A RIDE (& BOAT) AROUND THE BLOCK.
Our son Tim started it all when, about five years ago, he bought a Sachs Powered Mountain Bike to ride to work. Now, 15,000 kms later, he and the bike are still going strong. It seemed like a good idea, so when we up-graded (financially) by becoming a one car family, I bought a similar (new), second hand machine from Rob at Willoughby for local trips - and just mooching around.
After fitting a higher seat post, new pedals and turning the chain guard into scrap metal, my ‘GT’ (Gertrude Two) also became a very useful transport. On hearing the throaty purr of its (huge) motor, one leather clad, Biker friend said, “No, it has to be ‘HD’ - short for Hardly Davidson.”
But why waste time on local roads when there is a whole world out there, waiting to be explored?
On a Sunday afternoon in April, Mahen dropped Tim, his bike and lots of gear near our place for some ‘organised’ sorting and packing into our large, home built panniers. By sharing a small bushwalking tent and cooking gear, everything did fit with spare room for bottles of water and some extra fuel for each motor - just in case.
Monday morning, after the peak hour traffic had cleared, we left from Pittwater, near Church Point and pedalled (Mr. Sachs ably assisting) up the long slope of McCarrs Creek Road to Terry Hills and on to Hornsby. A wee stop in the Park, morning drinks and some more air in my tyres saw us ready for the run out to Berowra and Cowan along the old Pacific Highway - then the long coasting swing down the open sweeping curves to the Hawkesbury River. Motors switched off, gravity supplying the power and 40+ kms on the speedo, is definitely the way to travel.
Crossing the old road bridge, we followed the bike signs and rode along the west side footpath with open views up to Milson Island and Bar Point - not easily seen from a car travelling inside the railings and steel structure of the bridge.
The day was fine and sunny but a strong north westerly made us glad of the extra push from the little motors. We shared the rocky shoreline with two fishermen for lunch then went on, up the second big, winding climb towards Mt. White. That old Highway, with very little traffic, has to be one of the most scenic, bushland, easy drives near Sydney and we enjoyed it at an average speed of about 20 kms/hr. One or two pinches had us (and the motors) working hard and the speed dropped to only 10 km/hr, until the grade eased and the average speed resumed.
Only the distant, continuous roar of the heavy traffic on the nearby expressway told us that ‘civilisation’ still existed, somewhere else. We looped the loop under the concrete bridges at the Calga Interchange and kept on north along more old highway to Peats Ridge for afternoon coffee and decadent cakes at the petrol station.
“Of course, there will be fuel at the Mangrove Mountain junction, further up the road!”
Of course, there wasn’t, and we rode back to the same place, to top-up for the long run tomorrow.
On the small scale map we were using, there was a lot of bush shown around the Mangrove Creek (Wyong) Dam and we reasoned that a small, free camp spot would be easy to find. There was a lot of bush but barbed wire fences and ‘People Unwelcome’ type signs severely reduced the area and any ideas of a free camp, at least above the ridge line of the catchment. Another sign said the gates were closed at sunset, (not far off) - so we rode 15 minutes further on to find a fire trail heading down a clear creek (for extra water) - and a very nice, sheltered bush camp for that night.
Years
of bushwalking and canoe touring make cooking on a small, open fire an easy and
natural way to prepare a good meal - honest. Tim finally directed his
bike’s headlight on to the action, all to stop me spilling too much pasta! We
yarned on, under the stars until at ‘least’ 21.00 - quite a late night in a
bush camp, after a day of reasonable exercise. (Photos 1 & 2)
Strangely, for breakfast, Tim quickly settled for cold muesli instead of hot, concrete porridge and we broke camp about 0800. The Dam gates were open again and we ‘flew’ down the steep road to the lookout and picnic area. We agreed that there were no camp spots in the enclosed area and that we had enjoyed the best position, considering all the circumstances.
Tuesday
25th was Anzac Day and a Public Holiday - and the traffic pattern
changed from a few trucks to tourists and families, flocks of motor bik
es and
open sports cars, with people cooking bacon and egg feasts on the public
barbeques. The dam is a ‘man made’ area but very scenic and the displays are
most informative. (Photos 3 & 4)
Riding back up to the main access road was definitely the hardest climb on the whole trip. Tim’s bike has gears, as well as the motor and he was able to pedal all the way and wait for me at the gate. GT (HD?) has only one gear and both Mr. Sachs and I were going very slowly and working very hard. Finally, I hopped off and walked beside the bike. Relieved of 82 kilos, Mr. S. took-off and easily pulled me, himself and all the luggage up the hill, at a fast walk.
On through Bucketty (village) - we did pass another petrol station, then turned south on the gravel road to St Albans and Wisemans Ferry. On the next trip up there, I must take time to explore the nearby Observatory.
This road followed the ridge line for about 15 minutes (at our pace) then snaked its way down the sandstone, bushy gully to the level of the creek. Parts of the upper section were quite rough with viscous corrugations on the corners. With few cars, we were able to dodge most of the worst parts but one sneaky set of cross ribs stopped both the motors! Two similar ‘expressions of regret’ were voiced, but a quick pull on the motor(s) and we were off again.
We passed only a few isolated properties and watched the creek, still high from recent rains, bubbling along besides us. Mainly, it was continuous, quiet bushland with occasional huge rocks laying beside the road, where they had dropped from the cliffs above.
On the whole trip, we had no problems or ‘unfortunate incidents’ and our only slight complaint was some dust from the odd tourist car having the audacity to share ‘our’ road on this Public Holiday! But, the light wind quickly cleared that away. Only one young ‘gentleman’ felt it was necessary to pass through the beautiful area with motor roaring, gears changing and much noise - but then, we were stopped for lunch by the friendly creek.
Nearing
St Albans the valley opened out on to a wide grassland base 
with fat,
curious cows noting our passage. The road was almost at water level as we rolled
by the big lakes and stopped for some necessary photographs. (Photos 5 & 6)
Now St Albans is normally a nice, quiet, small, isolated village, right beside the Macdonald River. BUT, on a fine, warm, mid-week holiday, it gets just a bit more crowded! At least, our bikes fitted easily through the main street traffic jamb, and no-one even heard the motors.
Because we had already eaten lunch and with a possible half hour to wait to buy a beer at the historic pub, we waved goodbye to that ‘outpost of civilisation’ and went on along the same (eastern) side of the river towards Wisemans Ferry.
The number of passing cars increased but more of the road
was sealed and there were no hills, so
again, we sat up straight, relaxed and simply watched more nice scenery passing
by at 25 km/hr. A short distance south from the village, we did stop to explore
the restored and well kept Cemetery with its old headstones that record the
earlier settlers of the valley. One grave is of a First Fleeter and even the
(new) fence is a properly made, local
hardwood, of post and rail construction. Many of these fences and other farm
construction was all done with only an axe and it is well worth a visit to
wonder at how these people pioneered and lived in this once remote bushland.
(Photo 7)
Crossing the Hawkesbury at Wisemans is another experience to be enjoyed, especially when the tide is rushing out and the Ferry jerks and strains against the wire cables strung so taught when it is moving. Boats (and canoes) are only supposed to pass through when the Ferry is stopped at either bank and the cables sink low beneath the surface. Many vehicles were crossing in both directions that afternoon but the real action was on the south bank where every tourist who could not fit in St Albans was double parked at Wisemans, picnicing and throwing stones in the water. We fled that scene as well, rode up the hill and moved into to a pre-booked, on-site caravan for the night.
Hot showers, clean clothes, a long drink and a hot meal at
the Bowling Club looked to be a most attractive way to finish Day 2. Just before
dark we ran the bikes back to the Club and signed in as distant visitors. By
then, all the tourists had left and we tried to fit in with the Locals watching
the end of a noisy, traditional, Anzac Day, Two-up Game then eaves dropping on
deep discussions about fishing the all pervading, nearby river and growing
Zuchinis on its fertile flats.
Wednesday gave us similar clear, sunny weather and the river surface was glass when we crossed back to the north bank and headed east on the good bitumen road, with almost no traffic in either direction. Likewise, there were very few rises (not hills) on this road and passing through the early morning shadows, we were actually glad to do some pedalling, just to keep warm. The road cuts inland to skirt around the gullies or take a short route across wide, flat peninsulas of open farmland, but always follows the line of the big, brown river. River gums grew right down to the water line and mangrove forests lived below that level. We slowed to pace a prawn trawler going the same way and only metres out from our steep bank and his diesel certainly made more noise than our two-stroke motors.
With many more kilometres under his tyres, Tim’s bike ran slightly faster than mine when using the motors, but I was able to coast more quickly down the hills. He generally stayed behind and there were no problems in keeping together. Compared to my other, conventional mountain bike with its head down, bum up attitude necessary for hard pedalling, I was able to enjoy all the passing scenery and easily stop at any point of special interest.
After about two hours of very easy going, we came into Spenser and stopped for drinks by the water and I bought some books on the local history of the area and its inhabitants. From here, the road leaves the main river and heads north beside the salt water section of Mangrove Creek before heading back to the ridge top, and on towards Mangrove Mountain with its lush farms and expensive horse studs.
How did a fresh but partly eaten Cormorant, a salt-water bird, come to be decorating the roadway in a rain forest gully, about two kms from the creek? Our only theory was that it had been dropped by a much larger Wedge Tail or Sea Eagle who did not like the taste. The things you see when travelling slowly. Tim also watched a large, white glider, circling above my head before it went into land on the nearby strip - but I heard nothing and missed that one.
We turned right at that earlier intersection that had no petrol to complete the first block, then stopped near Calga, off the road on our own, private lookout for lunch. Why do people have to turn every secluded spot into a garbage dump when it takes less effort to use the Council’s bins and services?
Our last run retraced our route back down the old highway to the Hawkesbury Bridge, repeating the weaving, coasting thrill of the first day on the other hill. We banked around the roundabouts and wheeled into the picnic area and launching ramp on the west side of the bridge and back to the main river.
There was just enough time to unpack the bikes, when Maureen nosed our half-cabin runabout into the little beach and everything was loaded on board for the final boat section of the trip. We drifted the first part under the twin bridges, on the run-out tide, all talking flat out while demolishing hot coffee and sticky cakes - then the outboard was fired up and we cruised home, around West Head and down into Pittwater to finish a ‘figure 8' block of travel.
Two and a half days of ‘Sach Powered Touring’ - 305 kms and about $4.00 each for fuel. (We did pay cash).
When and where to, the next trip?
Bob and Tim Anderson. - April 2001.