My daughter Laura and her partner Ken are visiting us from Scotland for a few days, so I thought today would be a good opportunity to enjoy some on-foot exploration of the Glasshouse Mountains.
Although they’re half a world away from the bonnie braes and glens of Scotland, the ancient volcanic Glasshouse monoliths have a timeless beauty of which I never tire.
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Just a short skip across the sparkling waters of southern Moreton Bay, Russell Island feels like it’s a million miles away from the bustling mainland.
We thought we’d try something unusual when we hopped on the ferry this morning. Although the island is only eight kilometres long, and less than two kilometres wide, I had planned a circuitous route which ambled over 40km along dirt tracks, gravel roads and grassy fields with spectacular views over the bay in every direction.
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This morning we had planned an exciting group ride up into the Mt Mee section of D’Aguilar National Park. Unfortunately we had to cancel because of heavy overnight rain. Instead of a long morning ride with friends in the forest, I ended up doing a short solo afternoon ride close to home – pretty much around the block. It was probably one of the shortest Saturday rides I’ve ever done, but it was fun to check out some familiar places and revisit the history of the area.
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I’ve got pretty close to Caloundra on some of my previous rides, but never quite made it there for one reason or another.
The challenging part for a mountain biker is the busy traffic between the beaches of Caloundra and the quiet trails to the west.
I’m unable to ride rough trails while I recover from injury, so today’s mission was to try fnd a quiet off-road route between Landsborough and Caloundra.
(BTW If you look very closely at my knee in the above photo you might be able to make out the really small puckered mark below my left knee. I’ve got one of those on either side of my left knee where the surgeon did the arthroscopy. I was surprised at how small the hole was. Apart from a bit of pain when I extend it, the op was a success and I’m now working on getting the leg as straight as possible)
I started from Ewen Maddock Dam. I’ve enjoyed many of the trails around the dam in the past, as well as some of the cross-country options through here to the Glass House Mountains, and back up into rainforests of Dullarcha National Park.
Today’s ride would be towards the coast, so I had little option but to follow the main road for a short way.
The road shoulder on this part of Steve Irwin way is nice and wide, so I didn’t have any problems with the passing traffic.
Before crossing the highway I took a small detour along a quiet path in the Jowarra Section of Mooloolah River National Park. This small rainforest is on the banks of the Mooloolah River with some quiet tracks winding through the strangler figs, ferns and melaleucas. It has about 2km of well-maintained tracks, picnic tables and a nearby shop. If you’re ever passing by it’s well worth a look.
I only had to endure about two kilometres of busy road east of the highway before Sattler Road beckoned me northward. This quiet road slowly devolves into a gravel track…
… then a grassy trail…
I had a grin from ear to ear as I pedalled through the fields of Meridan Plains. This was perfect.
A couple of huge black cockatoos leapt out of a tree in surprise as I rolled by.
“Hello brothers!” I yelled out happily. These gentle birds have a soft call that I love. They always seem to turn up when I’m having a good time in the bush, so I always associate them with delight and happy times.
For any mountain bikers looking for a quiet off-road way to get from Steve Irwin Way to Caloundra, I’d thoroughly recommend Sattler Road. The flat terrain makes for an easy ride, but it also has the disadvantage of flooding easily. It’s probably best not to attempt it after heavy rain as I think this ground would be heartbreaking when muddy.
After another couple of kilometres of quiet back streets I eventually met up with this bikeway which passes under the Sunshine Motorway towards the Meridan State College. It was now a pretty easy ride on bike lanes to Dicky Beach.
There have been a couple of shipwrecks in this area. The iron steam boat, S S Dicky ran aground here during a heavy storm in 1893. It has been there ever since. As a kid in the 1970’s I remember playing amongst the rusty remains. It seemed much larger then. Today, all I could make out was one bit of reddish metal poking out above the waves. The sea appears to be winning a long battle of attrition with the ship.
Moffat Beach is just round the corner near the headland. I ran into an English tourist who kindly offered to take my photo when he saw me battling with the auto-timer on the camera. It was difficult but I managed not to gloat about the cricket – I think we both knew what was going in my head, but neither of us went there 🙂
Riding up Queen of Colonies Parade, I passed another chilhood haunt. As a kid we used to share a beach house with a couple of other families. Named “Bimbo”, the house had million dollar northward views from the headland looking up towards Noosa. Those priceless views are probably the main reason “Bimbo” is no longer there today.
The street is named after another shipwreck. The “Queen of Colonies” ran aground on this headland in 1863. The survivors were marooned for a couple of weeks living on shellfish and berries. One of the sailors carved the name of the ship on the trunk of a pandanus tree, which enabled resuers to eventually find them.
Shelly Beach is just round the corner from the headland. With rocky cliffs at either end, I think this secluded stretch of coast is the gem of all of Caloundra’s beaches. It’s quiet, unspoilt and gorgeous. The perfect place to chill out among the dunes.
As I rounded the southern headland, I had a great view of the surf rolling into Bribie Passage and Kings Beach. The Moreton Bay shipping lanes come in very close to shore here, so the clifftop seats are a perfect spot for ship-watching as the ocean-bound behemoths slowly change course and head seaward.
“Excuse me mate, you wouldn’t happen to have an Allen Key by any chance?”
“Yeah. Of course I do!”
“Oh great – my handle bars are loose and need tightening” he said as he wiggled them back and forth.
“My mates make fun of all the crap I carry in my bag”, I said as I tightened the handlebars. “Times like this I’m glad I do”, I added.
I checked out what they were riding. “Wow those bikes look amazing!”
“Yeah, my girlfriend bought them as a Christmas present…. Hey thanks so much for fixing our bikes.”
“No problems”, I said. “Just let me take your picture!”
The coolest thing about these single-speed bikes? A stubby holder on the top tube! Drop a can of your favourite drink in the holder, get your rubber footwear on, and cruise the beachside paths. Awesome!
I followed a skater and a cyclist along the boardwalk from Kings to Bullcock Beach. The skater had a horn that he honked at unwary pedestrians like a circus clown. I rode in his wake, as the pedestrians got out of his way.
The pedestrians seemed to prefer being honked at by a skater, rather than me ringing my bell. Strange.
I couldn’t resist taking a quick pic of the spot that Murray and I stood at on Bribie Island during our fat bike adventure a couple of weeks ago. It’s amazing how close these two spots are, but how “far apart” they are from a cycling perspective. I think one day I’ll paddle across this section of water at slack tide, just to close the 100m gap in my map.
At the western end of the boardwalk on Bullcock Beach, I took one last look back at the water before heading back along the main road to my starting point.
Caloundra is a beautiful part of the world. It seems much more relaxed than some of the more developed sea-side cities to its immediate north, and it has some gorgeous views.
After a bit of a climb up “Little Mountain” I followed the wide road shoulder back to my starting point, waving some furious hand signals as I went through the intersection at the Bruce Highway, to make drivers saw me. It looks comical, but instead of sticking my arm out to the right, in heavy traffic I stick it out and flap it wildly so motorists behind me can see me more easily. They probably think I’m crazy, or pretending to be a bird, but I’d rather be crazy, visible and alive than respectable, invisible and dead.
This ride was about 45km with about 400m of climbing. It took me Three and a half hours during which I burned about 1,600 kcal.
Apart from short sections of busy traffic, it’s an easy laid-back ride with spectacular views of the ocean.
If you’re vacationing at Caloundra, I’d thoroughly recommend the coastal bikepath / board walk between Dicky Beach and Bullcock Beach.
I’ll rate it 5.5 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.
Becca emailed me a couple of months ago…
“I was wondering if you could link the following up to make a rideable loop….”
Then she rattled off a list of improbable places all over South East Queensland ranging from Moggill (near Ipswich), to Mount Glorious, Samford and Bunyaville.
She signed off by adding, “Please feel free to tell me if this is a daft idea”.
After a few exchanges with her, I eventually sent Becca a route labelled “Becca’s Suicide Loop” and the comment “Don’t do it!!!!”. The original route covered 112km and involved 3,000m of ascent. I’d never done a ride that tough, and felt a strange combination of guilt, worry, and goulish curiosity as I thought about my friends following my directions on this tough adventure without me.
As you probably know, I’m recovering (very well thanks) from knee surgery, and am unable to get out on the bike for a while. So I feel a bit like the colonial government in 19th century Australia, sending vulnerable explorers like Burke & Wills, and Buckley (of “Buckleys Chance” fame) into the hostile wilderness.
I was relieved when common-sense prevailed. My riding buddies: Becca, Eric, Jason and Paul decided to try about half of the original loop, starting at Upper Brookfield, and riding into the D’Aguilar Range via Mt Nebo before looping back via Camp Mountain and Gap Creek. It was still going to be a tough ride, with a hell of a lot of climbing, but I was now pretty sure they’d all get back alive.
My ride notes to Becca started off like this:
1. Start at the Cricket Ground opposite Brookfield Cemetery at 548 Brookfield Road
2. Head west along Upper Brookfield Road
3. Consider how much this ride is like a bottle of Gin. It starts off pleasantly. By the end of the bottle it will kill you.
4. Turn right and ride up into the national park
Upper Brookfield is a beautiful green part of the world, with rolling hills, plenty of trees and quiet creeks. But once the riders left the bitumen and hit the dirt, they discovered how tough it can be.
Steep climbs, rough surfaces, water damage from recent rain, and ruts from motorized traffic had turned the park entry into a rugged hike-a-bike section that required a lot of walking.
The ride up to the water tank and shelter on Scrub Road was a 16km up-hill slog with about 650m of climbing. In parts the gradient exceeded 22%. As Becca signed the guest book in the shelter, everyone rested, ate a few snacks and secretly thought a few angry thoughts about the evil architect of this loop – yours truly.
Most Mountain Bikers love the long fast descent down to the creek crossing on Scrub Road. After all the climbing it’s a delight to feel the cool breeze cutting through your sweatty clothes as you roll down-hill.
Jason is often on the lookout for ancient indigenous tree markings, historical remnants, or wildlife. It was no surprise when he jumped off his bike at the bottom of the hill and tried to convince this bearded dragon to pose for a photo.
Despite its steepness, Scrub Road a great place to ride or hike, but it’s best done in drier weather. After rain the track becomes muddy and difficult to traverse.
The riders left Scrub Road and followed the paved road towards Camp Mountain. This is another tough climb, but as Becca explained, “The climb up Camp Mountain seemed like a piece of cake after the steep hills at Brookfield”.
Once again, Jason spotted some wildlife on the road – a huge worm / millipede creature, and yelled out to Becca “Don’t run over the slug!!!” (When you’re in a hurry to save something, getting a correct taxonomic identification is not high on the list of priorities).
Luckily, the worm / millipede / slug creature was saved from death by mountain bike tyre, and gratefully agreed to be photographed by Jason.
The views from the lookout at Camp Mountain are always spectacular – especially if you’ve worked hard to reach the top. On this day, however, everyone decided to keep riding, and rolled past the lookout towards the “Short Side” track down the other side of the mountain.
Eric explained that a couple of trees had fallen on the track which slowed everyone on the way down. Becca said the short side was “a lot of fun as usual”. I think any mountain biker would agree that it’s much more enjoyable riding DOWN the short side of Camp Mountain than riding UP.
The trails eventually led the riders to the Bellbird Grove picnic area followed by another long climb up the paved drive way to Mount Nebo Road.
“Look out for cars on the way up”, Eric said. “Drivers are usually looking out for a picnic area and won’t see you”.
Ironically, an elderly driver collided with Eric as she passed him. He was ok, and banged his fist on the side of the car as it pushed him off the road. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you”, the elderly driver explained as she got out of the vehicle.
I suspect Eric was relieved to reach the top of the hill and get back onto the dirt tracks away from the dangers of motor vehicles and careless drivers.
It’s only a 2km climb, but it’s hard work climbing out of Centre Road towards the end of a ride. Eric described it as a very hot and tiring climb. Becca added that because much of the route is in open unshaded terrain this would not be a good ride to do in summer.
Once they were back on South Boundary Road, Eric, Becca, Paul and Jason headed towards the single tracks at Gap Creek following the “Death Adder” and Boscome Road trails towards Gold Creek Road. Thankfully this final 10km section was mostly downhill, and gave everyone a chance to recover before finishing back at the sports oval at Upper Brookfield.
This ride covered 45km in just over 5 hours. During that time the riders climbed about 1,600m in vertical ascent.
When I asked them about the ride, three of them gave it 9 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter, with one person giving it 10 out of 10.
Jason described it as a “hard slog” and a good training ride for anyone wanting to “toughen up” before a race.
Eric said it was “as hard as I had anticipated” and thought that aspirations had exceeded abilities.
Paul said he would have liked more hills. I really hope you were joking, Paul!
And Becca said it was “Fun” and “A good loop if you don’t mind walking”.
Considering these people are some of the toughest mountain bikers I know, I’d suggest you only attempt this loop if you’re very fit.
Congratulations, everyone, on a huge effort. Mostly I am sorry I didn’t get to share it with you. But if I’m honest, part of me is relieved too.
And Becca, in answer to your original question: No! You are no dafter that I am 🙂
The aim of today’s ride was to join up a gap in my map. I’ve ridden through Ningi before with my friend Darb, and had a great time on the beach at Bribie with Murray riding Fat Bikes.
I’ll be having an operation in a couple of days, and my surgeon told me to avoid any activities which could might cause scratches or cuts to my skin, so a nice easy ride between Ningi and Woorim was the perfect choice.
The town of Ningi gets its name from the Ningi Ningi aboriginal people who lived in the coastal area east of Caboolture. The language spoken by the Ningi Ningi people was called “Oondoo” and is a dialect of the Kabi language group. The word “Ningi” means “Oyster” in the Oondoo dialect, so the name probably comes from the large number of oysters which could be found on the rocks around Sandstone Point near the Bribie bridge.
To avoid the main highway, I followed some quiet back streets through Ningi to the “Esplanade” which follows Ningi Creek towards the ocean.
One interesting aspect of the Esplanade is the number of small private walkways that jut out through the mangroves, allowing residents to get to their boats on the creek. One wooden walkway looked inviting, but the small voice of reason in the back of my head kept reminding me to avoid scratches, so I gingerly walked to the end rather than riding it. Which us just as well because there were a few large gaps in the pailings.
It’s a pleasant, easy ride by the water along the bikepath, which stretches almost 6km to the Bribie bridge. I just chilled out, turned the cranks, and felt glad to be alive.
I took a short detour down to the beach at Turners Camp, remembering Kalmakuta – the Joondoobarrie aboriginal woman whose footsteps I traced a few months ago.
On thing that worried me about today’s trip was how I was going to get across the bridge. It’s narrow, with lots of traffic passing either way. If I crossed via the road I’d have a lot of angry impatient drivers behind me as there would be no room to pass. But the footpath is really narrow. I was worried that there would not be enough room for my handlebars.
After I pushed my mirror to one side, there was enough room for me to ride carefully across. For anyone else wondering about cycling over the bridge at Bribie I’d recommend the footpath. Just take it easy and stick to the middle of the path.
There are three “passing bays” on the bridge which make it easier to pass people coming in the opposite direction. As I rode across the bridge a lady walking in the opposite direction kindly stepped into the bay as I approached so that we could comfortably pass each other.
I used one of the passing bays to stop and take a few pics of the Glasshouse Mountains to the north-east. Over the last few weeks I’ve looked at them from a number of different directions. Looking at then from the water, I remembered Lt James Cook saw them from his ship as he sailed up the Queensland coast in 1770 and thought they resembled the conical furnaces in England that were used to manufacture glass at the time.
At the end of the bridge I followed the bike path south, past happy groups of families relaxing by the water towards the quiet seaside suburb of Bongaree.
Bongaree was an aboriginal man from Broken Bay near Sydney. He learned to speak English and accompanied Matthew Flinders on the sloop Norfolk as he explored the East Australian coast line. European settlers mistakenly believed that all Australian aborigines spoke the same language, and that somehow Bongaree would be able to serve as interpreter for Flinders. Nothing could have been further from the truth. At the time of European settlement there were two hundred and fifty different Aboriginal languages in this continent.
In 1996 David Horton produced a wonderful map illustrating this point.
An intelligent and entertaining man, Bongaree became the first Aborigine to circumnavigate the Australian continent in 1802. He had an uncanny knack for “reading” people’s intentions from non-verbal cues, so despite not being able to interpret for Flinders he was still able to greatly assist him when contacting new groups. He also had an acute sense of humour, and was able to mimic the affectations and mannerisms of many of the colonial leaders. He wore discarded naval uniforms and a cocked hat, and impressed new arrivals at Sydney Harbor when he welcomed them with a flamboyant bow and wave of his hat.
As I reached the end of the bike path, south of Bongaree, I took my chances on a sandy path near the beach. Riding the fat bike on sand a couple of weeks ago had given me an appetite for beach riding. Unfortunately I came back to earth (sand?) with a thud as I realzed soft sand was no place for my skinny 2.1 inch tyres. I ended up walking a couple of hundred metres instead.
From there I followed a few sandy fire trails eastwards towards Woorim. The ground on some of the trails was a bit firmer and I was able to ride without any hassles.
This eventually brought me out on the east-west bike path on First Avenue, the main road between Bongaree and Woorim. Like most places on Bribie, it’s quite flat and is ideal for a low-impact, cruisy ride.
The blue sky, warm breeze and turquiose waters of Woorim Beach welcomed me. It’s a beautiful unspoilt place with clear views towards the northern tip of Moreton Island, and some great cafes.
This local magpie thought the cafes were pretty good too, as he waited patiently for my BLT sandwich and coffee to arrive.
Before making my way back I did a lazy circuit of Woorim.
“Looking gorgeous, Ladies” I yelled out to this bridal party as I rode past. The women enthusiastically waved back, even the bride in her “non-bridal” footwear. They do look gorgeous, don’t they?
It’s at times like this I’m glad I always keep a camera in my back pocket whilst riding.
Stopping briefly at Spinnaker Sound marina on the other side of the bridge, I thought how much more fun my bike-owning experience was compared to my boat-owning experience. (My last boat sank in 2007)
Before completing the final stretch back to Ningi, I meandered around the back streets of a new housing estate, enjoying some hidden tracks and a new artificial lake. “Bloody lovely” I muttered to myself as I squatted down at impossible angles to get photos of water lillies.
I rode 51km in just over 4 hours including breaks burning a meagre 1,500 cal with only 292 m if climbing.
This is a very easy, low risk, cruisy ride – perfect for a family afternoon out (if you exclude the dirt tracks near Bongaree). I might bring Liz and the kids back here one afternoon.
I give it 4 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter, even less if you don’t go as far as Woorim.
Today’s adventure was a 4WD bash through the bush with my brother, Kevin, and our sons. I’ve ridden many of these trails through the D’Aguilar and Conondale Ranges, and thought it would be good to share them with family from the comfort of a motor vehicle.
We started from Laceys Creek near Dayboro and slowly made our way up the range to Kluvers Lookout. As we drove up the hill, I muttered to Kev that it was much easier doing this as a 4WD passenger than it was grinding up the road in Granny Gear on a bike.
Although the lookout is small, it has some great views eastwards over Moreton Bay and Lake Samsonvale.
From there we cruised along the top of the range towards Jacky Creek Road. This road descends steeply towards the creek. I couldn’t resist lying in front of a water bar to get a view of the car inching over it…
In my enthusiasm for a good shot I forgot that Kev couldn’t see me as he crested the hump. I’d only recommend doing this with someone you trust 🙂
Jacky Creek is beautiful. We got out, splashed in the water and threw a few stones around. If I didn’t already have a swimming spot planned, I think we would have had a bit of a swim here.
A while ago, Liz and I took the kids on a 12km hike out to the Western Escarpment and back. I’ve also driven the rough and narrow road in a sedan before, althogh I had to take it very slowly. Today in the 4WD it was a comfortable cruise.
Somerset lookout is right on an escarpment on the edge of the D’Aguilar Range, looking westward. We enjoyed the views of lakes Somerset and Wivenhoe. Kevin was a bit more adventurous than me and got quite close to the edge. I promised not to tell anyone.
After driving out of D’Aguilar National Park via Neurum Creek, our original plan was to have a bite to eat at Woodford before moving up into the Conondale Range. Kevin was one step ahead though, and had packed a couple of roast chickens for us to eat. So we had a break at the Stoney Creek day use area at the foot of the range. The boys cooled their feet in the water for a while after lunch, then we headed up another mountain…
We followed Bellthorpe – Jimna Road higher and higher, and stopped at a couple of spots to enjoy more views. Harrison was interested in seeing how close he could get to the edge without slipping off.
Recent rain had caused several trees to block the narrow road. Thankfully rangers had been through before us to clear the fallen timber out of the way.
The vegetation grew lush as we drove higher into the range. At one point we were over 800m above sea level. The breeze was pleasantly cooler, and the rainforest was thick and green.
We eventually reached Booloumba Falls where Harrison and I enjoyed a quick swim. I tried sticking my head under the falls, and enjoyed it so much I talked Harrison into doing it too. After sitting in the car for a long time, the cool water felt delicious.
It’s a 1,500m walk from the car park to the falls. I decided to get changed at the falls. Harrison toughed it out, walking down and back in bare feet. Maybe teenagers have a higher pain threshold?
We eventually came out of the forest at the bottom of Booloumba Creek Road near Kenilworth. I had planned for us to drive from there up to Point Glorious at Mapleton. But we were running out of daylight. Mapleton Forest would have to wait for another day.
We travelled about 350km in ten hours. With over 7,200m of vertical ascent, this would have been an impossible day trip on a bike. But I think Kev’s 4WD didn’t even work up a sweat.
Thanks for a great day out, Kevin!
And thank you, Harrison and Jack for being such fun passengers.
The aim of today’s adventure was to ride up the coast of Bribie Island as far as we could, then ride back south via the inland trails.
My friend Murray is so enthusiastic about “Fat Bikes” that his nickname is “Fat Muz”. He’s not fat – but the tyres on his bike are huge. I had managed to borrow a fat bike from a kind friend, and Murray agreed to ride with me for the day.
We started at Woorim on the south-eastern tip of the island. It was low tide, which gave us a firm and generously wide causeway on which to ride. We pointed the bikes northwards and started pedalling with a gentle breeze wafting over our shoulder, the waves breaking on our right, and an endless and empty beach stretching off into the distance – it was delightful.
There are several lagoons near the beach. We decided to stop at the first one on the way up. The water is stained brown by the tannin from the trees but it’s still beautiful.
I noticed how difficult it was to pedal the bike once we got off the firm sand near the beach upto the softer sand near the lagoon. Even though these bikes have fat tyres, there are still places where you have to work really hard to ride them. Soft sand is tough terrain – even on a fat bike.
As we continued our journey up the beach, we were passed by a few 4×4’s on their way northwards. Every now and then we’d pass people fishing, or lazing under trees, or splashing about in the waves. Everyone was happy.
The sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew hotter. After an hour we decided to have a quick break in the shade of a tree on the edge of the dunes. I swapped my helmet for a broad hat and a bandanna. Murray’s “hat” trumped mine. It looked awesome.
We eventually came to “Fort Bribe”. These ruins from the Second World War are reminders of the strategic importance that the armed forces placed on Bribie and Moreton Islands as they defended Moreton Bay from enemy attack.
Slowly the buildings on the northern horizon swelled in stature, and sooner than expected we were standing on the northern tip of the island gazing across the narrow passage towards Bulcock Beach at Caloundra.
A couple of my friends have dreamed how cool it would be to ride to the top, and have a friend waiting with a tinny to ferry us across the passage to civilization. It sounds like fun, but the practical part of my mind wonders how you’d safely carry a bike on an unstable little boat.
We thought about having a bit of a swim, but I don’t think either of us wanted to go to the trouble of getting changed, getting wet, getting dried, then getting changed again. So we rested the bikes on the sand, had a snack, and cooled our feet instead.
Conditions started to change as we rode back down the beach. The tide was rising. Sand which was once firm, crusty and easy to ride on was now soft and boggy. The further we went, the softer the sand. Eventually we ground to a halt.
We decided to complete the southward leg of the trip via inland tracks. We wouldn’t be subject to the tides, but some of those tracks had mountains of soft boggy sand. This was going to be hard work.
After a kilometre of battling soft sand, we had another break at a shady picnic shelter at “Lighthouse Reach”. I noticed that I was using a lot more water than I normally did, and topped up my spare bottles from a rain tank, adding some Micropur tablets to kill any greeblies.
What followed can only be described as two kilometres of heart-break. The sand was soft and unrideable. But, being away from the sea breeze, it had also been baked scorchingly hot by the sun. When we tried to walk on it, it filled our sandles and burned our feet. It was painful work even pushing the bikes.
We eventually found some secondary trails leading off from the main track and followed them. They were rideable, at least, but the rough grass made progress slow. I relaxed under this small shady tree for what seemed like ages, cooling off.
The trails got rougher, but were mostly rideable. They were pleasant, too. On our left side we had native scrub forming part of the national park. On our right we had pine forest.
We had to cross a couple of small creeks. Remembering the disaster I experienced when I last tried to cross a creek, I hopped off the bike, and crossed with the utmost care. My knee thanked me profusely.
The track veried between hard-pack and loose sand. We eventually reached a turn-off which would lead us to the beach, but decided against going back on to the beach.
It was now about 1.30pm, and the tide would be all the way up the beach. We continued to follow the inland track instead. This was good and bad. The last few kilometres of the inland track featured some really soft sand. We were tired, hot, and sunburned. It was a major effort to keep the pedals turning, but we did.
The track ended near “The Twin” cinema on first avenue. We staggered in and Murray bought me a huge (600ml) cinema Coke. As I rested in the deliciouly comfortable leather chair, I started drinking and couldn’t stop. As soon as I finished it I aked for another and downed it just as quickly.
We had finished with sand for the day. I “sloshed” on the bike as I rode the bike track, full of soft-drink.
What a relief!
All up we rode 67km in just under 9 hours including breaks.
I burned 4,300 kcal.
Although this “flat” ride only had a feeble 217m in elevation gain, this was one of the toughest rides I’ve ever done.
I have no hesitation rating it 10 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter
If you’re crazy enough to attempt it, be warned:
1. Take plenty of water.
2. Wear sun-protective clothing.
3. Use plenty of sunscreen, and re-apply it. Put it ALL over. Radiation at the beach is multiples higher than what you’d experience on a normal MTB ride.
4. Check the tides. You can’t ride a fat bike on the beach at high tide.
5. Take a crazy but capable friend. Murray is very capapble, and a bit crazy like me, so was a perfect riding buddy 🙂
6. Do it in winter.
7. Remember that beach rides are not symmetrical. What takes you two hours in one direction can take you six hours on the way back.
Thanks Murray for an awesome ride!
