27 Jan: Rail Trail Rambles #1

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The Bellarine Rail Trail runs from Geelong along the disused rail corridor to Queenscliffe, from whence departs the ferry to Sorrento. Of course we had to ride the trail while we were in Geelong, and we had to plan carefully seeing as the Cadel Evans Road Race was also in town. We wanted to see the beginning and end of the women's and men's races, but we also didn't want our cycling route to clash with theirs on account of them becoming demoralised by our awesome cycling speed. 

Roger wanted to take care of his back so rather than going out and back in one day we split it in half and on Friday we pedaled out of town, Drysdale bound.  

 


Victoria finally found summer for us and we pedaled happily down tree tunnels,

beside open paddocks, recently harvested for hay,

with occasional views out to the bay where the regatta for Geelong's Festival of Sails was in full swing (sail?).

 

Arriving at Drysdale Station, we were greeted by the Q Train, about to depart on a leisurely gourmet lunch loosely disguised as a train ride and sadly pulled by a boring diesel engine rather than the steam engine featured on all it's advertising materiel. 

There they go, fine dining all the way to Queenscliff.

Once all the well-dressed gourmet epicureans had gotten settled, smoothed out the wrinkles in their linen tablecloths, downed their first glass of wine, and chugged out of town we settled on the comfortably deserted platform for our morning coffee.

Advertising for Thermos.

Lunch views.

They had the same idea as us.
 

We took a detour through Drysdale for lunch before heading home the same way we'd come. 

I met a miner in Drysdale.  We said hello.  He liked my bike.

Drysdale was where the rail trail turned to gravel for the rest of the trip to Queenscliff.  We had a brief look and planned to return another day.

Lake Lorne at Drysdale gave rich picking for bird pictures.  Here we have a pair of royal spoonbills foraging for their dinner.

Some birds had attitude, just swanning around.

And to complete a bird trio, a spotted dove beside the trail.

Back at camp we shared nibbles with our neighbours returned from Melbourne, all the while Roger waged a mental war willing the corellas elsewhere for the night. A war he lost, mind you. 

"That man in the tent is swearing at us lads.  Let's roost here for the night!"

 

The corellas came screeching in to bed just as we tucked ourselves up in the tent, but we weren't worried because we had earplugs.

Take that, corellas!





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