Grounded. By lack of a suitable boat and desertion of two paddling companions. One went west, the other south. There isn't enough glass in a Raider to stomach a grounding along some of the races of Upper Brisbane River so it was on the bikes. We decided on a circuit that would take us out over the new Gateway Motorway
Bridge, in via the City returning to Coorparoo on the usual eclectic suite of roads, footpaths and walking/cycle paths that are Brisbane's so called network of bikeways.
To give myself half a chance of keeping face with the pace I fed Mark a nice big helping of spag bol for lunch, getting him to finish off my last plateful for good measure. Worked a treat.
The ride started with the usual grind up and over the hills (burp) that bound Coorparoo then down to Carina to find the cycle path off Meadowlands Road. On a downhill run a wooden panel gate which is usually closed was open and a ute parked on the curb with landscape supplies in the back. On Sunday afternoon this
looked like a potential for whoever was there to collect a bicycle in a barrow. A tinkle on a warning bell was met my a muffled apology from over the fence - no worries mate, just didn't want to be added to the load.
Passing through Minnipi Parkland with it's Sunday quota of family picnics it was onto the precarious Wynnum Rd. Here you enjoy the risk of your life imitating the art of the painted squashed bicycles marking where to ride. A risk reduced by the recent
inclusion of a cycle path which ducks under the road surfacing next to the velodrome. Mighty tempting to go for a doddle around this in a counterclockwise direction to meet and greet the fragile branded flyers with our sturdy hulks. Minding our warped manners we plodded onto the circuit in the appropriate direction
and witnessed a splat and spat in the making. A branded flyer was getting his partner into her clips for the first time, it didn't seem to be going too well and there hadn't been one rotation of the peddles.
Onto the $200 000 upgrade to a so called cycleway on Queensport Rd. Signified by a yellow line and more cyclist tributes, that paint must either be special stuff or there is a lot of money in reserve ready to paint some more tributes when cars fail to recognise or see the cycle lane. At the top of the hill was the
nemesis. Crawling with traffic and looking a right construction mess at the base, Leo's bridges rose up and over the river. Maybe the paint is expensive because where to go was now pointed out by some of white laminated A4 posters taped to posts with "CYCLISTS" and an arrow.
We duly rode through the crash barrier lanes onto a wide path
similar in design to that on the Ted Smout Bridge with cyclists to keep west of the solid line. Certainly no hassles with that - we only saw three on the entire bridge and only a few more pedestrians. The incline was moderate, but the windows about a
third of the way up called for a looksee. Don't go straight to the top expecting a drink from a fountain - for some reason these are only installed at the viewing stations part way up. The obligatory jump safe galvanised mesh crowded the view but allowed the wind to pass through picking up with it lots of rubbish.
There was a surprising amount of plastic flying around both the
bike/walk lane as well as where the cars were passing. People were grubs as usual, leaving empty drink cans behind having no further use for it.
Over the hump it was whoopee all the way down to the bottom in 3 - 8. While I peddled, Mark sat and still passed me at the bottom. Here things went a bit pear shaped. Not sure where the MBC went, but it certainly wasn't where we rode. At a busy set of lights the pedestrian button was taped over and the walk sign hooded. We turned left and rode by the beautiful and sadly derelict brick
buildings that are occupied by GJames. We were then riding parallel to the railway line with the MBC poking tongues from the other side of the tracks. We passed a small disused heavily vandalised train station, behind light industries and in front of the Eagle Farm TAFE. An attempt to find a rail bridge showed us a Catholic Church next to a very old Queenslander in the middle of an enormous block of land (at least 2 acres) in what was becoming Hamilton. We popped out on Nudgee Rd. Here we came across the MBC which directed us through some of the desirable addresses of Ascot. Desired by distracted motorists too, the only advantage for cyclists being that the places they were looking at and the car they were driving suggested they could meet your funeral expenses
and sponsor a few more tributes on the road.
Skittering down Riverview Terrace it was across Kingsford Smith Drive to the shared footpath. Now it become apparent why this is a tosser free zone. Rough as guts this path would buckle those delicate rims. A small sandy beach had revealed itself at the
foot of beautiful park. It looked like a real possibility for a kayak pit stop, if you could put up with the noise of the traffic. Instead of following the riverfront we decided to look for the cycleway that ran alongside the ICB. We ended up amongst
the strudel around Abbottsford Rd and had a promising start with a cycle tunnel but that was where it too went pear shaped. The cycle lane was closed and instead we had landed in the the midst of the Ekka on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Many streets were closed, but not for bicycles. We were waved on by all and even had one lane to ourselves with the other taken by a long line of
cattle trucks and the footpath home to tent accommodation. Incredibly the pedestrian walk light was malfunctioning outside one of the main gates to the grounds opposite the RBH. By the second change of the lights there was a mutiny and the crowd surged onto the road, ready or not, cars or no cars. After the
solitude of the Gateway Bridge the noise and colours of the Ekka were more than intrusive. We made a welcome getaway to Victoria Park. It was then we heard the distinctive chuff chuff of a steam loco which also explained why people were standing on the overpass with a cam corder. I had thought it an art shoot while Mark had entertained it as a vantage spot for capturing mates
hooning for posting on UTube. We found a place with a clear view
of Blue Bell and her eight silver carriages and waved them by. By the time we got to Roma Street the familiar sound and smell were there too and I swear I copped a faceful of ash to add to the authenticity.
Last time we peddled in the opposite direction. When we came off the Kurilpa Bridge we got lost and found ourselves peddling around the forecourt of some inner city building. This time it was like riding the green carpet. A bright green two way cycle lane with little white tributes and a concrete curb to give motorists less of an incentive to mow you down. These city cyclists must have good lawyers, no such protection out in the burbs. It was a great ponse, almost started to feel entitled and develop an attitude.
Over the bridge and into the vagaries of South Bank. Talk about unpredictable pedestrians, they certainly don't need ipod induced
deafness to add to the mix. The cycle path has been opened right down to where the mangroves are being ripped out at the base of the Goodwill Bridge. The pull up the hill out of South Bank and onto the cycle path was most welcome as it culls the pedestrian element. Parts of this path have recently been upgraded and are superb. We flicked off at the the overpass in Woolloongabba and
returned to the patchwork of what Brisbane cycle paths are really all about. By now the legs were starting to notice what they had been doing for the past couple of hours and the downside of living up a hill is the last leg which at times I doubt my legs will last. We turned into the driveway with half an hour of light
to spare and greeting from puss.
This 40Km circuit is an excellent way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Next time we will poke around at the bottom of the bridge and find the MBC. If you allow around 3 hours it gives grace for places like South Bank and about the right amount of time to be home in time for a BBQ on the deck.
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