For the past week we have made a home in Hervey Bay, mostly living here,
in this abandoned caravan park. No services, no reception, no rules – just forest reclaiming bitumenous civility. We nestled in among the legume suckers, hidden, protected by their simple lifeways.
A public park with a toilet and a free BBQ was situated across the road where only three weeks earlier a four meter long crocodile was sighted, marking our entry into the next significant creature zone. We saw no evidence of crocodiles in this park, although we did find it very social.
The park spilled onto a small beach where we observed many tidal transitions.
For we southern inlanders, becoming calibrated to the tides has been critical when it comes to procuring what we call accountable food. Catching, killing, eating and praising fish consumes a considerable part of our day.
We began by first catching bait fish such as these herring,
which we willingly ate, but also used as bait to catch larger fish.
Then on other occasions we caught nothing but quiet,
and the chance to learn from others.
During the week we heard from Rore who posted a great comment on our Autonomous foods of Minjerribah post concerning the uses of Pandanus. When we came across a juvenile of this common coast dweller we got to work.
Rore told us that the base of the Pandanus heart leaves are also edible, so we broke in and discovered hidden starchy treasure.
Although delicious, and like eating the fruit raw, we experienced a mild scratchiness in our throats. This is because Pandanus spp contain oxalates, easily treated by cooking.
Earlier in the week we met Kelly and Wendy, who told us about the free camp site, invited us home for a warm shower, introduced us to their kin dog Bell and cats Leo and Mishka, and on our last night cooked us a beautiful dinner. Thanks Kelly and Wendy!
We also met local bike advocates Michelle and Luke from the Little Blue Tandem – a cafe and bike hire business. Here they are after trying out their shop’s new beach bikes.
They told us of a cycle tourist travelling up the east coast avoiding roads and keeping mostly to the beaches. Wow! What a great concept. Before leaving Hervey Bay Michelle and Luke gave us a beautiful care package of homegrown treats and a hand-knitted scarf. Thanks so much Michelle and Luke!
On our last night we booked into a youth hostel to camp, wash and recharge our electricals. Here we met two Dutch cycle tourers, Michel and Marion, who started their adventure in Melbourne about three months ago. Among other things we exchanged notes on the pleasure of cycle speed and living simply.
Once again we have itchy pedals and are ready for our next leg. But, have we made a decision to keep heading north or begin our descent south? For that answer you’ll have to wait and see.
We left the lovely Gary in Maleny and headed west with the promise of some downhill cruising.
But before we descended the high country we found some familiar friends, Slippery Jacks (Suillus luteus) in a typical spot, underneath a copse of pines.
These mycorrhizal (symbiotic relationship with plant roots) mushrooms have pores instead of gills, as you can see in this picture. As far as we are aware there are no poisonous pore mushrooms in Australia. At the bottom of the hill we found a free BBQ and while Patrick cooked our haul of slipperys with herbs and eggs from Gary’s, Meg checked Zero and Woody for ticks.
We were making our way to Kenilworth when we came across this lovely park. Wow! Imagine how Australia could be transformed if this was the norm rather than the exception.
The further inland we rode the more we had the road to ourselves and the more we didn’t have to listen out for cars and could engage instead with our creaturely intuitions.
We arrived in Kenilworth mid-afternoon and found the local artisan cheese shop we had heard so much about. We bought 500 gms for $3 and set about devouring it in record speed.
We have become big eaters on this trip. Food is our major fuel and we burn it off at a rate of knots. Getting the right kind of fuel sometimes proves difficult so seeking out forageable foods, organic farms and gardens, small growers and producers and community grown goodies has become a significant part of our daily performances.
By the time we left Kenilworth we didn’t have much light left to find a camp, and not long afterwards Patrick’s right gear cable snapped. We pulled over at a little park just out of town to see whether it was suitable for an emergency camping spot when David, who lives across the road, appeared, inviting us to spend the night at his house. David and Patrick quickly got to work to make the bike rideable for the next day’s ride. Thanks David!
A number of people live at David’s in varying forms of permanency. This is Carl, who cooked us all dinner on the wood fuelled fire. Carl is a descendent of the Bigambul people and a survivor of the stolen generation.
Carl’s indigenous name is Purri, which means spiritual hunter and he told us a little about his time out bush living on bush tucker, hunting feral animals and employing bush medicines to heal himself, specifically talking up the power of the Bangalow palm (Archontophoenix cunninghamiana) to strengthen bones, although he didn’t divulge the specifics of how to use it. He told us his family, who live on country, are very sick, which he puts down to fracking in the area as their illnesses followed the development of nearby CSG drilling. Carl is also an artist. While at David’s we met another talented man, Keith, who shines in making traditional long bows out of bamboo. Keith kindly oiled our bow with Tung oil and gave us a cover to protect it from the weather. Thanks Keith!
The following day, after farewelling our new friends, we faced a 60 km ride to Gympie, to the nearest bike shop. Despite David and Patrick’s hard work on the bike, the tandem had just three working gears. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride, but it was a beautiful day and beautiful country,
and again not much traffic to worry us.
We arrived in Gympie for a late lunch. Patrick was especially exhausted, sorely missing the other 24 gears on the hilly entry into this large regional town, large enough to support two bike shops. Dave, at Pedal Power, is a fellow tandem rider and his shop was the obvious choice to look for extra long gear cables. Thanks Dave!
Fellow cycle tourer and writer Greg Foyster told us we must avoid the Bruce Highway at all costs, so from Gympie we mapped our route to do just that,
and headed west to Widgee, stopping at a mid-week garage sale where the owners were moving to a wetter region because they couldn’t afford to keep buying in their water.
It was at this sale we bought Woody his first bow and arrow for 50 cents.
Later on, after arriving in Widgee, Patrick gave Woody a lesson,
We toured around the town on dusk looking for a place to camp,
and when we found it, the afternoon’s warm sun wasn’t the only gold we discovered.
Early season loquats (Eriobotrya japonica), one of our favourite autonomous fruits. Loquats are a rare species that has adapted to many climates, and like the Australian Ravin (Corvus coronoides) has followed us from home all the way into Queensland. The Widgee community centre made for a great overnight stay and the next morning we used the cricket pavillion to string up a line for our dew sodden tents.
As we have moved away from the (politically) green belts of southeastern Queensland, the roads are getting more dangerous. Sure, there’s less traffic, especially the ones we’re carefully choosing, but drivers seem more oblivious to cyclists than anywhere we’ve been so far in Australia. We decided to start documenting this phenomenon, riding with our camera ready – this truck literally drove us off the road and lucky for us there was something to ride onto.
We stopped for lunch in Woolooga, a town that boasts a pub, an Indian resturant and a town hall. Two whopping floods in the past decade have submerged the town.
We tried all three local establishments and the public toilet block, finishing at the pub to ask for directions and road advice.
On the way out of town we came across these two future community-scaled coolamons,
and we picked up some vegies for the evening meal.
We arrived in Gundiah at beer o’clock,
and Zero got to work charming the locals.
We pitched our tents at the back of the hotel, took a warm shower, and hit the hay.
In the morning we were gifted some organic home-grown kale by the lovely Alison. Alison’s five year old son Banjo had grown the kale in his own garden on the family’s farm. Thanks Banjo! Alison has recently returned to the cattle farm she grew up on and is looking into the ways she can work with her father to transition the farm to a more sustainable way of operating, reminding us of the great film, A Farm For The Future.
We rode on to Maryborough, making yet another crossing of the Mary River west of Tiaro,
and came across our first sighting of a pineapple farm.
In Maryborough we found a garden stall selling these tropical delights and used a $2 coin we had earlier found on the road to procure one of them.
We eagerly found a park in which to devour it. It was the best tasting pineapple we’d ever had.
On dark that park became home for the night.
We woke early, packed up the tents wet and rode east towards Hervey Bay. We would have to wait for the fog to lift to dry out our wet things.
We were completely exhausted when we arrived. We have travelled 260 kms in the past six days, having not really found a place to properly rest, and quite troubled about the mental state of some drivers on the road. What’s more, we arrived in Hervey Bay to find these kinds of attitudes:
World damaging vehicles in; low impact bikes and dogs out! And, is that bumper sticker the Iron Cross cradling an Aussie flag?? Woah!
The churches in this part of Queensland seem to be getting bigger and bigger and the architectual aesthetic appears to celebrate not critique industrialisation.
We’ve also found a general compliance to rules here in Queensland, which we haven’t seen elsewhere. If we ask someone in the street for a good place to free camp we get moralistic responses, as if rules are there to be obeyed regardless of their idiocy or oppressive nature. This sort of compliant culture really plays into the hands of manipulative authority. We took to the beach to find some solace.
We think we’re getting close to turning south. This is a big decision for us as it has been seven and a half months of slowly moving north. Weatherwise it makes sense to keep heading north for a while longer, but we may have to don some winter woollies and start our descent. We hear it’s all down hill on the way home south.
Our last post featured the bounty of autonomous food on Minjerribah in early winter. This post begins with the array of social warming we encountered there.
While on Stradbroke Island we hooked up again with fellow cycle tourer Tom, who once more became uncle Tom,
his portable cabin a hammock tent.
We spear fished and foraged with Tom and went along to the community jam at Point Lookout where Woody was handed around among the local tribe.
Along with Tom we free-camped with Tim, who we met back in Uki and then again in Brissy, and his mate Luke. Both had a passion for free food and simple ways of procuring it. We shared knowledges and food together.
We snapped this image at the North Stradbroke Island Historical Museum, it shows Indigenous folk on the NSW midcoast collecting eugaries (pipis). The image for us represents the ecological intelligence and social inclusivity that our little mutable tribe was perhaps attempting to emulate – the utter sophistication of non-damaging simplicity.
On our return to Dunwich from Point Lookout we stayed a night with Shelley and Milla again, and this time got to meet Milla’s dad/ Shelley’s man, the musically talented Chris.
We harvested macadamia nuts from their produce garden,
and learnt to crack them open with this simple tool.
Our sense of an ecotopia was drowned when it was time to leave the island, our reliance on damaging industry to barge back to the mainland was all too painfully obvious.
But this life is about generational transition, and learning to maintain our bikes (after the sand and salt of the island) is certainly a part of that movement.
On our first night off Straddie we made camp in a hidey spot in a large public park off a bike track in a north-eastern suburb of Brisbane.
The next day we crossed the Brisbane River by climbing a monumental achievement of industrialised culture,
before coming down the other side of that story:
As cyclists we are painfully aware of what motorised transport is capable of committing. Everyday we face the reality of death in a much more direct way and feel the pain of those who have suffered as we pass by at a speed slow enough to acknowledge it. We are flesh and bones on wheels and bitumen and the violence of cars and trucks is forever present, deafening and exact. Then occasionally, we find a motor-free track,
like here between Woodford and Maleny, and somewhere quiet to stop for lunch.
And even if such remoteness brings its hurdles,
crossing creeks and slipping around on gravel can be more preferable than the constant noise and sometimes terror of more populated routes. And after such a physically difficult but relatively peaceful day on and off the saddle we arrived on top of the range to treats of naturalised citrus,
We arrived in Maleny on dusk, caught a pub meal and a beer and pitched our tents on the lawn behind the hotel on the banks of the Obi Obi Creek.
In Maleny we bumped into two locals prone to bouts of cycle touring. The first is Hamish who, for want of a better description, is a bee health scientist and knows firsthand what Monsanto and co are doing to the biosphere.
The second is Garry, a retired English teacher who dons great t-shirts and excellent facial hair. Garry met us by chance at the community garden after he had finished his shift as a volunteer at the UpFront Club, a co-operatively owned venue.
Garry invited us back to his home where he lives with his partner Susan in their hectare permaculture garden on the outskirts of town. The garden features a mature copse of bunya pines, an extensive chook area, raised beds packed with produce, diverse insect-attracting flower beds, food forestry and indigenous revegetation. Needless to say we were well impressed with this model garden for the future.
We had two gentle nights with Garry (Susan was away). We walked into town picking a pharmacopeia of health-packed edibles from the roadside, including the super herb Gotu Kola (Centella asiatica), which according to the Maple Street Co-op newsletter, has been used to aid “fatigue, anxiety, depression, poor memory, senility, epilepsy, bacterial viral or parasitic infections, trauma and tissue repair, leprosy, circulation problems, tuberculosis, arthritis, rheumatism and skin conditions such as psoriasis.”
We noted loquats coming into fruit,
and chewed on the white base stalks of lomandra leaves that Woody generically calls oosh ucker (bush tucker).
Maleny is the first place we’ve been to that is so ideal for citrus, that trees have naturalised along the roadside,
and we sampled various varieties of lilly pilly (Syzygium spp.), these being the most desirable.
When we arrived in town we bee-lined for the co-op, which has been going since 1979, and brought bulk foods to restock our panniers for the next leg of the trip.
Thanks Tom, Tim, Luke, Shelley, Chris, Milla, Hamish and Garry. We’ve so enjoyed our time together.
One rule he [Oodgeroo’s father] told us we must strictly obey. When we went hunting, we must understand that our weapons were to be used only for the gathering of food. We must never use them for the sake of killing. This is in fact one of the strictest laws of the Aborigine, and no excuse is accepted for abusing it. –– Oodgeroo Noonuccal (Minjerribah elder)
We have had a wonderful week and more on Minjerribah, sampling Quandamooka bush tucker and being the biological (not chemical) controls of more newly naturalised autonomous foods (agricultural weeds, etc.), while hiding out in the bush.
It is early winter on the island and at this time of year, like home in cold highlands Victoria, chickweed (Stellaria media) commonly appears, packed with vitamin C at a time when it is most needed. Clover is also pictured below and is also edible in salads; the flowers used for tea.
And while chickweed is just appearing we foraged the last of the season’s apple guavas (Psidium guajava),
and midjim (Austromyrtus dulcis) berries.
Even though none of the delicious red sweet-salty fruits of pigface (Carpobrotus glaucescens) were about, some flowers were present,
and biting the base of these flowers, where the fruits will later form, can offer some small delight.
Like home, black nightshade (Solanum nigram) berries enjoy the cooler weather, a favourite of Woody’s on the island.
And we tried beach flax lily (Dianella congesta) berries and weren’t unimpressed, even though the Quandamooka people apparently didn’t eat this food.
We cooked fish with Indigenous spinach (Tetragonia tetragoniodes),
and succulent purslane (Portulaca oleracea), otherwise known as pigweed.
And we tried chewing the ripe fruits of Pandanus (P. tectorius),
at first raw, which irritated our throats, then roasted on coals, with wave-washed-in pilchards (Sardinops neopilchardus).
We sucked the sweetness out of the pandanus kernels after they were roasted for about 15 minutes. Although a modest pleasure, we think there must be a better technique to eating this food and getting more from it. If anyone has any suggestions please let us know.
Fish we speared included grey mowrang (Nemadactylus douglasii) and a number of sand whiting (Sillago ciliata),
and fish we caught by rod and line also included sand whiting and a new one for us, swallowtail dart (Trachinotus coppingeri). A surprising delicacy, easy to catch, tasting even better than the whiting, which is an excellent eating fish as well.
We met Megan from Quandamooka Yoolooburrabee Aboriginal Corporation and she generously passed on the knowledge required for eugarie or pipi (Plebidonax deltoides) gathering and cooking. We walked for a few kilometres down Main Beach with our dandelion root foraging tool, setting off an hour before low tide. Then suddenly,
small mounds began appearing,
and lo and behold, eugaries!
We harvested enough for lunch and some for the evening’s fishing.
Megan told us the best way to cook them was straight on the coals of a small campfire. This really was a Minjerribah treat.
Other autonomous edibles we foraged on the island included common sow thistle (Sonchus oleraceus),
wandering jew (Commelina diffusa),
and cobbler’s peg (Bidens pilosa), otherwise known as farmer’s friend. Eating the leaves raw provides a good source of calcium, potassium, iron, vitamin C, chlorophyll and magnesium.
We’ll be sad to leave this beautiful island, but we’ll take with us many delightful experiences.
Seven – Artist as (extended) Family – split into five after Meg’s parents departed Tweed Heads and we, the remaining, took to the border.
We rode a mere 10 kms into Queensland to the Gold Coast suburb of Tugun, where we stayed with the former sustainability officer from our hometown, and her man.
Meet Jill and Trent, soon to become parents, and their dog-kin Hippo. Jill was very much part of the success of getting our community food network up and running. She played a pivotal role as an insider becalming the council and encouraging them to work with us when we took over two council sites for the purposes of community food production.
You may well be asking how are we going to segue from community food production to the schmaltzy imperatives of Surfers Paradise? Well, we’re not even going to try, although we will say Jupiter’s Casino hasn’t dated a day. Oh boy, what a cultural wasteland! But we can see, or rather feel, why Surfers became such a destination of leisure. The swim was wondrous.
We have to confess we had a little fear coming into Queensland, especially concerning state politics and the police, some likening today with the Joh Bjelke-Petersen era. The guy from the Tugun bike shop added to our fears when he told us Queensland drivers don’t see or care about bikes. Needless to say we made ourselves as bright as possible.
We’ve been documenting roadside memorials as we travel and are constantly amazed at the regularity of them on Australian roads. This one was by far the most extensive we’ve come across and we contemplated the young lives lost and the taboo subject of car violence.
We later came across our first cyclist memorial, and were starting to think that maybe the guy in the bike shop was right and that this state isn’t such a good idea for a family on bikes.
However, after arriving on dusk in the little town of Pimpama, it felt extraordinarily safe to openly pitch our tents and cook dinner in the local park. This was just intuition, but one we nonetheless trusted. All was well in the world on that night and, as the saying goes, nothing beats fear like knowledge.
Since arriving in Queensland people have been extremely friendly and many more people have tooted us encouragingly with our Lock the Gate sign on the back of Patrick’s bike. We guess the reality of the fracking industry is more concrete here and people are therefore more worked up about it. In any case, after just a few days we found ourselves acclimatising to this sunny state.
Sadly, Pimpama was to be where we said goodbye to Brett. We so loved travelling with this delightful international-aid-nurse-poet-man. We will miss him dearly and all that he brings to such an expedition. Thanks Brett, we love you heaps!
Because Brisbane is a large centre and we assumed therefore more difficult a place to free camp we surfed Warm Showers and found Chris on the southern outskirts of the city. What a delight! Chris got off work early (a truck driver by profession) and did a full workout on our bikes (a cyclist by passion).
He cooked us a beautiful meal and we stayed the night in his awesome caravan, our first for the adventure. Thanks Chris!
Our ride into Brisbane city was intense. Bike paths appeared here and there and certainly made it easier, but the immensity of industrialised culture bore down on us little ecological beings with simple ecological needs.
Once in the city we bee-lined to a little book and music venue where Tim and Ahliya, who we met back in Uki, were playing that evening.
It was a special gig and we got to meet a small posse of Brisbane folk all doing great things. Meet another Tim, who works both as a water specialist for Brisbane City Council and as a permaculture consultant for his own business.
We also found Tim through Warm Showers, saw his collective interests on his profile (permaculture et al) and contacted him enthusiastically. We had three lovely days staying with Tim. He took us to the Northey Street City Farm on a day that coincided with the weekly market. Tim gave us a tour of the twenty-year-old site, which included a market garden, private garden plots, a food forest and an example of urban mirco-forestry. Tim showed us Soursop (Annona muricata), which is indigenous to Central America and a relative of the fruits cherimoya and pawpaw.
The market had an excellent range of stores from food to massage to textiles. We bought Woody a pair of soft leather shoes from this happy lady, who makes all her hats and footwear herself, based on traditional designs.
While we were at Tim’s, Artist as Family held a chicken killing workshop for a small group of budding locavores. There are many different ways to kill and dress a chook,
While we were in Brisbane, with the help of the locals, we were able to finish our support video for the activists, local community and Jonathan Moylan, who are all bravely and tirelessly protecting the Leard State Forest from the imperatives of extractors.
Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island) was calling us and after farewelling our wondrous new friends in Brisbane we hightailed it to Cleveland to catch a barge across to the island, joined by Ko, another cycling-permie-ecologist working his good intellectual toolkit towards systemic change.
The afternoon got away and by the time we arrived on Minjerribah it was dark. We thought we’d find a park and bunker down for the night, but Ko called a work colleague, Shelley, who with great cheer invited us to stay in her family’s Dunwich home. Shelley, with her daughter Milla, shared a hearty porridge with us and passed on some local knowledges.
Shelley told us that the extractive sand mining industry on the island was being challenged by many in the community who were attempting to transition the local economy to regenerative industries such as Indigenous education programmes for Brisbane school students and ecological tourism on the island.
Minjerribah is the second largest sand island in the world. But we didn’t come to make homage to small-minded men and their moneying ways:
We originally came because of Oodgeroo Noonuccal, the Indigenous poet and activist who was born on the island in 1920, and who became the first Indigenous poet to be published in Australia.
It is her spirit that we have immediately found here on this island, and feasting on midjim berries (Austromyrtus dulcis) has given form to this spirit.