2 March 2025
Gunaikurnai Country
Bairnsdale to Deptford via Engineers Road
It’s cool. There’s low grey cloud covering the sky. It looks like it might drizzle if gravity worked a bit harder.
It’s a novelty to me. After five months of summer so far and so many stupidly hot days in a row back home, I am very excited for a cool day of clouds!
I’m out the door early and heading east on the rail trail. I’m not sure how many times I’ve done this bit of trail… but it’s been a lot. I think it’d be four or five. I rode the trail to Nowa Nowa before I turned off toward Buchan in 2017. I did some loops out of Bairnsdale in 2023 and took the train home from here at the end of that trip, so I feel like I know this bit very well.
That means I don’t stop to take pictures, I don’t stop for views, I just power on down the trail. It’s sealed mostly until Nicholson, and they’ve finally put some seal in for a steep section that drops to the highway where an old trestle would have been near Mossiface. But other than that, it’s the same as every other time.
So we undulate along as we slowly gain a bit of elevation to get to Bruthen. I don’t know if it’s because it’s a Sunday morning, or because it’s cloudy or because it’s early, but I have the trail all to myself until the outskirts of Bruthen. There I run into all the normal annoying rail trail users – mums with prams walking down the middle of the trail, people walking their dogs off lead or talking on their phone and wandering all over the path, oblivious to other people.
With all the good nutrition and minimal energy expenditure for the past two days, I’ve got plenty of power to put to the pedals. Zoom! We’d be even zoomier if we weren’t carrying so much food!
Bruthen is busy. It sits at the junction of the Great Alpine Road and the shortcut to the Princess Highway, and it seems there are plenty of people out for weekend adventures. There’s a group of motorcyclists idling their engines down the end of the street, there’s utes and 4WDs towing caravans or big boats, there’s plenty of SUVs of the sort that all look alike.
The little main street has a bakery, a honey shop that does fancy pants cafe meals, a general store and newsagency, a pub, a brewery, a petrol station and a place that does high tea (a bit later in the day). There’s an antique shop, a post office and an art gallery. And there’s a park opposite the main shops that runs the length of town. There are a bunch of people at the public toilets and the picnic tables nearby. They are consuming various bakery items and coffee.
So I go down the other end to eat some food and give my back a rest before we head into the forest. We’ve already done 40kms in under 2 hours today. It’s amazing how quickly you can cover ground when the terrain is gentle and the surface smooth.
A local guy walks by, and I can see him checking out the bike as he walks past. He comes back just a couple minutes later carrying a jug of milk and a newspaper. He’s probably in his 50s, wearing a plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt, and shorts and thongs. He is average height and build – like just a totally average Aussie bloke you’d expect to find in regional Victoria.
He says, ‘You must be doing a very serious ride because that is a very serious-looking bike.”
Now with this, I have to agree. I have never purchased a bike or car based on how it looks. It’s always been about function and performance. But Atlas is definitely a very cool-looking bike. It does have an aggressive look to it, and the bigger tyres make it look like it can tackle serious terrain (because it can!). My dad, who has bought lots of bikes based on how they look, says that the reason it looks so cool and aggressive is because the top tube and rear triangle are all on a straight line. Whatever the reason, I do agree, it’s an awesome bike.
I laugh and say to the guy, “well, I’m a bit loaded up at the moment. I’m planning to head up into the mountains and I’ve got 8 days of food on there that I could possibly stretch to 10.”
He nods in appreciation and wants to know which tracks I’m planning on. I give him a run down. He thinks I’ve got a good route planned but parts of it will be steep. I tell him I’m used to getting off and pushing.
He then says, “yeah, you look like you’ll be fine. You look very fit and strong.”
I laugh again and say, “just don’t watch me trying to get the bike out of some of those river crossings.”
He agrees that some of them that are eroded are difficult, but he only knows them from a 4WD perspective. I tell him that I’ve been going to the gym for more than a year to get stronger because my last tour in 2023 saw me really struggle at times getting the bike up things.
He says, in a sheepish tone, “oh, no, you are making me look bad. I know I should be going to the gym but I just can’t get myself to do it!”
I reply, “yes, I never had any desire either. But I realised I need to be stronger so I can do the rides I want to do, and so that, as I age, I’ll still be able to fix my own punctures and get the tyre on and off the rim.”
He says, “you are very sensible. I think I’m very lazy.”
I smile and say, “Well, if I can do it, anyone can. Strength training is so important for preserving muscle mass and reducing joint pain. It’s also the best thing you can do besides multi-directional jumping for preserving or increasing bone density. I don’t really enjoy it, but I’ve just made it a habit, like cleaning my teeth. Just get up, go and do it.”
He says, “ok, now I’m going to think of you for the next week in the back of my head and I’m going to feel guilty until I get my arse in gear. It’s not even that expensive, I don’t really have any excuses.”
I wish him well, finish packing up my food and then head over to refill water bottles before we head out. I laugh in my head and think, ‘I’ve been called fit many times, but I think that’s the first time anyone has ever called me strong. Ha! That is so not a part of my identity!’
And that is the last person I will talk to for the next 3.5 days.
We have to ride up the main highway for a few kms, uphill, until we get to the Engineers Road turn-off. There is a shoulder, however, so it’s stress-free.
We rode the top part of Engineers Road back in 2023, but on that ride we turned off to cross the Nicholson River at Store Creek. So this part of the road is new to me, and it will give me great pleasure to mark off the rest of this road on my map once I get back home.
Engineers Road remains sealed as it winds along the edge of a valley to start. Once we get past the houses, though, it turns to gravel. It was one of the two main logging roads to service this section of the forest, so it is wide and 2WD grade. It is in really good condition today. It’d be a little rough on a touring bike in spots where the grade is a bit steeper and there’s more erosion on the road, but it would be totally do-able.
Most of the steeper grades are right near the beginning, but there are occasional views over to other ridges on the other side of the river that give you perspective and let you know that you are, indeed, getting higher and higher in the landscape.
I get passed by one guy in a big ute that doesn’t slow down at all for me, but then I pass him again further on where he has stopped to cut up a fallen tree for firewood. A bit later, two P-plater guys in 4WDs go by, but they actually slow down a bit, and the second guy waves.
And then we just keep climbing on that wide gravel road. The 2019-20 fires came through here pretty hot, so the views contain scrubby and furry trees on the ridgetops in all directions.
I’m feeling really good and really strong today. Amazing what a whole bunch of calories will do for a woman. I’m feeling so good that, as I get nearer to the turn-off for Deptford, I think about skipping that camping area and continuing the climb up to the top of Deptford-Sugarloaf Road, and then dropping down to the river further upstream where I had envisioned I might camp tomorrow night.
But then, I get passed by two caravans and an old Suzuki SUV towing a trailer of river toys going the other direction. They are leaving the Deptford camping area which means that I could at least get their spot if all the others are full. And, the sky is looking a little bit darker, and I can see mist far upstream.
So we end up heading down to Deptford as planned. But gosh, I’ve felt strong today. My back and shoulder are both doing their own forms of protest, but like many democratic governing bodies in this day and age, I’m doing a good job at suppressing those voices.
The Deptford Road carves into the side of the hill as it descends, with views across to the ridges on the western side of the river. A bit further down, they’ve turned the road into a firebreak, so the road is flanked by many metres of grass.
We follow the top of the spur for a bit, flinging ourselves as fast as possible on the loose downhills so we can zing up the next uphill as far as possible before having to pedal. That’s a common ridgetop sort of ride.
The Navigation Creek watershed spreads out in maple leaf-like fashion off to our right. It’s like a textbook diagram of a watershed with small dents in the hills resembling the veins of a leaf leading into the larger vein that comes out the bottom.
We then get a fast, very loose downhill with some erosion ruts and big loose rock that flings us down to cross the creek. It is not flowing over the concrete causeway though, so I tear across that with abandon. My tyres are making the white noise gravel crunch down the track, and then we get to that concrete where the sound changes to ‘shooooop’ for a second before we get back to that white noise crunch of gravel again.
We see our road for tomorrow elevating steeply uphill off to the right. The two open areas for camping are off to the left, separated by the dunny. Surprisingly, no one is down here. It’s a very popular spot, and accessible from this direction by 2WD, but it’s empty for now.
Those folks with the caravans have left their campfire smoldering though, so when I go to filter water, I fill up my little camp bucket with river water and finish their chores for them.
I set up the tent in a nice grassy spot, and then head down to filter water for tonight and tomorrow. The sky is looking a bit more iffy, so I want to get that out of the way now.
The guys float while I filter water and extinguish the campfire. Then we walk around and read all the info boards – this was a mining town of 300 back in the day.
There is a walking track down to a diversion tunnel, and another track to see some old mining relics. I feel like once you’ve seen some mining relics, you’ve seen them all, so I’m not so interested in that. I contemplate going down to the diversion tunnel, but the track is on the other side of the river which would require shoes off then back on. Plus, I’m not real comfortable leaving all of my gear unattended while I do that walk, as this area has been known for vandalism in the past.
So I skip that and just go back to lay down in the tent. My back is ready for me to lay down for awhile. And so I do. It turns out to be a good choice, as it drizzles off and on for the next 45 minutes.
Two guys in bogan 4WDs go flying by about 10 minutes apart as I’m starting to cook dinner. And those will be the last humans I see until 11am on Wednesday. We have Deptford to ourselves tonight.
As I cook dinner on the picnic table in a mist, I feel like I’m being watched by snipers. There are three kookaburras all looking down at me from trees above. They are just waiting for me to cook up a nice juicy sausage or a jaffle sandwich. Then when my attention is distracted, one will swoop in and snatch the food from my hand. They are well known for doing this!
But apparently they aren’t into lentils, rice and peas, because after awhile they all fly away and do not return. Haha, joke is on them.
I enjoy the silence after a couple days in town. I lay in the tent listening to the creek gurgling by in the last bit of its run before it reaches the river. I love the absence of human sound. Ahhhhh.
The dampness and coolness, and my wet sweaty head that is yet to dry, means I actually feel chilly! Ah, what a delightful feeling. I actually crawl in my sleeping bag rather then just pulling it over the top of me. I have fluked a very good tent spot and my body is nicely cradled on soft grass. All warm and cosy in the sleeping bag and embraced by the soft ground, I fall asleep quickly and sleep straight through the night – which if you know anything about perimenopause, you know that is a victory to celebrate.
Deptford. Your campsite is rather different to the Deptford my Dad work in. It was the London Dock area where he was a Docker. Whenever I went to visit it seemed to be raining and the cafe we met in had such steamed up windows you had to enter, wait for your glasses to de-mist and only then could I start to look for him!
Your Deptford campsite looks much better. It’s hard to believe that someone would leave a campfire smouldering. It brought back memories of bush walking in NSW, making a small fire for breakfast tea and then spending ages walking back and forth to the stream to put the fire properly out. But then I have come across many fire-careless people. Even someone lighting a campfire on a total fire ban day ignoring then swearing at all who pointed out this was bad behaviour.
Anyway, enough negatives – it sounds like that you had a great day on the bike and are managing to carry your shoulder / back problems OK. On to the next instalment.
Your description of Deptford where you dad worked illustrates the appeal of Australia to all the ten-pound Poms, I think! I’ve often wondered what Albury, Surrey looks like and how different it is to where I live.
Yes, I’m always amazed at the number of ‘still warm’ campfires I come across on the road. It seems people think shovelling dirt on the embers is enough. This one was actually still smoking, and it took two of my buckets and spreading out the remains of a log for me to feel comfortable it was actually out. That whole area has such heavy scarring and so much evidence of the fires (the campground is in an area that was backburnt during the 19/20 fires), you’d think that might make people a bit more vigilant. The whole time I was out riding there was a fire burning over near Licola/Mt Margaret that was an escaped campfire, too.