Over The Hill and Back Again

The Fernleigh Rail Trail

I went for a walk in the morning. I found a shipwreck, and watched a man catch a shark which he threw back into the water after retrieving his hook. Out on the beach, the tide left delicate tracings of coal dust on the sand.

Back at camp for breakfast, Roger brushed his hand across the top of the picnic table on the verandah of the camp kitchen. "This table is filthy!" he said. Two minutes later a cleaner came along and started wiping the table. "It's the land breeze," she said. "It blows the coal over Newcastle rather than off across the country. It's all coal dust on the table." Roger was horrified. "We're going to die!" he wailed. "I've been breathing that stuff all night! Black lung here I come!" I was not sympathetic. I didn't think spending one night in Stockton equated to a lifetime labouring in a Cornish coal mine, and black lung would probably be the least of his health concerns as he trundled into old age.

Having survived our coal-infused breakfast we jumped on our bikes and caught the ferry over to Newcastle had annoying traffic and busy roads and irritating bicycle lanes that disappeared just when you needed them most. After 9km of botheration we found the beginning of the Fernleigh Rail Trail, and all was right with the world. We followed the Fernleigh Rail Trail up over a hill and through a tunnel, all the way to Belmont on the shore of Lake MacQuarie.

I thought that the tunnel would be at the top, right? Nope, the trail kept going up. But railway up, so that was OK.

The trail was busy with cyclists, joggers, dog-walkers, and pram-pushers. Many of the cyclists rode electric bikes, and zoomed past with demoralising frequency as I puffed and panted up the hill. It wasn't all bad though. Opportunities for cafe stops abounded and we were forced to make cafe-versus-progress decisions with gratifying regularity.

"I'll have butt cream with my coffee, please."

We ate our picnic lunch on the platform at the old Belmont station, just a stone's throw from the shores of Lake MacQuarie, before turning around to ride back over the hill to Newcastle.

The Fernleigh Rail Trail took its commitment to public safety very seriously, with lots of rails to separate riders/walker from the nature through which it traveled.

Although some sections allowed untrammeled access to the wilds.

Back in Stockton we took a picnic tea down to the waterfront and watched as the sun set over the silos and the lights turned on in Newcastle. A big ship chugged down the channel, escorted by two officious little tugs, and all the while the busy little ferry ran back and forth across the river carrying the workers from Newcastle home to Stockton, and the Stockton Friday-night party-goers over to the pubs and clubs in Newcastle.

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Today's ride: 50 km (31 miles)
Total: 281 km (175 miles)

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