The Fernleigh has saved my sanity, I think to myself.

Over a year of lockdowns, COVID scares, homeschooling, constant anxiety and stressful house-hunting in Newcastle, this 15-kilometre stretch of former railway line has provided physical and mental release, the balm of nature and the semblance of healthy routine.

As I guzzle another lung-full of coastal air and head on through shafts of sunlight refracted between paperbark and swamp mahogany trees near the Belmont end of the track, I give thanks to those enlightened souls who helped turn a disused rail corridor into an invaluable community resource.

Before I moved to Newy, in search of better schools and work opportunities, in January 2021, I lived in Pacific Palms, on the Mid North Coast.

For years our community agitated for a similar track running between the Palms and Forster/Tuncurry, threading between Wallis Lake and Seven Mile Beach. Every attempt to engage with council and National Parks was stymied and actively discouraged.

Here, after jointly purchasing the former coal line in the 1990s, Lake Macquarie and Newcastle city councils agreed a proposal for a shared pathway, with construction, also funded by state and federal governments, beginning in 2003.

In 2011, the Fernleigh track, running from Adamstown station in the north to the former rail platform at Belmont to the south, was completed.

From my rental home near Kotara Westfield shopping centre, it's a three-kilometre ride, via another cycleway, to reach the track's northern end, at Adamstown. The first section, toward Kahibah, usually tackled with a travel mug of strong coffee in hand, is slightly and persistently uphill, a wake-up call to leg muscles.

If it's morning, young racers shoot past on road bikes and gaggles of over-60s glide garrulously by. I am often struck by the size of Newcastle's dog population, predominant, on this, the most urban section of the track. In COVID times, "taking the dog for a walk" has helped many escape confinement.

A dank, cool 181-metre former rail tunnel, curling beneath the Pacific Highway, marks the lessening of the early climb and the transition between Newcastle and Lake Macquarie.

Already, skirting the edge of Glenrock State Forest, there is a palpable sense of being out of the city and surrounded by greenery, and after traversing Oakdale Road using the purpose-built pedestrian and cycle crossing, the feeling only grows.

Remnants, such as sidings, sleepers and signage, remind of the railway heritage on which the Fernleigh was built, and I'm soon at the former Whitebridge Station, a good spot for a breather, before a downhill section toward Redhead.

Shaded by blue gums, serenaded by bell birds and travelling at pace, this is a favourite section. It's also the highest part of the track, travelling through coastal bushland behind the Awabakal Nature Reserve, with its scribbly gums and ocean views.

Of all the relics of the former railway line, Redhead Station, where I arrive next, is the most redolent of the past. Both southbound and northbound tracks were repurposed for the shared pathway and run alongside a broad central platform. It brings to mind a 1950s scene of hardworking Newcastle families disembarking here for a day out.

Heading toward Jewells through stands of banksia, wattle and tea trees, urban Newcastle now seems a million kilometres away.

Year-round, I've also giggled over the Fernleigh's own inbuilt COVID test, as it passes Drinkwater's Landscape Centre, on Kalaroo Road. If I can still smell the pungent odour of the mounds of manure here, it is not yet time to worry.

The final 3.3 kilometres, from the Kalaroo Road crossing, at Jewells, to Belmont, is enchanting: an avenue of sun-tinged paperbarks rising over the surrounding swamp.

It is a stretch where, particularly when cycling alone, I feel the presence of the Awabakal's ancestors, who for at least 6000 years, found sustenance in these coastal wetlands. There's often a cacophony of bird song here too, notably in winter, when eucalypts explode with creamy flowers, attracting hungry beaks.

Reaching Belmont Station, and ready for a stretch, I am only halfway through my ride but no longer a tight coil of stress. I'm making inroads into my lockdown belly, too.

If I could ride further at this point - the 15 kilometres to Belmont normally take me 45 minutes - I would continue. Soon, that will be possible, with approved plans for a 3.7-kilometre extension to Blacksmiths.

"Construction of the Fernleigh Awabakal Shared Track (FAST) is running on schedule," says Tony Farrell, Lake Macquarie Council's deputy CEO, "with work on the northern section expected to begin in October 2022."

FAST will link the Belmont end of the track with an existing shared pathway running from Awabakal Avenue, at Blacksmiths. It will skirt Belmont lagoon along elevated boardwalks and include interpretational cultural (the lagoon is at the end of an important Awabakal songline) and environmental displays.

It is too much to dream of another link between the Fernleigh and the excellent cycleway around the northern shore of Lake Macquarie?

Possibly not.

"We're also working with Transport for NSW," Farrell says, "to provide future links to the existing cycleway at Croudace Bay, which continues around the lake to Warners Bay, Speers Point and Booragul."

Back on the Fernleigh, I begin my return cycle to Adamstown Station, with a long, steady climb.

Once beyond Whitebridge, my wheels start spinning faster and then, reaching the rail tunnel again, with the trajectory downhill to the end, I reach improbable speeds for an ageing lycra-clad tragic.

Overall, in perhaps 60 rides along the Fernleigh in 12 months, I've seen nothing but courtesy and broad obedience to track rules. Sometimes, walking groups straddle both lanes of the track, blocking disgruntled cyclists, who ring their bells frantically in warning. Occasionally, near Jewells, young idiots on motorised trail bikes illegally careen down the track.

Once, I was let through one side of the Dibbs Street crossing, near Adamstown, by a kind motorist, only to be nearly rundown on the other side, by an aggressive hoon.

Otherwise, by the end of my return cycle along the Fernleigh, I invariably feel calmer.

Nor am I the only one for whom the Fernleigh has recently provided succour.

During our August-October lockdown, usage of the track rose by 76 per cent for cyclists and 160 per cent for pedestrians, according to recorded data.

Throughout my difficult year in Newy and amidst communal anxiety in this wonderful city, the Fernleigh has been a constant positive, offering escape, connection with the past and an indescribable serenity.

Daniel Scott is a local playwright and multi-award winning travel writer.