14/04/2023 Central West Cycling Trail (CWCT) Day 1: Wellington to Goolma.

NSW never pulled up their railways on the unlikely premise that one day they might put trains on them again. They staunchly resisted appeals to put the rail corridor to other uses, like rail trails.

Cycling groups in NSW gazed over the border at all the people cycling, walking, and riding horses on the rail trails in Victoria.   Little towns in NSW gazed jealously over the border at all the people spending money in little towns while they cycled, walked, and rode their horses on the rail trails.  Clever people from both groups put their heads together and decided that railway be damned, they would have a cycle trail anyway.  Thus was born the Central West Cycle Trail (CWCT for short).

We arrived in Wellington with a plan to ride the CWCT.  To be precise, we would tag-team and ride half each, and while we were at it we would skip any nasty bits with lots of trucks and fast traffic (which wasn't much, because the clever people were very clever and used quiet country roads instead).  And we would use the car to carry our stuff and facilitate the tag-teaming.

What can I say?  We're getting soft.

The first half of the ride went up, the second half went down. I graciously sacrificed myself to ride the second half, ceding the first king of the mountain (KOM) accolades to Roger.

Off he went.

I just had time for a cup of morning coffee and a spot of relaxing back at camp before I headed off to take up the cycling baton.

 

Roger waited proudly at the top of the hill.  As it turned out the hill wasn't as steep on land as it looked on paper, and he was very pleased with himself for having walked only one little bit, and that not very long at all.  

X marks the spot highest point.

We put his bike on the car and took mine off.

Off I went.

Oh my, the cycling was nice.  The gravel was smooth, the gradient generally downhill, the countryside open rolling grassland with granite boulders dotted artistically about and fluffy sheep gamboling in the paddocks.  There were even lambs.

I had the road to myself.

Apart from sharing with livestock, that is.

Milk Baa.

 

I had lunch beside the road.  A butterfly landed in my hand and searched optimistically for nectar.  A kangaroo hopped up the road and got quite a fright to see me sitting there, panicked and bounced away straight into a fence, fell on the ground, got up in a bamboozled hurry, and hopped back the way he had come. 

The creek crossings contained a polite amount of water, enough to be fun but not enough to stop me riding through.

 

I saw more sheep. They ran away as fast as they could.

I saw more cattle. Most of them ran away too.

I could afford not to think about where I was going, as I was only required to make two navigational decisions in the whole riding day.

NavDec  #1: turn left into Uamby Road.

 

NavDec#2: turn left into Gorries Lane.

Gorries Lane was not as congenial as the rest of the road.  It was rough and rocky and started with a hill which was a bit rude after all that downhill, resulting in me indulging in a bit of cross-training and walking instead of riding. The lone traffic of the day passed me in Gorries Lane: Farmer Joe with a ute full of sheep, going every bit as slowly as me which was testament to the roughness of the road.

"I'll be in Goolma soon," I texted to Roger.  "I'll have a lemon squash at the pub, please." 

I looked forward to that Lemon squash for five rocky kilometers.

The pub in Goolma was shut.  A sign on the door informed me that it would open after Covid settled down.  Somehow I don't think that happened.

Goolma architecture.

Wanna lift?  Lemon squash not included.

 

We went home past paddocks of burning stubble.

I didn't think anyone burned their stubble any more, but I was wrong.

 

A whole new clutch of caravans had gone to roost at the Wellington Riverside Caravan Park, and we planned the next day's riding while shadows lengthened over the river and ground parrots squabbled in the grass.

Keeping an eye on the parrot world.