History – Page 6

Aboriginal Australia, Cycling, History, South East Qld, xc

Bunya Mountains

by NeilEnnis 26 May 2013 2 Comments Shortlink

The magnificent peaks of the Bunya Mountains are a three hour drive to the northwest of Brisbane.

Our plan today was to ride from Burtons Well – close to Mount Kiangarow, the highest point in the Bunya Mountains at 1,135 metres above sea level. We’d then follow forestry roads eastwards towards Maidenwell where we would have lunch, before climbing back up the range to finsih at Yarraman.

This was a point-to-point ride, which meant we’d finish at a different point to which we started. This always raises logistical challenges – bringing two vehicles, retrieving one vehilce from the starting point at the end of the ride, etc. My friend, Paul, kindly offered to be our driver for the day, dropping us off in the mountains, then driving back to Yarraman to pick us up. This saved us a lot of hassle at the end of the day.

We met with some of the guys from Toowoomba Mountain Bike Club in Yarraman before making the final drive up to the top of the mountains.

The Jarowair Aboriginal people call this place “Boobarran Ngummin” which, literally translated, means “mothers’ breast”. They believed that the creators of the land, people and animals lived here. These mountains were so important to the aborigines of southeast Queensland, that every three years they’d walk several hundred kilometres from places as far away as present-day Northen NSW, Brisbane, Moreton Bay Islands, Sunshine Coast, and Wide Bay.

The journey would take upto several months, and during that time they’d engage in trade, marriage ceremonies, spiritual discussions and gathering the nuts from the abundant Bunya Pines.

Even today, the Bunya Mountains is the site of the largest natural Bunya Pine forest in the world.

Burtons Well is named after local pioneers, Bob aand Geroge Burton, who dug the well in the drought of 1901 to provide water for their horses and bullock team.

On this morning in late May, at such a high altitude, and under clear skies, it was very cold. So we all rugged up in anticipation for what would be a fast, cold descent down the mountain.

This was the fastest descent I have ever done on a bike. The winding paved road drops about 500 metres in altitude in the space of about 5 km. At one section where the road dropped steep and straight, my GPS tells me my top speed was 99.9 km/h.

Bunya Mts Yarraman 2013-05-25 from Darb Ryan on Vimeo.

Here’s a video of that descent (and the rest of the ride) by my good friend, Darb Ryan.

The road whizzed by in a blur of howling wind, chilling cold, and my shrill cries of “On your right” as I passed a few other riders.

I still haven’t confessed to Liz how fast I went.

In little more than ten minutes we were out of the rainforest, down the mountain, and rolling through open farmland with frozen faces, and cold noses. A few of us took the opportunity to remove some of the cold-weather gear and prepare for the hard work ahead.

The dirt roads through Alice Creek are made of black soil. It’s nice and smooth in dry weather, but after rain it turns to sticky black goo. After a few minutes riding on it, our wheels caked up with thick mud. It was impossible to ride.

We stopped and scraped the mud from the tyres and our shoes, then pushed the bikes.

But in a cruel twist, the mud still stuck to the tyres while we pushed. So we had to carry the bikes for a couple of km.

It was hard going.

But wait… there’s more!

Not only was the ground akin to wet cement, some of those hills were impossibly steep.

Thankfully, even the steepest of hills come to an end, and soon we were enjoying some more bumpy descents through a hoop pine plantation.

We followed the trail along Barker Creek for a few kilometres, crossing it several times.

The road surface gradually improved as we got closer to Maidenwell.

Eventually we came out on the paved road we’d driven along a few hours before. The fields of sticky black mud that we had encountered earlier had delayed us by about an hour. Although it’s difficult for a mountain biker to admit, it was actually a relief to ride on the bitumen for a short while before lunch.

Ten hungry cyclists decended on the Maidenwell General Store and ordered mountains of food. A few of us took the opportunity to dry out wet, muddy footwear on the footpath outside. It took a while, but after about an hour, we had all eaten and were ready for the final leg of the ride.

We stopped by Coomba Waterhole on the way back. This picturesque location is a great spot for a picnic, and (in warmer months) a swim. The imposing rock formations are fascinating. But in today’s chilly weather we decided to forget about having a swim.

After a long climb up yet another nasty hill in Yarraman State Forest, we took a rest at the top and looked back towards the west. A long way distant, on the horizon, we could see the shadowy peaks of the Bunya Mountains. It was a great feeling to think “We’ve just ridden from there”.

We rode about 70 km in about 7 hours including breaks.

During that time we descended almost 1,800 metres, but we also had to climb about 1,200 metres, during which I burned about 3,000 kcal.

This was a tough ride, made more difficult by the sticky mud, and the logistics of starting and finishing such a long way from home.

The Bunya Mountains are stunning – well worth the effort of the visit, whether it’s on a mountain bike or in a car.

This one rates 9 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter.

Thanks everyone for great company on a spectacular ride!

Total distance: 69.55 km
Total climbing: 1899 m
Average temperature: 17.1
Total time: 06:53:47

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Cycling, History, South East Qld, xc

Monsildale

by NeilEnnis 12 May 2013 4 Comments Shortlink

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

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BNT, Cycling, History, Scenic Rim, South East Qld, xc

Bicentennial National Trail

by NeilEnnis 5 May 2013 6 Comments Shortlink

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

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Aboriginal Australia, BNT, Cycling, History, South East Qld, xc

Deongwar

by NeilEnnis 28 April 2013 8 Comments Shortlink

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

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Cycling, History, Scenic Rim, South East Qld, xc

Boonah

by NeilEnnis 21 April 2013 8 Comments Shortlink

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

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Aboriginal Australia, Cycling, History, South East Qld

Flinders Peak

by NeilEnnis 14 April 2013 2 Comments Shortlink

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

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Aboriginal Australia, Cycling, History, Scenic Rim, South East Qld, xc

Christmas Creek

by NeilEnnis 10 March 2013 1 Comment Shortlink

The purpose of todays ride was to follow a route which connected up a previous ride Duck Creek with the small rural town Rathdowney via some picturesque country around Christmas Creek. Christmas Creek is in a rugged valley in the Macpherson Range south of Brisbane, near the state border. It’s the traditional country of the Mununjali Aboriginal People who are part of the larger Yugambeh-Bunjalung language group.

We started from Duck Creek in Kerry and followed some quiet paved roads south along the swollen Albert River. Recent rain has increased the flow in many of the local rivers and creeks – they look spectacular.

If you keep heading south in this part of the world, you come up against the impenetrable wall of the Macpherson Range and a number of rugged valleys such as the “Lost World” valley.

Our objective was is the next valley to the west, so we had to grind up and over the Darlington Range into to the Christmas Creek valley.

After more that 25km of paved roads it was a delight to finally arrive at the muddy tracks that followed the upper reaches of the creek. Cliffs shrouded in clouds reared up on either side as the creek raged over the rocks below.

Much of this area is a popular hiking destination. We met up with a group of enthusiastic hikers who didn’t mind braving the intermittent rain and muddy trails. “It’s a bit wet, isn’t it?” I asked one lady. “Yes, but it sure beats sitting at home watching TV” she replied. I couldn’t have agreed more. Incidentally, I’ve never met a grumpy hiker. Or a grumpy mountain biker. So if you’re feeling a bit depressed…. 😉

After last week’s adventure through flooded creeks, Eric joked that he’d be disappointed if he didn’t get his feet wet today. We didn’t let him down.

At this point we decided it would be best to avoid the more flooded sections of the creek. Unlike last week, it wasn’t necessary for us to attempt this crossing, and there was only a short section of track on the other side, so we turned around and headed back up over the hills.

On the southern side of the track, the imposing cliffs seem un-scaleable. In fact, in this spot, almost 75 years ago to the day, they were the site of a fatal plane crash and an amazing rescue mission by Bernard O’Reilly. (To read more, click on the following newspaper clipping from the Sydney Morning Herald in March 1937).

Bernard O’Reilly was a hero. He climbed these mountains to rescue two survivors of the Stinson plane crash, and them brought them back on stretchers by following the ridgeline at the top of these hills. Everyone thought it was an impossible task – but he succeeded because of his bushcraft skills, determination, and intimate knowledge of the land.

Inspired by O’Reilley’s bravery, we thought it would be worth having a look at the final section of the “Stretcher Track”. We rode / pushed our bikes up the steep slopes of “Neglected Mountain” following the track that O’Reilley used to bring the survivors down. It was tough going.

After battling ankle-deep mud, and impossibly steep gradients, we made it about half-way up the hill and were able to enjoy lunch and some wonderful views of the valley to the east.

I have no idea how this truck got up the hill, but it looks as though it died after the stress of the trip.

Cattle and wet weather have recently made the track a quagmire, so we decided to turn around at this point and enjoy the slippery ride back down the hill.

After the rigours of the “Stretcher Track”, it was relaxing to ride back to Rathdowney on a few more quiet back-roads.

We rode about 77km in about 6 hours including breaks. Our total ascent was about 1,200m, and I burned about 4,000k cal. I rate this one 7.5 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter. If you plan to include the climb up the Stretcher Track in wet weather, then I’d add an extra point and make it 8.5 out of 10.

Thanks Becca, Eric and Darb for a fun ride!

NOTE: I lost my GPS after this ride, so this is Darb’s track log.

Total distance: 77.45 km
Total climbing: 1230 m
Average temperature: NAN
Total time: 05:54:35

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Cycling, History, xc

Underwater History

by NeilEnnis 19 January 2013 1 Comment Shortlink

Lake Samsonvale is a large body of water west of Strathpine with a fascinating history. Today I explored the far side of the lake, near Kobble Creek with my friends Russel, Jason and Paul.

We started at the western end of Whiteside Road, and just kept heading east towards the shoreline. This road used to be the main route between Petrie and Dayboro before the North Pine Dam was built. But the resulting artificial lake permanently flooded the road, which split Whiteside Road in two. This meant that a new road (Dayboro Road) had to be built further north. The eastern section at Whiteside is still an important road for local residents, but the western half has been transformed into a very quiet road which devolves into a disused gravel road before disappearing under the waters of the dam.

Whiteside Road crossed the North Pine River at a place called Quinns Crossing. Although the crossing is submerged we were able to ride within a couple of hundred metres of it. I’ve been told by local recreational sailers that in times of drought it’s possible to see the remains of the old bridge just under the water.

Some of the grass in the area is pretty long. I thought it was nice that the guys agreed to follow me through the grass even though they couldn’t see the ground in front of them.

This creek was too deep to ride across, or even push the bikes across, so we had to carry them, while taking care not to slipp on the muddy bottom and get soaked.

We eventually found a spot by the edge of the dam where we could enjoy a cool swim and take refuge from the 35 degree heat.

We swam quite close to the submerged spot where Isabella Joyner built Samsonvale House in the 1860’s.

Even though Samsonvale House is gone, we were able to sample some mangoes from an old tree that was planted not far from the house in the 19th century. Paul thought they were delicious!

All up we rode about 30km in about three and a quarter hours, including stops and breaks. For most of the ride we kept an easy pace in the heat, and just pushed the pace a bit on the way back the steep bitumen climb on Postman’s Track. Considering the high temperatures I’ll rate this one 8 out of 10 on the tough-o-meter. In cooler weather it would probably rate 7 out of 10.

Total distance: 28.41 km
Total climbing: 483 m
Average temperature: NAN
Total time: 03:18:40

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