A clump of fresh branches and leaves on the cut end of a gum tree.
Tree Squares: New Growth
gum tree
Early mornings around the world
Mist in the hills around Cairns.
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.
A man on the beach, Durban.
The pier, Eastbourne.
Boats in Galle harbour, Sri Lanka.
The grounds of the Park Hyatt, Goa.
Great Barrier Reef.
On lookout during the 4am-8am watch, ‘Lord Nelson’, Indian Ocean.
‘Sudarshini’ and ‘Tarangini’ of the Indian Navy, off Kochi.
Fishing boats near Mauritius.
Sailboats at Opua, New Zealand.
Mt Fishtail seen from Pokhara, Nepal.
San Luis de Potosi, Mexico.
Sunrise over Sydney harbour (from my bed at the Shangri La hotel).
Rising sun captured in a gum tree, Sydney.
New Year’s walk – a giant stairway and a miniature train
Blue Mountains near Leura – no crowds and no parties here!
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)
Geranium in the sun. While taking this, I heard a flutter of wings behind me. I turned, expecting to see a pigeon…
…but saw this colourful fellow instead!
Hydrangeas and something else (hollyhock?).
Pine tree and hanging moss caught in the sprinkler.
Pretty red bridge.
Ducks keeping a beady eye on the gardener.
The stone wall dates to the 1920s.
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.
A map of the first part of the walk. Bridal Veil Falls. (Apologies, it turns out that clicking to custom URLs in a gallery is not possible.)
Craggy cliffs and heavy clouds.
Flowers growing beside the path.
The woman appears to be walking along the wrong side of the handrail!
Time for a rest?
Tree fern beside metal stairs.
Bridal Veil Falls. (Apologies, it turns out that clicking to custom URLs in a gallery is not possible.)
The path meanders through stands of tree ferns.
click for larger image of Bridal Veil Falls
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.
Map of the second part of the walk. (Apologies, it turns out that clicking to custom URLs in a gallery is not possible.)
The Three Sisters (taken in 2009).
Giant Stairway, just getting starting.
Giant Stairway. No idea how far down!
Giant Stairway, still.
Yup, still going down the Giant Stairway. There’s something wrong about looking DOWN at the tops of trees.
Rockface held together with steel cables on the Giant Stairway. Not a good look.
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.
Stone stairs meander through the forest.
A small waterfall.
Rosella beside the path. (2009)
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.
Scenic Railway – top and bottom points.
Scenic Railway – here we go!
Scenic Railway – time to hang on.
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.
A well deserved cool beverage.
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.
A little jaunt along the golf course and out to Inspiration Point.
Small ferns growing on the forest floor.
Tree cones.
Colourful lichen on tree branches.
A stunning view on a stunning day. (Apologies, it turns out that clicking to custom URLs in a gallery is not possible.)
Old lamps at the Leura train station.
Leura train station.
click for larger image of the stunning view
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.
Barking mad
gum tree shedding bark
gum tree shedding bark
gum tree shedding bark
gum tree shedding bark
gum tree shedding bark
(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.
This post is my entry for two challenges: Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Bark or Leaves and Sunday Stills Shallow Depth of Field.
(post edited on 11 November to include link to Sunday Stills challenge)
Chillin’
1 Day 1 World Project: 7:00 pm – 8:00 pm
1 Day 1 World: 7:11pm, Sydney.
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.
By the light of the silvery moon
I took these last week, one day past the full moon. They seem perfect for Ed’s Night Shot challenge. (7 Dec edit: and also for the Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!, even as a late entry.)
Gum tree against the moon.
Gum tree against the moon.
Leave it be
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.
New gum tree leaves in the rain.
New gum tree leaves in the rain.
Jungle life
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.
Sunrise on a foggy winter morning.
New growth. I took this photo this morning, specifically for this challenge.
A Word a Week Challenge – Bisect
Bisect: to split something into two parts.
Take part in this week’s challenge here.
Palm trees and beach huts (Goa, India).
A gum tree bisected (Murray River, Australia).
The pool is bisected by a line of fountains
(Taj Mahal, India).
A path bisects a field (near Guildford, England).
“Dark blue sea and light blue sky were split by a knife edge of horizon, with not a wisp of cloud to mar that straight symmetry.” (Ship to Shore)
Me and Monet
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!
The plants are backlit by the rising sun, which gives the whole photo a warm orange-yellow glow.
The extreme zoom has blurred the gum tree in the background, adorned by ‘specular highlights’ that glitter like jewels on the leaves.
Another day, another photo of
osteospermums at sunrise.
Slightly later in the morning,
and the golden glow is fading.
The flowers are their natural yellow in the clear sharp light of a winter afternoon.
An extreme zoom in the afternoon, with just one or two flowers in sharp focus against a cloudless sky.
Claude Monet deserves a look in, too:
this is one of his Nymphaea (water lily) panels
at the Orangerie, Paris.
And just for a laugh, a photograph I took of water lilies in Goa, India
— also hanging in the Orangerie. 😉
From sunrise in the first photo, to sunset in this one.
