Northern Rivers Tour Day 2: Mechanical failure success!

One of the things I enjoy a lot about camping is getting up early and really making the most of the day.  And on this day, waking up at sunrise freezing cold and uncomfortable, I was naturally keen to get out of my tent and get the day happening.  Today we planned on leaving our camp where it was, and doing a loop ride south to the tourist town of Byron Bay, before heading west away from the beach and riding around the small towns up in the hills, before eventually returning to Brunswick Heads in the afternoon.

We mucked around for a while getting ready, then rode into town to find some breakfast.  Within about 400m we found the local bakery, where I scoffed a pastry, and Rudi had a a bread roll, that he claimed was literally the greatest thing since sliced bread.  Rolling back the 400m to our tents to grab our gear and head off, it became apparent something was very wrong with the rear wheel of Rudi's bike.  Closer inspection revealed a snapped drive side spoke, presumably sustained on one of the rough descents of the previous day.

The best part was that 24hrs before, Rudi had said "what's the bet I snap a spoke?"

The offending spoke

We had no means of getting the cassette off the bike, and it didn't look as though we'd be able to thread the new spoke through the pretty solid cassette, so we decided the best option was to head down to Byron Bay, quite a large town, to try our luck at finding a bike shop open on Sunday morning to help us out.  Rudi trued the wheel with the spoke missing so it was running reasonably straight between the brake pads, and we set off towards Byron Bay, about 20km to the south.

In this part of NSW, there is a wide bike path running along the Pacific Highway

Even riding out on the highway with 110km/h traffic, I felt safer than I do riding around the main roads of Brisbane.

Off the main highway and into Byron, on yet another excellent bike path.  It's really a bicycle touring dream, beats me why they can't manage this in Queensland where I live

Trying to phone around the bike shops to see who was open on a Sunday morning

Somewhat surprisingly, not one bike shop appeared to be open in town.  I suggested we jump on the bikes and go and find somewhere quiet to have a coffee and we'd regroup and rethink our plan.  Riding back up through town at about 0930 on a Sunday morning there were already a fair few people starting to come out, and all the cafes were packed.  We rode up to the beachside and while the view was nice out to sea, on the grass banks next to the beach there were already a heap of people, drinking in public on the grass and playing loud music.  I cracked it and decided we needed to get out of town, so we took a shortcut through some bushland, and headed south towards the next seaside town of Suffolk Park, about 5km away, in search of a coffee and a quiet sit down.

Nice view from Byron, but turn around 180 degrees and the park was already packed with noisy people drinking

We eventually made our way onto the road south, and found a strange little roadside cafe serving possibly the worst coffee in the world, but paradoxically one of the best bacon sandwiches I've ever had.  The setting was quiet and peaceful though, so we had a bit of headspace to think about our next move.  It was clear this bike wasn't going to get fixed today, so at that moment we threw the whole plan of the day's ride out the window, and decided to completely wing it.  Best option was an easy morning ride around the area we were already in, so we got back on the bikes and continued south along the coast road, with a view to doing nothing in particular.

The nostalgia begins

As I mentioned earlier, my family used to visit this area a lot when I was a kid, and I have a lot of fond memories attached to the Northern Rivers area.  It was in this area I first learned to ride a bike at the age of about 5, and indeed most of my exploring around here was done on a bicycle during family holidays.  Basically my parents would head to the beach for the day, and I'd jump on my bike and ride around exploring, pretending I was on some grand adventure.  Being back here on a bike certainly bought back a very strong sense of nostalgia, and I felt it was my duty to revisit many of the places and memories of the past, and in the process of doing that, bore the shit out of Rudi with endless rambling anecdotes of my youth.  It was shaping up to be a great morning for me, and probably a very boring morning for Rudi listening to me prattling on.

Just south of Byron Bay a bike path connects to the town of Suffolk Park

 Rudi already trying to ignore my endless and pointless stories

The bike path crosses Tallow Creek, a lagoon directly behind the beach at Suffolk Park

Bike path follows the beach at Suffolk Park

I ended up riding into this deep sand while trying to put my camera away - came very close to stacking it!

My strongest memory of this bike path was in the summer of 1991 - I would tear up and down it all day, listening to Achtung Baby by U2 on my cassette walkman.  Good times

We rode through the streets of Suffolk Park and back out onto the main road for a while, before turning east towards the headland of Broken Head.  After heading down a rough descent, we were spat out at a mostly empty and entirely pleasant beach.  We stood at the top of the sand dunes for a while, neither of us particularly wanting to ride back up the climb to the road, so I suggested we ride along the beach back up to Cape Byron.  Riding on the beach was something Rudi had apparently never done before, and indeed it is a bit frowned upon by those "in the know" as they fear bike rust or something, but on this perfect sunny winter day it seemed the best way to get to where we were going.  Plus we were pretty keen to avoid that climb back up the headland.

The mostly deserted beach at Broken Head

Me riding to the southern end of the beach

Posing for some photos with the bikes

Heading north on the hard packed sand at low tide

As we headed off through the salt spray, we could see our destination of Cape Byron ahead, about 7km up the beach.  Riding on the beach was pretty easy going, sitting on about 20km/h, feeling free as a bird with no cars, no roads, no nothing.  Just the sun, the sand and the breeze - it was definitely one of the best moments I've had on a bike for a long, long time.  As we headed further north, the few people we did encounter did seem fairly confused at the sight of two road bikes tearing along the sand.  We rode through the middle of a surfing competition somewhere along the way, where the judging table gave us much waving and tooting of air horns as we passed by.

Riding along relaxing and taking photos

The beach gently curving along the edge of the Pacific Ocean

Taking a photo of someone taking a photo - it's what I do

Me following Rudi along the beach

We charged along the beach, and I recounted yet another one of my awesome stories how I used to ride my bike from Brunswick Heads along the beach to Byron Bay, and back again.  In hindsight it was probably a big feat for a kid under 10 years of age to ride 50km along the beach unaccompanied by an adult.  And back in the day I carried no phone, no spares, no water, no food, I never did any maintenance on my bike, but everything always seemed to work out.  I remembered one time my dad and I were riding along the beach probably about 10km from Brunswick Heads, when I thought it would be funny to buzz his back tyre with my front tyre.  I did it, and it caused his tyre to puncture.  We had no repair kits or tools or indeed anything on us, and he had to push his bike all the way back up the beach for 10km.  For some reason I recall he was pretty unhappy about it at the time.  Anyway I was riding along with my brain in neutral, looking at the view and chuckling about the old days, when I rode straight into a deep, soft sand drift.  The front wheel snapped to the left and started to plough in, and the whole bike started to tip over.  I was fairly sure I was done for, but fortunately I emerged back out onto the hard sand just in time to look over my shoulder and see Rudi suffer exactly the same problem.  While a synchronised crash would have been highly hilarious, it snapped me out of my daydreaming, and I rode with a bit more force and conviction as the sand got softer towards the northern end of the beach.  After about half an hour of cruising along the beach, we arrived at Cape Byron, the most easterly point of Australia.  From there we got onto the main road out of Byron Bay, and headed north along the Pacific Highway back to our camp at Brunswick Heads.

Rudi headed to the most easterly point of Australia, in the distance

Hands in the drops to enhance the strange sight of a road bike on the beach  

Had to push the bikes across the soft sand to get off the beach.  I tried riding it and got about 50cm

A bit of sand in the drivetrain, but nothing a squirt with a bidon couldn't fix

 

Heading back north to Brunswick Heads along the highway

Riding into Brunswick Heads on the gravel bike path running along Simpson's Creek

My nostalgic rambling steps into high gear

We arrived back at camp at about 1230, got changed out of our riding gear, and slipped well and truly into holiday mode.  We spent the afternoon ambling around Brunswick Heads exploring the town, accompanied by a soundtrack of me going on and on and on about my childhood experiences there - back in the day my family owned an onsite caravan in the camping ground we were staying at, so I spent a lot of my childhood wandering around the town exploring and fishing and riding and whatever else.  To my delight the town has changed very little in the 20 years or so since I was last there.  I took a large number of photos that afternoon, which I have included here - partly for the benefit of my sister to give her something the reminisce about, and partly to recreate the feeling of being bored to death by my nostalgia, as Rudi no doubt was by the end of the day. 

Simpson's Creek at low tide, running between town and the beach

Footbridge crossing the creek over the surf beach

Looking south along the beach from the mouth of the Brunswick River

I managed to snap an old biplane flying overhead as I was standing on the beach

I sat around for about half an hour on the rock wall, relaxing in the sun, watching the waves

Rudi apparently has some rule about if he goes to the beach he has to go for a swim, so in he goes

The obligatory one-footed seagull trying to score a feed

Looking inland from the rock wall at the mouth of the Brunswick River

Walking back to town from the beach, we passed by the park where I learned to ride a bike

The old footbridge crossing Simpson's Creek at low tide

Second hand shop where my dad bought my first bike.  I was really getting into the nostalgic stories by this stage

Rudi was still keen to have a shot at fixing his broken spoke, so he headed back to the campsite to have a go.  I went back down the street and grabbed a thick shake (from the same shop I used to go to as a kid, obviously), and sat around camp watching Rudi try to fix his bike while offering vague and unhelpful advice for my amusement.

The thickest thick shake I have ever had.  It gave me an elite level ice cream headache

Sitting around camp watching Rudi unsuccessfully repair his wheel

A very successful day

Despite an hour or so of trying, Rudi was unable to replace the damaged spoke, so we decided we'd just leave it until tomorrow to deal with.  We were both enjoying being at the the seaside with nothing particular to do, and throwing the plans out the window had made for an excellent day, so we figured if we freestyle it tomorrow, things will most likely turn out just as well.  After showering, we walked back into town for a look around at sunset.  Brunswick Heads is a town surrounded on all sides by water, beaches, rivers and creeks.  After having such a relaxing day with such strong memories, I wandered around the quiet river banks in the fading light, feeling relaxed but ever so slightly melancholic - a bit like I was trapped inside a Bjorn Olsson song.

Late afternoon, with the creek now at high tide

I sat on the bank for a while watching a yacht glide silently up the river 

Town was even quieter on a Sunday night

After eating two pizzas between us the previous night, we decided to do something a bit different tonight, so we went to the same place and ordered three pizzas between the two of us.  This confused the staff at the restaurant ever so slightly, and we didn't really deserve it after riding only 60km the whole day, but hey, we were on holidays!  After completely stuffing myself to the gills with food, we stumbled back to camp, where we sat around in the cold, me jotting down some notes for the blog, while Rudi went for the powerball world championship. 

With the light on, powerballing looks pretty strange...

...but add a head spot and 15 second camera exposure, and it's art darlings!

I reckon people were definitely wondering what on earth we were doing

It was significantly colder than the previous night, so I rugged up properly before turning in.  As with the night before, I lay there listening to the sound of the ocean, reflecting on what turned out to be a very successful day.  The mechanical failure of Rudi's bike had certainly thrown a big spanner in the works for our tour, but in the end it turned out to be just what we needed.

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.