This Easter long weekend we got out into the Aussie bush for another good hike. Its been an entire month since we last did a proper walk and about the same for a blog update. This time we went to Deep Pass, up on Newnes Plateau. This was one of the first canyons I walked. I'm no pro, but this is one of our local, less strenuous walks that also delivers superb scenery.
The area was occupied by a family 40 odd years ago who grew potatoes to make a living off. Today it is about a 500m walk downhill from the dirt car park, cautioned off by National Parks, descending through dry bushland across a ferny gully below where you cross a gently cascading creek to get to the cleared green camping area. There were about 3 groups there for the weekend. Suprising considering it was long weekend. Only a few kilometres away the pine plantation was buzzing with motorbikes rushing through the scrub. Where we were however you would never be able to tell. All we could hear was the breeze through the trees and birds making their characteristic calls.
We began our walk up the gully, following the trail of the creek. We climbed up the sides of (reasonably small) waterfalls, using ropes that looked like they'd been there since the last occupants of the valley had packed up and shipped off. We trusted them anyway.
There were rivulets channelled into the bedrock of the creek that had been chiselled away from thousands of years of clear running water. Our group consisted of myself, the other half, my dad, my sister and her friend, dad's mate and dad's mate's two boys, 12 and 10 years old. They were down for the weekend from Quirindi, a town with a population of around 5000 in the northern tablelands of NSW. I remember travelling through to visit a friend north of there and only remembering long stretches of road, lined on either side by crops such as sunflowers or simple pasture grasses. Dry and hot. Where we were this day was quite the opposite. This canyon had swallowed us on either side with towering walls, the strip of land we walked through just metres wide, managing to fit in ferns, lizards, slippery rocks covered in slime that was difficult to discern from that covered in sand that provided a more secure footing. This sometimes provided a bit of comic relief between one climb up to the next. The boys were particularly interested in the freshwater orange yabbies we found scampering among the old rotting sticks and leaves at the bottom of the crystal clear ponds.
It's really quite interesting once you start to look at the way the water has weaved its way down through the flat plates of rock, only broken by clean river sand in places. The water picks up a pebble one day, catches it in a crevice and ends up wearing away a hole metres deep over the next few hundred or thousand years. I remember a few years ago we took a passing doctor through this canyon by way of introduction to the area. Luckily he left his phone in the car as he slipped and fell into one of these holes. They are rather unassuming in that the top layer of water is really clear but below is dark as a coal hole, which is rather fitting as Lithgow, the nearest town, was founded upon the coal seams which stretch below it. The doctor's head went under and when he came up he told us he didn't feel any bottom to it. I can begin to appreciate the age our continent is, something that is looked on with awe and respect by others in geological areas of study.
Above is a quick snap of Vaughan helping one of the boys across a narrow, but not so narrow as to make things easy, stretch of creek. Don't let the solidness of the rock fool you. There is definitely some technique in holding a secure footing where you can.
On the walk up and out we saw plenty of variation in the species of flora to be found. Vaughan's auntie is an adept horticulturalist of sorts, she certainly knows her bush plant species, compared to us anyway. Along the way we sighted quite a few fledgling Waratah shrubs. He raked up a memory from her that the presence of budding Waratah is indicative of a healthy environment. The one above is small, the size of a lime perhaps? Fully grown they reach the size of a head of brocolli, only they're bright red composed of beautiful little hook shaped buds (see: http://www.ausflorapacific.com.au/products-plants-waratah)
The above picture is of a Banskia I found along the way. Growing up in Australia my mum read me the stories of Cuddlepot and Snugglepie, two gum nut babies. The evil depicted in the stories came through in the form of the bad Banskia men. The illustration is one of Blyton's illustrations. As a child they were rather scary to hear about just before bed but out in the bush they were wonderful plants that came to life once you were safely home in bed. It was wonderful to have the Australian bush brought to life for an Aussie kid. Every other story based in the US or Europe always had an air of fairytale to it because it wasn't how things were here. The Australian bush is such an under-appreciated gift of beauty and life and we are so blessed to have the chance to live here. It's both tranquil, once you're away from the main cities and roads, and noisy with the almost constant symphony of bird noises. It wasn't until I travelled more broadly that I realised the place birds play in our landscape. Here you grow up with the warbling of the magpie first thing in the morning, the laughing Kookaburra mid-afternoon and the softer calls of the parrots on sun down but elsewhere you can be lucky to hear the call of any bird besides a pigeon or gull at the seaside. At times it is hard but every chance I get to further explore the places I am I find pleasure in trying. It can be hard, and the thought on its own can be formidable with all the other everyday chores but at the end of the day it's rewarding and certainly worthwhile.
Back room with bed laid out
