Coddiwomple

Exploring Carnarvon Gorge NP, 14km riding, 24k hiking Wow!  Even though I spent a fair portion of the night awake, the wind howling, pitch dark, the tent bending perilously and slowly filling every crevasse with red sand.  The day started beautifully, I was up to watch the sun rise over the range, and SuperK and I jumped on the bikes and endured a few more hills before entered the sacred ground that is Carnarvon Gorge NP. We could only carry enough food for three days, one day to ride down, one to explore and one to ride back.  So we wanted to spend the whole day in the park.  We commenced what is called "the great walk" at 0830, it's a 20km round trip, with lots of optional extras along the way.  If you are able, it is not to be missed!  Put it on your bucket list people!   The Gorge is carved into deep sandstone cliffs which rise over you on each side, and the Carnarvon River continues to shape the gorge wending and burbling its way between the cliffs, a cool oasis.  An

Rolleston - Carnarvon Gorge NP 91km It was at KM 60 when Louise said, half question, half statement, " what's wrong with us that we are so normal?" She had just finished reading another chapter of Liane Moriarty's Reality Noir "Big Little Lies", while I prepared lunch. Surrounded by dry cow poo, ants who wanted to eat my lunch and with the sun burning the lefthand side of my right calf, the question came as a little surprise. I took our status quo into consideration, a lunch break in the middle of friggin nowhere, sitting on a dusty road, before I answered: "if this is normal then I love to be wrong!". We both laughed as did the cows watching us from a distance. This little episode happened on a day that grew more and more entertaining by the hour. And there was hardly anything 'normal' about it. Kerstin jumped a fence in the early morning hours to steal some oranges from a tree right next to the General Store where they cost $5.90 a kilo -

Bauhinia to Rolleston 77km I had my doubts about the "campground" at Bauhinia.  As it is essentially the paddock behind the roadhouse, with a toilet/shower block from the seventies.  But it proved a remarkably peaceful place.  The workers in the on-site dongas were on nightshift so once the roadhouse closed at 1900, it was just us and the cows.  We woke well rested to sunshine and birds singing.  A pied butcher bird sang us through breakfast, and three white faced herons sailed over as we were packing up. Sunrise at Bauhinia campground  Sunday morning and the Dawson hwy was quiet enough for all the bird song to be appreciated by a pair of cyclists.  And it didn't take long to spot three Wedge tailed Eagles spiralling above us.  Their flight looks so effortless and elegant for such an enormous bird, they have a wingspan of 2.8m! As much as I would have liked to fly over it with effortless grace like an eagle, the Expedition Range has to be crossed by the combination of det

Moura - Bauhinia 76km Before we get to the highlights of today's ride, let's share some insight where we are heading next. Some of you may wonder why we didn't turn right at Biloela, heading for the coast to finally dip our toes into the Pacific? The thing with the coastal route is the troublesome Bruce Highway. The lack of alternatives to one of the most dangerous highways in the country and the many warnings we have been given (stay away from it) has us searching for more pleasant and still interesting routes inland. So before we are heading north again, we are going west first. Which, according to the Pet Shop Boys' hit song, sounds like a promising proposition: life is peaceful there (Go west) in the open air (Go west) where the skies are blue (Go west) this is what we're gonna do (Go west, this is what we're gonna do, go west) Of course, they didn't have Queensland in mind, but the skies are blue and the open air bit certainly fit the bill. We leave Mou

Biloela to Moura 64km Today started unexpectedly early.  The caravan park in Biloela in their effort to have cake and eat it too, want to serve both the tourists and the miners.  So with their early shift starting, the rumble of diesel trucks of all descriptions began at 0500, followed by the dump truck rumbling around the park at 0600 emptying all the skips, then, inevitably, the bloke with the blower.  He kicked off at 0830 and was still going at 0930 when we left the soundscape behind.  UnBULLieviable! I was so glad to be riding half of our distance today on the back roads, a bit of peace and quiet, some sunshine, some curious cows, even a light tail wind.   We ponder what is growing in the paddock, something we haven't yet seen, and standing there to answer our questions is the farmer.  Turns out he's a herb grower, and this is a field of organic coriander.  He asks where we are heading, and he tells us that this particular back road is currently mostly mud and puddles.  No

Cania Gorge NP - Lawgi Heritage Park and Farm Stay 72km Lawgi Heritage Park - Biloela 37km Our hopes to make it to Biloela in a day's ride sunk into the mud after seeking a local's opinion at the Cania Gorge caravan park. Google Maps suggested an adventurous route out of the Gorge over the steep range, recommended in dry weather only and preferably with a 4WD. The lady also added roaming cattle and multiple creek crossings to the list of possible hazards. We apply a bit of donkey wisdom: remind ourselves of the bad 4WD track experiences in the past, weigh in the second best option and move on with cautious curiosity (like a donkey would).  The hills, not of biblical proportions, but hard enough to send some kind of prayer somewhere for someone to hold back the rain, were conquered and believe it or not, the donkeys appeared!  A donkey good time! For two days now I have been trying to sum up the events of the past 48 hours and I am still struggling. This either means a lot has h

Monto to Cania Gorge 34km ride & 6km hike With rain again overnight we were congratulating ourselves on choosing to splash out on a cabin overnight.  We pedalled out of Monto with all our gear and ourselves dry, the sun even peaked out, briefly. National Parks are always highlights for us, despite the hassle factor of rarely being able to ride through, and having to backtrack, and carrying enough food/water to stay in the park.  The Americans have perfected National Parks most have excellent ranger guided hikes, as well as hiker/biker specific campsites, camp hosts and often a Cafe and store.  Very civilised, apart from all the bears, mountain lions and wolves anyway. I much prefer Australia's dangerous animals, yes, yes, we all know that we have all the most venomous snakes and spiders here, but they aren't actually hunting us are they?  Just a bit of attention and caution, and you're all good.   Cania Gorge NP is a remenant of the Brigalow belt bioregion, and includes

Eidsvold - Monto 66km "Fair dinkum!" was the construction worker's response when Louise answered "Melbourne" to his question where we are riding from. And then he proceeded to give us the most precise and accurate directions any travelling cyclist could ask for when finding yourself on a pretty backroad which all of a sudden starts to deteriate with every pedal push. So when this bloke reassured us that it was all good riding until Monto, we grinned from ear to ear and Louise could even forget the fierce monster mosquitoes for a moment. I would have loved to have a chat with this guy over a XXXX at the pub, his Australian slang was so authentic that I kept trying to imitate his pronunciation of town names long after we left him to his work.  Not that we needed any more, but reminders of high water levels past, present and possibly future, are everywhere. Even in the 'safety' of the Burnett Highway you can see that the big wet of the past weeks is keeping

Gayndah to Eidsvold 75km We hemmed and hawed over today's route.  Should we stay on the A3 and take the longer and less likely to be flooded road to Eidsvold, or risk the back roads?  We decide compromise is the answer, and take the back roads to Mundubbera, and get back on the hwy from there.  Luckily for us the back road, after being destroyed by flooding in 2010, and again in 2013, has been rebuilt, and the dodgiest bits moved further from the Burnett River.  So it is smooth sailing through overcast skies, the rain, miraculously holds off.  The road climbs above the river to Wains Lookout, and we get a little patch of blue sky right above us.  Enjoy it, because that's it for the day. It seems too quiet given that it's picking season for citrus.  We suspect the labour shortage is really hurting out here, lots of fruit on the ground or dumped.  Surely this does not help the current mouse plague, seriously the furry little scurriers are everywhere.  Kerstin does her bit and

Ban Ban Springs - Gayndah 28km, plus a day in Gayndah 0km The early morning ride into Queensland's self-proclaimed citrus capital (neighbouring town Mundubbera claims the same title) is powered by anticipation to fulfill our citizen duties to (finally) cast our vote and by a decent tailwind. Riding past the big orange, I have a "the future is bright, the future is orange" moment, but I quickly remind myself of my inborn neutrality and the fact that a certain political party with QLD roots is also fond of the color orange.  The quaint QCWA hall is hosting the polling station in the centre of town. Not unexpectedly we generate a bit of attention amongst the small army of volunteers. The place is already quite busy and buzzing, also thanks to an overly enthusiastic local lady, who volunteers for the LNP. Within seconds she extends her welcome to Gayndah and shows interest and kindness for our travel story. We kindly decline her invitation to stay with her family on a farm ou

Murgon - Ban Ban Springs 77km Before I begin the story telling of today's events, I feel an acknowledgement of country is the best place to start. The last few nights we rested under big (full) moon nights in places of great significance for the Aboriginal people. Especially here at Ban Ban Springs, where a dreaming story of the Wakka Wakka people reminds us that this is a place where all are welcome to meet. We pay respect to the elders past and present. We wish for the generations to come that places like this will be respected for what they are, and that the spirit of the Rainbow Serpent will inspire them. Rolling out of Murgon has a slight sensation of new beginnings. Maybe it is the "100 days on tour" theme or feeling the full recovery from recent health speed bumps?  I am not sure and I certainly don't want to mention the possibility of a political element in this sentiment... we all know that 'miracles can happen', on both sides.  Morning te

Wondai to Murgon 17km It feels as if there have been a lot of road blocks between us and Murgon.  And I was pretty dispirited this morning, as we once again woke to plenty of damp, and a catalogue of things growing mould.  Luckily, Kerstin was there to go in search of real coffee, the Wondai bakery was open, and she came back with not only an excellent coffee but a genuinely deep fried jam donut, the sun came out to dry the tent, and things were looking up.   With the Barambah river still flooding there was only one road to Murgon, the Bunya Hwy.  A dreaded secondary road, significant enough for decent amounts of traffic but not significant enough for a shoulder.  And while the drivers were courteous I was glad to exit after 10kms.  We rolled into Murgon, finally(!), and headed directly for the Post Office, where a certain care package has been waiting for us since Tuesday 3rd May.  We were quite excited to finally make it, and collect the package.  Immediately we were greeted by the f

Kingaroy - Wondai - almost to Murgon - back to Wondai 52km When the water started to seep into my undies it was time to abandon the river crossing attempt and to turn around. But easier said than done. Now pushing back into the current, my bike started to lift and for a moment I thought we would watch it floating down the river. And with it pretty much everything that is considered essential for this life on bicycle to function. By this time, Louise had stopped taking photos and her face displayed a rather concerning look. Not that I could see it, I had my hands full. Eventually the adrenaline kicked in and I managed the final metres without losing anything other than dry underpants.  This is the first flood effected river crossing that saw us having to turn around. After 3,940km and many bad weather events, that's not a bad outcome. If we had checked the Facebook page of the South Burnett Rail Trail, we would have known. But where is the fun in always knowing what's ahead? Doa