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 1: Starting with a change of plan

The original plan for this tour was to go for four days of riding to the north of Brisbane, taking in parts of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail and a few of the bigger mountain climbs in the area.  It would be a reasonably demanding ride, with a view to testing out my new "ultralight" cycle touring setup I'm planning on using in New Zealand later this year.  However the morning before Rudi and I were due to depart Brisbane on the bikes, I awoke with a strong feeling that riding north to the town of Kilcoy was not a good idea.  Couldn't put my finger on it, but I had a sense that we should head south to the beach.  Those who know me well will know I take my gut feelings pretty seriously, so after a chat with Rudi it was decided we'd catch the train south out of the South-East Queensland metropolis, and ride through the Gold Coast hinterland to the small coastal township of Brunswick Heads in New South Wales.  Much later on in the day, as I was preparing my bike, somebody told me that that there was a major music festival on in the town of Woodford over the weekend, right where we were planning to ride.  That must have been what my intuition was telling me - had we ridden there we would have been dealing with heavy traffic, maddening crowds, and a town full of rowdy drunk teens.  I went to bed early knowing we had made the right decision to head south to the seaside for four days of cycle touring.

It begins behind schedule

When I woke up at 0640, I immediately realised that there was probably not much chance I was going to get to the train station to catch the train south at 0700 as planned.  It seems in my eagerness to get an early night, I had completely forgotten to set my alarm.  I went from a state of deep sleep to total awareness and panic in the space of about 5 seconds, as I scrambled around the house loading my bike, having breakfast, and texting Rudi that I was running very late.  I somehow managed to get out the door and wobble into the traffic on the touring bike, trying my best to gun it the 8km or so to the train station.  I got every red light on the way, but managed to arrive at the station just as the next train was getting to the platform.  Turns out Rudi had got there early and had been waiting for over an hour, so he was slightly pissed off, but we still managed to get the bikes on the train by 0740, and we were on our way.  For the next 1.5 hours we stood around on the train holding our bikes, and watched the sprawling, desolate suburbia of south-east Queensland whiz past the windows.

Weird guys with weird bikes make everyone move to a different carriage

Rudi warms up with the powerball, our tour mascot, at Varsity Lakes train station

Rudi all geared up and waiting to kiss and ride, it would seem

Getting straight to the point

Heading out of the train station, I had expected to ride through a fair bit of the soulless Gold Coast suburbs, but within about 500m of heading west from the train station, we found ourselves in Eucalyptus forest on a mostly deserted undulating road.  After the combination of boredom and excitement on the train, this was a nice way to get straight to the point of things.

Heading south on the old coach road to the Currumbin Valley, I found it particularly hard going.  I don't know if it was the effect of sitting on the train for ages, or the loaded bike. or general weakness on my part, but the short sharp roller coaster climbs were really taking it out of me.  It got to the point at one stage where I was seriously considering abandoning my proposed mountainous route and simply rolling down to the coast where I knew the terrain would be mostly flat.  As I do when I'm feeling a bit woeful on the bike, I told myself to keep going for another 45 minutes, and if I still feel terrible then, I can look at doing an easier route.

View from the cockpit - the yellow on the map is urban sprawl

Rudi riding through the foothills of the Gold Coast hinterland

My old nemesis, the 14% climb section at the base of Mt Tomewin

By the time the 45 minutes had elapsed I had well and truly found my rhythm and was on my way up the side of Mt Tomewin, heading to the New South Wales border crossing.  Early on in the steepest section at the base of the climb, I had heard Rudi unclipping his cleats to push his bike up the hill, so I was riding alone all the way to the summit.  This turned out to be a good thing, as it allowed me to relax and get into touring mode, as opposed to the race mode I was in earlier when I was struggling on the bike.  As the mountain climbed up and up I only saw a handful of cars and a couple of other cyclists, and settled in to enjoy the view.

The view to the west from much of the Mt Tomewin climb

The vegetation on the mountain is mostly thick rainforest and scrub, with a few scenic lookouts dotted along the way.  I stopped at one lookout to take some photos and have a bite to eat, where I was approached by an old guy in a car who asked me "where are you pedalling?" and wanted to know all about the gear, the bike and so on.  This was a theme that continued throughout the trip, everyone I came across was very interested in the bike and the gear and cycle touring in general, and wanted to chat about it.  Being on a loaded touring bike also seemed to equate to a different attitude from drivers on the road, with every single driver on the whole trip being courteous, give us a wide berth, waving, slowing down for us.  This was a huge contrast to when I normally ride in road training mode with full lycra and no luggage, when it seems the national sport is to try and run me off the road and/or hurl abuse at me.  Whatever it was, the friendly attitude of motorists out on the open road certainly added to the relaxing experience.

Mt Tomewin is basically a 9km series of 10% climbs - felt good to be at the top of the last one

"Welcome to Tweed Shire: Valley of Contrasts", and artsy road signage

After 30 minutes of waiting at the summit, I'm joined by by a very tired and sad Rudi

After regrouping at the summit, we blasted down the 6km descent into the cane field of the Murwillumbah Valley.  The descent was blisteringly fast, and I was surprised at the difference the 11kg of gear I was carrying made to the terminal velocity of the bike.  Within 5 minutes of leaving the summit we were already amongst the cane fields, where we stopped at a small cafe made from converted railway carriages, out in the middle of nowhere.

Coffee stop at "Red Rattlers Cafe"

Disappointingly, none of the staff were wearing jaunty 1890's train driver apparel

With the biggest climb of the day now behind us, we still had about 50km to go to our destination for the day at Brunswick Heads.  But knowing the hard part of the day was finished, and the fact we were now in a different state, was enough to tip us into touring holiday euphoria mode.  As we sat around in the warm winter sun sipping coffee, we spent about ten minutes saying to each other "guess what?  I'm on holiday!".  It was all getting a bit too comfortable sitting around, so we hopped back on our bikes feeling energised, and pushed on through the flat cane lands into the town of Murwillumbah.

I very nearly got a pic of Rudi picking his nose.  Need to be a bit faster next time

A few clouds starting to sneak into the sky mid-afternoon

At Murwillumbah I managed to get us slightly lost trying to find our way out onto the Tweed Valley Way, but eventually we found the road.  The Tweed Valley Way was a pleasant surprise - it undulated towards the coast, has an excellent smooth riding surface, and best of all, an excellent bike lane running along most of its length down to Ocean Shores.  Through this stretch Rudi seemed to completely blow up, and I lost him almost immediately out of Murwillumbah on the on the first climb.  After crossing the Burringbar Range about 20km later, I pulled over at the small village of Mooball to wait for Rudi to catch up.

Rolling hills and bike lane typical of the Tweed Valley Way

A fast descent through the rainforest

Yet more progressive bike lanes on a main country road.

If you sit in the one place long enough, eventually you will see something amazing

I was sitting around in a little shelter shed by the side of the road in Mooball, waiting for Rudi to appear over the horizon.  I was feeling pretty good and riding quite fast over the last few ranges into the village, and I also knew Rudi was struggling today, so I figured he'd be a while. I took off my helmet, had a bite to eat and a drink, and sat down on the table.  I got my camera out and started taking a heap of "artistic" photos of components on my bike, all of which turned out crap and I deleted.  Still waiting.  Had some more to eat, and checked out the roadside tourist map of the area.

This seemingly boring shelter shed at Mooball turned out to be THE place to be

I couldn't find an outer pocket...

Disused railway would make an excellent and scenic rail trail, but apparently there is some strong local opposition to that happening

After about half an hour of milling around waiting, I was beginning to think maybe I should start back tracking to try and find Rudi.  As I had been sitting there, I had been hearing bursts of very loud dance music, and the muffled sound of women shouting.  There are only a few buildings in Mooball, so I just assumed it was noise from the local pub - it was late on a Saturday afternoon after all.  However as I sat there and listened and looked around, I realised I was sitting right across from a local dance school in full session!

It appears Mooball consists of a shop, a pub, and a school of dance.  That's fairly eclectic

Thirty-five minutes had now elapsed since I arrived and began waiting for Rudi.  I was by now getting equally concerned and pissed off.  As I was sitting there being "concerned off", out of the doorway of the dance studio about 15 metres from where I was standing burst a young woman of about 19-20 years of age, wearing nothing more than some very skimpy knickers, a very skimpy bra, and some knee warmers - think 1980's Flashdance gear but with a much more "cheeky" 2000's dance video twist.  She was clearly in some exercise related distress, I assume from some extreme krumping manoeuvres.  Anyway this young lady ran straight to the side of the road (in front of the red car in the photo), and proceeded to bend over with her hands on her knees, and vomit with tremendous force, noise and conviction, straight into the gutter!  After she spewed she stood up and made some distressed groaning sounds, had a sip from her water bottle, then turned around and went back inside.  I sat there in total disbelief - did that even happen or did I imagine it?  Surely my imagination isn't awesome enough to conjure that up?  Anyhow as I sat there wondering where the hell I even was and what the hell just happened - out she came again for another super loud spew / drink combo!  It happened a total of four times!  By the time Rudi eventually rocked up I was pretty much an incoherent mess of laughter, delight and disbelief and I probably wasn't making much sense.  Rudi was trying to tell me about some trial or tribulation he had on the road, but I was too discombobulated and excited to listen or even care.  If you had asked me what I expected to see that day when I got up in the morning, I certainly wouldn't have said "A chick in her skimpies throwing up in the gutter outside a dance studio in a tiny country town".  Truly, cycle touring allows you to see some amazing things you'd normally miss in a car...

Out of the hills and down to the coast

By the time Rudi had arrived at Mooball, and I had composed myself after the vomiting dancer incident, it was really starting to get late into the afternoon.  We made the decision to bypass the short beachside off-road section we had planned to do, and continue on down the Tweed Valley into Brunswick Heads.  The road ahead still had a few more sizeable hills, including the final climb and descent into the small town of Brunswick Heads.

Dedicated bike paths everywhere between towns - very impressive

I pedalled my little heart out down here to hit 80, but the best I could manage was 67km/h

Crossing the Brunswick River with rain clouds looming

Establishing base camp

We arrived at our camp site quite late in the day and quickly set up the tents and threw our gear inside, about 30 seconds before a shower of rain.  By now it was getting too dark to do much exploring, so I had a shower, got changed and we headed into town for a quick look around and to find some dinner.

Camped in the twilight behind the local CWA hall

The town of Brunswick Heads sits between a river, a creek and a surf beach.  Even at night it is a beautiful place.

Footbridge leading across the creek to the surf beach

The main street on a Saturday night.  It's a very quiet and peaceful little town

Trying to decide on something for dinner when I'm away normally sends me into a state of severe option paralysis, however it's always pretty easy in Brunswick Heads as there are only about four places to choose from.  In the end we ate a couple of good pizzas, then I grabbed a chocolate milk before we went for a bit of a wander around in the dark to the beach.  It's one of those rare places with very little street lighting, and I always enjoy having to find my way around with my night vision, something I rarely get to do these days living in the city.

Pushing the limits of my $60 camera trying to take a shot of the town by night from across the creek

We turned into our tents at about 1900, keen to get an early night for a big day of mountain riding tomorrow around the hinterland.  Drifting off to sleep with the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby beach, it certainly felt good to be out on the road again.

Tumbulgum Time!

Room 101

So as some of you may have picked up from my lack of blog posts lately, combined with my recent Twitter rants, Jer and I haven't been up to much riding.  I've tried to blame it on the weather, feigned illness, a lack of good riding spots nearby, boredom - but I've come to realise that the reality is that Brisbane traffic is my Room 101.  It was fun for the first 4 years or so of living back here, but now the narrow roads, potholes, bogan drivers hurling abuse and middle-aged women in grey 7 seater 4WDs trying to kill me is really starting to get me down.  Lately I start a ride with all the best intentions, but I'm so weary of doing battle with the traffic I usually end up riding to Redcliffe on the bike path for coffee, or into South Bank on the bike path for coffee.  It's a weak spiral that tend to lead to more weakness, to the point where in the past few weeks my bikes have been gathering some serious dust.  So on Saturday afternoon I decided to snap out of it, change the stimulus, and totally betray myself by driving my car somewhere to go riding.

Careless whisper

Up early on Sunday morning, loaded up my car, picked up Jer and his bike, and we were on our way.  After just over an hour on the motorway we had reached the starting point of the day's ride - Currumbin on the Gold Coast.  We parked down near the local surfing spot and proceeded to get ready to ride.

Southern Gold Coast, viewed from the car park

Currumbin Creek.  Somewhere in this photo is one of those stand-up paddle board guys.  I assume they are like the recumbent riders of the sea.

Two cyclists in a local surfie hangout looked fairly out of place, and we were a little concerned for our safety (for our international readers, surf beaches on the East Coast are often the hangout for aggressive, intolerant, bigot, racist bogans sporting Australia tattoos, Australia towels, Australia hats, Australia sunnies and Australia shorts who like to punch on with anyone not "local").  Not wanting to be the epicentre of some kind of Currumbin Cyclist Riot, we were pretty keen to get moving as soon as possible from the bad vibe carpark.

Watching Jer fumble nervously for about 5 minutes trying to get his bike off the roof

I personally thought it a bit ironic we were being leered at by grown men sporting tight fitting wetsuits that weren't too dissimilar to our lycra cycling gear, but I was still trying to keep a low profile.  Jer obviously felt a bit self conscious as well, although his way of dealing with it was to absent mindedly sing "Careless Whisper" by George Michael while bending over in his cycling shorts to do his shoes up.  Yep, that will certainly let everyone know you're a manly man.  Obviously, it was time to GTFO and get on the road.

"Am I ever gonna dance again?  Guilty feet have got no rhythm..."

Extreme refreshment

On the bikes, we headed south-west, away from the coast, and along the banks of Currumbin Creek.  Within ten minutes we were out of the light suburban traffic, and riding through the picturesque Currumbin Valley, passing hobby farms and lifestyle blocks.  The road had very little traffic, a refreshing change from the congested chaos of Brisbane.  The rural road we were riding on even had a dedicated bike lane, that motorists actually seemed to respect.

Currumbin Valley bike lanes

Jer makes a minor adjustment due to insufficient preparation - situation normal

No bike lane here, but still quiet and pleasant

We continued along Currumbin Creek road, seeing only a handful of cars and about 5 other cyclists.  After about 10km we turned left, to begin the ascent up Mt Tomewin.

Up and over

I say thumbs down to 14% climbs

As soon as we turned onto Mt Towewin Rd we were greeted by a wall of tarmac heading up into the dense rainforest.  The fun thing about riding with Jer is he rarely asks any questions about where we are going, so I can  lead him to all sorts of punishing places.  He asked me as we stood around staring up the hill "how far up does this go?".  I said "ummmmm I don't really know, I think only a little way..."  I of course knew full well it was a 10km climb, having looked at the elevation profile of our ride the day before.

Just under 400m of elevation gain up Mt Tomewin awaits

I bet the person who wrote this also writes a mean letter to the editor complaining about everything.

The ascent that followed could best be described as more difficult than riding down to the shops, and only slightly less difficult than riding a bike with square wheels up the side of Mt Kilimanjaro.  The next thirty minutes comprised a 10km ascent up a gradient of between 10% and 14%, punctuated in the middle by a short downhill run to ensure we had even more climbing to gain back the lost elevation.  For a pair of riders whose idea recent idea of a long ride had meant 9km downhill into the city on a Sunday morning, this was a tough climb.  The road snaked up and up Mt Tomewin, through the temperate rainforest, offering the odd glimpse of the valley below.

Climbing in the rainforest

Turn right to go left - it just makes sense...

The road up Mt Tomewin is very narrow with no shoulder, but there was very little traffic on the road, even on a Sunday morning.  This was fortunate given my epic wobbling all over the road as I struggled up the hill.  The only traffic related sad moment I had was when we were passed by a flotilla of baby boomers on their overly loud Harley Davidson motorcycles - the sound of 30 Harleys booming in your ear as you struggle up a climb at 11km/h isn't the most pleasant sensation in the world.  We were relieved to have both reached the summit, and be leaving the state of Queensland and heading into New South Wales.

Jer a little apprehensive to leave his beloved home state

Dropping the Tweeds

As soon as we passed into NSW at the summit of Mt Tomewin, two things happened.  The state of the road improved noticeably, and the road dropped sharply into the Tweed Valley.  The 5km descent down into the town of Dungay took only 6 minutes including a photo stop.  It's a fairly winding road with steep drops off the edge and little margin for error, a fact I'm sure Jer appreciated on his Fuji.  I was stopped by the side of the road taking a photo when I heard a hissing sound from uphill, along with a cloud of expletives - I turned around and Jer was steaming down the hill, both brakes jammed on all the way to the 'bars, with only mild deceleration happening.  Terrifying for him, amusing for me.

Surveying the Tweed Valley

Obeying the signs on this descent is a good idea

Yes it really is called Dungay

At Dungay we turned left down a little used rural road through the cane fields, skirting along the base of the range we had just descended.  Jer asked at this point how long until lunch, I said "I think it's only about 12km away along the flat".  He asked "And how far is the ride today?"  I said about 70km, to which he sadly replied "man, I am not looking forward to going back over that mountain..."  I didn't have the heart to tell him we weren't going back that way, it would be more fun to watch him sulking for at least another half hour before I broke the good news.  Anyway the ride into lunch was a delight - clear skies, flat roads, no traffic, light tailwind.  The perfect opportunity to take some photos while riding along.

Jer asked me "Is that sugar cane?"  I obviously told him it was something else in the hope he'd say to someone "check out that cabbage plantation!"

Now there's a progressive approach to motor vehicle operation

Obeying laws - one hand on 'bars at all times, and bell fitted to bicycle

With a tail wind, this was bliss

Jer in action

Look at him go!

Sad man ponders the climb back up Mt Tomewin

Delightful

Cane fields broken up by the odd stand of trees

Tumbulgum time

After a little while belting along through the cane, we found ourselves on a small road winding along the Tweed River.  Across the river, we could see a little town, with a few small shops.  We crossed over the river, and rode into the charming town of Tumbulgum to grab a coffee and a feed.

The bank of the Tweed River we had just ridden along

Looking from the bridge into Tumbulgum

Excitement level = 3000

I took this standing on the main street - true story, scenic spot

Lunch time - note dark cloud looming

To say that Tumbulgum is the town that time forgot probably a sounds a bit cruel, but I mean it as the highest possible compliment.  Most of these little towns within 100km of major population centres are usually cheesy tourist traps crawling with tourists and overpriced underwhelming cafes, but Tumbulgum has retained much of its old world charm, and on this Sunday morning was largely quiet, other than a few locals enjoying the river.  We stopped at an excellent old school coffee shop, where I enjoyed a very awesome $9.90 big breakfast including artistic and delicious coffee.

I didn't even expect a passable coffee, let alone such adornments

Now someone was just showing off

Why you should always have a camera at the ready.  Shortly after this I broke the happy news we didn't have to ride back over the mountain.

After the ride over the mountain our legs had cooled down completely, and the prospect of a painful start back to the coast was not exactly enticing.  As we were about to leave the sanctuary of Tumbulgum, a few drops of rain appeared.  The few drops turned into a shower, so we decided to wait it out.  Jer checked the weather radar on his phone, and it revealed it to be just a passing shower, but ahead of a massive rain front moving in.  We needed to get back down to the coast and fast, if we wanted to avoid being caught in what looked like a fairly afternoon of rain.

Raindrop on route sheet.  Seek shelter immediately.

Back to the coast

We headed back along the river out of Tumbulgum, and started back up the gradual climb to Terranora.  The steady climb would normally not be too taxing, but my heavy legs from sitting around for an hour made it seem tougher than it was.  The ride up into Terranora reminded us we were slowly making our way back into civilisation, another 10km climb taking us through semi-rural lifestyle blocks, with an increasing amount of traffic.  Still the traffic was excellent the whole day in NSW, with riders giving us a clear berth, or slowing down to our speed, and patiently waiting for a safe opportunity to overtake.  As we reached the top of the climb and followed the ridge line, dark clouds were seen building to the north and south.  Jer commented "I bet with our luck it starts pelting rain just as we get back to the car."  Indeed.

Cloudy outlook back to the coast

Another quick descent off the ridge, and we found ourselves in the suburbia of Tweed Heads.  This section of the ride was a bit of a trip down memory lane for me - in the 80s my family used to go camping at Brunswick Heads a lot, and this route was a part of the main road south.  But the main highway had long since bypassed this stretch, and may businesses were closed and overgrown.  Heading into Tweed Heads, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the road on the Boyd's Bay Bridge, so a quick an unscheduled detour by the side of the river saw us back on the right track again, and back into Queensland.

Impromptu riverside detour

Welcome back

Once across the bridge we rode a little way into Coolangatta, back into Queensland.  Our welcome back into the cycling state was entirely predictable, and literally within seconds we felt the warm glow of being back home when a passing bogan yelled out "FUCKHEADS!" as we pedalled into the commercial centre of town.  After a short and confusing ride through the chaotic traffic scrum of the main street, we arrived at the beachfront of the Gold Coast.  Dark clouds were really looming now and the wind was picking up noticeably - a storm was not far away.  So with a strong tailwind to high tail it up seaside bike path along the coast to where the car was parked at Currumbin.

Back on the Gold Coast.  Not a lot of people about

Looking very dark now behind Currumbin.  Soaking imminent.

Bike path too congested?  Just hammer it across the grass for a few km

Man who hates getting wet guns it along the bike path.

As we arrived in Currumbin, dark clouds were low over the range, the wind was picking up, and people were scrambling for cover.  Traffic along the seaside was diabolical, there was some kind of sports match on, with people in cars milling around looking for a place to park.  With great frustration and impatience we picked our way through the gridlock, then sprinted the final kilometre or so back to the car in an attempt to beat the deluge.  Bikes were quickly thrown into the car, and we had just enough time to hurriedly dive into the car before the rain arrived with a vengeance.

Artistic abuse of panorama function to demonstrate it was indeed raining

70km in 5hr total time, 3hrs riding time.  Nice way to spend a day.

Let's get enthusiastic

Sitting in the usual Pacific Motorway traffic jam on the way back to Brisbane, in the pouring rain, it was pretty hard not to be excited about the ride we'd just completed.  It only took an hour to drive there, and we were in a totally different place, riding somewhere new, being excited about cycling again.  It certainly beat spending an hour battling through traffic and local suburbs and Brisbane roads on the bike, only to end up somewhere we'd been to a hundred times before and only 20km from home.  I'd totally sold out and drove a car to ride a bike, but it was totally worth it to be enthusiastic about riding again.  Not sure how Jer felt about the day though - he was so excited about the ride, he fell asleep in the car...