15/05/2023 There and Back Again on The Northern Rivers Rail Trail

The rain took a breather on Monday so we checked out of the Middle Pub lickety split and took ourselves off to Burringbar to ride the Northern Rivers Rail Trail (NRRT).  The NRRT was NSW's newest rail trail and part of its catch-up push as recent legislative changes had opened the way for more disused rail corridoors to be converted to rail trails.  The NRRT line only closed in the 70's and the rail trail was fiercely disputed by some factions of the community, to the point of seeding the trail with sneaky thumb tacks and other dastardly deeds designed to destroy bicycle tyres.

Oh look, blue sky.

The trail was slightly soft, with occasional spatters of rain but not a thumb tack in sight. We passed multitudes of dogs taking their owners out for walks, and quite a few cyclists like us. In fact, we kept crossing paths with the other cyclists as we were all riding a variation of there and back again with different start points. This made for quite a congenial atmosphere with lots of nodding and saying hello as we went past.

Starting as we did at Burringbar, it wasn't long before we came to the Burringbar tunnel.

At 500+m long the Burringbar tunnel is one of the longest rail tunnels in NSW. The length meant that it was dark and quiet enough to have both a colony of microbats and collections of glow worms inside. Not having lights we walked through rather than ride, which was quite disconcerting in the middle where we operated by blindly trusting that the surface was well maintained and there were no rocks/holes/puddles to trip us up. We saw lots of glow worms and no micro bats, which was as expected.

The trail had not been open long, but enterprising businesses had already deduced that cyclists were soft marks when it came to hot drinks and food.

That's me!

Some of the old railway bridges had been beautifully restored.

Other bridges were bypassed with pathways and smaller bridges, the old bridges gathering festoons of greenery and rust.

Away in the distance Mount Warning popped in and out of wreaths of clouds.

We had a quick snack break in Murwillumbah before heading back toward Burringbar. The Murwillumbah train station was beautifully restored and boasted a thriving e-bike hire shop. Much as I try to dismiss e-biking as not 'real' cycling, it does look mighty attractive when happy geriatrics zoom past me as I puff, pant, and wobble my way up hills.  I felt a certain air of reproach from my old bicycle as I climbed aboard after fraternising with its electrified cousins.

Don't look!  E-bike stable on the right.

Proof of arrival. Because we could have just ridden in circles in the car park and made it all up.

Paddocks of sugar cane lined the trail on the return journey, reminding me that I was a lot further north than I'd been in a long time. Away in the distance the smoke stacks of the Condong sugar mill poked up above the cane.

 

We rode all the way back past Burringbar to get to the other end of the NRRT.  The icing on the cake of the ride was another tunnel, this time shorter and with enough light to ride all the way through.  No bats or glow worms though, just graffiti.

There was no grand finale to the NRRT: it finished where the funding ran out, which was below the crossover bridge for Woyong Rd.  A little path led through the bush to Woyong Rd, whispering seductively of a cycling loop along quiet scenic roads back to Murwillumbah. Alas, logistics and time did not allow us to be seduced, and we turned reluctantly back to Burringbar.

The money ran out here.

I arrived back at Burringbar having cycled a total of 49.9km, and as everyone knows any self respecting cyclist just can't stop with a number like that. I made my weary legs pedal another 100m and gloried in an exact total of 50km for the day.

It was quite an effort to stop right on the 0.

 

Rain splattered the windscreen as we drove to Tweed Heads where, with work calling, we'd booked a cabin. And what a cabin it was! We had space to swing at least a dozen cats, with a big verandah and a view over the river. A respectable distance separated us from our neighbour cabins, and we were a positively humongous distance from the lower classes in their caravans and campervans.  The floor was flat and level and there was not a whiff of 'herbal' cigarette to be sniffed. It was a grand change from the Middle pub.

Verandah views, Tweed Heads Caravan Park.

There was even a kettle.  I switched it on and made a cup of tea.

Life is sweet.