and no people is just a bonus

Our descent into rail nerdery

After crossing the gravel section of the rail trail through Brisbane Forest Park, we were soon out of the scrub and back onto the bitumen road.  Compared to the main road that we normally ride to Samford on, this route was a treat - completely deserted, entirely pleasant, and still following the easy gradient of the rail line.  Little way along the road we passed a cairn marking the spot of Queensland's worst rail accident.

Deserted country road riding

Here's where it all happened, apparently the train went too fast around this bend and derailed.  Not much chance of us going too fast around anything today though

Memorial to the sixteen people who lost their lives in 1947

There were heaps of these signs everywhere.  Apparently it's acceptable for crazy people to film you in the Samford Valley. I love Big Brother

Once in the Samford Valley we linked up with the Samford Pony Trails network.  These trails have something of a bad name with local cyclists – road bike riders think they're too rough, and mountain bike riders think they're too easy, and therefore not "cool".  The reality is they offer the perfect place to do some serious exploring and have some great adventures right on the edge of town.  The trails are a mix of dirt tracks, single trail, quiet country lanes, and bitumen roads, that can be easily negotiated on a touring bike, hybrid or mountain bike.  Very little information is available on the trails other than a couple of maps on the Internet, and this creates a little extra feeling of mystery when exploring the network.

One of the rocky sections of the trails.  Here's Rudi undertaking another mechanical repair

Typical pictogram along the trail network

There are no steep gradients on the Samford Pony Trails, mostly undulating country roads

Rudi negotiating one of the timber structures designed to keep vehicles out.  For the most part they seem to work - the trails are free from vandalism, litter and damage

Easy and smooth riding

Looking through the heat haze across the Samford Valley.  By this point the day was really starting to heat up

Some of the “single trail" sections, easily negotiated at speed on the touring bikes

Rudi attempting to cross a sandy, rocky creek bed along the trail.  I got my camera out in anticipation of a stack...

...It looks like he's going to go down!!!

Unfortunately it was not to be - Rudi makes it across the creek intact

Yet another bike repair.  For some reason the axle on the Fuji kept slipping under power.  This continued all day

Rudi punches down an expired gel after 15km in two hours - extreme average speeds

About as rough as the Samford Pony Trails get

By about 11 AM we ended up behind the Samford pony club.  I assume this is where the trials get their name from, and we rode along through show jumps and other equestrian paraphernalia.  From here we followed our map down more country roads and across more dirt easements until we eventually found ourselves on a grassy track on the northern side of Samford creek.  At this point the trail got slightly confusing, following a roughly mowed firebreak along the back of residential properties bordering the creek.  It was along here we also got to practice one of the more precarious touring bike riding skills – riding along the side of an extremely steep, wet, grass slope.

Bike versus grid

Rudi rides through the thick vegetation along Samford creek

By now it was around midday and starting to get really hot.  We parked the bikes and had a bite to eat in the shade by the flowing creek

Typical open grassy riding on the north bank of Samford creek.  Not the most exciting, but not entirely unpleasant either

We came across an old road, complete with road signs warning us of bridge ahead.  The bridge was clearly long gone, and we had to find another way around

Temporarily geographically challenged

At this point of our journey things started to take a turn for the “adventurous".  Our maps no longer bore any relevance to anything happening in the real world, the day was getting very hot, and we were running low on food and water.  After riding for a while down an increasingly overgrown trail, we decided we needed to get across the creek and head back into Samford if we had any hope of getting to this alleged bat-filled rail tunnel.

Slightly lost and confused following some single trial

I suggested to Rudi that the best way to cross this creek was to fly down the hill at full speed and hit the water at about 40 km/h.  I assured him it would all be fine, and I'd have my camera at the ready to capture his triumphant moment - just like last time

For some reason he didn't believe me, and chose to walk his bike across the water

From here things got interesting.  We were standing on a small trail adjacent to the creek trying to decide which way to go.  My instinct was telling me to head to the east, but the trail to the west look more well worn, so we decided head off that way.  Big mistake.  Before too long we were on a rough easement walking our bikes through mud, across fallen trees and up steep slopes.  It was apparent we were close to a road, as we were behind large residential lifestyle blocks and could see the driveways.  With confusion mounting, the only option was to take a legally "interesting" short cut back to the main road, and make a dash into Samford.  Looking at our GPS track later, I discovered that had we gone along the eastern track as first though, we would have been on the road into Samford within about 50 metres!  We arrived in town and sat in the shade at the legendary “Pancake Park", home of the now infamous “pancake incident".

The information kiosk at Samford.  It's a replica of a slab hut, and well worth a look

Rudi takes shelter from the hot sun at Pancake Park.  When we got home we saw it had been 33°C that day.  No wonder we went through a lot of bidons

Mission accomplished

After eating the last of our food, we headed off on our final push to find the rail tunnel.  We knew very little about the tunnel, other than the fact it had bats in it, and that it obviously occurred along an old rail line.  If we could find the rail line, we'd find the tunnel.  A short ride north of Samford we rejoined the old railway - now a bitumen road, but still with all the hallmarks of a rail line of yesteryear.  Now that we were massive railway nerds, we could spot such things with ease.  At the end of the road we rode up a small embankment, and onto the final stretch of well shaded rail trail.

Riding up the reclaimed railway line to our final destination

Another sublime stretch of smooth, well graded, well shaded rail line.  Hard to believe this is only 16 km from my house

And at last we were there.  The Yugar rail tunnel, last used by trains in 1955 and now a home to a colony of micro bats

 It was surprising how small the tunnel actually is.  I have it in my head that steam trains were colossal behemoths, however this tunnel was not much bigger than a large van

View from inside the tunnel.  The squeaking of micro bats could be heard all around us in the moist silence. The Yugar railway tunnel is awesome

We emerged from the cool dark tunnel, blinking in the bright light and now blazing heat. It was well after lunch time now, and we sped back over the Samford Range on the main road, back into Brisbane City.  I would usually have ridden a little more sedately in the midday sun over a mountain range, but the springtime treat of a nesting magpie smashing me in the head on the long climb out of Samford put a bit more urgency in my pace.  

All downhill back into Samford

Just for something different, Rudi had to fix his slipping axle again

The green algae all over my bike from slopping through stagnant mud added a nice visual touch

Any and all shade was welcomed.  Fortunately, much of the Samford Pony Trails are well shaded by riparian vegetation

One final stop to tighten the axle again, and away we went

So what's the go with the Samford Pony Trails?

As I mentioned earlier in the post, the Samford Pony Trails are misunderstood among Brisbane cyclists - which is probably why I've never seen another rider on them.  I think a lot of it has to do with the name - when you say "Samford Pony Trails" it conjures up images of little kids poking around a short, sedate loop on an asthmatic miniature pony, before having a lunch of cucumber sandwiches.  When I ask my friends if they want to go riding out there, they usually give me a blank kind of look and politely decline, as though I am some kind of crazy and boring person.  The reality is that the trails network offers a big taste of adventure, only a little way from the city.  Our adventure was a long and convoluted 50km route over five hours, but amazingly, we were never more than an hour's ride away from my home in suburban Brisbane.  We crossed creeks, rode single trail, visited a country town, explored old heritage sites, got lost - the whole gamut of "adventure" stuff.   It was all a bit like being a kid on a BMX again, recapturing the vibe of exploring the local area.  If you're in Brisbane and you're thinking of exploring the area, I thoroughly recommend downloading the maps and getting out there to discover it for yourself.  

And if the name puts you off, just think of it as the "Samford Multisport Adventure Network" - it's a far more accurate description.

 

Northern Rivers Tour Day 4: Short ride back into the suburban jungle

I didn't expect to find myself wide awake at 0441 in the morning, but that's when my eyes cracked open and for some reason I was completely awake and ready to start the day.  I stepped outside the tent and it was cold, dark and windy.  Everything was wet with a heavy dew, so I hopped back into the tent to pack up my bedding and most of my gear.  At about 0530 I wandered off up the main street of Kingscliff to find a bakery for some breakfast.  In the pre-dawn darkness, most of my earlier negativity about the place had evaporated.  I grabbed a fruit bun and a coffee and went to sit by the beach and watch the sun rise over the ocean.

As I love to say to people when I wake them up early "you're missing the best part of the day!"

The Pacific Ocean steaming in the sunrise

The adventure ends

By about 0800 our tents had mostly dried out, so we got our bikes out of the shed, packed our gear and headed off north towards the Queensland border.  It turns out our decision to stop at Kingscliff was a wise one, within about 15 minutes of riding we were in a congested mess of heavy traffic, roadworks and non-stop buildings all the way back to the train station at Varsity Lakes.  It was only a 30km ride, but trying to charge through the traffic on a loaded touring bike used up pretty much all of my mental and physical energy for the morning.  After a sprint finish for the final 7km or so on a very busy arterial road with zero space for bikes, I arrived exhausted at the station.  I rolled right up to the station gates, dismounted my bike cyclocross style, much to the dismay of the girl checking the tickets, and hurried down to the waiting train.  We had made it into the final carriage and rested our bikes against the wall with just three minutes to spare.

Back onto the Pacific Highway for a short blast to Queensland, where we were no longer permitted to ride our bikes on the main road

Over the border and back into Queensland, the skyline dominated by beachside high rise development

Riding through busy Gold Coast streets where the car is king.  Not the most relaxing place for cycling

With 5km to go, Rudi snapped a bidon cage.  He quickly ripped it off, chucked it out and kept moving

The last carriage of the train is where it's at for stowing your bike.  Some of the bogan kids were a bit pouty we'd stolen their "cool kids at the back of the bus" status

After 1.5 hours we'd passed through the southern suburbs of Brisbane, through the centre of town, and disembarked at the north side station of Eagle Junction.  This was a really strange feeling - it was an unusually hot winters day, I was tired from sitting around on the train, and here I was about to ride along the same old roads I'd ridden on hundreds of times before.  I figured the best option was to head down to the secluded bike path that leads straight to my house, to finish the trip in a peaceful and relaxed headspace. This proved a little difficult - after I farewelled Rudi my way was blocked by a vast tunnel construction that had closed the bike path.  I could have just ridden another way along the main road to get home reasonably quickly, but I was determined to finish up on that path.  After some convoluted detouring across two main roads, an unfamiliar suburb, a kids playground, and walking my bike through a construction site, I was eventually back on the quiet path to my house.  Turned out to be worth the effort, I didn't see another person the whole way home, and I arrived home recharged and refreshed at about 1300.  I said hello to the dogs, and wandered inside to get myself a well-earned coffee.

Eagle Junction Station, Brisbane.  Nearly home now

Kedron Brook bike path, empty as expected.  A fitting end to a great ride

Breakdown of the shakedown

Part of the reason for this trip was to shakedown my "ultralight" touring setup for a few days straight to see how it works out.  A cycle touring blog just wouldn't be right without some sort of analysis of how the gear went, so if you're not into the minutiae of bicycle touring, you should probably look away now.

The bike in full ultralight touring trim at the end of the trip

On the whole, I'd say the setup worked extremely well.  The bike was fast and stable, all the luggage stayed where it was supposed to, and the extra weight of only 11kg definitely made a huge difference to how the bike climbed and turned.  In terms of the gear I was carrying, I managed to use every single item I had, always a good sign that I'm carrying just the right amount of gear.  However, there were few luxuries I did without that I will definitely be including on my next trip, regardless of the extra weight and bulk.  I missed my "usual" hat and sunnies, having to squint my way around town or wear my cycling cap and sunnies while walking around town was annoying.  The other item I'll definitely pack is some kind of small travel pillow.  The item I missed most of all was my flip-flops.  I never really had an opportunity to air my feet out, and having to slip into shoes for short trips or walking on the beach got very old very quickly.  The other downside of not having my flip-flops (here in Australia we call them thongs), was that I was constantly thinking about them, which in turn led us to be constantly singing Thong Song by Sisqo for four days straight.  Not cool.

As with any good cycle tour, I also learned a little bit about myself and challenged my own attitude.  I'm a very organised and highly detailed sort of a person, and this normally applies on rides.  I'm obsessed with numbers and maps, I like to maintain a certain speed to get to certain places at particular times.  However on this trip, with all the waiting and mechanical failures, I had to rethink all of that quite a fair bit.  Sure we had delays and things didn't work out according to plan, but as it turns out, things turned out far better than we could have ever imagined.  We got to do cool things, ride in unexpected places and meet interesting people, none of which would have been possible if I'd stuck rigidly to "the plan".  This new, flexible approach to cycle touring is definitely something I'll be taking with me on all my future adventures on the velo.

Northern Rivers Tour Day 3: Mullumbimby madness

We awoke at dawn, somewhat uncertain as to what the day would hold.  We knew today we definitely had to get Rudi's wheel repaired, as the bikes would once again be fully loaded up and we didn't want to risk causing further damage.  We decided to head to the nearby town of Mullumbimby, where we knew we'd find at least two bike shops open on a Monday morning.  We quickly packed up our gear, bid farewell to Brunswick Heads and headed south-west.  Once we had Rudi's bike sorted, we'd just figure out where to go from there for the rest of the day.

I always try to look as stylish as possible when selecting my sleeping apparel

Bikes loaded and ready to push off.  Destination: unknown.

A chance meeting with the coolest guys on Earth

The 9km ride from Brunswick Heads to Mullumbimby was reasonably straightforward, although we did find ourselves in the middle of "peak hour" - that is to say we saw maybe 15 cars in the half hour we were riding.  Arriving in the small town of Mullumbimby, Rudi told me the bike shop was "on the main road", so we rolled down there looking for it.  No shop there.  So I rode down the other main road - no shop there either.  We kept rolling around in ever increasing concentric circles around the centre of town, until quite by chance we stumbled across "True Wheel Cycles".

Peak hour on the road to Mullumbimby

The best bike shop you will ever go to

Rudi rode straight into the front door on his loaded bike, where he was greeted by the mechanic, whose name I think was David.  Straight away I figured we were in good hands, the guy looked like the Mullumbimby version of me - similar beard, similar cycling cap and same shoes.  He said "you guys look like you're going somewhere!" and Rudi explained his predicament.  As they were chatting, the owner of the shop came over, a guy called Jay.  Jay had a strong US accent, I think from the west coast, and was a wiry, tanned and very fit looking guy with silver hair.  Jay was one of those guys who seems ageless - he could have been in his fifties or his twenties or anywhere in between.  Anyhow he was really keen to chat to us about touring, where we'd been and where we were going.  The guys very generously allowed Rudi to use their tools to fix the broken wheel himself, and set him up out the front with all the gear.  David suggested I should head to a nearby coffee shop and grab a coffee.  The place he recommended was hidden down a small alley, seemed largely overlooked by tourists, and served me one of the best coffees I've had for a while - although maybe it was a situational thing.  I had once again found myself in a lovely town in a beautiful area , with nothing in particular to do but wander around.

The palm tree lined main street of Mullumbimby

This electricity box says pretty much everything you need to know about the town

Rudi will get offered a job as a wheel straightening guy soon if he isn't careful

I arrived back at the shop to find Rudi will into the process of fixing his wheel up - Jay had even generously donated a little bit of time to work on the wheel in the truing jig, so under his expert hand it was running as straight as a die.  As Rudi was putting the bike back together, I got to chatting to Jay for another half hour or so.  We were initially discussing our shared love of single speed bikes, and he started showing me his touring bike that he had parked out the front of the shop.  This thing was a true around the world machine, turns out he had it handmade in 1980 for an around the world trip.  He had ridden around the world and ended up in Australia, where he spent a further few years riding around the country until he found somewhere he wanted to live, and that turned out to be Mullumbimby.  I can see why - nearby uninhabited beaches to the east, rainforest mountains to the west, an agreeable climate and friendly people.  As we kept on chatting about touring and this and that, it became clear that Jay was a guy who knew more about cycling and touring and the world than I ever will.  He was so full of life and passion, and he genuinely wanted to share his experience for the benefit of others.  He was one of those guys I could have sat there talking to all day, an infectious personality in the field of cycling, and someone I immediately realised I was very privileged to have met - and it wouldn't have bee possible if I wasn't on a slow tour to nowhere in particular.

Most of this chatting happened out the front of the shop as we were checking out his bike and my bike, then I went inside the shop to see what it was all about.  It was pretty much my version of bike shop heaven in there.  The floor was stocked with touring and adventure bikes I'd only ever read about, let alone seen in the flesh, with a whole bunch of cool touring gear.  As I was browsing around a few people came and went, mainly to say hello and chat to the guys about this ride and that ride in the area, and Jay and David would freely share their knowledge with anyone who came in.   This place seemed like a real hub for the cycling community, worlds away from the crass consumeristic soulless bike chain shops normally found in the big cities.  The time was getting close to hit the road again, and Jay and David asked us where we were going.  We were originally planning to head to Nimbin, but the day was getting on a bit and we'd probably run out of time before it got dark, so we opted to head back up the coast and see how far we got before setting up camp.  Jay produced a map of the area, highlighted some suggested routes, then bid us good luck on our ride.  Just as we were leaving he offered us the advice that cycle touring is all about making connections with people and things in the world, and to get energy from our surroundings.  "Drink in the rivers and sweat into the clouds" he said - I had never thought of things that way.  We rode out of Mullumbimby on a strange kind of high - it was a bit like we'd met Kerouac, George Harrison and Thomas Voeckler all in one.  What an amazing guy.

Back to the beach

We rode north-east out of Mullumbimby along the aptly named Coolamon Scenic Drive, back towards the coast.  The quiet road made it's way through thick rainforest that completely covered the road, letting only dappled sunlight through.  There was a reasonably significant climb on the way, but after our "sweat into the clouds" discussion with Jay, we were both feeling great, and the climb actually energised us a lot.  By the time we arrived at the coast road, we were both feeling great.

Q: Why did the bike fall over? A: Because it was two tyred!

Relaxed climbing through the rainforest

Typical scenic climb on the Coolamon Scenic Drive

We found ourselves back on the Tweed Valley Way for a short while

Single lane timber bridge to Wooyung.  I remember when this used to be on the main road

Gently rolling road winds it way through cane farms down near the coast

Roadside fruit shack.  We tended to stop whenever we came across anything even mildly interesting out on the road

Upon reaching the coast, the road turned sharply northward to run parallel right behind the dunes.  We continued to ride north along this road, which was surprisingly hot and had quite an arid inland feel, despite being wedged in tight between the beach on the right and a large creek on the left.  Parts of the road were so long and straight, the end point was lost in a salt and heat haze towards the horizon.  The further north we headed, the bigger the coastal towns got, and the more touristy they became.  It became clear we were slowly starting to creep into the very southern end of the vast and hideous urban sprawl that extends for hundreds of kilometres from the Sunshine Coast of Queensland, now down the the north coast of New South Wales.

The road turned sharply and headed north just behind the sand dunes

Hot and flat riding along the Tweed Coast road

Passing through a vast and sterile new housing development that is sadly becoming typical in the area

An old "Impulsaphon" machine we found in the bush by the road.  What is this thing?

This thing was plugged into it.  Later research indicated it wasn't an early karaoke machine, but an old piece of medical ultrasound equipment.  What a bizarre find

Riding on yet another pleasant beachside bike path

Crossing Cudgen Creek into the seaside town of Kingscliff

Camping on the edge

As we moved north through progressively larger towns and new residential developments, it became clear that we were getting right near the edge of being back into the same old urban area.  We decided the next town we stopped at we'd set up camp, and just have a short ride tomorrow back up to the train.  We reached the town of Kingscliff, and set up camp right by the beach, overlooking the ocean.  As we rode in on the main street it became pretty clear to me that Kingscliff had changed a lot, judging by the number of apartment blocks, shopping centres and international chain stores on the waterfront.  A little bit of the traditional seaside charm remained, but it was apparent that this was a town that was about to get swallowed by the worst of tourist and urban development.  As I was sitting outside my tent relaxing after setting up camp, a couple of passers by warned me to lock our bikes up, as a heap of cycle tourers bikes had been stolen from the park in recent weeks.  Great.  The owners of the park kindly let us lock our bikes up in their maintenance shed, and told us that a bike had been stolen from the park up the road the night before.  Seems the old charm of Kingscliff had well and truly gone, and we were practically in another suburb of south-east Queensland.  It was sad to realise, but I guess that's the nature of things.  At least with our bikes safely locked away, we were free to relax a little and go for a bit of a walk around and get some dinner.

Looking out from my tent at the million dollar view

Looking to the north I could just make out the beachside high rises of the Gold Coast

Construction work to rebuild the beach being reclaimed by the ocean.  Entertaining to watch but ultimately futile - the ocean is one of those things you just can't argue with

The holiday parks we stayed in were dominated by caravans - we were generally the only tents there

The sun sets over Kingscliff.  And I break all the rules by photographing straight into the light

In our own protest against homogenous commercialisation, we had dinner at the only old school independent take away shop we could find.  Turned out to be excellent, as predicted

After dinner we headed back to camp and sat around for a while watching the beach in the dark.  Before too long I retired to bed for an early night.  I partially packed my gear up in preparation for an early departure - it was sure to be a tough day of riding through the chaotic traffic of the Gold Coast, and the sooner I could be ready and on the road, the better I'd be mentally able to deal with it.  It had been another one of those crazy days that started with no plan, and as a result we'd met some awesome guys and had a great morning in Mullumbimby.  As we headed north along the coast and back into suburban Australia, our mood had become a lot more serious, the riding required more concentration, and the reality of living and cycling in a vast metropolis started to creep back in.  I was glad we'd stopped at Kingscliff before we had descended fully into suburbia, but I was also slightly troubled and looking forward to getting out of the place and getting back home.  It really was a day of contrasts.