Travelling Pathetically - 10 Kilometre Limit Edition

 I'm allowed to go outside for exercise as long as I stay within ten kilometres of the crumbling apartment block that currently constitutes my home.  Having firmly decided that exercise was marginally better than housework I studied the map to see what areas of interest there might be within the restricted range.  Ten kilometres doesn't sound like much but when you draw a circle around my home with a radius of ten kilometres you get a piece of land that is actually larger than the entire nation Liechtenstein.  The mathematics necessary to work this out was subcontracted to my father who has the advantage of being able to count.  Unfortunately most of the territory involved is covered in houses.  These are difficult to walk through and the owners often complain.

Nevertheless I found a patch of likely looking green on the map and decided that this would be graced with my presence for the day.  Having followed Wolli Creek down to its confluence with the Cooks River in a previous, bat intensive, expedition I would now turn right and follow the creek upstream through a series of reserves and random bits of bush now serving largely as pollution traps for the creek itself.  Once I ran out of trees I would take a hard right (Alan Jones would be so proud) and traipse through suburban streets until I reached Cup and Saucer Creek which I would follow down to the Cooks River.  Then I could just trot along beside the river until I reached home.  And all while remaining within the necessary ten kilometres of my front door.

Of course in these plague intensive times any trip outside is fraught with peril and I made my preparations accordingly.  Once equipped in a fashion that would have made Edmund Hilary think I was overdressed I set forth on my journey.  On the way I had to fend off the advances of my puffin who saw me in a mask and boots and thought the day was going to go in an entirely different direction.

Not, you might think, an entirely auspicious start

Above is where my journey began.  The bridge is over Wolli Creek which is hiding (possibly out of shame) behind the various collection of noxious weeds and invasive species which are hogging the camera.  Somewhere in amongst that mess is a narrow walking path that leads under the bridge and follows the creek upstream.

And this is the creek itself, careful photography has managed to avoid the plastic bottles floating on the surface

Despite the, shall we say, less than impressive beginning once past the bridge things began to improve.  There has been a definite attempt to improve the water quality of the Cooks River and the streams flowing into it of late and the shreds of bushland form an important part as they help to filter pollutants from storm water before it hits the creek.  Not actually pouring toxic waste in has helped a bit as well.  The bushland itself has to be maintained by people with nothing better to do a concern for the environment to ensure that those pushy invasive species (which apparently aren't so great at filtering pollutants) don't overrun the area.

I've mentioned before in this blog (several times, if you want originality go elsewhere) how peaceful simply being in a patch of nature, however small, can be.  Even on this walk where warehouses (and just normal houses) were almost always visible through the trees there was a certain sense of stillness which was deeply appealing.  Trees grew, birds flitted and if I stopped and listened carefully I could hear the sound of, all the other people tramping along this path chatting to each other.  Speaking of a pushy invasive species.  The photographs I took were all carefully arranged to make it look as though I was the last person on earth.  If my plans come to fruition I shall be.

The creek's hiding again but its in there somewhere

I can hardly claim that this was a strenuous walk.  The most physical exertion I underwent was scrambling to the side to allow people in active wear to pass by.  I don't have active wear.  Most of my clothing would fit the category of inactive wear.  Some of it barely meets the standard of "wear".  Despite my annoyance at these interruptions the presence of these people pleased me (in an abstract way).  If sufficient of the locals like walking along this path (and it appears that they do) maybe they can ensure that a property developer doesn't drop a housing estate into the middle of it.  You might think that words like "creek" and "flood zone" and "heavily polluted" might put a property developer off.  You would be wrong.

As I went along the "bush" widened out a bit from a narrow strip overlooked by houses to a somewhat wider strip overlooked by houses.  Trees and boulders clustered around and did their best to look like genuine wilderness.  At ground level small crawling things made encouraging rustles in the leaves to promote the idea that there was a functioning ecosystem happening here.

Far beyond civilisation

Of course it couldn't all be trees and boulders (photo of a boulder coming up) a couple of broader areas had been cleared to provide reserves ie places where people could walk their dogs without walking into a tree every thirty seconds.  I plodded dutifully across these reserves nodding politely to the people walking their dogs therein who recoiled in horror at my presence.  This may be due to COVID but not necessarily.  One small and rather confused dog came up to me and then trotted ahead of me back towards the trees pausing every so often to make sure I was following.  Fortunately his owner arrived before I had to make difficult decisions about what I was going to do with the thing.

A small and rather confused dog

The owner explained to me that the dog was almost blind.  Possibly it got me mixed up with its owner which makes me suspect that the owner must also smell of cigarettes and stuffed puffins.  With the brief canine interlude behind me I left the reserve behind me and reentered the wild.  Briefly before emerging onto another reserve which resembled the previous one but with fewer dogs.  Rereentering the wild I took pictures of some photogenic boulders (see below) and plunged onwards.

Boulders as promised

I wasn't breaking any speed records, indeed one couple in active wear I met coming from the other direction I met again when they passed me on their return journey, but that didn't concern me too much as every step took me closer to suburbia (which was only about fifty metres away in any event).  While I could I enjoyed the trees and the calm in the sure and certain knowledge that concrete and tarmac awaited.

A photo specifically for Clare, its either fungus or a tumour

And just like that the trees did come to an end.  The creek itself carried on but it would do so on its own.  We'd had some good times but it was time to go our separate ways.  Now I clumped reluctantly through the back end of Earlwood heading for the second half of my desination; Cup and Saucer Creek.

One can only assume that by the time they got around to naming Cup and Saucer Creek the early colonists had simply stopped trying.  The next creek they found was probably called That Dinner Service Your Mother Gave Us That I've Never Really Liked Creek.  Cup and Saucer Creek flows, or rather, trickles through various residential areas but according to the map there was a walking path alongside it and a couple of parks along the way.  The map did not lie.

Cup and Saucer Creek, not exactly an untamed waterway

As with previous creeks I've encountered this one was more of a gutter albeit a gutter with flood warning signs every twenty metres or so.  I'm not sure whether the fence is there so the creek can't escape or so that people can't get in and bang their heads on the concrete in futile attempts to drown themselves.  Alongside this well defined waterway a strip of lawn and a walking path allowed the pedestrian to fantasise that they were, well walking beside a gutter next to people's houses.  Even my imagination managed that.

The walking path (and indeed the creek) led to a park where another brick and concrete encased stream joined it without apparently adding too much to the water volume.  Untamed wilderness it was not but it was pleasant to stroll through not one but two parks as I headed in the general direction of the Cooks River.  I took a photo of some ibis because its not really Sydney without an unsolicited ibis photo.

As you can see the creek is still home to wildlife

As I walked along I have to admit I was getting increasingly perplexed by the lack of water.  A meagre trickle ran along the concrete bed of the creek which seemed to have been designed for something a little grander.  Naturally a certain amount of that was flood protection but even so there didn't seem to be a great deal of water flow happening.  Then I turned the corner and found that the creek had quadrupled in size.  The reason wasn't hard to find.  A large pipe was pouring water into the creek.  My curiosity was piqued, what was the meaning of this?  Fortunately a conveniently placed bridge allowed me to cross the creek and find out.

What I had encountered was another pollution control project.  They're really doing their best to clean up the Cooks River with no little success.  You may not be able to drink the water but at least it doesn't burn your skin off anymore.  In front of me was one of the reasons for said success.  It looked like a natural wetland with ponds, bush and the usual assortment of feathery things hanging out on the surface.  In fact it was a wholly artificial water filtering project cunningly designed to look like a natural wetland.  Water is pumped out of the creek and allowed to filter through a series of ponds and layers of sandstone which trap sediment while the native bush (somehow) sucks out some of the other pollutants.  The newly cleansed water is then dumped back into the creek to continue its journey to the river.  The pipe I had seen was doing the dumping.

Not bad as water recycling plants go

Of course you can't just build a series of ponds and expect nothing to happen.  The moment they did so birds, insects, fish, snakes and turtles turned up to take advantage of what was essentially a housing development for the local fauna.  The fish, snakes and turtles were of a retiring type but one particular, rather handsome, bird was so unconcerned by my presence that I suspected it was trying to steal my camera.

I don't actually think I have ever seen this bird before.  I have no idea what it is

Finally having exhausted my interest in water cleansing (and becoming increasingly nervous about the birds) I left and made my way to the picturesque (and only occasionally foul smelling) river that would lead me back to my starting point.