Walking in convict footsteps

Once allowed out of our Local Government Area, Mr S and I headed off to a walk I’ve wanted to do for a while – the Old Northern Road built by convict chain gangs. The recalcitrants, the wrong ‘uns of the wrong ‘uns, were sent to clear a path through trees and bush, up a vertical cliffs, so the colony could reach the plains of the Hunter Valley.

The walk has plenty of information points so the steep climb is relatively easy. Some info plinths have recreations of artefacts, like the leg irons Mr S is wearing below.

Flannel flowers abounded. A clever sign of spring. I’d say there were fields of them except they were growing out of vertical rock faces.

The road was quite wide – two cars could pass easily, though it’s closed to traffic, only walkers and bikes allowed. Most amazing was the culverts, drains, buttresses and curved stone walls supporting the road. Imagine! All this carved from solid rock, by hand, on a diet of flour, tea and, often rancid, meat. Colonisation was brutal on the colonisers too.

The view across the Hawkesbury River was beautiful. Spoiled by the noise of the masses of motorbikes on one of the favourite weekend motorbike routes.

The plan was to do the gentle walk, up and down the same road. But we decided to do the loop and return via the narrow road that was the first attempt by the surveyor to create a road, until the governor, rightly, declared it too steep and the second attempt was made – the track we took up.

Before we hit the down hill (read down cliff), we walked along the ridge. An interesting walk with views west to a swamp and through bush, where we saw a goanna and a lyrebird, and masses of Gymea lilies.

Then we hit the downhill track. Oh my god. It was steep and more like a water channel for stormwater run off. A goat track maybe. It was hard going. Lots of unsteady footfalls with loose rocks and pebbles.

From the bottom of the track we had 2km to return to the ferry. Mr S volunteered to walk the extra distance to our car, so I waited for his return. I’d done nearly 10km. But it was the downhill goat track that did me in.

After crossing back to the Wiseman’s Ferry side of the river, we had a little picnic.

Oh it was lovely to be out and beyond our LGA. And amazing to know that this wild beauty is only 45 minutes drive from home.

So it’s still winter?

We’re in lockdown again. Just finished the fifth week. (I think it’s the fifth week – time is both elongating and slipping away.)

We can’t go more than 10km from home which means the paths through the bush around our suburb and the footpaths along the streets of our suburb are like Pitt Street (Sydney’s main shopping drag).

I’m a little bored with the tracks. I would like to venture further afield. But of course, we can’t.

A friend has given me motivation. She invited me to a group where her brother will track our mileage from his home to a small town in the country. He had planned on doing a long distance walk – but, you know, lockdown. It’s not just the competition – will I hold my own? – it’s the joy of seeing my walks virtually mapped.

We also share snaps from our walk. Here’s my walk today:

We left for our walk after the 11am briefing on the current COVID numbers. (The briefing marks our day on the weekend – from long, leisurely breakfast to “time to do something”.)

“First of the month,” said Mr S. “Feel the warmth. You should have worn a short-sleeved t shirt.”

And I was instantly too hot.

“Yeah, but isn’t it still winter?” (I always forget what months are which seasons – only remembering summer is December, January, February so I have to work the season out every time.)

It is, dear readers. It is still winter. But it’s 25°! And the sun has bite. The cool as we descended to cross the little creek in the photo above was delicious.

I hate heat. Walking at midday in 25° knocks me about. I know. I’m meant to be an Aussie and used to the heat. But I don’t like it. And I don’t cope very well. Much prefer walking in the rain.

Yeah, that’s my winter gear. Bare ankles! Not really that cold. But oh how I like it.

From now on, we will have to start walking early in the morning, unless there’s a welcone cold snap.

Please can we have a cold snap!

Where have I been????

Working, working, working.

And in my free time: reading, reading, reading. Quite a lot of books. In the last three months I have not read any blogs and have not posted on my own.

My reading was consuming me so much so that in my list of jobs to do in my last weekend before flying out to Germany, I had at top of the list: finish two books.

Which I did.

At the expense of travel planning. Opps! Left a bit of rushed work at the end.

Regular readers may be surprised to know that I have been consistent with seeing my personal trainer once a week, working out at the gym one more time every week, doing a yoga session most weeks and doin my usual walking routes several times a week.

Dar, when I hear a kookaburra or a cockatoo calling, I think of capturing it for you but they always tease and stop calling when I take out my phone. There have been many times on my usual walk when I am deeply happy and at peace – finding joy in seeing different birds, plants flowering and plants regrowing from the undergrowth burn back.

My other interest – my sweet peas – well, they deserve a post of their own.

So now I am in a different space in so many ways.

View from window of our current apartment.

OK, not the best outlook, but the buildings on the hills show that we’re definitely not in Sydney anymore.

So over the next week I hope to catch up on my blog reading and everyone’s doing. And I will share my current travels.

Fitness Week 8 – exercising when routines are changed.

A long weekend and then a three day work conference put up some challenges to my exercise routine. Did I stick at it?

I nearly missed a gym session on the long weekend. But I knew I couldn’t start skipping sessions. I have to do this for my health. I felt a little guilty when it looked like I’d missed my second session. So seems I’ve absorbed the expectation that I will do this.

Saturday: After French lessons, I was exhausted. So I had a midday nap of two hours. Then I went for a walk.

Sunday: Nothing. Spent the afternoon with a friend at a geranium nursery and cafe and then visiting her father’s property to get some cuttings. Came home, tired. But with this beautiful plant:

Monday: Did the usual walk. And found this massive, perfectly formed leaf among the autumn droppings.

Then, feeling guilty that I missed my second weights session of the week, and knowing I would miss Tuesday’s PT session as I’d be at a conference, I went to the gym.

Tuesday: walk along Manly Beach, the venue of the conference. No Olga today as I am away from home and the day and evening schedule is full with work conference stuff.

Wednesday: dawn walk along the beach. Just looking at this photo lowers my blood pressure.

Thursday: last day of conference so last dawn walk. I am very lucky to get to walk in such a beautiful place. A walk in the pre-dawn light, watching the sun rise, is a wonderful, centring way to start the day. I wish I could do it in my own area. And I wish my working day, and Sydney traffic, allowed it.

Then, as I wasn’t at work to go my yoga lesson, I went to a Body Balance class in the afternoon. The instructor was fun. I feel bad because I’m unlikely to go as I normally do yoga and the instructor may think I didn’t enjoy her class.

Friday: I was all set to go to the gym for my weekly PT session which I moved due to the work conference. Then my trainer called in sick. I worked back and then went home and collapsed on my bed. Read, watched TV and had a couple of drinks. Even if my trainer wasn’t sick, I don’t think Fridays at the gym will work for me. I’m always too tired to do much on a Friday.

Fitness Week 6 – can you see a difference?

So I’ve been exercising for six weeks. “Can you see a difference?” I ask lots of people.

Mr S, “Definitely!” And he demonstrates how my waist goes in.

People at work give varied responses. From a hesitant, “Mmm, yes. Can you?” To, “Yes, you are more toned around your thighs.”

And me, do I notice a difference?

I can wear high heels again at work and walk around in them and not suffer.

I am stronger and have more stamina and a quicker pace on my usual walk.

My legs feel slimmer, and more toned. My butt firmer.

But my waist doesn’t feel slimmer. I still have back rolls and a wibbly belly. My skirts are still too tight and my breasts ginormous.

I have to face it. I need to change my diet.

Saturday: even after my big Saturday – French lessons, lunch in city, theatre – I still went to the gym. I warmed up with a 10 min walk and jog (yes I jogged, though only three of the ten minutes was jogging, but still.) Weights on the machines. Not enough abdominals, actually really nothing, but I realised I am too fatigued to do stomach work after all the other exercises.

Tuesday’s with Olga. Before the PT session, I warmed up with a 10 min walk and jog with four jogging sessions this time. I asked Olga if we could start with abdominal exercises as I’m always too fatigued by the end to do them. So we started with them. I always say be careful what you wish for. Oh ah ow. Olga pushes me in a way I’d never do.

Thursday: yoga was lovely as usual but either it was the particular pose or my back was ready to go with all the sitting I did that day, but I had a little spasm. It sent the message and I didn’t continue with the pose. Now maybe it is a sign that I am getting stronger but I didn’t have any problems with my back after the class.

Not enough walking this week. The wind has been crazy and I hate walking around my suburb with all the trees in the wind. And it has been cold, and then there’s work. And it was my birthday.

Friday: big walk. We didn’t do our usual walk. There was back burning in the bush near where we walk and the track was closed. So we walked the other way, across the highway which normally acts better than a Trump Wall to stop the two sides mixing. There’s bush tracks over there too. We had to hurry before the sun set as the track was difficult enough without it being dark. We went up hill and down dale. Despite being only 13°, I worked up a sweat. I was puffing and felt my butt working.

Now, am I up to changing my diet? I will think about it over a Friday drink.

The sun setting through the smoke. Later, while on our walk, the sun was bright red but I didn’t have my phone.

My usual walk

I have a “lap around the block” that I like to do about four times a week. It’s about a 45 minutes walk – longer in the heat. The family call it “my usual walk.” Such as, “when will dinner be?” or “are you ready to eat?” “After my usual walk.”

My usual walk makes for a great divider between work and home, so on work days I do it of an afternoon or evening. On holidays and weekends, I do it whenever the mood strikes or the weather allows. Not that the wet stops me. There’s an added beauty of walking through the Bush in the wet. (It’s not bush walking, given there’s a wide concrete path, but the path skirts through the edge of some bushland. And most is on suburb streets.)

On my usual walk I daydream and let my mind wander; it’s good for both de-stressing and reducing my flabdomen.

Even while I let my mind wander, lots of things catch my eye. Animals. Flowering plants. Birds. Lizards. Eels. Trees.

One of my favourite gardens always has different flowers in bloom. Even in the heat.

Look: parasols for plants. A novel way to protect a flowering plant in 38° heat.

I rarely walk with headphones on – I like to listen to the birds as I walk through a bit of the local bush.

This bridge crosses a little creek. I’ve seen eels in there – but not since a big flood washed them away. There used to be a family of ducks, but not for several years. They probably were killed by cats or foxes.

There’s often little kids with their parents investigating around the creek, or throwing sticks in and watching them float away. It’s also dog heaven, running across the ford.

I know the river dragon thinks it is his creek. When he jumps out from his camouflaged position on a rock, scatters across my path and plops into the creek, I squeal. Always.

One day I heard some scratching in the leaf litter next to the path. And there, right on the path was an echidna. I look for him all the time. But have only had one other sighting. (I did see a family of three deeper in the bush.) I am sure the little fellow is OK – his thorns would protect him from predators.

There’s always parrots or cockatoos or kookaburras. My favourite are the crimson rosellas.

I love the little finches that scatter and hop about through the low shrubs. Less common is the lyrebird that I have seen a couple of times. Being a ground dweller, I do worry he will be victim to cats and foxes.

Recently I heard an Eastern Whipbird. I actually saw him while he was making the unique call. At the end, he flicked his head back. (Worth listening to.)

I was excited to see what I thought was a new bird. Turns out it is the juvenile Eastern Koel. Not rare at all. (Apologies for the poor photos. I am walking with a phone and not camping out with a camera with a zoom lens after all.)

Of course, the dreaded brush turkey has made it to Sydney. They make a huge pile for their eggs. The male tends to nest to keep the eggs warm. I say dreaded as once they invade your garden, you’ll never get rid of them. And their size protects them against all predators. Here’s one roosting near his nest. A photo of the nest doesn’t show how truely huge the nest is – about three metres across. So I haven’t bothered with a photo. It’s just a pile of leaves anyway.

I also love looking at the trees. The changing texture as the gums drop their bark. While the trees are ever green, they are sort of deciduous – dropping their bark every year, revealing a smooth tree trunk. I’m not sure if I prefer the red trunks or the white of the ghost gums!

Either way, I do like how the bark sits around the base of a trunk like the tree has stepped out of its pants and left them on the ground.

Then there’s my favourite tree. It is hanging on despite most of the soil around its roots having been washed away. It looks as if a few little rocks are all that are left under one root. Bits of the tree have fallen off. Yet it lives on.

Coming back into the suburban street, one garden ornament often catches me out. I forget it is there and every so often, I notice it. I think I miss it as I am often looking elsewhere – at the nearby brush turkey, at kids on bikes, at an occasional car – or struggling up the hill. When I do notice it, I always smile.

I’m always pleased when the flowering gum I pass is in bloom.

Likewise I love when the hedge of gardenias are in bloom. The scent always reminds me of summer.

Pink bottlebrushes sing to me in a way the red ones don’t.

In other seasons, there’ll be a carpet of cherry blossoms confetti.

I don’t do the walk as much as I’d like when it gets dark early. It is a bit creepy walking down the track that crosses the creek. A young girl was abducted there one afternoon – so it doesn’t have to be dark, I suppose. Luckily she escaped when someone else walked by.

Mr Sans and I like walking with a torch in the dark along the path as it has no street lights. Despite evidence of an excessive number of possums living in our suburb – think jackboots on our roof – I haven’t spotted any when we wave the torch up the trees.

I also haven’t seen any wallabies – though Mr Sans says he has. Reason enough to keep walking this route. I may see one someday.

If I time my walk right, I can come up the last hill, just as the sun is setting and get these views:

Oot and aboot

Wanna go see whale rock?

What’s that?

A rock that looks like a whale. 

OK. 

While the rain held, we went off in search of whale rock. The online guide listed the usual safety precautions – water, clothing, maps. Even bush on the edges of suburbia can be dangerous. 

We walked into the bush, down a wide, cement roadway, big enough for firefighting trucks. At the bottom of a slope we could see directional signs. None listed the sought-for whale rock. “I wonder which way we need to go?” I asked Mr S. As I spoke, I turned and there was whale rock. 

For size comparison, here is s shot with a disguised Mr S (though I admit there’s not a lot of hiding one can do in a hippy tie-dyed shirt).

Definitely worth the 5 minute walk from the road! Yes, that quick. Why all the safety advice? Ridiculous! WHS gone mad. Anyway that wasn’t enough of a walk, so we ventured in further. Because of all the rain we had (thanks Cyclone Debbie) the creek was over the path. At the first flooded crossing we debated: should we turn back or just walk through? “Ah fuck it. Let’s just walk through it.” So we did. Several times on the way into the bush. And on the way back. 

At least the water was running which meant we wouldn’t get leeches. Unlike our walk the day before!

A couple of weeks earlier we had gone in search of our secret waterfall in another part of the same national park. But we were thwarted by the rain which turned a track into a pond. 

With still water and boggy ground all around, we were in leech territory. In that brief walk I scored two leeches but they mistakenly suckered onto my shoes. Mr S, who’d ventured further and made it to the waterfall, did his bit for wildlife rescue and fed a few leeches. 

A week later, and the day before Whale Rock, we went off to the waterfall again. Stocked with necessary supplies – a stash of salt to battle the leeches – my friend and I lady-stepped over the water-logged paths while Mr S schtomped through. And ended up to his knees in logs and twigs and leaves which had been washed into a pile that Mr S thought was a solid pathway. 

It doesn’t look clearer than the above shot but trust me, the path was now passable.

Mr S made a hasty recovery. We all made it to the waterfall. Our party of three in tact. 

Hard to believe that these are all within 15 minute drive from our home. (This is the designated comfort zone prescribed by my friend and endorsed by Mr S.)

At the outer reach of the 15 minute zone, is Fagan Park, developed on an old orchard site. We visited here one day in the last two months. While most people clustered around the children’s playground and the interesting “gardens of the world”, Mr S and I picnicked at the old homestead which was open for its only Sunday of the month. Maybe Mr S and I are unusual but we love old places. The homestead a host of farm sheds used for fruit packing and equipment all full of objects from the early settlement, many lovingly restored. The water pumps work. The gardens are peaceful. The actual home has been furnished from the period. 

One of the volunteers was a 90 year old whose extended family owned the farm before donating it to the council for a public park. She recalled not being allowed in the main house as a child, being forced to stay in the separate kitchen with her brother. What a connection! To talk with someone who still volunteered and worked in the garden that she played in as a child. 

Picnicking under the she oaks

Mr S impressed with the working water pump

Room of one of the single farm labourers from early last century. Vastly different from the main home.

Tractor shed

Walking into the homestead site

There weren’t many days with skies as blue as this, so we were doubly lucky to chance upon the monthly open day of the homestead. 

Still, there’s a beauty in the rain as the drops on this she oak show. This was taken in my usual lap around “the block” that passes through the edge of the national park. 

There’s a peacefulness in walking on a known path. You don’t have to concentrate and your mind can wander. You can’t think about other things. Conversely, there’s a mindfulness in walking in the new and unknown. You have to concentrate on the path, you are continually looking at the new sights, your mind is processing all the new information. This means you cannot be thinking of all the humdrum of life, you can’t be planning and strategising and going over things and conversations. This is especially true when the path is a rough bush track. 

Both types of walks are good for the mind and soul. As well as the body. And fun as well!

Camping out

Mr S was inspired by Fiona’s posts and photos on camping at Cockatoo Island that he said we have to start camping again. 

So many people have commented that they didn’t think camping was me. Even a cousin responded to Facebook photos that it looked I was having a change of life. We actually have done camping in different forms before. I’ve even done a four day hike into the wilderness. In our pre-kid life we camped for weeks, sleeping in the back of Mr S’s panel van. (No stickers of the crass kind, before you ask.)

Anyway we only went an hour or so north from home. A National Park by the sea. And we only camped out for two nights. Not really roughing it when you can walk to a town with gourmet food stores and coffee shops and a bottle shop. 

Still, it was peaceful. Away from Sydney traffic and pollution. Away from household tasks demanding attention or skilful ignoring and procrastination. The sound of waves. The glorious sun set. The full moon rising.

The moon was so bright and the sky clear, that I didn’t need a torch to visit the loo

Mr S bought a new tent. His criteria is you must be able to stand up in a tent. Which is great for getting dressed, stretching, sitting comfortably, especially in the rain. And you can stay in longer in the morning. In tents you have to crawl into, as soon as the sun is up, it is hot and stuffy inside. 

The new tent is a six man tent. For two. But see we take camp stretchers. So there is really only room for us two. The tent has two verandahs built into the fly. We kept one up and put the gas stove there. There are also two side rooms in the fly. We stashed our esky and stuff. On the second morning, when it was raining, Mr S set up the dining room there. (I ate breakfast in bed.) 

Yes, we camp in style of which  Poirot would be proud. No bodies or mysteries to solve. And no one to turn down our sheets. 😦

Without electric light and television, I got sleepy quite early and fell asleep instantly. 

We did a six kilometre walk along the coast. The walk is a mixture of board walk along cliffs, sand, steps and bush track. Sweeping vistas of the sea, boiling waves, amazing rock formations, and unexpectedly for this time of year, a variety of wild flowers. It rained on our return trip which brought different sounds alive – the birds definitely enjoyed the rain. 

(Confession: following photos are taken from the Internet. Some from the Narional Parks Service website on Bouddi National Park and some from blogs. I didn’t take my camera on the walk but knew there’d be plenty of shots on the web. If perchance one of these is yours and you want it cited or removed, let me know.)

Australia – the land of deadly animals

Snakes, spiders, sharks, crocs. We have them all. And to outsiders we maintain, naay relish in, an air of nonchalance in our acceptance of these things. In fact we revel in our apparent disregard of them. 

Danger?  I laugh in the face of danger. 

Except not really. 

 On a recent bushwalk with a friend in our suburb, we faced a new creature. Our screams, well my screams, were ear-piercing. 

The  fear and terror of its massive claws cannot be underestimated. It barred our way across a creek. 

Behold what stopped my friend and me in our tracks. 

  
The three billy goats gruff did not face a meaner guardian of the crossing. 

Perhaps our fear was compounded by the novelty of seeing a yabbie in our suburban creek? First one I’ve  seen in greater Sydney. 

Now to calm your beating heart, here’s some flowers we saw along the track. 

  
And to make you smile at the unusual beauty of the bush, here’s some shots of Scribbly gums. They always make me smile. Such a fun tree. All that childish scribble.  

  
 

Step back into Steptember

With all my travelling and iPad difficulties and general busyness, I realise I haven’t updated you all on my Steptember.

Now I know you’ve all been waiting to cheer me on with my success but thought maybe I’d let this little goal slide (like the Year of the Garden) and you were all too polite to bring the topic up, lest I have to say, “Oh, I just couldn’t keep it up. Work. Stuff. Busyness. Life. You know!”

Well, don’t worry. I walked and walked and stepped and stepped.

I am actually quite chuffed with the steps I took. My target was 10,000 steps a day but would be very happy if I made it to 8,000. I made it to 10,000 steps on 12 out of the 30 days, and I broke 8,000 steps on 24 of the days. One day I was really sick and spent the day in bed. No prizes for guessing what day that was from the graph. My daily average was 9,745 steps. As this little graph shows, with my highest stepping day in a pop-out.

Cute graph, hey?

I didn’t monitor my sleep. Now, that would make you cry. And tell me to get some more.

Nearly half way through October, but I will share my goal for that month soon. (And I’m still stepping out!)

Yay for the Fitbit!!!