While Not Working

Blackbutt Showgrounds appears to host an inordinate number of old men, all dressed in flannelette shirts, who putter around the grounds very early in the morning: Man 1:  carefully rearranged the rubbish from all the bins into just two, then brought a very shiny new end-loader into which he carefully loaded the bins and drove away very slowly, returning with the loader after some minutes having delivered the bins to (presumably) their collection point. Man 2: drove around the showgrounds on a ride-on mower not (as far as we could tell) doing any mowing.  At one point the mower ran out of fuel but he was equal to the challenge, refuelled it, and kept on 'mowing'.  Caravans and campsites were scattered all around the showgrounds but he, being an equal opportunity disturber, clattered and 'mowed' at least once past all of them. Man 3: drove his ute in close to us in the undercover area, where we were shivering in the sun after shivering all night in our 3-season not-winter

 Once again the weather didn't read the forecast (sunny and dry,) and we awoke to the patter of rain on the tent. This resulted in a) a mad scramble to put away our dry clothes and cover the bike seats and b) a man waving the BOM forecast at the sky and howling "Nooo! How can this be?" Breakfast (and trauma) over, the sun came out and we trundled off up the Blackbutt range; or Roger trundled anyway, me being on the phone instead. When came my turn to trundle I realised that he had all the snacks, and launched a 20km very-slow-motion pursuit of my right to a muslei bar for smoko. Livestock of the day: cattle in the valley below. Apart from being all tilted in one direction, the ride up the Blackbutt range was very pretty, climbing steadily beside the creek with bell birds tinkling in the trees  Grass trees dotted the open grasslands. A strong wind gusted in the treetops but we were protected in the valley. Looking back down the valley. 5km in and I still haven't caught

 After our initial horror at the lack of tea/coffee facilities in our room, we were mollified to find that we had access via a rear hallway to the pub dining area where tea, coffee, and Milo were available in abundance. Not only that, breakfast was also included with bread supplied for toast. We are really living the high life: tea and toast four mornings in a row! The entire town of Harlin, minus one house out of shot. The day in Harlin passed pretty quickly for me, beavering away in my room with my desk propped up by a chair. Roger, on the other hand, insisted that he spent a week in Harlin on my work day and was more than ready to roll out for new adventures on Wednesday morning.  In the spirit of experimentation he even filled his thermal cup with coffee before he left, because what is a man without elevenses? Let's go! We followed the Brisbane River all day today, not that we could see it most of the time.  A lookout just outside Harlin gave us a glimpse of the river. Rail tra

 One of the benefits of being not quite retired is that we don't have to be anywhere at any particular time. We realised the benefits of this when we found out that the forecast for Sunday involved words like 'gale-force' and 'head wind'. We didn't have to be anywhere, so we buckled down at the Toogoolawah Showgrounds and didn't go anywhere. Good morning! Monday had a deadline: a meeting for me at 3:15 and a day of work in Harlin on Tuesday, but before I take you on Monday's ride let me introduce you to Vince and Helen. Vince and Helen invited us for tea and toast two mornings in a row! Not only did they invite us but they put out a table with a tablecloth to let us know that it was a serious invitation. Vince is a bicycler, kayaker, surfer, and walker and we had a great time chatting with him and Helen.    This is Rock. Rock travels with Vince and Helen. Rock can't walk very far so V&H have bought a trolley so he can accompany them on their hike

You'd think two smart people, university educated and generally observant, would notice when one of their panniers made a break for freedom 6km into a 23km ride, wouldn't you? You'd think that at some stage as they ambled along, taking turns in front and behind; stopping and having snacks; chatting at length with other trail users, that one of them would have a light bulb moment and go "Hey! Our eight panniers have become seven! What has gone wrong?" Nope. Let's go back a bit.  Rain poured down in the night. Our two smart people packed everything up sopping wet because they had a short day to Toogooolawah and would dry it all out there. It's a sad day when you have to wring out the towel before you use it. The day was perfect for cycling, with lots of fun along the way. The pannier leapt for freedom at the first bicycle grid and the not-smart rider pedalled on, blissfully unaware that she no longer carried her sleeping mat and bedding and her chances of ha

 Twice today Roger was about to claim King of the Mountain and was pipped at the post by some ne'er do well upstart who hadn't done any of the hard work of lugging a 4kg laptop and assorted other junk up the hill in the rain. Roger is nothing if not victorious in defeat however, so he took the triumph as his own anyway and celebrated at the summit as the upstart high-tailed away into the valley. King of the Mountain! Where's my polka dot jersey? Apart from the battle for mountain honours our breakaway of two was fortunate enough to witness The Running of the Cows. I chatted with the cow-runner who informed me that she milks around 250 cows and is able to stay in business because her contract is with Maleny milk, who pay their farmers a living wage. Yay for Maleny Milk! Not-a-cow of the day. After all the excitement of mountain passes and cow running we settled down to simple cycling and pushing our bikes through deep gullies beside beautiful old timber bridges which were no

We stayed with family las t night and this morning my reputation as a dog-whisperer was in tatters. The dog, which was my friend by bedtime last night, was horrified to find me still in his house in the morning and was not friendly at all. Thankfully for his peace of mind we were soon out stuffing things in panniers, strapping panniers to bikes, and wobbling off to start our adventure. Well, off we go then.  You have to actually ride the bike, you know.   Ipswich City Council farewelled us in style with the Brassell Bikeway.  Ipswich has a long history of mining for limestone and coal and was a major river port back in the day. It had a brief tilt at being the capital of Queensland but lost out to Brisbane and has suffered the (undeserved) reputation of being Brisbane's poor cousin ever since. The Brassall Bikeway passed through some of this history and also gave a nod to its railway heritage, skirting the edge of the Railway Workshop Museum. I didn't find any limestone.  Or co