Glow-worms and pagodas

You can drive to the Glow Worm Tunnel along a gravel road from Lithgow. But it's much more fun to drive on further, then up the beautiful Wolgan Valley, and then do the scenic little bushwalk in from the western side.

This is what my Thursday bushwalking group did yesterday. It was my suggestion, as I'd somehow failed to get to this particular Wollemi National Park destination in my whole 15 years of living in Sydney.

 

 







And it's quite an experience. The tunnel was built for the railway which served the shale oil plant at Newnes. It's 400m long, and it curves around, so the central portion is very very dark. You can see absolutely nothing without a torch, except that when your eyes adjust, you can see a starry night sky apparition - the glow worms on the ceiling and walls. Wikipedia tells me they are the bioluminescent larvae of Arachnocampa richardsae, a type of fungus gnat.

Along the way to the tunnel you get to see highlights such as the odd industrial relic, mine shafts, and bits of railway line, but also you get great views of Donkey Mountain, the Emirates luxury resort ($1950 per night), and the Gardens of Stone National Park. 

On the other side of the tunnel you go on up the Pagoda Track to the Old Coach Road. And pagodas are what you get. Fabulous weathered old sandstone formations, they're great for clambering over and just marvelling at. When you do clamber, you need to be careful you don't tread on the thinnest of the ledges, as they could break off.

We had an excellent day, and plan to return to the area many more times.

Manly Beach at sunset

Nobbys and Newcastle

Funny, I've been to Newcastle a number of times over the years, but never really encountered Nobbys Beach. 

I was aware of it, largely because of those amazing images from June 2007, of the stricken bulk coal carrier the Pasha Bulker, stuck there high and dry. Every day crowds would gather to wonder at the skill of the crew who'd managed to put it there. And every day the then Ports Minister Joe Tripodi would stand in front of the TV cameras seemingly to take credit for the rescue operation, and to inform us of its impending success. One day he was standing there informing us again there'd soon be some progress, while the thing had clearly been refloated behind him and was moving off screen already!

Anyway, it's only a few hundred metres from Newcastle's train station, and it's quite a little gem. Newcastle's only a two and three quarter hour comfortable ride north of Sydney, making it a convenient day trip for newly accredited Seniors Card holders, exploring the possibilities of their new toy - me for example.

It was a nice, predominantly blue sky day, and while it wasn't quite warm enough to attract me or anyone else into the ocean, I enjoyed strolling the Hunter Mall pedestrian area, and enjoyed the views of the Hunter River and its busy marine traffic. Across from me was Stockton, which, looking at the map just now, seems to be an area of parks and walkways (and, let's be honest, a sewage treatment plant), as well as the enormously long beach I was aware of already. Maybe next time I'll take the ferry across the Hunter and check out this place too.

A Cronulla afternoon

Hornsby's water clock

Hornsby's got a nice feel to it, in my opinion, and a few meritorious features. I'm not so much thinking of the enormous hole in the ground quarry that nobody knows what to do with, or the rather large Westfield shopping centre, but it's got, for instance, a unique and quirky water clock.

It's a big, clanking, swishing thing, and it's actually got three separate clocks. and a 17-note bronze carillon. The latter is supposed to sound out the time, but I think it's been largely silenced to placate nearby residents. The clocks, Wikipedia tells me, are a Greek clepsydra, a Chinese water wheel clock, and a Swiss pendulum clock.

It's full of representations of local wildlife, and of philosophy, 'contrasting man's historically joyful creativity with his rapidly increasing inability to co-exist with virtually all forms of life on earth'. I rather like it. It makes for a rather special central focus for the suburb.

A few years ago I went to a talk and concert at the site, given by the clock's creator, Victor Cusack, who played the carillon and told us more about it all. Well done, Victor.

More at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hornsby_Water_Clock

Scribbly

Scribbly Gums are all over the place. The name is claimed by several Eucalyptus species (including haemastoma and sclerophylla in the Sydney region), but the artist is in fact a moth.

The scribbles are made by the larvae of the Scribbly Gum Moth (Ogmopraptis scribula - thanks again, Wikipedia) which troll around between two layers of bark, having their creations unveiled when the outer layer peels off. There are usually loops at either end of the tracks, implying that the larvae get tired of exploring, and turn around to follow their trails back again.

Dunns Leap (of faith?)

More a leap of youthful carelessness perhaps. Dunn was 14-year-old Charles Dunn, who in 1908 managed to fall over a 50 metre cliff, yet survived to tell the tale. He was running around in the cave far above when he slipped over the edge.

It seems he landed on ferns and soft mud, broke not a single bone in his body, and walked home while his friends were coming down to look for his dead body. Today there's a wire strung along his trajectory down the cliff face, though you can't quite see it in my picture. You do get an idea of just how lucky he was though!

Most of the geographical 'Leap' names you see are in fact waterfalls, (like Govetts Leap), that being an old name for waterfall. This one however celebrates a real leap!

Dunns Leap is one of the many attractions, along with caves, a Fairy Bower, and scenic rock platforms with views over the Kanimbla Valley, that you can walk to in the Mt Piddington area, right near the settlement of Mt Victoria. The highest point in the area, One Tree Hill, at 1111m, is in fact the highest point in the Blue Mountains, though you'd never pick it. Mt Banks and Mt Hay, the usual suspect bumps on the horizon from Sydney, look a lot higher.

A group of us explored the area yesterday, and revelled in the fine weather and interesting terrain. Some of the walking tracks are in excellent condition, though as we progressed a bit further it all became a bit more adventurous, slippery, and obstructed by fallen trees etc. We were particularly taken by the sheer cliffs under Mt Hourn (or Mt Horne as some of the signs spelt it), with markings and pegs for the brave rock climbers who frequent the place. There were also two mysterious large square pits, now full of water, hidden away in the bush.

Photography's on the House

It's one of the world's great buildings, and it's one of the world's easiest photographic subjects. So many angles, so many details, and often illuminated in rather eyecatching new ways.

Here are some of the pictures I've taken of the Sydney Opera House over the years.

Harbour Bridge Pylon Lookout & Museum

Lonely Planet recently spruiked the wisdom of forgoing the expensive Bridgeclimb walk over the Harbour Bridge, in favour of the somewhat more modest attraction of the lookout and museum located in the bridge's southeast pylon.

For a mere $11, against $200 or more, you get almost as good a view, you get to take all your own photographs, you get to spend as little or as long as you like there (and to spend a penny if necessary too!) You also learn quite a lot about this iconic bridge and its construction.

I've been telling my visitors all of this for a long time, and the other day I reacquainted myself with the place. It was still a nice little visitor experience.

You do indeed look down on the Bridgeclimb people for much of their journey. You get great views of Circular Quay and the visiting cruise ships. You can see the Blue Mountains far to the west. And you almost get to swing on the scary cables used by the construction workers, unencumbered by any safety harnesses or anything, while they positioned the various meccano bits together eighty years ago.

If cities could talk

Sydney talked to me a lot during the 1990s. I'd been doing my time away from big cities, but visiting the Emerald City quite often. One day in 1997 I was on a Manly ferry when the city spoke to me via this massive speech bubble. "Come to me. Come and live here for a while".

And I've been here ever since.