When scrolling through Instagram or YouTube, you're often bombarded with photos and stories of epic bikepacking trips in far-off lands, complete with stunning landscapes and high-tech gear. It can feel like you need thousands of dollars’ worth of specialised equipment, a titanium wonder bike, and enough weeks of vacation to make any job forget you exist. But the truth is, you don’t have to travel far or spend a fortune to find amazing locations.

My partner and I decided to take a short weekend trip to French Island, a secluded spot about 70 km southeast of Melbourne. It's a little-known gem with a ferry that runs three times daily, and the best part? There’s a train that takes you nearly all the way there, meaning we could take public transport for most of the journey.

Our Bromptons were perfect for the trip. They’re compact and easy to load up with everything we needed for a short overnight adventure. And if there were any disruptions to the train service, we could fold them up and hop on a replacement bus (we’ve done this before, so no stress). Once on the island, we were free to explore at our own pace.

The day started with loading our bikes with camping gear—tent, sleeping bags, fishing gear, and plenty of water. We made sure everything was packed efficiently, so we could quickly unload and fold the bikes if needed. One fun extra we took along was a Fujifilm single-use camera—all the photos here were snapped with that.

The first leg

Our first leg was a short 20-minute ride (about 4 km) to North Melbourne Train Station, where we hopped on a nearly one-hour train to Frankston. As we rode into the city, we carefully navigated through the busy stations, avoiding the crowds. Once past the main urban areas, the scenery shifted from high rises and stadiums to leafy suburbs.

At Frankston Station, we switched to a smaller, two-carriage train that would take us the rest of the way to the Stony Point ferry terminal. After a quick coffee break, we boarded the next train. The landscape soon changed again—suburban homes gave way to green fields and forests. About 30 minutes later, we arrived at the end of the line: a tiny station with a small platform, a roof, and a vending machine.

From there, it was a short ride to the ferry pier. As we waited for the ferry, we could already see it approaching from a distance. This small ferry is one of the only ways on and off the island, serving as a lifeline for the roughly 100 residents. It has a dedicated space at the stern for bikes and large gear, which made it perfect for us.

A tiny ferry

The ocean was unusually calm, which was a pleasant surprise, as spring around Melbourne can be notoriously windy. Typically, the weather can turn from bad to extreme, but the weather gods were smiling on us that day.

The pier we landed at had a small shelter, reminiscent of a bus stop, with a ferry schedule and various community notices—everything from local events to alerts about invasive weeds. After making sure our bikes were properly packed and sunscreen was applied, we began the final leg of our journey.

An island full of koalas

There are no paved roads on French Island—just gravel tracks barely wide enough for two cars to pass. As we rode through the scrubland and low forests, we kept our eyes peeled for the island’s famous koalas. The road gradually narrowed and became more rugged as we moved farther from the pier. But it wasn’t long before we reached our campsite.

After unloading our bikes and setting up camp, we explored the surrounding forests on foot. Our koala sighting was a highlight! Once we’d gotten our fill of wildlife, we set up our small stove and prepared a simple dinner.

As the sun began to set, we settled in for the night under the stars. The usual sounds of city life—cars, trams, and distant chatter—were replaced by the calls of birds and the occasional grunting koala (which, if you haven’t heard, is not the most pleasant sound).

As dawn broke, I stepped out of the tent and fired up the stove again. A breakfast of fried eggs and coffee followed, and soon enough, we were packing up camp, ready to head home.

Heading home

The trip back was uneventful—ferry, trains, and bikes all worked seamlessly. As I reflected on our little getaway, I realized that while it wasn’t the multi-day epic adventure we sometimes dream of, it was still a wonderful escape. We were back home by 2 p.m. on Sunday, ready to dive into work on Monday, but we had experienced a brief, refreshing connection with nature. Even being so close to the heart of Melbourne, we had managed to visit what felt like a completely different world.