Reports of my demise...

Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Seen on a sign outside a school at Mudgeeraba on a ride this morning: "Thanks for everything Chris, enjoy your retirement". Now I know I've been a little off-colour in the last couple of weeks, but I think that announcement may have been just a little premature. Just for the record, I'm still on course to complete 100 vertical miles for the year, and still a chance of cracking 23,000km for the first time ever.
In recent weeks I have, however, been a little frustrated by my inability to escape suburbia. Don't get me wrong, it was nice to attend a couple of concerts and resting up for a little bit probably did me some good. It also helped that the scar I reopened on my left forearm in the crash actually healed better the second time around. However, something has been missing, those few moments to escape the monotony of concrete, to escape the short fuses and prickliness of society, to escape the insanity. This morning, that opportunity came from Little Nerang Dam. The picture below, while perhaps not as spectacular as some of my others, captures that moment, the moment of a glimpse of the outside world. Now I have my chance to explore it once again.

Endorphins? Those need to be watched

Another day, another huge southerly wind. Actually, it was a relatively late decision as to what I was going to do today, given that I couldn't quite decide where to ride. In the end I headed up over Springbrook, down into Numinbah Valley, and headed south from there. This may not have been a smart move in some respects. Southerlies are notorious here for funneling between Springbrook and Mt Hobwee and blasting in brutally. Today was no exception, and I was glad to hit the climb at the southern end of the valley, leading up to the Macpherson Range.


After this it was out toward Tyalgum, more climbs, more wind brutality, but a score to settle. The wildflowers out here were beautiful today, and plentiful.


Darting back to Uki, then Stokers Siding, then turning south once again. Here I was really struggling in this wind. It seemed to be only getting stronger, and I needed some relief. It came in the shape of the climb over the Burringbar Range. That got the endorphins going, all of a sudden I felt unstoppable. The trouble was, I was now nearing the lunch stop at the Moo Moo Cafe -- now here's the dilemma. All of a sudden I'm feeling invincible, but I know that if I don't stop for a meal here, I'll pay for it.
The food here is actually surprisingly good, and after a very nice meal, and another layer of sunscreen, I'm off again. This time over to the Tweed Coast, turning north, finally with the wind, but it takes me some time to start turning over the big gears, that's the hangover from the ride against the wind from earlier. Having been in the mountains earlier, I'm now taking in the scent of ocean spray, and some delightful coastal vistas.

This all comes to an end just after the above shot it taken, and now I'm heading in land again, over the Condong Range, down to Murwillumbah (or Cane Road at least), then heading north for the climb over Tomewin, which is probably the most difficult of the day. More gear problems basically force me to attack it, which I do painfully, but eventually making it over the top. After the big finger pointing exercise, and a screaming descent, I'm left to finish of the ride with a tailwind, which is uneventful apart from the fact that I can still pull out a big attack in Palm Beach, and still sprint for the lights just before they change.
All in all a memorable day, the western descent from Springbrook doesn't seem as steep as I remember it (I last did it in 2000), and as brutal as the southerly was, it did keep temperatures down, which is just the way I like it. I have a three-day tour coming up next weekend, with a destination still to be confirmed. I'll just see what I feel like at the time I guess.

A PASSALONG PLANT FROM MY FATHER

Under his tall and tough exterior, my dad was a flowering shrub kind of guy. A few years after his return from World War II, he and mom bought an empty one-acre lot out in “the sticks” to the southwest of Chicago, where they built the only home they’d ever own. The yard tree behind my father’s childhood bungalow on the South side was an Ailanthus, often called Tree of Heaven. If you’re a movie fan, you know it as A Tree that Grows in Brooklyn. Dad planted a seedling from Grandma’s Tree of Heaven on the treeless acre, along with other species recommended for ‘fast shade’, like Silver Maples & Honey Locust. Some grew, some died, and over time my parents added young Spruces and Junipers, Yews, a Sycamore, a Saucer Magnolia, various Ashes, a Catalpa, Pears, an Apple whip and Bur Oaks.
Dad planted the front and sides of the lot with flowering shrubs: Lilacs, Snowball Viburnum, Forsythias, Weigelas, Annabelle Hydrangeas, Honeysuckles, Rose-of-Sharon, Bridal Wreath Spiraea, and my favorite fragrant Mockorange, cloned from a plant that his mother brought to Chicago from her family’s Michigan farm. When we moved from Illinois to Texas nearly seven years ago, I hand-carried a 6” seedling, a descendent of the original plant. It spent six years in containers, growing to 20 inches in height, and in February the little heirloom was finally planted in a special new garden, an area that is still being renovated. I was happy to see its fragrant white flowers appear in June. One of my songs is called “Everybody Needs A Secret Garden”, and now Dad’s Mockorange blooms in mine.

Duck Creek Road

It took me a while to get around to riding the Duck Creek Road way to Green Mountains. Even as recently as Saturday it looked like I'd have to put it off again, after the area copped four inches of rain in 24 hours -- not always conducive to riding up a mountain on dirt roads. Yesterday I decided to go anyway, as most of the other options seemed decidedly less interesting by comparison. The first part was the early ride through Clagiraba, Canungra and Beaudesert into the Albert River valley. It all passed by relatively uneventfully.

It was here that the climb seriously started, having to open and close a gate along the way, on a rough dirt road. If anything, the previous day's rain seemed to have made the surface smoother than it otherwise would have been. The gradients in the early stretch were another matter. At one point I calculated a 1km stretch at 16%! Of course, travelling this way, it didn't take long for the views to open up.

For a "road" only constructed in 1978, there seem to be a lot of historical monuments in these parts.

Once I'd climbed over 500 metres altitude, the gradients fell into a more sane pattern, steadily winding it's way around the mountain for a while. There was one final assault to get up to the 700 metre mark, but here the view was worth every ounce of effort to get here.

It wasn't far from here that a dramatic change of vegetation occurred on entry to Lamington National Park, from this...

... to this.

Now the temperature was cooling rapidly. From 30 degrees C at the bottom, it had fallen to just 18 degrees C in the rainforest at the top of the plateau. For some reason I managed to arrive the same day as a 4wd rally -- one guy was going to try to complete it in a sports car, I think he was in for a rude shock. After this I was back on the familiar road to O'Reilly's Mountain. The return from here was pretty straight-forward, except that there was a 20 minute delay on the way down the mountain after a tree had fallen and blocked the road. Later there was the promise of a storm to make things a little more interesting on the final stretch from Canungra, but that just never happened.
One thing I did note was the "Goat Track" -- the road climbing Mt Tamborine from the Canungra side was closed. I'm not sure whether it was a permanent or temporary closure and it certainly came as a complete surprise to me. I've ridden up there a few times and never really noticed a problem. I'm even contemplating a renegade run up there in the coming weeks, if I ever get the time to actually do it.

St John - The pretty US Virgin Island

We went on a bus tour of St John... This is a view of the British Virgin Islands from one ofthehighest peaks on the isle.



The tour was $25... Takes about 2 hours. Open air bus with plenty of time to get on and off for photos...



St John is the "pretty" Island. Most of it is a National Park. This is a view of Trunk Bay. The most perfrct beach I have ever been to.



What would a tour be without a convenient gift shop or three.. But even these are a little less tacky than the ones on St Thomas.



There is even a little history on the tour. There is a 18th century sugar mill being restored. Course, this teenager with the purple hair chose to listen to his iPod instead of the tour (My favorite photo of the day).



We got a lesson in 18th century cooking... Kettle Bread.



We got to sample fresh cut sugar cane (tastes like chicken).



The tropical flowers were in bloom...



But the star of the show is always the views... A postcard around every corner.

"Troubled Times"

First of all, we wants to thank you for your kind comments about the photography on the last post. (Huge woofs!) And we want to bigtime thank Sam (http://howsamseesit.blogspot.com/) for an absolutely wonderful pressie. We guessed what the painting in the corner of Sam's "Troubled Times" montage was and received an 8x10 picture of his very self in that blog post. So go and check that post out if you haven't already, pups!
Here is the pressie!
Oooh Mama! What is this? Know it smells like Golden!
It IS Golden, but what is this all about? Looks a bit dangerous and naughty, Ma....
Ahhhh.... who cares about that... I like this dude - look, Ma! He signed it!
Sam - wait til you see where I'm gonna hang your picture!
Hugs xoxoxoxoxox,
Sammie

Pit Profile 2/14/

If you are heading to higher elevations, be aware that the top of the slope heading up to Panorama Point was icy on Saturday under a light layer of new snow that has now increased to a depth of about 6".

The current forecast is predicting almost a foot of snow at Paradise this weekend.

Waffles will be happening throughout the day on Monday February 20 in the Old Station at Paradise. Fuel your adventures. Again please bring your own cup/mug and a topping or fixings to donate.

Our boat

I wondered if I was seeing things.

It was several months after we bought the land. We were driving on one of the paths, when I thought I spied something a bit odd. "Stop! Back up!"
Yep, it really was a boat. In the middle of the woods.

World's biggest planter?
Many country people don't see the point in paying to take things to the county landfill, when they've got so much perfectly good land of their own on which to dump stuff. So we're continually finding surprises in the woods.