One winter weekend, Emily and her partner Jacob gathered their bikes and peddled through the bush to the beach on a mission to catch a wave before sunset.

 

We Are Explorers acknowledges that this adventure is located on the traditional Country of the Yuin people who have occupied and cared for the lands, waters, and their inhabitants for thousands of years. We pay our respects to them as the Traditional Custodians and recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.

 

I’ve always had an interest in local adventures. You know your friend’s Mum or that crusty dude at the coffee shop who knows every bend of the local river, which rock to find a lobster under, or how that street got its name? I’d love to be like that. And that takes time…local time.

There’s an escarpment where I live, with popular hikes that start from a central point. When I was there last, I thought, ‘How good would it be to ride across the escarpment to a few valleys over, and ride the fire trails to the beach?’.

Bush to beach on a bike. One of my favourite activities – bikepacking – shortened into a day. And if luck was on my side, a surf at the end.

 

 

A trawl on GoogleEarth and I had the route. The drop in elevation looked lovely.

‘It’s basically all downhill’, was the pitch to my partner, Jacob. The ever so patient man that agrees to most of the ideas I have and suffers the wrath when we run out of food and I get cranky. He’s also much fitter than I and loves to peddle about 20m in front, insisting he can’t go much slower.

So, it was settled. The route, the partner in bike, and the perfect free Saturday.

Let the Fun Begin

First step: car shuffle. The plan was to drop a car at my parent’s house before driving to the top of the escarpment and riding it all downhill…just like I said.

After a long, unexpected roadside chat with one of my parent’s neighbours while collecting the second car, we were behind schedule and tried to focus on enjoying the moment and not the surf that we’d potentially miss at the end. We reached the escarpment car park, pulled out the bikes and took off. 60km of ‘downhill’ in front of us.

 

 

In reality, there was around 10km of easy climbing before we reached the top of the escarpment and then it was ‘all downhill’. The road was sandy with some big patches of blue metal, the kind that shakes you so hard you can’t help but yell ‘Wooahh woaah woooahh’ and laugh as it comes out wobbly. The sky was blue with beautiful wispy clouds. A stunning clear winter’s day.

The wind was offshore and would be at our backs before long (so yes, the surf was pumping). Ahead of us, there was one fresh tyre track, evidence that someone else was out here doing something similar. ‘Who could it be?’, we wondered, throwing out the idea that if we met them and they were great, they might want to join us all the way to Manyana.

Half an hour later, an older lady came whizzing past us in the opposite direction.

‘Hey!’, she yelled as she zoomed past, ‘don’t forget to look back at the view’. She takes one quick breath.

‘Enjoy! I’m off for breakfast – can’t wait.’

The best Explorers I meet on the trail usually have two things in common – an appreciation of where they are and a hankering for the next meal. Fuel to feed the fire of getting out and about, and better than anything else, the reward of a tasty treat.

After crossing the escarpment, it was time for lunch. At the highest point the views were spectacular. Ditching the bikes in a bush and rock hopping to the very edge of the drop, we perched up with tuna crackers, muesli bars, and of course, some scroggin.

 

 

Looking east, we had views of Point Perpendicular and Green Island. Behind us, Didthul stood out as it does in this area, a reference point for all locals and visitors alike.

Lunch packed up, bellies loaded, and the need for speed peaking, we were ready to go again.

Finally Hitting the Downhill

‘All downhill from here’, I told Jacob again as we grabbed our bikes. And boy was that true (for a short while). 20km covered in 30 minutes, we hooted and hollered, crouching down on our bikes to go faster and faster. No-pedal competitions at each small rise to see who could roll the furthest. What a blast, the kind of downhill where a ‘Yipppeee’ gets caught by the wind and quickly disappears.

By the time we hit the highway and halfway point, our grins were as big as they could get. Woah, that was fun.

‘Not long to go, about 30 more kilometres and we’ll be home in no time.’ Famous last words.

Entering the wet, undulating, and rutted out roads of the national park, it was clear the road I’d mapped wasn’t quite the one I thought it was. Arriving at a rapidly flowing creek, about waist high, with no way back, Jacob and I looked at each other, sighed, and hoisted our bikes above our heads.

 

 

This was the point that all adventures come to, when you question if this really is as fun as expected. But most importantly it’s the part where the stories are made. There’s not much to say about walking 2km along a clearly marked trail to a waterfall everyone’s seen on social media.

The tale of signing up for a downhill Saturday ride and coming home with soggy shoes and wet pants after you’ve crossed a river and hiked-a-bike up a muddy trail? That’s the good stuff. And I haven’t even mentioned the crash, bruised ego, and broken bike seat.

 

No Surf But No Worries

An hour or two later than anticipated, a little more tired than expected, and a tiny bit cold, we hit the bike path that led home. Checking the surf at the lookout confirmed what we knew – the wind had changed and the waves were messy and blown out. But what a way to spend the day. With an adventure under the belt, some tasty Thai and hot showers had us tucked in early and talking about what was next.

Bush to beach on a bike…what about a kayak next time? I know the alliteration doesn’t cut it, but the adventure just might.

 

Make Your Own Adventure

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