Back on the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail

What a year it's been.  As I sit here typing this, I've spent a total of over 700hrs this year so far sitting in this office chair, working on a postgraduate uni course I foolishly undertook.  University study, combined with a long recovery from major surgery, has meant I have not been on the bike much at all this year.  This lack of riding turned into kind of a big problem for me - on the one hand I was wanting to get back out riding again, on the other hand I'd kind of gotten comfortable with the inertia of having a convincing excuse to do nothing, and on the third hand I had a lot of fear about just how I'd go back on the bike with the new wrist, and just how that would work out.  

 Fusion of my right wrist.  They took bone from my hip, chopped my ulna down, removed all my joint linings, bunged in a bit of alloy from my forearm to my middle finger and bolted the whole lot solid.  The plate is a permanent addition - my wrist won't be moving again.

I thought I'd be three weeks off the bike, it ended up being closer to three months.  A few weeks after getting my cast off I gingerly headed out for a 7km ride.  It totally destroyed me - I was weak in body, heart and spirit.  I stayed off the bike for another few weeks, before making a point of forcing myself just to have easy, relaxing rides.  I managed 30km one week, then 35km the next, then 45km, and within a couple of months I was back up to doing 75km rides without too much difficulty.  The body seemed to be getting back on track, but my head was still all over the place.

During my recovery I was keeping myself motivated by saying I'd go and ride the southernmost part of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail, then as each weekend approached I'd enable myself to not go for the ride somehow.  It would probably rain.  Or be too boring.  Or be too easy.  Or be too hard to get to.  Or I couldn't be bothered putting the bike in the car. Or some other excuse.  For a ride that starts only 60km from my house, I certainly was doing a great job of equipping myself with a whole lot of reasons to stay at home in my comfortably lazy state.

Jump forward to a couple of weeks ago, and here in Brisbane we had a visit from my wife's parents (ie my parents-in-law).  I've always kind of been on the same wavelength as my father-in-law (herein referred to as Laurie), in that we're both somewhat similar in being hermits who like doing things the difficult way.  Despite knowing him for over 13 years, I don't think we'd ever spent any time together just he and I.  I'd been chatting about rail trails and the like, and Laurie seemed keen to go and have a look at what they were all about.  One overcast Sunday morning we were faced with a choice - go with the womenfolk to some local organic market to watch people being all "passionate" and "local" and fret over "macrobiotic food miles" and other such nonsense, or get out of town and do something slightly adventurish.  Laurie hadn't ridden a bike much lately, and I'd never been to the southernmost section of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail, so we chucked my wife's old mountain bike in the car, chucked my touring bike on top of it, and got out of town.

I know this place...

We drove into the town of Fernvale at around 10 in the morning, pretty late to be starting a ride, but we only planned to ride the first 8km of the trail before heading back for afternoon tea  The whole area is reasonably familiar to me, having spent 4 years at university in the nearby town of Gatton, back in the 90s.  As we unpacked the bikes and made our way over to the trailhead behind the Fernvale information centre, it all came back to me.  I suddenly remembered a much less pleasant visit to Fernvale in recent years, when I was stopped at a pre-dawn checkpoint on a wet and miserable midnight century ride (which basically involves riding for 160km, starting at midnight).  As we rolled up to the start of the ride, I resolved not to punish myself as severely as I did that night, and make a big effort to have a relaxed and easy day.

The Fernvale trailhead of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail.  For some reason I didn't have really high expectations of this section of the trail - I was to be proven very wrong.

Laurie heads out of Fernvale, towards the town of Lowood.

The trail out of Fernvale winds westwards through the lifestyle blocks on to edge of town, next to a quiet backroad across the Lockyer Valley.

Laurie on the mighty Malvern Star, purchased circa 1999.  It weighs roughly as much as my car, but with a set of Detonators on it was rolling easily across the well-groomed gravel surface.

We slowly made our way out of Fernvale, across a dead flat bit of trail running about 5 metres from the road.  So far the trail was living up to my expectations - it was pleasant enough, but not exactly what I would call the full rail trail experience.  Despite having not been riding in the dirt since March, the whole experience was leaving me a bit cold - goes to show what a spoiled little adventure sook I've become!  We rolled along past all the hobby farms and small agistments as we headed slowly west.  Had I been by myself, I think I might have found this section of the trail a little dull - but I found that Laurie's excitement for the trail and being out on the bike was infectious, making for a very enjoyable ride.

After a few kilometres the trail veered from the main road and headed high above the Brisbane River - it looks very different up here to the muddy waterway that winds its way through the city of the same name.

Even though we were still only about 20m from the main road, we were also about 10m above it, so we could no longer see or hear most traffic.  It really changed the whole tone of the ride to have just that little bit of distance between us and the cars.

When I was trying to find info about the trail on the Internet, people were saying all sorts of things about the gravel surface, much of it not very kind.  The reality is that between Fernvale and Lowood on this section of the trail, the surface is smooth, firm and fast - a kid could ride a scooter along it.

And here was where the whole tone of the ride changed - some old rail infrastructure!

Heritage happens

Up to this point the whole experience had basically been a pretty nice ride along a dirt road, although certainly nothing particularly rail-ish had happened.  We climbed a little further up the embankment, turned a corner and it all happened - some railway heritage.  The whole tone of the ride immediately changed, and all of a sudden all the feelings I enjoyed about riding came flooding back.  It truly was a great moment after so long off the bike and unsure of what riding would be like when I got back into it.  It was the moment when I went from "I wonder if I will do cycle touring again" to "I'm doing cycle touring again".  I wasn't the only one feeling very pleased about it all - Laurie was beside himself that all the old structures and artefacts were still sitting around untouched, in pretty much the same condition as the day the last locomotive went through.

Laurie was intrigued by some layer of rock (I'm going to go ahead and call it metamorphic), among all the layers of sediment.  He raced up the steep slope for a look, as it turned out getting up there was a lot easier than getting back down.

An old brick and sandstone block retaining wall near Lowood.  This went on for ages, sometimes about 5-6m high.

Laurie's welcome to Lowood was discovering that I obsessively and continuously adjust my bike if there's even the slightest noise.  Today it was my rear brake squeaking a bit that was driving me insane.

Heading into Lowood on the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail was very reminiscent of heading into one of the towns along the Otago Central Rail Trail, with the old line heading running literally into the centre of town.

Pausing for a second at the restored Lowood railway station.

The trail passes within a few metres of the Lowood bakery.  Obviously the only sensible thing to do was to have a baked treat and a soft drink.

In the middle of nowhere, close to everything

Given our late start, it was about 1130 by the time we finished our morning tea.  We'd only covered about 8km, and decided to press on towards the small village of Coominya around 12km away.  I'd heard the trail got a little rougher between Lowood and Coominya, and I must admit as we rode through the town section of the line, I wasn't in love with the rough gravel surface.  After a few hundred metres we crossed a stile, and all concerns about the slightly rougher nature of the rail trail were forgotten as the landscape opened out into wide open agricultural plains, stretching far away to the mountains in the north and west.  It was at this point the trail well and truly left civilisation for the next 10 kilometres or so, cutting directly overland, far from any local roads.

Leaving Lowood as we rode towards Coominya.  The weather got a bit strange for an hour or so, but I once again felt the landscape energising me to continue, a feeling I'd not really felt since getting back from New Zealand over a year ago.

The first railway cutting of the ride - exciting times.

I was really getting into the swing of it now, riding through a vast valley with not much about other than weird clouds and a black soil plain.

Even though we were still really close to a major urban centre and not far at all from the nearest town, we were both taken by how remote the stretch between Lowood and Coominya seemed.  It was an unexpected treat.

It's been a long time since I've seen one of these - a deserted country road.  We crossed over it briefly before continuing along the trail.

When I was younger and used to drive through the area a lot in the car, I always though the entire Brisbane Valley was kind of the same.  Now on the bike I was amazed by the diversity of landscapes we were moving through.  In the space of about 15 minutes we'd gone from cropping land, through cattle grazing properties, and now were passing a lush, green dairy farm.

As soon as we got up close to the cows, Laurie started up with the dad-jokes.  Well I can hold my own in the dad-joke stakes (I have two daughters), so I started firing back with some lame cow related one-liners as we rolled along.  The weather was getting very warm by this point - we were pretty surprised as we thought it would be Friesian out there (yes I know they probably aren't Friesian cows, just thought I'd give you a sample of the champagne comedy on offer).

A very unexpected surprise

We eventually came to a spot where the trail suddenly turned sharply left onto a small farm track.  We could hear some people tearing about on trailbikes nearby, and I decided to continue straight ahead to see if I could spot where the old rail line continued.  The trail appeared to stop in a big clump of grass, I parked the bike and continued on foot.  Pushing through the grass I made a very unexpected discovery...

The old rail bridge crossing high over Lockyer Creek.  It certainly didn't appear stable enough to get a bike across, and it looked like we would have to cross the creek far below.  As an added bonus, sometime right about this point my compact camera went all weird - the poor old thing.

I had read about this crossing of Lockyer Creek, apparently it can be quite slippery in the wet.  The climb back out the other side looked insanely steep.

I was standing there looking at the bridge and creek crossing while Laurie walked out on the ricketty old structure a little way, before deciding that was actually a pretty bad idea.  A short distance away, a group of local teenagers on dirtbikes and quads pulled up and surveyed us with interest.  After a little while the lead guy cautiously approached us to say hello.  It turned out they were local guys and girls (one on them lived on the property the trail passed through here), and they were very knowledgeable and justifiably proud of the trail.  We made the usual chit-chat for a while, before the whole group eagerly escorted us down a little track to the crossing, and ensured we made it safely across.  I must admit it was a pretty cool encounter to have out in the middle of nowhere, and I thought it was a huge endorsement to the value that local people place on the trail as a recreational facility to showcase the region and bring pie-eating and chocolate milk-drinking tourists like us through the little old towns.

Down a steep switchback the Lockyer Creek crossing below the old bridge.  The local lads were all concerned that I had stacked it on the way down - I had just stopped to get some photos.  What a bunch of caring legends.

Laurie puts his shoes back on after crossing the calf-deep water, before starting the steep climb back up onto the plain.

This is the only bridge I've seen remaining on the rail trail - not sure if it's the only one left along the 150km-ish length of the line though.  The dust in the bottom left is one of the local tearing off on his bike after he was confident we knew the directions into the next town (as it happens you just follow the trail along).

The local guys stopped to pose for a photo and / or laugh at us attempting to get up the steep bank on the other side.  I opted for the cyclocross run up to the top - in the process discovering just how spectacularly unfit I've become.

Looking back across the Lockyer Creek railway bridge.  Not sure why this particular bridge is still there or what the plans are for it, but it sure adds something awesome to the ride.  It would be easy to say it should be fixed up to allow bike traffic, but in truth I really enjoyed the little detour to the creekbed - it added an unexpected touch of adventure.

The trail runs alongside the road here.  Laurie wisely suggested to ride along the road into the township of Coominya.  Good call.

Riding along the middle of an empty country road, how I have missed thee!

Turning point

After a few kilometres of riding along the bitumen I arrived in the little town of Coominya, crossed over the main road next to the crowded pub, and headed over to the restored station buildings in the centre of town.  This place was very familiar to me - we used to go to the pub boozing on the weekends when I went to uni down the road at Gatton.  In more recent years I passed by there at about 2am during a midnight century ride -  back then I got out of town and realised I needed a nature break and pulled over to the side of the road to take care of business pro-peloton style, managing to very skilfully piss all over myself, my bike and (somehow) my handlebar bag.  Fortunately I had no such issues today.  Looking back down the road I spotted Laurie stopped a little way away - I was unsure if he was lost or having cramps or what was going on.  He eventually made is way over to the station and we had a muesli bar in the shade to celebrate reaching the halfway point of the ride.

Exploring the old station complex featuring an assortment of historical railway artifacts around the place.  Despite the overcast conditions, the weather in Coominya was scorchingly hot.

After riding the Otago Central Rail Trail last year, I actually appreciate the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail a lot more than I did.  The local councils and community organisations have done a great job providing a real adventure experience, with very little money and even less support from the powers that be.

A feral bush ute at Coominya - this is something of an Australian rural tradition.  The basic concept is get a ute, put truck mudflaps on it, and as many stickers, flags and aerials as you fit.  This was a particularly good example, with the bed of the ute full of artistically arranged random junk.

Risk it for a biscuit

I had originally planned for us to ride straight back down the rail trail to get back to Fernvale, however Laurie wasn't too keen on the idea of bouncing along for another couple of hours.  I suggested we try the main road back to Fernvale, along the sometimes busy Brisbane Valley Highway.  From my memory of a few years ago the road was mostly flat, and reasonably short (wrong!), so Laurie said "let's risk it for a biscuit" and take the main road.  I wasn't too concerned either way, but I do enjoy biscuits, so off we headed away from Coominya and out to the highway.

I was slightly economical with the facts and "forgot" to mention to Laurie that there was a 2km moderate climb from Coominya up to the highway - I figured it was probably best he just did it without getting too stressed out about it beforehand.

With the only hill of the ride dispatched with, we rolled along the highway towards Wivenhoe Dam.  

Laurie had something of a trial by fire today.  He went from not really riding at all, to a 45km ride with me a week ago, to riding 20km along a rail trail earlier in the day, to riding on open highway.  Of course as with any ride on a main road in Queensland, he was treated to the full works - trucks, idiots in lime green commodores passing within 20cm of him, bogans beeping horns and revving engines in his ear, young dickheads in Monster energy drink caps with their ears tucked into their hats hanging out of cars yelling "oiyafuggenpooftacunnnnn!!!".  All pretty standard stuff to me, but no doubt new to him.  He took it all in his stride though, never flinching once and always holding his ground.  We stopped for a drink and the top of a hill and he said with a chuckle "good to see we have a few supporters out on the road today!".  I think I can learn a lot from the way he just laughed it all off.

We had the pleasure of riding over the Wivenhoe Dam wall.  Another novel experience for Laurie, as most people just rip over it in a car at 100km/h and don't get to see just how huge that expanse of water really is.  I kind of got the feeling that Laurie was becoming a bit of a convert to the whole cycle adventure concept.

A short ride from the dam and soon we were back at Fernvale.  Laurie was quickly becoming skilled at pulling awesome poses every time I pointed the camera at something.  Note to self: bring the better camera next time so I can get one of his amazing photo poses into a magazines article.

Aprés velo meal of champions = pie and chocolate milk.  One of the great things about this ride is how often it passes through little towns, and how many of those towns have bakeries.  Pretty sure I finished this ride heavier than I when I started.

I finally did it

I was so pleased with myself at the end of that ride.  The ride itself was easy and reasonably short (about 50km), but the fact that I had actually got back on the bike, made the effort to go somewhere new and spark my interest in cycle touring again was a huge milestone for me.  As an added bonus, my new wrist passed all tests with flying colours - even in my unfit state I had a lot more strength and agility handling the bike than previously.  I definitely came away from Fernvale with a big smile on my face - I was very much "back in the saddle".

The other big bonus of the day was how awesome the southernmost section of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail is.  I'd read mixed reviews, but after being out there for a day I can safely conclude it's awesome.  Starting under an hour's drive from Brisbane, the Fernvale - Coominya section offers a prefect slice of rail trail experience, including lots of little towns to resupply at, plenty of restored and original rail heritage, and just enough riding challenge to keep it all interesting.  Definitely high on my recommended rides list and I'll most definitely be back.

As I sit here now, I have no more university study left to do - I finished my course yesterday.  It's Saturday night and a huge storm is hammering Brisbane.  Rain is bucketing down and the house is rattling from all the thunder.  There is only one sensible option - grab a map book, sprawl out on the couch and plan my next ride.  

It certainly does feel great to be back.

Something I can believe in - and support!

Well it’s now been almost 5 months since my wrist fusion surgery.  Today was the first time I’ve actually sat down and pondered just how long it’s been since that day in June when I went under the knife to repair my destroyed right hand.  I honestly thought I’d be back on the bike within 3 weeks doing easy training rides.  I was very wrong - it was 3 months until I tentatively got back on the bicycle to go for a wobble around the local bikeways.

Since making those first pedals back on the velo a couple of months ago, I’ve managed to gradually re-learn how to ride a bicycle with the new wrist, to the point where over the weekend I managed to get out for a ride on the southern section of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail.  That ride will be the subject of another post soon, the focus of this post is how I’ve spent those weird months where riding a bicycle wasn’t an option...

For the first few weeks following my surgery, I wasn’t up to much.  My days basically involved lying in bed, taking extreme painkillers and listening to Depeche Mode and Elton John (separately, unless there’s some duet out there I don’t know about) on my MP3 player.  After that I began reading the few cycle touring books I have, and giving all my old cycling magazines another look.  After about a month I felt up to a bit of light computing, so it was time to trawl the internet looking for adventure touring sites in an effort to keep my spirits up and set some touring goals for my eventual return to cycling.

After searching through the usual favourites I happened across the Inspiring Riding website, by a bunch of cycle adventurers based in New Zealand (aka my most favouritest nation in the whole wide cosmos).  This site struck a chord with me, as I was laying around equally excited and fearful about getting back on the bike for a new adventure.  The aim of the Inspiring Riding site is simple - to inspire people to get out on a bicycle adventure - whether it be a ride to a new suburb or a ride across a new country.  For me the site really captured the spirit of adventure that I was desperately trying to reconnect with.

As I loafed around for the next few weeks doing my endless rehabilitation exercises and hoping for the day when I’d be able to go near a bike again, I received an email from the team at Inspiring Riding.  They are producing a magazine!!!

The Inspiring Riding website says a lot more about it than I ever could, other than to say this looks like a publication that is VERY much on the same page as I am.  It isn’t about having the best bike or crunching the most miles or riding the most technical terrain - it’s just about getting on a bike and going somewhere.  The spirit of bicycle adventure really is that simple...

Journey is a quarterly cycle touring magazine that looks to be very different to other cycling and adventure magazines - a journal that has the single goal to inspire people to get out on a bicycle adventure.  Something that I think the team at Inspiring Riding do so well is really communicate the essence of why I, and no doubt many others, choose adventure touring and cycling as a lifestyle.  To sweeten the deal for me, Journey will contain a lot of stories about getting out in the New Zealand countryside on a bike, as well as bicycle adventure stories from around the world.  So obviously I am well pumped at the prospect of getting my hands on the first issue.

To get the Journey project off the ground, the team at Inspiring Riding are offering subscriptions and a bunch of other rewards for early subscribers and supporters.  The funds will be used for printing, paper and production costs that will not only provide for a boutique standard journal publication, but will also reduce the need to include intrusive advertising - keeping it all about the adventure and not about the latest equipment.

The Inspiring Riding website and the prospect of the forthcoming Journey magazine has really kept me focused, motivated and inspired for adventure over the past few months, and I wholeheartedly endorse and support the project.  I sincerely recommend you check out the Journey supporters and subscription page, and consider getting involved with this startup publication by cycle adventurers, for cycle adventurers.  And be sure to check out the video on the supporters page - it was watching those guys sum up the reasons we ride that made me get off my sorry convalescing arse and get back out on the road!

A whole lot of nothing going on

Well, for the first time since March, I've found myself with a spare hour and nothing in particular to do - I might indulge myself a little bit and reconnect with this long neglected (but not forgotten) blog.

It's been a pretty hectic 2012 for me so far.  For some now unknown reason I've gone back to university this year to do some postgraduate study - I thought it would be a hilarious fun-filled romp whereby I taught the young people how to party old-school style, and in return they taught me to relate better to my own children or something.  Disappointingly, the reality has been very different - mainly me sitting in my office until a hundred o'clock every night, tapping away at a computer writing countless assignments.  At any rate, it's not been a whole lot of cycle touring good times.

The other thing that has been keeping me off the blog, and off the bike for that matter, is my completely borked right hand.  I don't think there is even a word to describe what's going on there.  Basically, everything has disconnected from everything else and my hand is just kind kind of hanging dislocated on the end of my arm, unable to do much at all...

 Not exactly the ultimate setup for adventure cycling, or indeed anything.

 For the medically inclined - side view of my munched rheumatoid arthritis wrist.  Fingers on the right, arm on the left.

But it's not all bad news - in 2 weeks I'm trundling off to the local hospital to get a few of the defective hand bones removed, some arm bones chopped up a bit, and the whole lot fused solid with some titanium plates and screws and things like that.  While I admit I'm totally shitscared about the whole process, I'm also looking forward to having it done.  After 4 years of living and riding with this, I'm stoked that there's finally light at the end of the tunnel.

As a consequence of seeing that tunnel light, my mind has already started to jump forward past the surgery and recovery, and I'm looking at doing some riding again.  Specifically, looking at doing some cycle touring again.  For some reason I've been bereft of inspiration for cycle travel for the past few months, but now it's like some kind of fog has lifted and I can remember how much fun I've had on a bike, and am thinking about all the fun I'll have again cycling to some new places.

Of course all this new found motivation and excitement begs the question "where to ride?".  I've found myself in the very pleasant situation of spending my day starting at maps, reading blogs, looking at photos on Google Earth, in a state of complete and utter option paralysis.  There's a world of good riding out there, and in a few months time I'm going to be fit and healthy enough to get involved again.

I've only got a few ideas on my must-ride list for 2013.  One of those is to go for a ride around the dry tropics savanna of North Queensland, to really reconnect with the place where I first really discovered the joys of getting out into the middle of nowhere to do nothing in particular.  Another ride that will have to be done again is our ride from Christchurch to Dunedin via the Otago Central Rail Trail - with what we know about the route we think we can do it again and take in a lot of the places we ran out of time to check out last time.

Other than those two ideas, my head is a swirling mess of vague ideas and half thought out plans.  If anyone has any suggestions for some must-ride cycle touring destinations in AU, NZ and beyond, I'm all ears!

A different kind of Glorious

I must admit I have been doing very little in the way of cycling since returning from riding in New Zealand last November.  I've led a charity ride, ridden the northern section of the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail once, and gone on a few little rides around town, and that's about it - the combination of heat, stormy weather, traffic and injury has meant my touring bike has spent most of the summer gathering dust.

A few weeks ago I got a request to write and photograph a ride guide for a cycling magazine, so I made the snap decision to ride up to Mt Glorious, via South Boundary Road.  South Boundary Road is a disused logging track running through the D'Aguilar National Park, pretty much right on the doorstep of the Brisbane CBD, and only a short distance from my house.  I used to ride there all the time when I did a lot of mountain biking, and figured the higher slopes of Mt Glorious would be the perfect place to escape the summer heat for a day.  I'd also been spending a lot of time looking at the inspirational Bike Overnights website, so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to do a little bit of bush camping up in the cool evening air of the mountain and see what this overnight tour thing is all about.

Given that I was only going away overnight, I didn't put in a huge amount of preparation.  On the morning we were due to leave, I wandered around the house throwing random items of food in my panniers, grabbed my hammock and headed out into the midday Brisbane traffic.  My companion for the trip was my riding friend Rudi, who has joined me for a number of other adventures over the years.  Riding through the insane traffic of Brisbane was bizarre on a loaded touring bike - as I left my house I didn't feel like I was having any kind of getaway at all, it felt more like the world's most hot and difficult trip to the shops.  Fortunately after about 15 minutes we were out of the worst of the traffic, and on the quiet bike paths leading through the suburbs to the start of South Boundary Road.

We looked fairly odd riding touring bikes with panniers and tents past families walking their dogs and playing cricket in local parks

A number of the bike paths in Brisbane have been totally re-modelled since the floods of January 2011.  This nifty little switchback was an unexpected delight

Switch to adventure mode

After a short ride through the suburbs, we arrived at the edge of D'Aguilar National Park, the start of South Boundary Road.  I generally have a lot of trouble getting into "touring mode" at the best of times, and knowing I would only be away from the house for 24 hours wasn't helping.  However, as soon as we hauled our bikes over the stile at the park entrance, we immediately entered another world.  Although we were only about 10 minutes drive from the centre of the city, it was as though Brisbane had just disappeared.  All we could see was scrub in every direction, and the only sound was wind and birds.

Rudi switches out of Brisbane traffic warfare survival mode, and into adventure touring mode

The start of South Boundary Road overlooks Enoggera Dam.  The day was getting very hot by now - it was good to know we'd be riding into the cool of the afternoon

As soon as we crossed the stile, the road went upwards, and upwards, and upwards.  I hadn't ridden this route for a few years, and it was now very much all coming back to me.  On a mountain bike parts of the climb are tough - on a touring bike this had the potential to be a long day

Rudi gives it a good go on the first climb.  One of the advantages of being the photographer on a trip is that whenever it gets hard, you can stop on the grounds that "this would make a great photo".  Another advantage is being able to whine about the extra weight of the gear

Quote of the day from Rudi: "not only is it an expensive walking stick, it's also fucking heavy!" I must admit, I was finding it tough going in the early part of the ride, and was also walking my bike up the steeper climbs.  Most of the ride is constantly up and down as the road gradually makes its way to the summit of Mt Nebo

After a little while I managed to get into the rhythm of the road.  It basically goes up a steep climb, across the top of the ridge, down a descent to a saddle, then up another steep climb to the next ridge - again and again and again

Rudi hammers through one of the saddles and begins the next climb.  The trail surface is firm and compacted, and mountain bikes at high speed have worn a very clean line all the way up the mountain

Soon we left behind the rocky lower slopes and moved into more lush scrub a little further up the mountain.  With the temperature a little cooler, I was beginning to get my climbing legs back and was spending a lot less time walking the bike

Through the scrub we could see glimpses of the landscape below.  At one point on the climb we emerged into a clearing under some power lines, and could see almost all the way to the NSW border.  We'd already climbed a long way

Rudi rides past the water tank on South Boundary Rd, near the spot where the track makes a sharp turn to the left that a lot of riders miss.  Rudi 

A few hundred metres after the water tank, the landscape suddenly changed from dry open scrub to hot rainforest.  I remembered that just uphill from the tank awaited the two most brutal climbs of the ride, steep and long ascents up rocky inclines.  We arrived at the first climb together, and immediately dismounted and started walking our bikes the 1km or so to the top.  Even on foot I was leaving Rudi behind, and waited around for him at the crest.  As I waited, I saw him walking around the corner, and shouted at him to ride his bike for a bit so I could get some photos.  He valiantly climbed on his bike, and to my surprise started charging up the hill towards me at a fair pace.

Rudi was looking so good in the climb, I was beginning to think he was faking his earlier weakness.  Then suddenly about 20m from the top, he got the wobbles.  Looks like he's going down...

...not quite.  He managed to stop, screaming in pain with leg cramps

Being such a caring friend, I didn't stop shooting as he stood their attempting to stretch out his legs.  I could see his quadriceps going into spasm from where I was standing

Rudi had been saying for the last half an hour or so that he wanted to stop for a break, and I had been trying get him to keep going, giving it the whole "we'll stop at the top of the next hill" routine.  Now it did seem time for a break, we rested the bikes on the embankment on the side of the road and had a drink and some food.  My general rule for trail stops is a maximum of five minutes - any longer than that and my legs cool off too much and I have trouble getting moving again.  As my trip computer switched itself off I knew it was time to get moving again, and told Rudi I'd meet him at Scrub Rd bush hut, a small camping hut about 6km up the road at a junction.  He seemed to be feeling better, so I shot off through the forest towards the hut.

As I got closer to the hut and closer to the summit, the large climbs abated and the track flowed along the ridgelines

The mountain landscape changed continuously.  Halfway up a gentle climb, the soil suddenly changed from light brown to red, and the grass and trees looked a lot greener

The welcome sight of the Scrub Road bush hut.  I was relieved to get there as I had run out of water on the hot climb

It all goes a bit wrong

I arrived at the Scrub Road bush hut at about 3:00pm.  Our destination for the day was another bush hut further up the road, in the saddle between Mt Nebo and Mt Glorious.  The plan was to spend the night up there, then in the morning it would be a matter of a reasonably easy ride back into the Samford Valley and home, and I'd be able to make good use of the last hours of today and the first hours of the morning to stage some riding photos around the summit.  I estimated we still had about 20km to ride to get to the other bush hut, and about three hours of daylight left.  I sat in the shade of the hut and sterilised some water from the tank.  Rudi had never been further than this hut before, and had no means of treating water and probably no map, so I decided to wait for him.

Scrub Road bush hut, one of many bush camping spots on Mt Nebo and Mt Glorious

Sterilising tankwater while I waited - the steripen is a lot quicker and easier than boiling, which was handy as I figured Rudi would only be a few minutes away

Since my last ride through D'Aguilar National Park a couple of years ago, sign posts have been placed at every junction making navigation a lot easier.  I got the big camera out and walked to the junction hoping to snap some sort of depth-of-field shot of Rudi as he rode around the bend.  After about 30 minutes of waiting around, he never showed up, so I wandered back to the hut.  This wasn't the first time I've had to wait a while for Rudi, so at this point I wasn't too concerned

The view from inside the bush hut - turns out this was my view for quite some time.  As the sun got lower, I became progressively more concerned about getting to the campsite on Mt Glorious before nightfall.  After an hour of waiting I became concerned about what had happened to Rudi in the 6km since I last saw him, and started rolling back down the hill

I found him a little way down the road, squatting next to his bike trying to ease his leg cramps

At this point it was pretty clear that Rudi wasn't going to be going much further that day.  He was the unhappiest I've ever seen him on a bike, and was covered in dirt from rolling around on the ground trying to work his cramps out.  He'd covered six kilometres in about 1.5 hours.  He bravely tried to soldier on past the bush hut, but within a few hundred metres it became clear he wasn't going to be able to make it to our planned destination on Mt Glorious, so we rolled back down to the Scrub Road bush hut to set up camp for the night.

Before getting too carried away at setting up our camp, we sat in the hut with our shoes off and took a few minutes to relax.  As we were sitting there, a group of four mountain bike riders arrived at the hut - and announced they were planning on camping there the night.  They were really nice guys, but this was a bit much for me to handle.  The day hadn't gone my way - I was already a bit disappointed about only getting 28km from my front door and not making it into the high rainforest to camp, and now the prospect of not finding the solitude I was expecting was making me feel anxious and somewhat claustrophobic.  The riders mentioned they didn't have tents and were hoping to sleep in the shelter, so Rudi and I volunteered to set up a camp a little way up the road so both parties could each enjoy the solitude of the bush.  As the we set up camp and cooked dinner in the setting sun, my earlier disappointment quickly faded away.

After the initial disappointment of not getting as far as I'd like and having unexpected company, securing a ridgetop camping spot started to turn things around

Camp Velo Cetera - the new ultralight setup

Tonight was the first night I tried out my new Hennessy Hammock

I was intrigued to learn that while Rudi doesn't carry a map or cooking gear, he can't leave home without a clothes line and pegs

Relaxing in the late afternoon sun, drinking cans of hot lemonade.  Our food choices for an overnight tour were amazing - basically lemonade, chips and lollies

Sunset in the scrub on Mt Nebo.  After the tribulations of the afternoon, I was looking forward to crawling into the hammock for a sleep.  I had also forgotten to bring any kind of torch, so an enforced early night was on the cards

Best sleep ever

After quickly scoffing my dinner in the rapidly fading light, I climbed into my new Hennessy Hammock for the first time.  Apparently you're either a hammock person or you're not - and upon climbing in and lying down, it became very clear that I am indeed a hammock person.  This hammock is a clever rethink of a basic concept, and provided an amazingly stable and comfortable platform for me to spend the night.  It was something of a novelty to be out camping in the bush, yet in total comfort with no rocks or hard floor to contend with.  The mesh covered inner of the hammock was tall enough for me to sit up in, and I spent a long time just looking out into the silent bush around.  The hammock also features two side lines which pull the main platform of the hammock out into a rough diamond shape, giving me a lot more room to lie on my back, my side or even my front.  One unexpected advantage was that every time I moved position, the hammock would very gently sway - an entirely pleasant and relaxing sensation.  Whenever I'm camping I usually wake up numerous times in the night thinking how uncomfortable I am, and spend ages trying to find a comfortable position to lie in - with the hammock I did wake up a couple of times, and I remember just thinking "this is so comfortable" and happily drifting straight back to sleep.  It was probably the best night sleep I've had anywhere for the past few years - maybe even better than my own bed.

Early the next morning in camp.  I spent a total of ten hours straight in the hammock that night, and was a little unhappy when I finally had to get up.  The Hennessy Hammock has definitely earned a place in my bike camping manifest

Packing up the hammock was another revelation.  Rudi was struggling with his tent and getting covered in dirt scrambling around on the ground - I just pulled the two sleeves down over the hammock, undid the rope, coiled it up and stuffed it in my pannier.  The whole process took less than 30 seconds and the hammock never touched the ground.  Breaking camp is my least favourite part of camping, and now it was all but eliminated.  As you can probably guess by now - I reckon this hammock is the best piece of touring equipment I own

More of the same

The first order of business for the day was to continue up South Boundary Road to the top of Mt Nebo.  The weather was humid and hot, even in the early hours of the morning, and it was with some relief we eventually hit the cooler rainforest on the higher slopes.

Rudi rides into the cool leafy rainforest.  He seemed to be feeling a lot better this morning

With the larger climbs behind us, we made good time towards the end of South Boundary Road

The western end of South Boundary Road, where the dirt meets the main sealed road between Brisbane and Mt Glorious

Before  we rejoined the sealed road for the remainder of our ride, I stopped to pump a little more air into my rear tyre.  Rudi was standing next me, and once I put my pump away I started turning my bike around to head onto the main road.  Rudi decided to slowly ride, and almost as soon as he got his feet clipped into the pedals, he hit a rock in the road which instantly halted his forward momentum.  He fell over into me, knocking my bike out of my hands, although I managed to remain on my feet during the whole thing while I was surrounded by a tangled mess of bikes, panniers and Rudi.   Naturally, my most immediate concern was getting to my bike in time to get my camera out and get a photo of Rudi swearing and flailing around on his back like an upturned turtle.  Alas, I wasn't quite quick enough - I must start carrying my camera in my pocket.

Rudi quickly rights his bike and tries to regain his composure to avoid any photographic evidence of his mishap

Although the dirt section of the ride was behind us, we still had to make the challenging climb up the tarmac from Mt Nebo to the summit of Mt Glorious before we could descend back into the Samford Valley.  By now I was very much in touring mode, carefully metering out my energy as I steadily climbed up through the humid air of the dense rainforest.  Mt Glorious is a popular destination for Brisbane cyclists, and all the time I was getting passed by an assortment of lean and fast riders.  A few of them mentioned that it must be a tough climb on a loaded touring bike, and one guy even threw out a touring bike related heckle "are you moving house or something?" - well played!

Rolling through the rainforest on the way to Mt Glorious

It was still early in the day, but I could almost see the crushing humidity

Rudi on the move through the rainforest

After a promising start, by the time we reached the top of Mt Glorious, Rudi was exhausted again.  He sat unhappily by the roadside eating the rest of his food before the descent down the mountain and across the valley floor to Samford

The top of the brake-searing descent down Mt Glorious to Samford.  The road reaches gradients of 15% for a few kilometres, through a series of tight and blind switchbacks.  Not for the faint hearted, and a little terrifying on a loaded touring bike

Rudi at roadworks on the descent.  The red light certainly broke the rhytym of the ride

Before too long our mountain adventure was suddenly over, and we rode through the lifestyle residential blocks across the valley to the village of Samford, on the outskirts of Brisbane

By 9:00am we were back in Samford, only about 15km from my house.  The weekend's riding had taken its toll on Rudi - shortly after I headed off to my house, he phoned his wife and got a lift home.

 Bike overnighters are awesome

My little weekend getaway had not exactly gone as I had planned - we didn't make it to our destination, everything took a lot longer than I expected, I hadn't explored anywhere I hadn't been before, and I only just barely had enough photos to submit to the magazine.  Despite all the hassles, I had one of the best and most adventurous weekends I have had for a very long time, literally within a couple of hours of my front door.  D'Aguilar National Park is an amazing place - it's quite remarkable that such a huge park exists so close to a major city.  The fact that it's completely closed to vehicular traffic gives it a really remote feel that it seems only a few intrepid cyclists and hikers take full advantage of.

The concept of the bike overnighter is a stunningly simple one that I have long understood, but for some reason I'd never done, instead choosing to focus only on long and elaborate tours or just day rides.  Turns out I've been missing out on the simple pleasure of just getting on a bike, riding somewhere, sleeping under the stars, then riding home again.  In only 22 hours and 80km, I'd managed to recreate the same feeling of achievement and adventure that I had returning from three weeks of touring overseas.  Bike overnighters are certainly a cheap and easy way to capture the vibe of adventure cycling - whether you're a seasoned cross country camper or a novice tourer, there's sure to be an exciting overnighter destination somewhere near you.  It's just a matter of getting out there to find it...