I'm standing forlorn at the end of an un-named dirt track on the fringes of Eurobodalla National Park just north of the aptly-named Mystery Bay on the south coast. I can hear the incessant "boom, boom" of the Tasman Sea as it pounds up against the cliffs below and my sunglasses are smudged with sea spray, but I can't actually see the coast – in fact I can't see much at all because I'm surrounded by a dense patch of coastal banksia.
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Then he arrives. There's no chance I'd miss him – resplendent in his bright yellow jersey and riding his shiny carbon-fibre mountain bike is cycling enthusiast Don Burns. A retired former Canberra resident who has thawed out at Tuross Head for the last 14 years, Don has arranged to meet me at this obscure location to show me one of Australia's first velodromes.
Am I being led on a wild goose chase? Among such thick scrub and only a stone's throw from the ocean, it's the last place you'd expect to find any sporting facility, let alone an historic velodrome.
It's soon clear Don not only loves his cycling, but he's also a passionate student of its colourful 19th-century origins. Heck, he's even got a copy of Jim Fitzpatrick's "The Bicycle and the Bush (Oxford University Press, 1980), an extensive expose on bush cycling in Australia, tucked under his left arm as he leads me along a track that winds through the banksia.
Eventually we reach a grass-covered embankment and blow me down, there, spread out before me, is a velodrome. Sure, it's not a state-of-the-art modern race track where Anna Meares would be champing at the bit to set records. No, according to Don, "this clay oval-shaped track was carved by horse and cart back in the late 1800s by volunteers from the Bicycle Club of Corunna on land donated to them about 1892." Don further explains that he's been digging up stories about the old velodrome since he first "stumbled on it, overgrown and neglected, about five years ago".
Surveying the contoured banks now covered in grass, it's quite an astounding site, made all the more unusual that with no directional signs, hardly anyone knows it's here. In fact, the track was almost lost under regrowth until the National Parks and Wildlife Service recently cleared it and installed interpretative signs which explain that the velodrome was originally part of a broader recreation area which included a pavilion and change rooms (since removed).
The Tilba Times, of Wednesday November 16, 1898 includes a fitting description of the site: "It would be a difficult task, perhaps, to find a more perfectly lovely spot for purposes of recreation than that which has fallen into the lot of the people of this district. Situated on a commanding eminence, with a gradual slope to the water's edge and a splendid stretch of beach sweeping away to the northward, it overlooks a magnificent expanse of ocean…"
Don needs little encouragement to hop on his saddle and pedal a few laps of the 158-metre-long track, and as I follow him on foot (ok, yes I should have brought my bike) he reveals more about the early era of cycling in Australia.
"Bicycles were faster and less troublesome than horses – they provided extremely popular, practical and inexpensive transport throughout Australia from the 1890s. Crowds were drawn to competitive cycling events, many bicycle clubs were formed and some built velodromes like this one."
According to a statement of significance about the velodrome in the Australian Heritage Database, "one local woman recalled her father riding from Cooma and back just to compete at the velodrome" – no easy feat on a vintage bike negotiating steep and slippery mountains roads.
As we head off on another lap (all right, yes, I'm puffing now), Don explains that our earliest cyclists were not without opponents. "Some considered it promiscuous for ladies to ride bicycles; prominent medical practitioners warned about the risk of dire physical abnormalities, including enlarged hands and feet," reveals Don, who adds, "some religious opponents even predicted the Almighty would visit hideous retribution on those who rode on Sundays."
It's not clear exactly when the Corunna Point cycling club wound up but Diana Watson's William Henry Corkhill's Negatives of Glass: Tilba's Pictorial History 1880-1910 includes photographs of cyclists and onlookers at the grandstand on the velodrome in 1913 or 1914. "So it probably continued in use until the district's wheelmen answered the call of the bugle, the flag and glory in Gallipoli and the Western Front," remarks Don.
After several more laps I bid farewell to Don, allowing him to finally do some serious circle work. I do, however, vow to return to this forgotten link to the golden era of bush cycling in Australia – with my bike.
Fact File
Corunna Point Velodrome is located just north of Mystery Bay (about 15 minutes' drive south of Narooma) but is hard to find without directions as it is not signposted or featured on most maps. Immediately after you turn off the Princes Highway on Mystery Bay Rd, turn left (north) again. Follow what looks like a private gravel road (but isn't) toward a farm and cattle grid. This road curves right (east) and descends down a long slope with a view over the ocean. It terminates with a gravel car park at the bottom of the slope. On the southern edge of the car park there is a gate that opens to a grassed walking track that takes you back toward Mystery Bay. About 750 metres along that track, look out for another grass track that curves to the right. Another 100 metres or so along that track you should see a metal interpretive sign that describes the velodrome.
Ride it: The Eurobodalla BUG (Bicycle Users Group) has friendly rides every Monday that take in the scenic forests, lakes, beaches and pathways around the south coast. Rides from Narooma to the historic Corunna Point Velodrome are scheduled every few months, with the next on October 27. All welcome. More: eurobodallabug.blogspot.com.au
Did You Know? The bicycle was introduced to Australia in the mid-1870s, but it was only after the penny farthing was superseded by a more modern version in 1887 that cycling began in earnest.
Braidwood bush velodrome: There are also the remnants of a clay velodrome in Braidwood. It's at the eastern end of Duncan St, but on private land. I recently met Noel Hosking, one of the property owners through whose backyard the distinct contour of the velodrome extends. "I've had quite a few people knock on my door over the years wanting to know about its origins, but it was closed long before I moved here," explains Noel, who, like me would be interested to hear from anyone who knows its history.
PLAN AHEAD FOR
Classic Yass Festival
When: Next Saturday, November 1.
Where: In and around Yass, with a focus on activities in Banjo Paterson Park.
Expect: Free fun for the whole family including a display of classic cars, military vehicles and race cars. Also live music vintage fashion, market stalls.
Don't miss: The billy cart derby – thrills and spills galore.
Watch out for: The vintage push-bike display in Banjo Paterson Park.
More: classicyass.com
MAILBAG
Tuggeranong Homestead
History buff Rebecca Lamb of Wanniassa has written in to provide further details on Tuggeranong Homestead, which Charles Edwin Woodrow Bean, Australia's official WWI historian, occupied with his team of historians, clerics and writers, from 1919 to 1925.
According to Rebecca, "Bean used a slab cottage as an office during his early tenure as it was isolated from the main activity at the homestead and contained a cosy fireplace for winter time and provided a place where he could work long into the evenings without interruption." Rebecca further explains that after he married in 1921, "Bean moved into the main homestead, where he was able to relax in the evenings with the rest of the occupants, although he kept a separate office at the homestead's northern wing."
Rebecca also reports that when Bean lived at the homestead, the tank stand that recently featured in this column's photo quiz (October 4) "supplied three households with fresh water pumped up from the Tuggeranong Creek within the property."
Meanwhile, the ever-attentive Frank Longhurst has sent me four separate emails to point out that the homestead is actually officially located in Richardson, not in adjoining Calwell (as reported on October 11). The border between those two suburbs is Johnson Drive.
Contact Tim: Email: timtheyowieman@bigpond.com or Twitter: @TimYowie or write to me c/o The Canberra Times 9 Pirie St, Fyshwick. A selection of past columns is available at: canberratimes.com.au/act-news/by/tim-the-yowie-man
WHERE IN THE REGION?
Cryptic clue: Organ theft these days isn't only restricted to kidneys.
Degree of difficulty: Very hard (Oh, OK, another clue: it's about 10 kilometres from one of the contenders for location of the national capital.)
Last week: Congratulations to Peter Harris of Latham, who was the first to correctly identify last week's photo (inset) as Ginninginderry Light -- a sculpture by artist Geoff Farquhar-Still in the pedestrian precinct of the new suburb of Crace. Ginninginderry is an Aboriginal term that's thought to mean "sparkling" or "throwing out rays of light" and accordingly, the stainless steel structure is embedded with millions of tiny reflective glass beads designed to reflect light from the sun, the moon and even passing cars.
Crace is named after pastoralist Edward Kendall Crace and the clue related to Edward's father, John Gregory, who was a prominent 18th-century London interior designer. Poor Edward didn't have much luck around water -- after surviving the shipwreck of the Duncan Dunbar (near Brazil) in 1865 on his way to Australia, he drowned while trying to cross a flooded Ginninderra Creek in 1892. He is buried in St Johns Graveyard, Reid.
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am on Saturday, October 25, with the correct answer wins a double pass to Dendy cinemas.
