TrailFlix – Blog

Easter Weekend. One of the wet days.

Tristan & I had been on for months to go check out Smugglers Trail. For all the right reasons  we hadn’t connected: me -  other committed rides, out of Sydney, wet weather; Tristan – Out of Sydney, camping, studying, other sports and meant we’d pushed this from January all the way out to Easter in the hope of a free and dry day to explore what is reportedly one of the more interesting but treacherous tracks in the northern suburbs: Smugglers Ridge at Marramarra National Park. Neither of us is a downhiller by any stretch – though he’s fast as, being one of the brightest junior MTB racers – but in the interests of completeness we wanted to have a look-see and get it on the record.

Texting at 6am after the night’s downpour I was pretty sure it was off, though Mic had said the day before he was up for it so I’d had my bike loaded on the car the night before for a quick getaway.

The text from Tristan came back; “No rain here [Hornsby]. Good to go”.

Despite a late night at South’s Leagues Club, Mic too was unfaltering (do these people never look at weather forecasts?!) , so it was off to Marramarra.

Of course traffic was light because no other fool would have been contemplating leaving a warm bed/house on a damp day with no prospect of improving weather! So in no time we were in the Lane Cove tunnel, escaping the light drizzle but thinking It’s gotta be fine along Pennant Hills Road, surely.

Nope.

And it didn’t stop even when we turned up at 8am at Bloodwood Road in Dural at the agreed meeting place: Coba Point* Trailhead.

In fact I recall it went from drizzle to rain as we pulled up. “Damn”, I remember thinking.

Lucky then that Tristan and his Mum had arrived or we blokes might have done a runner and headed for the nearest breakfast bar. But Tristan is an ultra keen MTB’er and his mum Karen is a committed hiker and she was all kitted out to trek the trail, rain or shine.

The rain eased off to drizzle as we unloaded the bikes and the horizon gave hints of it clearing up altogether.

I’m not a fan of riding in the wet. I did a lot of motorcycling round NZ’s South Island as a student and  - as you can imagine  - a fair percentage was in Aotearoa’s most common climate: cold & wet! or occasionally windy, wet and cold). Some of the cross-country I-can’t-even-feel-my-fingers riding with my brother and schoolmates Greg Miller and David Swain, are etched into the amygdala, and while I’d definitely buy a new Ducati if I won Lotto, I’m past loving them as my ideal transport. At least most pushbike adventures either have a dry car or house not too far away.

We took off, planning to give the known & relatively easy Coba* & Collingridge tracks a go to warm up, hoping it would stop raining before heading down the apparent rocky ‘cliffs’ of Smugglers.

I warmed up after riding a few minutes. These firetrails have a fair amount of sand on sandstone  - there were only a couple of mud puddles along the way  - so it’s actually firmer after a bit of water than your usual clay & rocky based tracks around Sydney.

One good thing about Sydney sandstone is that it’s grippy in both dry and wet, imbued with a coarse texture that grabs a bit better than, say, Appin slate, which can feel like black ice on a damp and dewy morning.

With good tyres we made it up and down OK including a tad hike-a-bike until I put my foot in a pool of hidden water which didn’t help.

Passing by Karen, our resident hiker, Mic stopped to talk and we lost him for the day with the excuse  - told later – that the rain had gotten under his shirt and he was starting to get cold. More like the cold bourbons the previous night catching up.

Smugglers is about 500M back from Coba/Collingridge and having done them without getting waterlogged, and the drizzle looking like it was easing, we took the plunge  - so to speak  - riding back along Bloodwood Road. There’s a sign for Marramarra and Smugglers and we headed past a huge sandstone rock that I’d use for a rollover on the way back.

The trail quickly opens out to a wide and very sandy area with 3 or 4 exits around the perimeter. 2 burnt out car wrecks and a couple of drunken-party-campfire sites reveal a popular haunt for late night revelers in the past, though a fairly new and sturdy looking NPWS gate might make future events less accessible.

Trails go off in several directions but we saw a sign down only one and headed off that way.

Overgrown firetrail is how Tristan described it. Similar to parts of Coba but so narrow as to be more like the singletrack of the exciting and now banned parts of Oxford Falls. It descended down the hillside in a straight line unlike Coba’s curves and we could have gotten speed up except for two problems:

1. The track was overgrown with bushy shrubs which had fronds that reached across the track. At speed they were apt to thrash you about a bit. Even in dry weather I’d recommend a long sleeve, and in the wet, a flak jacket

2. The heavens opened up as we started to descend, just to remind us it was Easter. Whether its camping, biking or taking the kids to the Easter Show, rain and Easter seem to go hand in hand. The tracks softened up so much it became like riding along the beach; even steering downhill became a problem

Though the trail promised great things, this was obviously not the ideal day to experience them. Looking across the valley the clouds above the treetops looked meaner and darker than before and we reluctantly decided it was time for a strategic retreat, agreeing to return and do it justice another day. With bikes and boys both covered in wet sand we piled back into the cars  - Mic of course having steamed up the windows snoozing off the previous night.

Costly jaunt though; Sand and bike parts a good mix do not make and the scheduled bike maintenance the following week was grindingly more expensive than budgeted.

I blame Tristan and his “No rain here. Good to go” text. Only compensation is that he too was hit with similar bills!

*We remain amused at the naming standards for the area:

- Coba Point;

- Cobah Road.

- Cobar Trail

Obviously someone in the local council and/or NPWS can’t spell or hasn’t checked the map before they made up the signs these are all  - apparently – acceptable variations, so don’t blame us if you see vague speling.

June 2011

Rouse Hill.  It seemed like a bit of an afterthought when I first put it up. John and Bruce had shown me the track along with Castle Hill on one day a few years ago, but at only 5Km in length, and with me being an Eastern Suburbs boy, I didn’t think I’d get back there soon.

So it was really surprising to me then, that Rouse Hill has, over the 3 years, generated more questions, comments, and suggestions than any trail we’ve ever put up.

It came to a head earlier this year on the forums when Glenn (happytobeunhinged@gmail.com) wrote in the Rouse Hill post, “Hey Guys, the trail at rouse hill appears to have a few extra km and extra structures etc since last update on Trailflix… Is there a way of getting these updated?” …and emailed later, “This the trail I ride….” enclosing what turned out to be a very useful set of maps.

So it was, then, that Warren, John & I gathered at 7:00am on a chilly but fine 3-degree May morning at the 2nd car park in Rouse Hill Regional Park.

John & I arrived wrapped up as if for an Antarctic Expedition – we’d experienced Western Suburbs mornings before! – while Warren turned up with only slightly more than a long-sleeve tee shirt and shorts, showing we lesser mortals how “real men” approach riding.

As a result, we weren’t that sympathetic to his, “Heck, it’s colder here than at home!”, and suggested maybe his wife should dress him properly next time. But he ignored the jibes and did a couple of warm-up circuits to keep the blood flowing.

Needless to say his dress code was proven correct when the autumn day warmed up to a positively balmy 18 degrees.

John had moved his family to Bexley earlier this year but before that both guys had lived in this area for years and knew the Rouse Hill Trail like the back of their hands. So when I suggested Glenn had pointed out there was more to be had, they were a little skeptical, having heard those stories for years…but, heck, John was missing the Rouse Hill Trail so any chance to revisit the place and go explore was fine by them, so here were all were.

The mist was still suspended over the fields as we set up and I got some great shots of the boys skiving off* on their bikes before we headed out for the Tour de Rouse.

The trailhead in the Regional Park wasn’t hard to find – it’s right next to the car park – and there was no-one else crazy enough to be here this early, so we made our way quickly along the marked trail to the east and round the river. I was rugged up with only the extremities numb.

Heading East from the Park the trail brought us up to the concrete barrier that was Windsor Road, looking pretty impenetrable, though I’d been told there was definitely a trail underneath. We explored the area under the road (which was actually a bridge, though you wouldn’t know it from above), but being in too much of a hurry, we missed the easy route and instead had to hop over a small creek to make our way to the other side, on the right of the creek heading north.

After exiting the land of the trolls, dew-soaked reeds and weeds dominated the track so it was a bit moist on the legs for a while. But things became drier once we entered a stand of trees about 50 metres on.

Inside the bush the singletrack was tight but mostly friendly. A few creeks feeding the river meant there were several bridges and more than one was a hastily thrown together couple of rickety old boards, but at least two were well-built, recent and looked sturdy. The planks were pretty thin so we’re not sure how long they’ll last… especially with all the recent rain, but they served our purpose. Plus being so close to the river back these tracks might not survive much if ridden in the wet…

In case you need it, there’s a cycleway only 20M to the right that follows the creek. Not nearly as exciting, but it’s not going to crumble anytime soon.

With the sun streaming through the trees, my fingers started to feel less like frozen chicken fingers. Plenty of steering and ratcheting the pedals probably helped.

About halfway along we came across the first surprise: a set of carefully crafted BMX mounds just off a paddock. I’m no BMX’er but we rode a few of the lesser mounds. Warren had been promising to show us a new jump he’d found in the next section by the old trail so we didn’t want to stack too early…

Coming to Withers Road there were a bunch of Rural Firies standing round their truck near the NO PUBLIC ENTRY (our usual entry point into the original Rouse Hill track). We didn’t want to push our luck so we made our way via the gate at the rear of the Second Ponds Oval sports ground instead.

The old Rouse Hill track runs between the back of the Rural Fire station, then a Water Recycling plant and the continuation of the stream we’d just tracked. The stream looked like it might continue with the track but there was prominent council signage warning of the risk of high flooding so we figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to map one even if we found it. None of the TF trail maps come with a floatie, so better safe than sorry.

On we went to the new section slap in the middle of bush that both Glenn and Warren had discovered that has a spectacular jump next to a dried up pond. You go up a rise, turn hard left and then have about 5 metres to get up to 20Kms an hour before taking off and landing 5 metres down, veering right to avoid a prominent tree. Sound complicated?

Well, John & I took one look and thought “Hey! Impressive!… but not for us! (I want to keep the family assets intact). Besides, the last time Warren was here, he’d smashed up badly. After 2 successful jumps – and even having filmed himself jumping it – he packed the camera away and thought,  “Heck one more go…”.

In hindsight, he should have kept the camera running…

From the telling, it was a pretty nasty thud and he figured he was out for perhaps 3 or 4 seconds, waking up feeling somewhat under the weather. Bike was rideable but in need of A&E as well, so he made his way home wishing he’d been less cocky.

Instead we all took the B-Line down the hill and were more than happy to study the imprint from Warren’s (and probably other) unsuccessful attempts. One guy we all agreed would do it is Grant Byrne.

1. He’s a daredevil
2. The platform was sound enough;
3. It was rideable as Warren had proven…

Talking later he said he’d be keen to come out and give it a look, at least.

From there we found the extended way back to the old Rouse Hill trail that’s fairly well covered in the Trailflix Page. What’s changed is regular use has made the trails smoother, the curves bermier, and the track faster. Doing it in reverse from the last time was also much better.

At the bottom of the hill we were at the end of Mile End Road. There was the cycleway, which Glenn had said would lead most of the way to Fred Catterson Recreation Reserve at Castle Hill. He’d come unstuck at Samantha Riley Drive and asked us to see if we could find a cross-country escape route… Our Mission was on…

Riding along the otherwise deserted cycleway was fine but it wasn’t too long before Warren spotted a track through the trees alongside Cattai Creek and down we went. This was much better than riding concrete and was wide enough in some parts for 2 side-by-side riders and in others was as tight a singletrack as you could ride.

This continued for some time, with gaps where there were driveways and other obstructions but eventually we reached Withers Road. Across from the cycleway exit we spotted a narrow track between a fence line and the bush. The fence had been erected for what appeared to be a new house construction and who ever had built it had left enough room on the outside for a bike, which was just enough room for us… albeit some hidden spiky stumps nearly had each of us for a tumble, but it was definitely rideable.

More cycleway followed and we even found more riverbank track, but it’s really walking tracks so while we eagerly checked it out we didn’t partake. With huge trunks overhanging every 5 metres, walking it would be hard enough. With bikes it’s just frustrating. The cycleway would do and it in fact delivered us quickly to Samantha Riley Drive.

By this time the day had warmed up and were tossing up the idea to stop for a muesli bar, but the huge empty section across the road had what may have been the same  creek running though it, and showed potential for further tracks, so we agreed we’d better check that out first and off we went. We were on a mission to find this missing link to Fred Catterson Reserve and by heck we’d done well so far and wanted to see it through.

10 minutes of exploring and it was obvious that if we wanted a pathway alongside THIS creek we’d have to darn well build it ourselves but apparently the Corporal forgot to issue the shovels that morning so we were kinda stuck.

Looking at the map on the iPhone, Cattai Creek Conservation Area, way down the bottom of Samantha Riley Drive area looked like a distinct possibility and we headed down the road to check it out. It was a bit of a nuisance being on-road but we figured this may at least link to our next bit of off-road.

All it proved was our luck had run out. We could not find a safe and easy access into the Cattai Creek Conservation Area, which may or may not have had trails, so we turned back.

No disappointment though; we’d had an excellent day already, and Warren offered to come back and check out a cycleway we’d seen halfway up Samantha Riley Drive in case that was an option. But in the meantime it was 10:30 am already and we all had the regular Saturday chores and family commitments so we agreed it was time to retreat.

On the way back we found a nice off-road loop off the cycleway and I nearly tricked Warren into doing it twice but he didn’t take the bait. Other than that, with the mission over and a good mornings work behind us we returned slowly to real life.

I threatened to leave the current Rouse Hill trail page up and put up a “Son of Rouse” page… but will actually revise the Rouse Hill page to show these new maps as options… sometime soon. In the meantime if you are keen, get on the forums and check out Glenn’s maps under Rouse Hill Trail Updates.

Rouse Hill: from afterthought to rising star…

Grant Shatford

May 2011

*Photos on Flickr

I think nature has finally found a use for my sweat. I’m pretty sure it’s evolving into some sort of dingo pheromone.

A few weeks ago, for the second time in 2 weeks, I got within a whisker of a dingo, whilst riding in a national park.

The backstory: Dirtworks was coming up and I needed an epic journey to put on the k’s. I always plan at least a 50Km ride 2-3 weeks before a 100Km race. Avoids the race day shock to body – especially my delicate ass! – when it has to spend 6 – 7 hours in the saddle. Most non-bikers are stunned: “why on earth would you put yourself through it more than once!?”

Build up the stamina/get away from it all/commune with nature? In reality it’s probably the high-calorie Maccas I treat myself with at the end of a long ride.

Whatever the motivation, I enjoy the preparation and, anyway, the Old Great North Road *(OGNR) is part of Dirtworks so is an ideal training ground.

OGNR is a track I try to ride about once or twice a year. Built over 180 years ago by some of Sydney’s convicts, the track feels more historic, more sturdy and more noteworthy than your average National Park firetrail. The durable aluminum plaques along the first 2Km uphill explain how and why the road was built, including the impact on the road builders, providing some context for the smooth but unrelenting  ascent.

It was mid-April on an early Saturday morning and for the first time ever I was alone on the car ferry that crosses the Hawkesbury from Wisemans Ferry to the great beyond of Dharug National Park. There’s no charge for the ferry (hell, it’s miles cheaper for the government to run this 24 X 7 than to build a multimillion dollar bridge) and as I exited the barge, I was already picturing the ride up to the sure-to-be-sun-filled ridge trail beyond.

Unpacking the car, I heard the whine of engines from early morning fishing boats as they headed along the Hawkesbury towards the prime fishing spots of Akuna Bay, Berowra Waters, or one of the many bays between here and the open ocean.

Meanwhile I followed a set pattern of demounting the bike, checking tyre pressures, giving it a bit of a shunt downward to check the forks and rear suss. It was riding well and with luck would still be primed after today’s adventure.  It’d have a long way to go – 86 Km – to the far side of OGNR and back.

This was my second attempt to get to the end. Last time, 2 years ago, my tyres were slashed on some bugger of a rock and I needed to use a $10 note as a tyre boot to get me back. I’d reached only ¾ of the way and the tenuous repair meant there was no thought of going on to the end in case the patch failed and I needed to walk the bike out.

This day was going to be different, though. I was confident I would make it intact.

There was a touch of mist about but the autumn chills had not yet taken hold and I was off. The rains of the past 2 weeks over Easter had come and gone, but all the way along the ridge track, puddles the size of small ponds were everywhere, slowing the pace and making it more challenging than usual. OGNR is not somewhere you can just head through the middle of a puddle. Tyre-and-hanger-destroying rocks lie in wait to catch the unsuspecting rider and I knew I’d rather not have a Titanic-like experience today.

Wildlife was in abundance, like Lake Eyre after the rains. At almost every puddle the call of frogs spread their mating message far and wide. The puddles were full of them, but when I pulled over at one stage to see if I could get a photo they all shut up and hid. They had me worked out alright. Cunning buggers.

I waited for a while ‘til their noise returned and recorded their sound for use as a future background on a movie. Or maybe program it to play at a party in the middle of a dance track. And then shout out in a drunken frenzy, “Killer Frogs!”

Crazy, I know, but such are the thoughts on an 84-Km solo ride…

On the way between Devine’s Hill and the Western Commission track there’s a lengthy uphill that used to be eroded, exposing a long, rocky and difficult route: pick your line carefully or hike-a-bike was the rule. Sometime since the last time I rode this, someone from NPWS had tried to stop the erosion by covering it with a sand and gravel mix (concrete slurry). Unfortunately this had itself been eroded away to show a thick reinforced vinyl covering the old rock. Ironically, this attempt at slowing erosion was itself eroding, echoing the power and extent of recent rains.

After that point parts of the trail narrowed. We’re talking branches-meeting-in-the-middle narrow. I thought at first I must have taken the wrong track, but I could see the trail beyond so I forged on. Like a, ‘The World After Humans’ docco, Mother Earth was reclaiming the track saying to the few of us who ride here, “I didn’t think you cared, so I started to shut the place down…”.

This encroaching bush is a huge change from 6 or 7 years ago when it was dry up here all winter and the same gap would have fitted a 4WD or two. The invading bush continued for perhaps 20% of the rest of the way to Western Commission intersection. This is the result of all that summer and spring rain over the past 2-3 years. A reminder, I guess, that trails not ridden will eventually disappear…

There’s a section 2/3 of the way along the ridge to Western Commission that I don’t recall seeing before.  It had a new sign, “Mitchells Loop” and gave the option of riding up it – a loose rocky incline – or sticking with the trail – flat but narrow ridge. From a later check on Google, Mitchells Loop was about 400M. I took the low road which appears most do because the Loop looks like a lot of hard work!

The sweeping downhill section past Western Commission meant the end of the puddles but it was replaced by areas on the left of recent burning off which continued beyond the Buddhist Retreat in an extensive section all the way to Clare’s Bridge. The stench of smoke and a sense of desolation fortunately didn’t last long.

Beyond Clare’s the puddles recommenced. I was thinking: this isn’t going to be good for the Dirtworks and hoped there would be enough fine weather to dry out most of them (turned out not: the rains returned the week before the race and the track during Dirtworks was even muddier & sandier than when I rode it).

The ridge track along OGNR is steady, fairly flat riding for a couple of dozen kilometers. I get into a groove with whatever I’m listening too on the iPod and enjoy the fact that I’m probably the only rider for miles around and the bush is mine…. Well, I did until I came to a major T-intersection – Sullivan’s Arms Fire Trail – that heads west towards Wollombi road.

Along the moist sandy strip in front of me I saw dingo prints. Fresh dingo prints.

Now, I’m no Cherokee tracker but it looked like this dingo had got a trot on and was definitely heading in the same direction as me. I figured, what the heck, I’ll give chase. In reality he was probably long gone and heck, would flee at the sight of me, but – and I was having a mind game with myself but enjoying it nonetheless – I thought, “I’ll give him a run for his money…”

In my head I was pursuing him, pushing myself on as I was stalking my ‘prey’.

For the next 12 km he appeared to play the game too.

The changing terrain along OGNR means you can ride on rocks, leaf litter, water then sand, all within the same 5-metre stretch, and on many occasions the paw prints disappeared. For a while there the trail was only rocky and I thought I’d lost him. But the prints reappeared when another bit of sand came into view, and his apparent gait seemed as consistent and determined as ever, as was my pace.  I never saw the prints show sign of him actually stopping, turning around, or veering away from the line of the road. I figured he was confident in his supremacy that he didn’t need to worry about me. He may even have seen me at some stage earlier and decided I was no threat.

All the while, I kept imagining that he was only round the next corner, aware of me as I was aware of him, keeping far enough in front that I’d never catch him no matter how fast I rode the flat or how quick I took the few downhill’s. His superior hearing and sense of smell were well above my limited human capabilities.

I got all the way up to the other old bridge along OGNR (that has a plinth & historic words marking it) that, like Clare’s Bridge, is also closed to vehicular traffic. There, the firetrail splits in two to go round the bridge and I took the right, keeping away from those rickety bits of ancient wood. After that, my dingo trail disappeared.

Most likely he saw the split as an opportunity to end his long trek and head into the bush.  Maybe this was his home territory and he’d been out all day hunting small rodents. Either way, I never saw his tracks again until I turned around later and came back.

I imagined after he’d spent 12 Km trotting along avoiding me he grew tired of the game and pulled off, watching me from some vantage point, or maybe frozen, just metres from the track, in some dense and impenetrable scrub, listening as I rode past.

Wherever he went I guess he thought he’d heard the last of me as I rode off but after I did the turnaround at Mt Manning intersection on Wollombi Road I stopped for a couple of muesli bars and headed back, seeing the paw prints alongside my earlier tyre tracks, almost as if we’d done the trail together.

Grant Byrne & I headed out to Red Hill about a year ago and two Staffordshire terriers came out of nowhere and followed us for about an hour as we explored the myriad of tracks. Apart from the odd occasion where they’d just stop in the middle of a trail and you’d have to veer off to avoid them, it was an absolute hoot to have them sprint along in front or chase us up & down the tracks, and I’m pretty sure they had as much fun as we did. In the end one of them was exhausted and just lay down, too tired even to take water from a drink bottle we offered.

From childhood I’ve been a dog guy. I love dogs and have missed their hearty and unrelenting companionship, freely offered. Living in an apartment for 12 years meant going without dogs, so now having moved to a place with a stretch of lawn, its time to change that.

Sometime in the next few weeks I’m heading up to QLD to pick up a Manchester Terrier pup to train up as my regular morning running mate. They are said to be high-spirited, intelligent and cunning companions, eager to learn and love exercise (hey, all my own traits!) and I want to eventually have two of them and train them to run beside the bike along non-National Park Trails. I can’t wait to see them go wild and lap up the outdoor life as much as I do.  While a dingo they aint (I was contemplating a Basenji – an African hunting dog – but they need a heap of space and are known to – literally – climb fences and stalk strangers. But I gave that idea away when I realized the 80-year old Greek neighbour would not have appreciated a dog circling her in her yard every day!)…, these two will be a heap of fun that will – like my kids – bring equal amounts of joy and frustration I’m sure…

I’ll put up a new, extended map for OGNR soon.

*Old Great North is yet another trail known by variable names

-       Old Great North Road

-       Great North Road

-       Great Northern Road

It is pre-dawn on a mid-autumn morning when I arrive at Douglas Street in St Ives, with Garrigal National Park in the distance at the end of the street.

By the time I enter the top of The Cascades trail, the morning peak hour traffic along Mona Vale Road behind me is in full swing, while in front I can hear a few of the almost 130 varieties of birds who live in the parks along Sydney’s eastern shores; cockatoos, lyrebirds, lorikeets and kookaburras amongst them. I stop to see if I can spot one, but they remain hidden by the bush, so I take off, down the firetrail.

Garrigal was one of the first trails I ever rode in Sydney, but not long after I biked it, a couple of mates reported seeing signs stating ‘no bikes’, so I didn’t return. Years have gone by with me thinking a bike ban was still in place until I did a check of all the national park websites and found that Garrigal was OK for riding. There are now (probably have been for some time!) several legally rideable tracks, along with a few singletracks for walkers only.

As I hit the first bend, the sun is poking its way through the trees, spreading warmth into the quickly-fading mist, the resulting scene looking more like Middle Earth than Northern Sydney. The place is crying out to be photographed, so, breaking out the camera, I take a couple of classic ‘misty trail’ shots. Happy with the result, I repack the camera, and a couple of riders pass by giving a cheery, “Alright mate?”, before heading up the hill.

The rest of the downhill towards the valley floor is rough, fast, though not technical. The Cascades descent is enclosed by a canopy that overhangs much of the trail. Unlike a lot of bush-clad Blue Mountains trails, this, and indeed other parts of Garrigal, has trees whose branches meet high above, shading and protecting the track from the elements. Maybe that’s why there are still mud puddles, even after several rain-free days. More likely though it’s because the park is in a valley, criss-crossed by two streams; Bare Creek and French’s Creek.

On the way down I stop in a few places to take more ‘sun-through-the trees’ shots. Like a surfer waiting for the ‘perfect’ wave, I am habitually driven to seek out the ‘perfect shot’, often falling far short of that high aim but enjoying the process. All the same, I sometimes frustrate myself (and fellow riders) when an inspiring scene appears and I interrupt a massive downhill in an attempt to capture it….

Passing two signposted trails off to my left (Upper Cambourne, another entrance to the park, off Cambourne Ave, and Lower Cambourne, which links to Bare Creek Track) I end up at the intersection to Bare Creek Track. Checking the map, I make the decision to head south to the end of Cascades and come back to Heath Track which I see from the elevation profile appears to have a nice sweeping downhill coming this way.

The Cascades continues down, becoming a little more technical before reaching the valley floor. Until this point I’d have said the trail was suitable for new riders but here and later the Heath Track descent belay that thought; I think its much more suited to the experienced rider.

The trail curves round to cross over French’s Creek, passing through a weir above a couple of large ponds.  From there it winds its way up to Stone Parade, finishing in a steep uphill just before the gate. Coming back down is much better & heaps faster.

From the Bare Creek turnoff it’s again very sheltered and even darker; and after winding down and across the shallow Bare Creek itself, the trail heads uphill, fairly steeply, for a while. 50M after passing the Bare Creek track intersection on the left (which leads up to Mona Vale Road) there is a single-track on the right, which is for walkers only. There is a sign stating Walkers only, then a couple of wooden stakes and race-day ribbon erected in an attempt to keep bikes out. I hike up it for 30 metres and it is definitely walking only.

Remounting the bike there is sunlight coming through the trees in the trail ahead, highlighting several large webs a little way above head height. I stop to try and capture some of these massive but finely spun structures on film. At rider height these would have been treacherous to ride through. Earlier this year I lead a group up the web-plagued Old Settlers Track and a few years before that, I fought solo through an even more web-infested Marramarra track. Now, it seems, I am somewhat immune to the autumn & spring spider invasion that builds up across many of Sydney’s trails, but was glad I didn’t have to fight my way through these mothers.

Continuing uphill along Heath Track is a slog, being both stony and dusty and much more open. By this time the sun is up and there is heat aplenty in the rocks, and I gulp down some water. At the top, there is a gate that indicates the start of the park but I ride beyond so I can view the Ralston Ave entrance. It turns left then right past a transmission tower. I stop to take some photos and in the space of five minutes get three phone calls (!) and can confirm that transmission towers and the electricity substation just beyond play havoc with mobile phone reception!  Not too far from this point is the other main entrance, the unsealed Ralston Road. If you’re coming into the park from this direction, check the locality map as there are several intersections and you’re likely to miss at least one turnoff.

The ride back downhill Heath Track? Sublime. The rocks are tricky on the corners but with a bit of extra care you shouldn’t go off the sides! Definitely the most exciting part of an allover excellent morning. Well worth the uphill marathon.

I head out of the park via southern end of The Cascades, having mentally kicked myself for not riding this place more often, but promising to come back with the guys before the depths of winter makes these early morning trails a tad too dark and icy.

When I was ten, my brothers – 13 and 8 – and I were allowed to explore. Our parents letting us kids wander far & wide on our bikes. They saw little risk (the traffic was less busy & more bike friendly than today. And there were no other bogeymen to worry about in real life. These days, it’s a whole ‘nother story. Few parents in Sydney would let their 10-year olds head off by themselves.

Nowadays it’s the baby boomers and Gen-X’ers – in ever increasing numbers – who head off to explore their world, from the local forest and bush, all the way round Australia, or off to the ends of the earth. Most of our kids, meanwhile, get to explore the inner workings of video games or internet chat rooms. Much safer, eh? L

While we men celebrate the ‘spirit’ of adventuring, our quasi-heroes like Bear Grils, have us squirming as he downs a live spider, drinks his own urine or sleeps inside a hollowed-out camel, part of us wanting to believe we could do the same. But only if we really had to….

Anyway, the explorer spirit was in evidence when our mate Andy reconnoitered the trails at Helensburgh & Garrawarra State Recreation Area a few weeks into the New Year. He came away with good stories plus the scars & (real) bloody photos to prove he’s still as (fool)hardy an adventurer as he himself was at ten.

So, about 4 weeks later, it was with great anticipation that Carwyn & I headed out with Andy, Brett and Adrian (who was on the initial trek) to check out this scar-forming-southern-adventure-trail, deep in the jungles above Otford & Stanwell Park.

On the first visit, the boys had started from Helensburgh Park, but this time we rode from Andy’s place in Waterfall along the Princes Highway to find the uppermost trail access. This is just above the spot where the Waterfall Train crashed in 2003. One of the outcomes from the subsequent enquiry was a recommendation to open up the firetrails in that area, because getting the rescue trucks in had been a real struggle.

As a result we saw several of the steeper firetrails heading down towards the train line had been concreted (this looks weird when everything else around and about is natural bush).   Plus, the upper firetrails we biked were much wider than normal, presumably so future fire engines and ambulances will have no problems getting from the highway to where they need to be.

Several k’s later we linked up at the anticipated Helensburgh loop, but not until we’d stopped to check out a disused and overgrown rail line leading towards an abandoned rail tunnel, which reportedly had glow worms. I’m learning the little glowy bugs can be found in a couple of bike-friendly spots around Sydney  (Bundanoon, Newnes) and are definitely worth viewing if you get the chance. However the disused train line was a mass of jungle and we decided against spending any time hacking the 50 metres of bush to get inside the tunnel. Besides,we had no torches. Maybe next time, was uttered as we climbed up the incline.

Finally we hit the Helensburgh track itself, which is mostly but not all inside Garawarra State Recreation Area.

It’s a great track with a combination of fast downhill firetrail, and technical singletrack , akin to what you get on the northern end of Menai.

From Helensburgh Park, you ride to the northwest corner, and beyond the rugby field and a low fence is a firetrail that starts off – 300M to the east – as Fletcher Street, but narrows to an almost overgrown 4WD. We headed left, but there’s nothing to stop you doing this in reverse except that the technical downhill section about halfway would be an unrideable ride up.  Thus, left is recommended.

Just as you ride into the first trail, there’s a sign on the fence that prohibits everything except breathing and – whoopee! – biking, so you are pretty safe to do both and head in.

The track starts off on shingle.  About 150M along it veers left and then forks to either houses up the hill or a gated downhill track. You can take that downhill or take the singletrack that skirts right of the gate.

You head downhill into a wide clay & rocky firetrail. When we rode it in February it was treacherous in parts but by March it had been graded, so the condition will vary. I can report it gets very boggy after rain.

About two thirds of the way down this wide (2-lane) 4WD track there’s a singletrack off to the left, heading south. It goes for about 500M and has various exits, mostly into private property. An interesting but not challenging jaunt.

Continue down the hill, crossing a wide creek and head uphill again. The 4WD track then veers sharply left and up a hill that leads to the Old Princes Highway. Don’t head there. Instead, on the corner, enter the wide singletrack to the right that winds for about 1.5Km north.

The track is very sandy to this point and in parts further on, but along this particular stretch the base is small lumps of raw coal. And that’s what makes this a State Recreation Area (where mining can be licensed) as opposed to a National Park (where mining is not usually permitted). As the worlds leading coal exporter, Australia mines about 500 million tonnes of the stuff per year and exports about half of that, with the remainder used to generate about 85% of our electricity. I grew up putting coal in our fireplace in NZ. Now there are kids who have never seen the real thing, so maybe take a souvenir home…

After the coal, the track widens out across a sandstone rocky outcrop that has rideable lines but is lumpy and a bit technical.

After the rocky outcrop and another creek bed you ride 200M up to a Y-Junction  with a steep track rising up to your left. Again, that leads to the highway so ignore that and continue along the sandy trail ahead that turns into another sandstone outcrop; this one with a smooth face to ride up and a big bunny hop if you want to get up at the end.

At the top, 200M further on, there is another Y junction. Either way takes you to the same place in 100M or so but the left hand one requires major bike carrying strength (over the shoulder as far as I could see when I looked).

At last it flattens out for about 100M and yet another ‘Y’, with one leg heading down an extreme downhill. Don’t take that one, but 150M further on is a similar looking intersection. Head right here to continue this trail. Going straight ahead will take you on a 3-4Km ride along mostly 4WD-sized trails towards Waterfall. This is the one we took on my first trip. Some rocky and fast downhill and equal amounts of uphill if you choose.

If you follow the map though and head down at that intersection, here is the technical section. It’s close, dense and rock-strewn. Great for advanced riders though for the rest of us, there’s a fair bit of hike-a-bike. Good strength training I say!

This goes for about 400M and opens out to the Colliery Dam, which on the first of our trips was dry as a bone. We could walk into a sandy bed all the way up to a large sink hole that must act as a drain (may go down to coal mines…). The next time we rode it – just 4 weeks later – the dam was full to overflowing. The difference in such a short time is stark and therefore interesting to see. Check the photo page for a comparison.

From the dam, there are 3 tracks that head down and left into a firetrail that crosses the overflow from the dam. From here you head largely uphill and it seems to get steeper the further you go. It exits onto The Ridge (road) in Helensburgh. From here you are within striking distance of the trail head.

Turn right into The Ridge and then right again onto Fletcher Street which I noted (and smelled) had had a bush fire through part of it between Feb & March 2011.

Stay right and continue down the narrow incline bush track and start to see Helensburgh Park on your left, then come out where you started. Short enough to do a second run or maybe do it in reverse. Adding the 4Km form that intersection mentioned will make it a more full ride.

Recommended.