KatieTheKat

Some time ago, I stumbled upon and subscribed to a mailing list run by the Sydney University Bushwalking Club (SUBW, pronounced "sub-wuh", I think). It seemed a good place to find out about and participate in some hiking (bushwalking) trips, and to meet people too.

Last week, I finally had free time coinciding with an overnight backpack proposed by one of its members. It was thus that I found myself biking to Central Station with a pack on my back to meet up with Chris and Tom at 6am on a Saturday morning.

The plan was to drive in towards Baal Bone Gap, making it as far as we could on the rough road and mountain biking the rest of the way to the trailhead if that wasn't very far. From there, we would have a short bush bash in to Pantoney's Crown. We would spend the night on top then do some further exploring on our way out the next day. The forecast was not entirely in our favour: possibility of some thundershowers and scattered showers on Saturday and Sunday. It didn't sound too severe, so we had decided to go ahead with the plan.

Things were relatively uneventful until we reached the turnoff to the fire trail road that would take us towards the gap. There we had two options. Option number one, based on the topo map, took a lower route and followed some swampy territory. Sure enough, we checked it out and it looked a little soggy (see picture number 1). So we decided to go check out option number 2. This option took to high ground and therefore was likely to be drier. The problem was how quickly the road took to higher ground, as we saw when we scouted it out. A steep and deeply furrowed route led up a series of sandstone ledges, and made that puddle seem suddenly quite inviting.

The going up the road was slow. The first puddle was far from being the only one, and the consideration that rain was in the forecast was heavy on our minds as we drove through a foot or more deep pool whose banks looked like it could hold much more. Nevertheless, the idea of biking through similar puddles while laden with packs was not particularly appealing, so we pressed on. Careful manoeuvering and only one little push got us and the car up to the junction with our alternate option, 6km into the bush. And there we stopped. The next hill was just a little too mean-looking for our 2WD to handle. And after all, we had brought our bikes all this way - why not use them?

Mountain biking with a pack is not as difficult as we feared. After chickening out and walking down a couple of near-vertical seeming hills, I had a really good time zooming along through the woods. The road had a gentle descent broken by little humps that made my stomach jump as I flew over them. I began to remember why I used to enjoy mountain biking so much.

But soon, we were at the Gap. The bikes we chained together against a tree, well-hidden from the road and the picnic area. We topped up our water bottles at the 'pressure reducing station' and caught a glimpse of our destination across the valley.

Based on my last bush bashing (bushwhacking) trip, I was prepared for a struggle, for painfully beaten legs, for ups and downs, and for bugs galore. If this was what I had hoped for, then I would have been rather disappointed. Instead the bush bash was a bludge [an easy task; a job or task which entails no work]. We loped along the top of the ridge amongst sandstone pagodas and stopped to ogle the stunning views of Pantoney's Crown and the tree-filled valley below. After lunch, we dropped down into the valley and cut across to the base of the cliffs that gave the crown its distinction. This is where things got a little trickier. From other route descriptions, we understood the route to be near the southern tip, quite exposed, but supposedly obvious. The hour of searching and considering rather treacherous climbing that ensued proved at least one of these descriptors to be false. Finally we found it, a short distance farther towards the west side than our previous searches had taken us. As day turned to evening and the sun that had shone upon us was clouded over, we emerged at the top of a fun rock scramble atop Pantoney's Crown.

We passed by two groups - a pair who we had been leap-frogging throughout the day and a larger group that had come up from the other end of the crown. They had all camped in a pleasant, sheltered area in the trees, but we decided to press on to find a spot of our own. What we found was a perfect clifftop home, where from my tent I could gaze northward along the crown and down into the valley. Building a fire was a snap with dry leaves and branches scattered all about (though it was a good thing I had brought matches!). Happy to be outdoors in such a lovely setting, we chatted and gazed at the flames snacking on Brie on "bickies" (courtesy of Tom) until our stomachs called for dinner.

Since it was a one-nighter and I hadn't brought a billy along on my trip to Australia, I had opted for a tin of beans for dinner. [Allow me to insert just a short rant about beans in this country here, if I may. True beans in my mind are the sort with molasses or maple syrup, not the sorry substitutes drowning in tomato sauce. Yet here, though there is no shortage of beans, with at least 3 or 4 brands readily available in your local supermarket, molasses beans are entirely unrepresented. Just tomato beans, tomato beans, tomato beans. Heinz has made some feeble attempts with beans in chili sauce and the pricier beans with garlic and onion in tomato sauce (it was these I slurged for on the trip and I must admit they weren't bad), but still the options are shockingly few. Still, beans are good and at least here they are cheap, so beans are still one of my staples. As I was telling Calvin recently though, nowhere have I seen beans to compare with those in Quebec, and if I could I would have all of my beans imported from there.] To go with my beans, Chris supplied me with some extra veggies - green beans and a brussels sprout in fact. Beans and beans. And a bagel toasted over the campfire. Mmm.

The conversation was very educational. I learned about what a rort it was for Tom to discover that 'rort' does not appear in an ordinary English dictionary. I was also warned of the dangers of the drop bear, which my 20 questions have only revealed to be a gum tree-dwelling creature presumably larger than an apple. Tom and Chris didn't reckon I'd find any on the ridge, however.

I had a great night's sleep which went a long way towards making up for the 4-hour long naps of the two preceeding nights. When I awoke, it was to the sound of raindrops. I was glad I had capped my Canadian Tire tent with its little hood before going to sleep, and I was happy to find that it did quite a good job of keeping out the rains. And the rain. and the rain. A thunderstorm rolled in and pounded upon us as I stayed in my tent and Chris and Tom huddled under their flies (Tom with impermeable rock upslope from him huddling a little moreso than Chris). A few small hailstones bounced off the rocks. When the storm subsided, we emerged with full water bottles and had some breakfast. And then the next one came so we found refuge again. And then a pause, and then a lengthier downpour.

Given the weather, it was not hard a hard decision to opt for hiking back along the road through the valley rather than exploring across to the clifftops on the other side. We had started to worry in earnest about how we would get the car out again - either through heightened puddles or down that rollercoaster of a hill. Well, we would have to cross that bridge when we came to it. Ah, if only there were a bridge!

So we set off. Made our mark in the log book at the summit and quickly found the narrow crack in the cliff that was the route down the northern end of the crown. We had been curious about the 'hole in the rock' through which we were to pass our packs, as described in other trip reports. It turned out to be more like a little tunnel; the 'hole' description made me think of Monte Pertuso in Italy, which was a different feature altogether. Once down the cliff section, it was navigation time. A number of ridges fanned out from the crown, some leading to less road walking than others. Though Tom carried a GPS in his pack, he and Chris decided to put their compass skills to the test instead. Since three peering at the map was a little tricky, I contented myself with listening to their reasoning concerning which ridge we were on and which knoll lay where on the map. Three hours or so after our start, it was decided we could be just about anywhere (on a fairly constrained chunk of map), and the GPS was pulled out. Seems we missed our ridge somewhere along the way and would have to aim for a point about 2km back on the road from where we had hoped to end up. But I think the detour was well worthwhile, because our new route led us through an impressive colony of 'black boy' trees and led to the sighting of at least 4 kangaroos! And as we descended towards the grassy fields in the valley, the sky brightened through the clouds and a chorus of birds serenaded us on our journey.

It was after we hit the road that the mood got a little more serious. First we were swarmed by flies in the marshy fields - both Chris and Tom ended up with surely more than a hundred each hitching a ride on their packs. I'm not sure why they were not so attracted to mine. Finally the flies abated when the rains began again. No thundershowers this time, but a good solid downpour that lasted for the whole of the trudge up the neverending climb from valley bottom to clifftop at Baal Bone Gap. Though I at least was rather hungry, the idea of stopping for lunch to be further drenched was not appealing and thus forgone. To think that the previous day we had been concerned about running out of water! All the time as we continued our march through Stage One, we feared the biking and particularly the driving stage in our journey that was yet to come.

There would have been no need to hide the bikes from the beginning if the conditions had been as we found them back at Baal Bone. The cloud was upon us and only allowed one to see a short distance into the trees before all was obscured by white and gray. The good news was that we were as wet as we could get already, so splashing through puddles on the bikes was hardly a concern.

As it turned out, Stage Two (biking) was not half as trying as we had anticipated. Sure, it was a struggle to push a bike up a couple of the steep slopes we had come down (and vaguely reminiscent of my park biking experiences of my last trip), but most of the road was fully rideable. I could have done without getting that eyeful of mud, however.

On our way back towards the car, we ran across a couple of four-wheel-drivers. Each one of them was as big as at least two of us, with a belly that I would think would get in the way of the steering wheel. Though they had climbed out of their tinted-windowed trucks and stood in their matching leather boot-style shoes to chat with us, one had left his trusty engine running. Perhaps that was to keep the stereo going for his wife and kids who were presumably inside. We asked for some advice on the road with the hill, and were plenty was given, though it left us with hardly more knowledge and certainly no closer to a decision than where we had begun. They were nice guys though, in their way, and clearly concerned about our chances, as they instructed us to stop in at a 'servo' on the highway once we had gotten out. If we hadn't made it, they would come back to find us. They also gave us some tips on feathering the handbrake when attempting the hill in order to avoid locking any wheels.

Well, we made it to the junction and the car, and scoped out the situation. The two guys in the smaller car than ours had left already and their tracks indicated that they had opted for the hill route over the puddles. We decided to follow them, and every metre we covered without running into them gave us greater hope that we would manage to make it out after them. Though that hill still had me awfully worried. With stopping to probe puddle depths and bottoms with sticks at regular intervals and choosing lines through stony sections, it took us a good deal of time to make it 3.5 km from the junction. And it was here that we saw the little green golf coming back towards us. Not a good sign.

The guys (Tom and Kim, as we discovered later) had made it through a harrowing journey all the way to that monster hill at the end where after some consideration, they decided it was not worth the risk. And it must have looked pretty bad for them to go back the 6km to the junction in order to face whatever lay ahead on the puddled road we had all come in on. I was thankful that we turned around and followed them.

At least now that we had had some practice and could remember which side of the puddle to choose, it seemed like we were back at the junction in no time. Our car pulled ahead to brave the way down "long swamp road", as it was named. It was almost a let down, and even a bit of a rort, that the drive out was almost wholly uneventful. Puddles that we had pictured being 3 feet deep were no worse than they had been on the way in. When finally we came to the one that we had been fearing ever since driving through it the day before, we were stunned to see that the level had not risen at all. A quick investigation showed a drainage furrow on the side of it which explained the perfectly manageable depth. Our visions of bailing out the road with bean cans and billies were not to be realized.

The last little twist to this tale came when we stopped at the service station as we had promised to the 4wders. As it turns out, they had been through before us and had took it upon themselves to go so far as calling the police. They had left instructions that if we didn't turn up by 7pm, the police were to come out looking for us. Good thing that we remembered to make the stop!

All in all, a grand trip. My thanks to Chris and Tom for inviting me along on this weekend adventure. Pictures can be found in my gallery here: http://gallery.antiflux.org/v/thekat/Kat_Outdoors/thekat-Outdoor2005/pantoneyBushBash-2005/

kat.

Sorry about the lack of updates these days... I've just been awfully busy and haven't gotten around to it. And today is no exception - seeing as my alarm is set for 5 hours from now, I plan to make this quick. But I thought I'd throw in a quick word since the reason my alarm will be sounding so early in the morning is that I'm off on a true Australian bushbashing extravaganza! Ok, perhaps that's going a bit over the top - after all, we're not really planning to go that far. But there will be a bit of a bike ride down a rough road followed by an off-track walk up to Pantoney's Crown. And I think that I should get a little rest before hand! I should have a tale to tell when I get home Sunday evening.

kat

I woke up this morning to find that I had a new hairy friend sharing my bedroom.
Here is a picture of one of his friends (unfortunately my camera batteries were nearly dead so I didn't get a good shot of him myself):




I decided that I did not really like the idea of Harry here making himself too much at home while I was at work, so I captured him in a takeaway container and sent him out to the balcony. Luckily, he didn't jump off the wall when I tried to catch him, which I agree would be rather disconcerting.

Here are some more facts about huntsman spiders, which I can confirm are rather common about this country - I still remember my first encounter with one in an outhouse somewhere along the Princes Highway.

UPDATE
My friend came back this evening to say goodnight. Now that my camera batteries had been charged, I grabbed a few pictures before unceremoniously throwing him off the balcony. The thing that is a little worrisome is that both this morning and this evening, I threw out a spider with 7 legs, and the same 7 legs. And there are 2 legs on my windowsill. I suspect it is the same spider, but I wouldn't imagine he started with 9 legs...

This Thanksgiving I didn't eat any turkey. Nor did I eat any pelican. But I did see more pelicans than I have ever before seen in my life! I even saw pelicans yawning - when they yawn their beak pouches flip inside out over their necks to reveal their pink throats. Sometimes it looked like they would get stuck like that, but unfortunately they always recovered before I could get a picture - you'll have to take a look at this one if you want to see.

I really had no idea that so many pelicans in my future when I decided to visit the town of Woy Woy, a short train ride North of Sydney. I was mainly going to visit the bike shop, which I had found on the internet and seemed to be a good source of folding bicycles - a mode of transportation which I'm starting to think might be a good choice for a person very much like myself. Well, the bike shop was a bit of a bust, since they didn't have much in stock, but the train ride was gorgeous and the pelicans plus the beachside walk made the visit to Woy Woy more than worthwhile. Anyhow, who could resist a place with a name like that?

Some Pelican pictures coming soon!

fresh air.
no wind.
new faces, new friends.
a perfect throw.
a group cheer.
sweat droplets beading on noses and chins.
a sweet breeze.
the scent of nighttime flowers in spring.
the freedom of the road.
the calm of night traffic.
feeling the power, pedal pushing.
more fragrant blossoms.
oops, missed a turn.. ah, but recognized it was missed!
a glass of tomato juice.
a tasty dinner.
sweet as. :)

So, how do you turn a short, largely road-based hike into an adventure? Well, you only need to alter one little variable. Like for instance, you don't get yourself to the start of the trail until 5:30pm or so. When the sun sets at 6:39pm.

Saturday morning I was a bit lazy. I slept in (till 9 perhaps), I talked to my mom on the phone, I pondered the possibilities. I decided to do the trip I had discussed with some fellow critical massers (this was my first one!) the night before. That entailed hopping on a bike, riding north along a whole bunch of beaches, hopping on a ferry over to a campground in a national park, then doing some hiking the next day before coming back. So I started thinking about packing. I realized that, despite their compactness, I could not fit my ten, sleeping bag, thermarest, and other essentials into my daypack. This was a problem. I hadn't really thought about the fact that the bike I am using has no rack. Biking 30km or so with my big pack on on a sunny day just didn't seem appealing.

So I changed my plan. I would go to the Blue Mountains by train instead. This is where the time crunch came in. I got an idea of where I was going by looking at a few maps online and took off for the bus. And rode a bus.. and another bus.. and a train.. tick tick tick..

Finally, Blackheath. Glancing at a nearby watch, I noted the time was 5pm. Turning out of the station, I saw a road sign pointing towards the park. 4km!! I hurried on. Consulting a map at the park entrance, I saw that the nearest camping area was about 7km away on a road :(. But the other one was quite a distance down a trail into the valley, where the going might be rough and it would get dark sooner. So I opted for the closer site - the first stretch of the walk was on a trail, and the rest was on a dirt road which would be easier to follow if it got dark (at this point I still had some optimism I might make it before this occurred).

I think the trail would have been quite nice if I didn't have to zoom through it.. well, it was nice anyhow. The setting sun shone on cliff faces that surrounded a basin filled with a green sea of trees. There were some little caves by the side of the trail that looked tempting but you weren't supposed to camp in those, and they were too exposed for me as a solo camper. It was really starting to get very dusky. But given that I was following a curving clifftop, I could see my destination ahead: Pulpit Rock is where the trail ended and the road began.

Walking on the road after dark was both beautiful and frightening. The road to Pulpit Rock was a dead end and there hadn't been anyone down there, so I was pretty confident I wouldn't run into anyone I didn't want to on this stretch - my back was covered. So I was able to enjoy first a few planets shining behind silhouettes of eucalyptus trees then later a sky full of stars. When I turned on to the "main" road to the campsite and as it got darker, I started to get a little more antsy. Actually I would say rabbity. It's amazing how much noise you make just walking along (quickly) with a big pack on your back. So I would stop and sense with my ears and eyes every once in a while to see if a car was coming (that's the rabbit part). I was now out on a fairly open plain with medium-sized trees and shrubs around - I could have set up camp just about anywhere, but I decided to press on. I was trying to decide whether it would be best to hide if I should hear a car coming or if that was just being too paranoid. Then suddenly I saw lights ahead and I still hadn't made a decision. I crossed to the other side, kept my head down, and kept walking, ready to run into the bushes or something if I had to. But the car kept going. Whew.

I didn't run into any more traffic on my walk, and I did eventually come upon the promised campsite. As I suspected (it being a long weekend and Australians being so fond of the bush), it was well-populated. I put on my headlamp at this point just so I wouldn't scare everyone. I think they were still a little surprised to see this person wandering into camp after dark with no car.

The camping area was not that huge and it was hard to see just how far it extended in the darkness. There was a big group of something like brownies with a bright lantern taking up about a quarter of the space, another group of guys with a lantern, then a group around a very low campfire who weren't talking. At all. I wandered around a bit looking for some space that wouldn't encroach too much.. it was hard to find. The group around the low campfire still weren't saying a word.. I didn't want to disturb them, so I gave a very timid "..hello!..". No response. Perhaps they didn't hear me. I went to the brownies group and asked the leader-looking-person about the camping area, hoping perhaps for a pointer on where I might go - well, he answered me, but seemed to be shooing me at the same time. I had managed to obtain confirmation that I would have to find something within the area I had covered, at least. After another sweep, I finally settled for a patch of real estate next to the water reservoir and the parking lot, not far from the darkened campfire group.

As I was setting up my miniature tent, an oldish man from the campfire walked by me to his car. He wore a headlamp so all I could really see was bright light. He stopped and looked at me. I said a louder "Hello". I go absolutely no response. He just kept looking at me. Thinking I had breached some taboo or committed some other heinous misdemeanor, there was little I could do but carry on with setting up my tent, which I did. The man carried on to his car. When he came by again, I was set up and piling my stuff inside.

The campfire group, meanwhile, had started talking to each other and they Sounded like perfectly normal, friendly people. But by this time, I really felt like I was some kind of alien invader, so I just hung out in my tent - ate my sandwich for dinner and wrote in my journal. I was basically ready for bed at this point anyhow, though I did admire the tree branches backlit by the starry sky through my skylight as I drifted to sleep.

...

I awoke in the morning to the chirping of the birds. One of the campfire group was up - I have no idea whether it was the guy behind the headlamp or night. He came over and... spoke! I apologized for encroaching on the campsite, but he seemed perfectly genuine in responding that it was no trouble at all. Then we started chatting and he invited me over to the campfire, upon which he was boiling some eggs in a billy. He had no spondonicals, so he had to use a stick to move the pot to the other side of the fire. He was very nice, and in fact I found out that we had done almost identical bike trips - the South Island of New Zealand plus Tasmania! He also topped up my water supply for me before I headed off down the trail. I still don't know quite what the deal was with the night before.

I didn't expect a whole lot from my walk, which took me down into the tree-filled basin and along a creek at the bottom of it, eventually back out and up to near where I had begun the night before. But it turned out to be really gorgeous! (Unfortunately, I can't share the beauty very well since in my haste to depart I had not bothered to charge my camera batteries, so it died a short way along. But I expect there will be a few photos in my gallery soonish). Eventually I came to a cascading series of sandstone platforms with little waterfalls between them.. and that is where I hit the Grouse Grind. No other people, and tree ferns instead of hemlock trees, but it was very like the Grind. Longer, though - I think. In the hot sun, it was exhausting!

Somewhere near the start of the "Grand Canyon", where I instead turned up to a lookout on the ridgetop, I met a couple of older travellers who kept confusing their adventures in South America, Africa, and Alaska with places they had been in Australia - they were pretty amazing, and had a few travelling tips to pass on. They also told me the time, when I asked - 11am! only! No wonder my legs were a little tired. By the time I got back to the train station, I had probably covered about 17km before lunch. Even today, my legs are still recovering.

The train ride home was also rather interesting, as I was accompanied by several enthusiastic Rugby League supporters on their way to the Grand Final. Luckily, they were all Tigers fans or there might have been trouble :).

I thought that perhaps they had disabled climate control given that it was a holiday (Australian Labour Day), and I was one of very few people to enter the building. It was so hot, especially after I came back from running out to grab a snack (I had already eaten my lunch and was starving!). But then, when I left work at 4ish in the afternoon, the second I stepped outside I was overwhelmed by a strong warm breeze. It was like stepping in front of a big fan-powered heater. Breathing was a bit strained as I biked up the little hill from the office. A taste of what's to come? Uh oh..

Coming soon: tales of the weekend..