In 1999 Liam Connor made a major decision to quit his Environmental Science degree, and study something he was passionate about – Film Making.
Since then he has shot a number of overseas films, and was a recent finalist in the prestigious Tropfest 2013 Film Festival with his short film “Time” – shot in and around the Gold Coast Hinterland.
His latest work, filmed in tropical North Queensland, is a fun two minute video of people performing amazing trick shots with footballs.
Liam and his film maker friends, Lucas Thyer and Brad Francis, got together a bunch of excited backpackers who were staying in Cairns at the time, as well as a dance crew that Lucas knew.
They used an array of GoPro Hero3 cameras, including a semi-submerged vertical array to get some spectacular footage – the result is stunning.
Liam tells me while some of the shots worked on the first go, many of them took hours.
You might look at what this son of a humble avocado farmer from the Tweed Valley is doing and think “What a lucky bloke – he’s living the dream”, but I don’t think it has anything to do with luck.
I think it comes down to Passion, Persistence and Perfection – the magic ingredients for any successful venture.
How can you create anything worthwhile unless you’re passionate about what you’re doing?
But passion isn’t enough. It takes ages to get some things just right – which requires persistence. And you’re not going to persist unless you really want excellence.
Good on you, Liam, for having the guts to decide to follow your passion – and for sticking with it. And best wishes to you, Brad and Lucas with this entry in the “1 day in Paradise” competition 🙂
My friends and I had some “Unfinished Business” in Conondale National Park.
Last time we rode here, we took a wrong turn and ended up a long way from where we intended. Today we wanted to correct that mistake.
My personal goal today was much simpler – I wanted to fill in a missing link in my Ride Network Map between Charlie Moreland Camp Ground and Kenilworth which would make my map stretch unbroken from the Coast westward to Maidenwell in the South Burnett.
Unbeknownst to all of us, our intended route would take us through some of the toughest country we’ve ridden, including a nasty monster of a hill which Paul dubbed “The Devils Staircase”.
To add to the fun, we were following a “point to point” route which meant that I’d have to drive back up into the mountains at the end of the day to pick up the other car.
We started the ride at the Booloumba Falls car park. This is a beautiful spot for a swim in the heat of Summer, but at almost 600 metres above sea level, it’s freezing in late autumn.
Instead of following the busy dirt road back down the mountain, we took a short cut along a quiet fire management road. It was a bit overgrown, and rougher than the road, but it was delightful to crunch over the dry leaves and brush past the ferns and native ginger while Bellbirds rang out in the trees. With the crisp cool breeze sighing in the tree tops, this was a perfect day to be on the bike.
As with many trails in this mountain range, we knew we were up high, and we could get tantalizing glimpes of the view through the trees, but the forest was too thick to see the horizon. So we gave up on trying to get a panoramic view, and instead, enjoyed the steep descent down the mountain.
We followed a ridge line as we descended. Impossibly steep tracks dropped off on either side. It would have been crazy to follow them. One precarious looking track had a warning. “No Entry. Survivors Will Be Prosecuted”. I think the land owner was telling us this was a suicidal track – even if we did survive it, we’d have to contend with his lawyers afterwards.
So we stuck to the main track instead 🙂
As we progressed down the hill, the overgrowth became thicker….
Eventually we were surrounded by Lantana. This horrible weed grows thickly and has prickly stems. As you brush by, it can cut your skin and tear your clothes. Crashing through it on bikes, we were asking for some punishment.
Eventually the lantana thickets cleared, and we enjoyed a delightful view of the mountain tops in the distance.
After crashing through some more lantana on the steep hillside, we finally made it down to Booloumba Creek Road. I was delighted to be back on flat ground, even if it meant splashing through a few cold creek crossings. The creek crosses the road a few times, so its inevitable that we would get wet feet.
Our first objective was complete.
The next leg of the ride was through some hoop pine forest to the north, towards Kenilworth. I assured the guys that even tough the terrain was very steep, I had chosen some trails that I thought would have kinder gradients and would be easier to ride.
But, alas, I was wrong…
We discovered “The Devils Staircase”. It started out quite steeply…
It got even steeper….
And by the time I had dragged my bike to the top I was exhausted.
The reward for the tough climb was an exciting downhill run from the top of the range down to the town of Kenilworth…
… where our lunch awaited us 🙂
This ride was only 30 kilometres, but took us four and a half hours including breaks. I burned 2,000 kcal as we climbed about 950 m, and descented about 1,300 m.
It was a tough ride through some rough country. I rate it 9 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.
Thanks Eric, Tony and Paul for a great ride.
Total distance: 31.3 km Total climbing: 1412 m Average temperature: 16.9 Total time: 04:22:40
Today’s epic ride started at the small town of Jimna and followed some national park trails down the mountain before looping back again through some rugged country around Monsildale to the west.
There’s some disagreement about how the town got its name.
One theory is that when a Polish gold prospector named it “Zimme”, a polish word meaning “cold”, or “Zimna” the polish word for “winter”. In Polish, “Z” is pronounced as a soft “J”, so this theory is plausible since the prospector discovered gold in winter. And Jimna is quite cold at that time of year.
Another theory is that the name comes from the Aboriginal word “Jimna” which means “Place of many leeches”. A few of the riders from today’s voyage can vouch for the fact that there are quite a few leeches around here.
Personally, I tend to think the Aboriginal word is probably the likely origin of the name.
While driving to our starting point, we actually drove past the half way point of the ride, and were able to leave a car there to store some lunch and extra water. It also provided a bail-out option for anyone who didn’t want to continue the ride after the half-way point.
The valley to the south of Jimna was foggy, and leant an ethereal air to the morning while we parked our “Sag Wagon” at the half-way point.
A few minutes later we were up on the mountain in Jimna, above the fog. At the start of perfect clear-skied cool day, fifteen riders were getting ready for the ride.
Conondale National Park is very hilly. To keep everyone together, we decided to regroup at the top of each big hill, and allow the slower riders to catch up. This provided a perfect opportunity to have a chat and catch our break. The forest echoed with the happy sounds of bellbirds ringing and mountain bikers chatting.
At the bottom of most descents we would often pass a creek. Sometimes this meant trying to ride through mud, but (as in the case above), other times we were lucky enough to have a concrete causeway to make the creek crossings easier.
All fifteen of us slowly made our way south through the forest along Middle Road. Thankfully some parts weren’t too steep and we were able to cruise down some long gentle descents. Every so often we’d take a quick break to catch our breath.
Although there were cyclists of different abilities, I was amazed that we were able to keep together as a group for most of the ride.
Ten Mile Road was a long fast descent with some great views of the mountains to the west. Contrary to what it’s name suggests, it’s not ten miles long. The road got it’s name from Ten Mile Creek which lies at the end of road.
Even though it wasn’t ten miles long, this was a fansatic downhill run. Wind howling in our ears, gravel crunching under our tyres, and suspension working over-time, we rocketed down this road at great speed.
Exhillarating.
And at the bottom of the long descent…
… was lunch!
The fog that enshrouded this place at the start of the day had lifted, and we were surrounded by green fields and clear skies.
It must have looked really strange. A bunch of 15 mountain bikes camped on a grassy verge by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere eating lunch. But it was really pleasant. I took advantage of the car and packed a few extra bits of food that wouldn’t normally fit in a back-pack.
The ice boxes in the back of the car kept the extra water cool, and we were able to take on some refreshing cold hydration for the rest of the ride.
We started out after lunch on relaxing cruise along the flat-ish road westwards towards Monsildale.
But the trail slowly steepened as we wound our way up into the hills again, dodging free-ranging cattle wandering around on the road.
While this climb was steep, it didn’t last too long, and we were eventually rolling down the other side towards Monsildale Creek.
We crossed the creek a few times. My friend Rients shares my dislike of wet feet while riding. Here he demonstrates a novel way to keep your feet dry while splashing through a creek crossing at speed.
And finally we started the long slow final climb of the ride up Mount Buggery. This steep road takes about 35 to 45 minutes to ascend, depending on your strength. The lower reaches have some great views of the valley before the track twists its way back up into the forests of Conondale National Park, and the end of the ride at Jimna.
This 72km ride took us about five and a half hours including breaks. Some of the quicker riders arrived back within about five hours.
We climbed a total of about 1,700 metres, and I burned about 3,000 kcal.
With todays pleasant weather and the luxury of a “Sag Wagon” at the half way point, I’d rate this one 8.5 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter. In warmer weather with no half-way point assistance, it would rate 9.5 out of 10.
Thanks everyone for another enjoyable ride!
Total distance: 72.71 km Total climbing: 2130 m Average temperature: 16.6 Total time: 05:30:02
Today’s ride was a point-to-point epic starting at Mount Sylvia south of Gatton, following the Bicentennial National Trail (BNT) towards Cunningham’s Gap.
The BNT is an amazing recreational trekking route stretching 5,300 km along Australia’s Great Dividing Range from Cooktown in North Queensland to Healseville in Victoria. Following historic aboriginal trails and stock routes, the trail was opened in 1988, allowing self-supporting adventurers to traverse one of the longest off-road touring trails in the world, passing through some stunningly scenic country.
We decided to explore one small 90km section of the trail, starting at Mount Sylvia (near Gatton in the Lockyer Valley) and passing south-eastwards over a couple of mountain ranges before finally ending up at Clumber near Cunningham’s Gap.
We planned to finish our ride at a different place to where we started. This usually involves time-consuming arrangements where we bring multiple vehicles, leave one at the destination, then all drive back to the start. To save time, my friend Jason kindly volunteered to drive us to Mount Sylvia (two hours drive from Brisbane), drop us off, then meet us again at the end of the day at Cunningham’s Gap. It’s the first time we’ve had a “chauffeur” and I appreciated the convenience that it gave us.
We set off down Left-Hand Branch Road which follows a long narrow valley along Tenthill Creek up into the Liverpool Range. Blue skies, low temperatures, and a nice flat-ish road – what a perfect way to start the day!
At the end of the valley, we met a friendly farming couple who happily told us that the local council had only just fixed the road yesterday, and that if we’d come any earler we would have had to contend with land-slips and blockages. They then added:
“Oh and by the way, I hope you realize it’s all up-hill from here?”
They were right. The road slowly started getting steeper. All good mountain bikers like a decent hill climb, but the road up to Laidley Gap is not your average hill!
We all gave it an honest attempt. My GPS tells me the gradient maxed-out at just under 40%. Not even Eric, with his deisel moter of a heart and iron legs could ride up it. So we pushed….
…and eventually reached the top. The friendly little red arrows let us know we were on the right route. Paul actually made and placed these arrows on the track a couple of years ago when it was used as part of a famous mountain biking race called “The Epic”. In those days, this 120km race ran from Toowoomba to Grandchester through some of the toughest country around. In 2010, Andrew Pioch set the record for this climb, completing it in just over 11 minutes averaging almost 10km/h. It took me 17 minutes. Andrew must be an amazing rider.
Keen-eyed Eric spied a “Blaze” in the trunk of an old Ironbark Tree. If you look closely above his head you’ll see a yellow triangular BNT marker. These little markers are all along the trail and help to let you know that you’re on the right track.
As with all big climbs, it was worth the effort for the views and the exhillarating descent down the other side. Superlatives can’t do it justice. I was stunned by the views I saw.
And for the next short while, a huge grin was plastered across my face as I enjoyed a steep 10 km descent, wind howling in my ears, gravel crunching under my tyres, and trees rushing by in an adrenaline induced blur.
I was a kid again 🙂
After rolling into the small town of Thornton, it didn’t take long to discover some major damage caused by floods earlier this year. The bridge had been totally washed away. There was no way across the creek. A deep ditch lay in front of us. We briefly contemplated climbing down, and then up the other side, but common-sense overruled. We decided to make a short detour and cross the creek several kilometres further north.
Along the way we dodged a some cattle being herded along the road by a farmer in his tractor.
It’s strange. When I usually come upon a bunch of cows on the road while riding a bike, they’re usually skittish and run away. But these animals seemed much calmer, and weren’t spooked by us. And the only difference I can come up with is that the farmer was behind them in his tractor. I imagine they felt more secure while being herded than they would be on their own.
After a brief stint on the bitumen, we followed the trail markers across another paddock towards Edwards Gap – our second big climb of the day. Paul was impressed with a letter box that someone had made to look like a tractor.
In the distance we could see the Liverpool Range and Laidley Gap where we had recently descended.
The climb up to Edwards Gap is another “hike-a-bike”. The track is steep and rough, but (thankfully) it’s not very long.
It wasn’t long before we reached the grassy summit of Edwards Gap and yet another pleasant bumpy descent down the other side towards Mount Mort.
From here we headed south with the towering cliffs of the Great Dividing Range on our right.
The exhillarating views provided a pleasant distraction to the hard work of pedalling the bike into a stiff headwind.
And so we reached the wonderful Rosevale Pub – our lunch stop. And we were early 🙂
I had pre-arranged with Jason that I’d send him a message via my Spot Satellite Messenger once we reached Rosevale. If we got there late, we would take the shorter option and ride to Aratula. If we were on time we’d take the longer route over the Cunningham Highway and down to Clumber on Spicers Gap Road. I was excited to send Jason the “All ok” message that we’d be able to stick to the original plan and do the full route.
The Rosevale Pub has a fascinating story. Today it’s in the middle of nowhere by the side of the BNT.
It’s the oldest pub in Queensland, built in 1852 as a Homestead that provided liquor to travellers. Mathew Carmody was granted a victuallers license in 1887. In 1893 there was a huge flood which covered most of the surrounding plains, so the owners decided to move the pub about 1 mile to its present location.
The move required a couple of bullock teams to haul the building across the fields.
It took five days. During that time, while the building was on the wagons, it still traded. Can you imagine thirsty travellers buying grog fron a pub building that was rolling along on a dray as it was pulled through a field by a couple of teams of bullocks? Where else but Queensland? 🙂
Today, the publican tells us that a few days prior some people came through leading a pack of camels heading south. A few days before that it was a bloke on horseback. In a few days time he’s expecting a young lady riding northwards from NSW.
What an amazing place.
But, after a delicious lunch, we set off on the final leg of our trip…
I can’t do the views justice by trying to describe them. They were awesome in the true sense.
Imagine waking up to views like this every day?
We received a rude shock when we eventually reached the Cunningham Highway. The quiet rural tracks and solitude gave way to busy national highway with massive trucks whizzing by. We accidentally missed the track that passed through the bush 100m from the road, so decided to soldier on for a short way on the shoulder of the highway.
We were following the notes in the BNT guide book, but they seemed vague at this point, and we ended up crossing the highway near an old quarry. While this might have been appropriate for travellers on horseback it was too rough for bikes.
If you’re planning to ride this section of the BNT by bike, I’d suggest you follow the highway up to the Helipad 1km to the west, and cross there. You’ll save yourself a lot of hassle.
At the top of one last hill by the side of the highway we came across this memorial. Erected by the Vagabond Motorcycle Cllub I think it commemorates members who have died. There are a few empty beer bottles cemented into the monument, so I can imagine a few melancholy bikies standing in this scenic spot drinking wistful a toast to absent friends.
From this point we rolled southwards down the hill towards Pat Speedy’s farm, trying not to bother his cattle too much. Pat used to be a rodeo clown – one of the toughest jobs you can do. The man must have nerves of steel. He survived a horrible encounter with the horn of an angry bull.
I would have liked to meet him today, but unfortunately he wasn’t home.
And off in the distance, across a paddock, we spied our cheerful van and generous driver. We’d made it. We were half an hour late, but delighted to have finished this small part of our trip.
Thank you to Eric, Paul and Becca for another amazing ride.
BIG thanks to Jason, our driver, for giving up a Saturday to drive a van full of sweatty mountain bikers around the country side. Our van travelled a total of 520 km for the day and went through one complete tank of fuel.
We ended up riding 87km in about seven and a half hours. We climbed about 1,300m and I burned about 3,500 kcal.
This is a tough ride, logistically and physically. It helps to do it with other experienced riders.
If you take the route we did, and finish at Spicers Gap Road, I’d rate it 9.5 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.
If you take the easier option and finish at Aratula instead, I’d rate it 8.5 out of 10.
Total distance: 88.67 km Total climbing: 2174 m Average temperature: 25.6 Total time: 07:39:38
It’s supposed to be all down-hill if you start a ride from its highest point. But contrary to what I told everyone before today’s epic, this ended up being one of the more difficult treks we’ve done.
This was a point-to-point ride starting at the panoramic Gus Beutel’s Lookout, almost 760 metres above sea leval, near Ravensbourne on the Great Dividing Range. We intended to ride down the hill to Esk via some of the tracks that pass through Deongwar State Forest.
It’s logistically a bit more complicated when you starting and finishing a ride at different points. It means you need more cars. We met at Esk, parked some of the cars there, and bundled everyone and their gear into two of the vehicles which took us up the hill to the lookout.
The lookout is named after a German pioneer, Gustav Beutel, who settled in the area after emmigrating from Brandenburg in the nineteenth century. In 1924 he was granted a special lease to clear a one hectare section for a picnic ground and lookout for the many visitors who came to the Ravensbourne district to enjoy the rainforests and amazing views.
From the lookout we followed some quiet dirt roads around the back of Ravensbourne on our way to the State Forest.
This whole area was covered in thick rainforest prior to European settlement. It was the traditional home of the Jarowair and Jagera people, but contained important pathways for other indigenous groups travelling northwards for ceremonial gatherings in the Bunya mountains.
In the late nineteenth century, most of the forest was cleared for its valuable Cedar, Blackbean and Rosewood timber, and to provide land for potatoes, maize and dairy.
Since the 1920’s successive governments have tried to redress the damage caused by land-clearing, and today about 700 hectares of forest is protected in Ravensbourne National Park, with almost 5,000 hecatres set aside in Deongwar State forest.
Before entering Deongwar, we had to deal with a major obstruction. On the GPS we were supposed to be on a road, but (as often happens) the reality was that we had to pass through a dense thicket of Lantana. This prickly scourge sprouts thick branches which are difficult to push through, and rip your skin and clothes as you push through.
I took the easy option and let the other guys push through the overgrowth, and I followed meekly behind 🙂
The discomfort was worth it. Not long after we were hurtling down some wonderful twisty single-tracks as we descended through Deongwar forest. The tracks conttinued for ages, mostly downhill with one or two sharp pinch-climbs to contend with, and a few water-bars to jump over. It was a lot of fun.
Eventually we found our way to Brennan Road. Its gentle downhill slope let us zip through the trees towards the more challenging ridgelines that dropped towards Cressbrook dam.
We chose a ridgeline which dropped us about 200 metres in the space of 2 kilometres. In places the downward gradient was over 20%. The track was covered in thick grass in many places, but it was surprisingly smooth to ride. Thankfully there were no hidden rocks or pot-holes!
Halfway down, we took a few minutes to enjoy the view of Cressbrook Dam and the picturesque lake behind it. It was built in the 1980’s to provide water for the nearby city of Toowoomba. All I could think of while looking at that spillway was how much fun it would be to ride down it on a boogie board before meeting your demise on the sharp rocks below. (What was I thinking?)
The aerial maps of this area show a track called “Sugarloaf Road”. From the air it looked like a nice track. Once got there, however, I quickly realized I was actually looking at a rock-strewn dry creek bed. It was almost impossible to ride over this natural rock garden, so we decided to push the bikes until we reached smoother terrain.
We had to cross Cressbrook Creek quite a few times.
I hate getting my feet wet, but today the water felt great!
This was the slowest part of the trip. A lot of the track was un-rideable. I lost count of the number of times we had to cross the creek. Eventually we took a bit of a break and enjoyed our lunch on the banks of Cressbrook Creek.
Although it was slow-going along the creek, the views were stunning. This steep slope was covered in forests of Hoop Pines strewn with vines. This was no tame plantation but a wild scrub that had obviously been too steep to harvest in logging days.
And after a couple of hours of slogging along a barely visible creekside track, we reached a lovely gravel road. It might have been hilly, but it was a joy to ride on compared to the rough terrain we’d had to cover so far.
We eventually passed a few farms, and chased well-fed cattle along the road (can you see them in the picture?), while at the same time trying to avoid fresh cow-pats. If you get the stuff on your front tyre, it can often flick up into your face, which changes the whole “flavour” of the day 🙂
Our speed greatly improved as we progressed along the road. Eventually we joined Kipper Creek Road which is part of the Bicentennial National Trail – a 5,300km track stretching from Cooktown in North Queensland to Healesville in Victoria. For today, unfortunately, we only travelled on it a short way.
From there we made our way along the paved road towards Esk on the Brisbane Valley Highway.
The last leg of our trip was along the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail. This recreational track follows the course of a disused railway line, and is a much more enjoyable way to get into town on a bike than trying to battle cars on the highway.
We eventually made it back to Esk and enjoyed a well-earned drink and snack at the local bakery before driving back up the hill to retrieve the other vehicles.
Sunset at Gus Beutel’s Lookout is spectacular.
We rode a total of about 65km in six and a half hours. Our track descended about 1,730 metres, but we had to climb over 1,100 metres in the process – so this was no easy downhill roll. I burned just under 3,000 kcal.
This is a tough ride through some really rough country.
It deserves a rating of 9 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.
Don’t do this ride alone. Cressbrook Creek would be dangerous and impassable after rain, so the ride is best done in the cooler drier months.
Total distance: 65.22 km Total climbing: 1756 m Average temperature: 23 Total time: 06:37:35
Have you ever made a mistake, only to discover later that it’s lucky you did because it actually saved you a lot of heart-ache?
That happened on our ride to Boonah today.
Our aim was to start at Peak Crossing, head south towards Boonah along some quiet gravel and bitumen roads, then head back to Boonah via the Western Trailhead at Mount Joyce. The added bonus of this ride is that it would link up a lot of disconnected rides on my map at the same time.
The only problem was that we took a wrong turn, and accidentally ended up doing our proposed loop in reverse (thank goodness).
We followed the course along a quiet paved road, which turned into a quieter gravel road (“Oh this is nice” I muttered), which devolved into a disused vehicle track, which eventually degenerated into an overgrown unrideable “track” complete with soft sticky mud.
To get away from the mud, we tried a detour along a track in an adjoining field – but the track disappeared and we had to get back into the quagmire.
Eventually we got back to the comfort of a wide open gravel road, and were able to clean the bikes up a bit.
This wasn’t your ordinary mud. Normally, when my tyres get mud on them, I ride through the grass. This usually knocks the mud off. But in this case, the grass combined with the mud to make the raw materials for mud bricks. When we pulled at it, it came away from the tyres in a thick continuous layer like … mud cake. I’m sure if we had let it sit in the sun for a while we would have had a few bricks with which we could start building a house.
“Sorry about that, guys” I said. And then optimistically: “It should be a bit better now”.
I was wrong.
Our next track quickly devolved into a grassy jungle again, but this time we had the added joy of having to bash through it up-hill. Foolhardy soul that I was, I rode the bike up the hill, through the grass, without being able to see the ground. Miraculously I survived, and was able to photograph the others coming up the hill.
How did this mistake save us heart-ache?
Two hours had passed. We had ridden less than ten kilometres. This had been the hardest part of the ride. By accident we had gotten it out of the way during the early part of the day while our legs were still fresh. I shudder to think how we would have managed if we had to contend with this sort of challenge at the end of the day when we would have been much more tired.
Note to self: Do the tough stuff first, and save the easy stuff till last.
At the top of the hill, the grass thinned out, and we came across a large ridge of white limestone. I had a “eureka” moment as I realized why this locality is called “Limestone Ridges”. The track we were riding actually ran between two limestone quarries. In fact the whole area near Ipswich used to be called “Limestone” in the mid 19th century because of the white rock that could be quarried there. (Come to think of it, isn’t there a place near Ipswich called “White Rock” as well?)
After rolling down the other side of the hill, we slowly made our way eastwards up into the Teviot Range. The long climb up Wenzell Road offered some impressive views westwards towards Cunningham’s Gap.
Eventually we reached the top of the hill. After another short bash through some long grass we eventually found the trail that would take us down the hill towards the Western Trailhead at Mount Joyce Recreation Park, near Lillybrook Station.
This was a really enjoyable descent. It was steep and rocky, and required a reasonable amount of technical ability to stay on the bike. It followed some wonderful single-tracks that had been worn by intrepid cattle that grazed on the side of the hill. For me, this track was the highlight of the ride. I’d love to include it as part of some future ride to Mount Joyce.
And after what seemed too short a time, we were down the other side, following Old Beaudesert Road along Teviot Brook.
This track has personal significance for me. It was where I rode with my (then) eleven year old son in the middle of the night, in the middle of winter after we’d got lost riding at Mount Joyce. In the light of day it seemed much more benign than it did back then.
There are some beautiful dirt roads out the back of Boonah…
We made our way into town, soaking up the great views around us.
I ate too much good food at “Flavours Cafe” in Boonah. Impressively, they have a supply of chain lube, paper towels, visor cleaner and compressed air – all free of charge. I think it’s because of the large numbers of motorcyclists who frequent the cafe. For future rides, it’s handy to know where you can get some free chain lube!
Hoya Road runs north out of Boonah. The Great Dividing Range to the west provides a picturesque backdrop to this steep climb. After my indulgent lunch, I was glad I took this one slowly.
I don’t know what his secret was, but the tough climbs never seemed to faze Dean at all.
Our route back to our starting point followed the hill tops for about 12 km. Although the road was straight, it was undulating. I lost count of the number of times we’d get to the top of one hill, roll down the other side, only to have to grind up another hill. The mountain views provided a pretty distraction from the hard work.
I think we were all happy when the paved roads gave way to dirt, and we were able to let our tyres crunch through the gravel.
The last ten kilometres of the ride were the easiest. Because of our earlier mistake we were now able to roll back into town, and relax as we soaked up the views. I’m so glad we didn’t spend the last couple of hours trying to battle mud and overgrowth.
We rode 70 km in about 7 hours. We climbed a total of about 1,250 metres, and I burned about 2,800 kcal.
Because of the rugged start, and the numerous climbs, I rate this one 9 out of 10 on the tough-o-metre. If we did this ride again, and left out the mudfest at the start, I’d rate it 8 out of 10.
Thanks Becca, Paul and Dean for a fun ride, and for sticking with me, even when things were looking a bit tough!
Total distance: 70.83 km Total climbing: 1944 m Average temperature: 25.5 Total time: 06:48:20
We didn’t intend to climb a mountain – it just “happened”.
The plan today was for a scenic downhill ride from the Great Dividing Range near Toowoomba down to Esk in the Brisbane Valley. That all changed because of heavy overnight rain. At 5.00 am I messaged Eric and Becca saying “You don’t REALLY want to go out in this weather do you?” to which they both agreed. And I promptly went back to sleep for another few hours.
Later that morning, with the rain still pouring down, Eric phoned asking if I had an idea for a wet-weather ride. I muttered something about Peak’s Crossing near Boonah, and within the hour we were on our way.
But a funny thing happened…. The closer we got to our destination, the lighter the rain fell. I repeated my Woody Allen epithet to Eric “99% of success is just turning up”. By the time we got out of the car at Peaks Crossing, there was hardly any rain, so we set off optimistically in our rain jackets, with me proudly wearing a shower cap on my helmet to keep any future precipitation out.
The plan was to head east up into the Teviott Range near Flinders Peak. I wanted to join up with a previous ride on my Ride Network Map, and possibly finish by looping down through Boonah.
So we started by riding out of town on some quiet back roads.
Ivory’s Rock and Flinders Peak loomed larger as we headed up the Teviott Range towards the Flinders Peak Picnic Ground. The gravel road became narrower, twistier and steeper as we got closer.
When we arrived, I intended to turn around and complete the ride by doing a large loop down to Boonah and back. Eric had other plans.
“Why don’t we walk up to the lookout” he suggested.
So we started riding at first, then walking up the lookout track. I had no idea where we were going, or how long it would take. Neither did Eric. But on two feet, as on two wheels, Eric led the way, and I (breathing heavily) struggled to keep up.
As the track got steeper and rockier, and the views more spectacular, I resigned myself to the idea that this wasn’t going to be a leisurely ten minute detour.
As we walked, I checked my GPS and was surprised to discover we were actually walking up the side of Flinders Peak. This was no lookout we were going to, but the highest point in the Teviott Range – 679 metres above sea level.
In fact, Flinders Peak is so high it was spotted from sea by Matthew Flinders in 1799 as he sailed up the Queensland Coast.
No, he didn’t name it after himself. He actually called it “High Peak”. 25 years later, when John Oxley passed by the same point in his ship, he saw it as well. Probably using charts drawn by Flinders, he renamed it “Flinders Peak” in honor of Matthew Flinders.
Long before Flinders and Oxley passed by in their ships, the Ugarapul Aboriginal people spent some of their time living in the Teviott Range. What we call “Flinders Peak” was a sacred site to them. They called it “Yurrangpul” after their totem – the green tree frog named Yurang.
In the late 1820’s, a penal colony was established in nearby Moreton Bay. It was run by a cruel despot named Patrick Logan. As well as punishing errant convicts in cruel new ways, Logan also enjoyed exploration, venturing far inland south-west of the prison settlement. He was the first European to cross the Teviott Range in 1827, near where Eric and I were climbing. The Logan River, which has one of its sources in this area is named in his honor.
As Eric and I climbed, the landscape slowly changed. I didn’t see any Green Tree Frogs that were so special to the Ugarapul people, but I did spot this brightly colored caterpillar fattening itself up, and getting ready to pupate during the colder months.
And as we got higher, a funny thing happened. The clouds parted, we could see blue sky, and the sun broke through. We’d climbed up to about the 500 metre level and were able to enjoy some amazing views out to the west across the farming plains of the Fassifern Valley.
We both agred 500 metres was about as far as we were prepared to climb this day. We both had cycling shoes on. They have hard stiff soles. It’s dangerous to walk on slippery rocks with them. Perhaps I should have thought of that before climbing this mountain 🙂
On the way down we enjoyed some great views of Brisbane off in the distance to the north-east.
And we took a few minutes to enjoy the view of the “Peak” we’d almost conquered in our cycling shoes.
As we made our way back to Peaks Crossing, we decided a short 20 km ride, and a two hour climb up a mountain was enough for one day. Our loop into Boonah can wait for another rainy day.
We rode / hiked almost 23km in about three and a half hours, climbing a total of about 570 metres. I burned about 1,400 kcal.
This is an enjoable ride and offers stunning views for such a short distance. I’d rate the ride 6 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.
The climb is a bit more difficult. We didn’t have the right gear and didn’t get to the summit. If you plan to do the climb, it would be wise to bring some good climbing shoes. I’d rate that part of the adventure 8.5 out of 10.
Thanks, Eric, for another surprising adventure!
Total distance: 25.46 km Total climbing: 1103 m Average temperature: 20.8 Total time: 03:17:59
Rugged beauty – that’s what appeals to me about Conondale National Park. It contains lush rainforests, spectacular waterfalls, babbling creeks, and massive mountains; but it’s hard work to explore, especially on a mountain bike.
My friends and I have explored this area on several occasions enjoying a splash in Booloumba Falls, conquering some large hills in Bellthorpe Forest, and soaking in some amazing views at Mount Kilcoy.
The aim of today’s ride was to ride eastward from Jimna up into the Conondale Range and explore some places around Summer Creek that we’d never been to before. I was also keen to join up some more places on my map.
We started our trek heading eastwards along Sunday Creek Road. near Jimna. This gravel road twists through the forest all the way to the Mary Valley. Before entering the forest we enjoyed riding in the mist through some green farmland. The light drizzle kep the temperature down which made for very pleasant riding weather.
As we continued the slow climb up the hill, the terrain suddenly changed and we were surrounded by towering eucalypts – their heads disappearing into the low-lying clouds.
The road kept rising, and the temperature kept dropping. Eventually my GPS told me we were well over 800m in height, which explains why it was feeling so cold.
Eric and Becca are strong riders, so they kindly waited for me to catch up with them at the top of most hills. I was glad that I’d brought a plastic wind jacket with me to keep the cold air off while we zipped down the other side of the hill. And what a descent it was! We dropped over 400m in altitude as we rolled down this wonderful 13 km descent.
Alas, the law of gravity dictates that all descents must eventually end. Our descent ended at Summer Creek. On one side of the track this crystal clear creek bubbles through the forest and over rocks. On the other side it accelerates down the mountain towards a waterfall. Exploring waterfalls on a bike is not a wise idea, so we decided to keep to the track. We topped up our water from the creek before continuing.
What followed was two kilometres of steep muddy tracks that were impossible to ride. We had to slowly trudge up the slopes of Summer Mountain, pushing our bikes over rocks and through boggy ground. It was exhausting.
Becca recently competed in a 24 hour mountain bike race. She’s an amazing athlete who has been trying to build up her endurance for future events by attempting longer tougher rides. I don’t think she had this in mind when she agreed to ride with us today. She pondered that Summer Creek Road made some of the hills in her 24 hour race last week look pretty easy.
We eventually left the forest and started making our way westwards towards Jimna along McAulay’s Road. On the map I thought this would be the easy part of the ride, winding through farmland. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The track was as “rough as guts”.
Although it’s quite rough, McAulay’s Road is picturesque as it winds through a large cattle property.
We had to cross several creeks on our way. At first I wimped out, and took of my shoes and socks before crossing. (My riding buddies often tease me because I don’t like getting my feet wet). Eventually I just gave in and waded across the creeks in my shoes to save time. Wet feet aren’t that annoying towards the end of a ride anyway.
Eventually we left the farmland and entered the hoop pine plantations near Jimna. Hoops are beautiful native trees, and form part of large forestry plantations around Jimna. The plantations are criss-crossed with forestry roads which we zig-zagged through as we made our way home.
We eventually rolled back into Jimna, exhausted. Although we only rode 52km, it took us almost 7 hours including breaks. We climbed a total of 1,850m in vertical ascent, and I burned about 2,800 kcal.
I rate this one 8.5 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter. A word of warning though – you need a high level of fitness if you plan to follow this route – especially the northen section. It’s rough, steep and very slow going. You also need plenty of water. We were fortunate that the weather was cool and that the creek water was drinkable. In dry hot weather this would by much more difficult.
