We stayed with family last night and this morning my reputation as a dog-whisperer was in tatters. The dog, which was my friend by bedtime last night, was horrified to find me still in his house in the morning and was not friendly at all. Thankfully for his peace of mind we were soon out stuffing things in panniers strapping panniers to bikes, and pushing through the creek and up a small hill before wobbling off on our adventure.

Well, off we go then.  You have to actually ride the bike, you know.

Ipswich City Council farewelled us in style with the Brassell Bikeway. Ipswich has a long history of mining for limestone and coal and was a major river port back in the day. It had a brief tilt at being the capital of Queensland but lost out to Brisbane and has suffered the (undeserved) reputation of being Brisbane's poor cousin ever since. The Brassall Bikeway passed through some of this history and also gave a nod to its railway heritage, skirting the edge of the Railway Workshop Museum.

I didn't find any gold.  Or coal.  Or a mine.

Steam-punk train stuff along the Brassall Bikeway.

The Bikeway segued into the BVRT with nary a bump. I was happily surprised by the amount of bicycle traffic coming and going: dads with little ones on board: middle aged men all in Lycra out for a quick return journey; couples and family groups and lots of very fit young people going very fast. It all made for a very sociable ride.

This is where we are.  There's a long way to go.

Bike with trains.

All the wattle is coming into bloom along the BVRT.

No paddling needed.

The Finish!  The Finish?  But there's more.  It's not finished.  Someone is telling fibs.

Outside the Woolworths in Fernvale our bikes were pushed over by a very cranky lady who didn't want them leaning on the seat. The bicycle crash that ensued resulted in a broken lock and a slightly damaged brake, and the mad lady delivered a lecture on a) the failings of the caravan park in Lowood b) her very poor health and how she was going to die very soon and c) how her doctor was too busy to see her.  She lay down on her seat dramatically and cried for a bit before scarpering as we untangled the bicycle knot.  

I didn't mention that we are camping in Lowood tonight, instead making a mental note to avoid the caravan park and go to the Showground instead and so here we are, having a very comfortable camp with spotlessly clean toilets, a friendly and helpful caretaker,  the company of another couple of bicycle tourers, and not a mad woman in sight.

Home for the night: Lowood Showgrounds.  And very comfortable too.