For someone who insists she is not an early bird, I have a remarkable number of photographs taken very early in the morning! I haven’t inflicted them all on you, but there are quite a few, from various travels. They are in no particular order other than alphabetical by place name.
New Year’s Eve in Sydney – either you embrace it, or you escape it. As much as I love the fireworks, I hate the crowds. I also hate being subjected to the parties going on until the early morning in the back yards of the houses down the hill or in the flats adjoining mine.
So, in a decidedly “bah humbug” frame of mind, I left Sydney after work on 30 December to spend two days in the Blue Mountains. My base for two nights was the Leura Gardens Resort.
On New Year’s Eve day, my plan was to walk the roughly 10km (6 miles) from Gordon’s Lookout in Leura to Scenic World in Katoomba.
First, though, a stroll around the resort’s gardens was called for. The grounds incorporate the Lady Fairfax Garden, created by Paul Sorensen for Lady Mabel Fairfax in 1933. (more about the gardens here)
Then I caught a cab to Gordon Falls Lookout (no point adding extra kilometers!) to begin the first leg of my walk. I followed the Prince Henry Cliff Walk as far as the Three Sisters in Katoomba.
The path, as you might guess from the name, runs along the edge of the cliffs and offers sweeping views over the hills and valleys, and also lovely, tranquil paths through the forest. The path was constructed in the 1930s – spare a thought for the men who built this trail with pickaxes and shovels, carving steps from the rock, building metal stairways, fencing off the lookouts perched at the edge of thrusting spurs with vertiginous drops. The walk was named in honour of a son of King George V, Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester, who spent 20 minutes at Katoomba railway station in 1934. (source)
This walk is rated “medium” for difficulty. My book of walks (Blue Mountains Best Bushwalks) breaks it into two sections: from Gordon Falls to Leura Cascades, you descend 110m and ascend 150m; from the cascades to Echo Point (the Three Sisters), you descend 170m and ascend 90m.
At Echo Point, it was time for a toilet stop and a cold drink. There are also fantastic views of the Three Sisters (a series of cliffs that jut out in a point), but I’ve seen them a number of times so skipped the view, although I have included an older photograph in the gallery below for reference.
Now came the fun part: the stairs.
Oh pooh pooh, you say, how hard can stairs be? Well, it’s not called the Giant Stairway for nothing. It’s 540m long and descends around 300m (or ascends, if you’re coming up!). Some 900 stairs are cut into the side of the cliffs making up the Sisters, or, in places where that is not an option, metal stairs are bolted to the rock. According to the book, there are “910 stone steps and 32 steel staircases of almost vertical descent”. These are not stairs for the faint-hearted or those who have a problem with heights. At times, there is only a metal grid between the soles of your shoes and the valley floor hundreds of metres below. Looking at the Three Sisters photo below, the stairway is on the other side; the path then runs out around the base of the cliffs and back.
Construction began in 1916 but was halted two years later. Work resumed in 1932 and was completed that year.
Once at the bottom, in the cool dappled shade of the forest, it was time to sit for a while until my leg muscles stopped trembling. I’ve gone down the stairway a number of times, but never up! I can’t imagine how a person’s legs feel after slogging up those stairs and ladders. The rest of this walk is a tranquil stroll among trees and ferns, past little waterfalls and over tiny streams. The sounds of birds fill the air, and if you’re lucky you’ll spot a brightly coloured parrot or two.
Of course, at the end of the walk you’re still a few hundred metres from the top of the cliffs. There are two options: walk back up to the top, or take the train. Yeah, you know what I opt for!
The Scenic Railway ascends 310m and is the world’s steepest passenger railway, at an incline of 52 degrees (click on the first picture below, I’ve circled the top and bottom points). When you get into the cars you are uncomfortably sprawled backwards, but as the train starts moving up that cleft in the cliff you are pushed forward. Hands shoot out to grasp the overhead rails and knees press against the padded rail in front.
The walk from Echo Point to the base of the railway is graded “hard” due to the stairs, but the actual walking is easy. After all that, I felt that I deserved a cool refreshment back on my balcony at the resort.
The next day, New Year’s Day, I had time for a short walk before returning to Sydney. I settled for a 4km jaunt from the resort to Inspiration Point and back. (I couldn’t find a map of this walk on the National Parks site, so the one in the gallery below is a rough approximation.) This little walk is graded easy, with ascents and descents both of 70m over gradually rising (or falling) stairs.
The two lookouts offer more stunning views of weathered cliff faces and gum trees sweeping to the horizon, all under the deepest blue sky imaginable. Then it was back to the resort to take a cab to Leura station for the train to Sydney.
Oh, and in Sydney, one of my neighbours had a party that started mid-afternoon and went on into the night, so my cunning plan to avoid the doof-doof-doof of music and the shrieks of drunken delight was not entirely successful.
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This post is my first contribution to Jo’s Monday Walk. You can find interesting walks by Jo and other bloggers on her site each week.
(click any image to view full size)
Like a snake sloughing its skin, the gum tree in front of my balcony sheds its bark in spring. Never before having lived 10 feet from a gum tree, let alone one that towers above even the six stories of my apartment building, I am fascinated when this tree’s smooth bark begins to wrinkle and crack. After a few weeks, the fresh new bark appears.
(post edited on 11 November to include link to Sunday Stills challenge)
1 Day 1 World Project: 7:00 pm – 8:00 pm
After a few hours spent wrestling with a villain, or just unwinding after a day at work, this is where I like to be.
This post is called Chillin’ for two reasons. One is that this is where I chill out, and the other is that now that Sydney is into winter it is indeed chilly on the balcony!
This post is my contribution to the excellent 1 Day 1 World Project (7:00pm – 8:00pm). It’s a fascinating example of how our blogs can bring us all closer together.
It’s raining in Sydney. A lot. It’s good for the gardens, and it’s the answer to the prayers of everyone fighting the bushfires: that’s what I tell myself as I gaze out the rain-spotted windows, dreaming of summer sun. And, of course, the raindrops add an interesting touch to the bright red of the new leaves on the gum tree. You can see the streaks of falling rain in these photos, which are my entry in the Festival of Leaves Weekly Challege: Week 8.
I live in a jungle. Well, no, I don’t; I live in the largest city in Australia. But my apartment faces what seems like a jungle, with three massive old trees crowded together like commuters in a rush-hour train. The one closest to me is a gum tree (eucalypt), at which I generally curse because it blocks my view. Sometimes, though, it has a beauty even I can’t deny, especially when rendered in black and white for Cee’s most recent challenge.
Bisect: to split something into two parts.
Monet had his water lilies; I have my yellow Osteospermums. Like Claude Monet, I find myself coming back to the same subject in different lights. But that, I fear, is all I have in common with the great Impressionist painter!
Friday morning at 7am, I put my corn flakes on the table and pulled up the blind on my balcony door
to find a Kookaburra perched on the gum tree in front of my flat. (How Aussie is that?!
All that was missing was a kangaroo hopping past, though we don’t get a lot of them in Sydney.
Mind you, I did spot a possum on the tree late one night! It seemed as surprised as I was.)
The bird took no notice of me moving around, and very obligingly posed for a number of photos
— by which time my corn flakes were a soggy mess.
You’ve probably heard the term “Laughing Kookaburra”.
They really do sound like crazy human laughter —
there’s no mistaking when one is in the neighbourhood!
I always wonder what the white people of the First Fleet in 1788 made of
this sound echoing through their rough tent settlement.
Luckily for me, my breakfast companion was silent. 🙂
You can listen to one here.