Lavender Bay isn't the sort of place I normally go to. Not out of any particular dislike, its just that it isn't nearby and I always get a feeling of nervousness in suburbs where the homeless probably have a higher net worth than I do. For the record Lavender Bay is a little to the left of North Sydney unless you're approaching it from the other direction in which case it's a little to the right. And down by the water of course.
At first glance it doesn't really seem like the sort of place to go for a walk but Lavender Bay has a secret. Not that it's actually a secret, that's just what it's called. Specifically Lavender Bay is the home of Wendy Whiteley's secret garden. Don't tell anyone. Wendy Whiteley was once married to Brett Whiteley who was, apparently, an artist. People deal with grief in different ways and when Brett Whiteley died Wendy's grief was channeled into one of the most creative acts of trespass in modern times.
Down by the shoreline near her house in Lavender Bay was a derelict rail yard (Australia went through quite a phase of putting ugly maintenance buildings in the most scenic places; the Opera House was once the site of a tram shed). Without any sort of permission Wendy Whiteley gradually cleared away the refuse and once that was done started planting and landscaping. Over the last twenty five years she has gradually built up a terraced garden stretching across a chunk of former wasteland replete with trees, plants both exotic and native with winding paths, steps and places where you can sit and enjoy the preceding.
At some point the state government decided that eviction wouldn't be a vote winner (digging up all the trees would have been hard work too) and graciously leased the land the garden grows in for the next thirty years. The general public are welcome to wander around. I'm quite specific public but I decided the welcome extended to me as well.
I chose a good day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining it was the perfect day to be out on the harbour. And out on the harbour I would be, if only briefly as I needed to make my way from my domicile in the Inner West to the more saltwater adjacent climes of Lavender Bay. From Circular Quay I would hop on a ferry across the harbour to Milson's Point. Once back on dry land I would turn left and walk until I reached the garden. This is the sort of simple itinerary that usually goes horribly wrong with me but today it more or less worked.
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| The building in the centre rear is where I work. How did that sneak into a weekend photo? |
Every time I go out on the harbour I wonder why I don't do it more often. Probably because I carefully select days when the weather is fine. The weather was indeed fine and I sat on the ferry with a sort of childish delight. This was quite appropriate as my destination was Milsons Point the ferry stop for Luna Park still operating to the fury of nearby residents.
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| I have arrived |
In my defence I wasn't the only one exhibiting childish enthusiasm. Approximately fifty million children were milling around the entrance to Luna Park exhibiting enthusiasm in a whole range of age categories. I hadn't actually expected this. If I wanted to get to Lavender Bay and the garden I would have to fight my way through the thronging hordes (or possibly hording throngs) that occupied a goodly amount of the intervening space. Once again I remarked how two years of pandemic has made me utterly illequipped to deal with people in multiples of more than two.
I did eventually make it through and not too many children were crushed en route. Or at least if they were I could plausibly blame others. With the anguished cries of bereaved parents (and not a few surreptitious "thank yous") ringing in my ears I struggled past Luna Park, wiped the children off my feet and headed towards Lavender Bay. Helpfully I was already pretty much there.
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| Not actually the garden |
Before I reached the garden I was given a teaser in the shape of a tree lined walkway which followed the shoreline. I followed it along until I reached a boat stable and started looking around for a way inland. Such a way presented itself in a narrow path that led under a rail line and, once past, promptly started to climb. Following the path's example I too climbed admiring the handsome dwellings that presented themselves for my inspection. On my right was a collection of trees but I didn't make the obvious connection and kept on with the path until I hit a street. Google maps informed me that I had walked right past the garden but if I turned right down the street I could access it from there.
Turn right I did and walked past a park (again the penny didn't drop) until I ran out of street. Making my way back I tentatively entered the park and walked to the end of the mowed area. Steps led down to a narrow path among the trees. Having thus found the garden despite my best efforts I stepped forward to enjoy it.
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| A part of the secret garden. There was more but it was discreetly avoiding the camera |
The garden itself isn't exactly huge but it occupies the side of a hill reaching down to the rail line (which is still there). On the other side of the rail line is the harbour. Space for vegetation to grow has been created by terracing with what looks suspiciously like old wooden railway sleepers (I'm sure that's just a coincidence) the aforementioned narrow parks snake in and out of the greenery and have a tendency to go up and down at inconvenient moments.
As I strolled along enjoying the shade I encountered a pair of brush turkeys. They were literally close enough for me to reach out and touch which still wasn't close enough for me to get a decent photo apparently despite the fact that they did everything except strike a pose and advise on lighting conditions.
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| a not particularly great photo of a brush turkey |
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| a not particularly great photo of two brush turkeys |
I sat on the steps for a good ten minutes taking increasingly fuzzy pictures of a pair of birds that I felt I was going to have to kick out of the way if I wanted to get past. Eventually tiring of this I eased past them and left them to their pursuits. Fortunately their pursuits didn't include me.
Trees, plants and the occasional outcrop of rock awaited me. I was surrounded by trees (and apparently brush turkeys) with a harbour below me and high rent real estate above me. The narrowness of the paths gave a hint of intimacy and allowed me to imagine myself in real wilderness (I would have a nervous breakdown if dropped into "real wilderness"). Strangely this feeling was not hindered by the fact that there were quite a number of people wandering around the garden. There are sufficient different paths to permit you to avoid them if you try and, as usual I managed to arrange the bulk of my photos to give the impression that I was the last person on earth.
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| absolutely nobody here but me |
One couple I particularly attempted to avoid was the pair who had asked me if I needed directions as I was climbing up the path. I had proudly denied such a need but if I had accepted I would have found my way into the garden about ten minutes before I did. I averted my face as they went past and I'm sure they were sniggering at something else.
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| another garden photo |
Over the course of the next couple of hours I criss crossed the gardens turning abruptly every time it looked like I was about to run into people. I did this so often that I started to get dizzy and decided that ignoring people was slightly easier than avoiding them. Actually I didn't need to go to any effort at all as they proved more than capable of ignoring me; standoffish pricks. Ruminating on the appalling rudeness of my fellow garden visitors I listened to bird song (well bird screech really) and enjoyed the environs. Naturally I paused to photograph the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus.
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| The Clare McIntyre memorial fungus |
At one point I wandered out of the garden and onto the path I had taken to approach it. If I had just turned right as I was coming up I would have avoided several minutes of wandering through the streets of Lavender Bay looking silly. Why didn't I? I don't have a rational explanation or rather the rational explanation would highlight the rather irrational way I approach the world and therefore I choose not to publicise it. Restraining orders are one thing but I don't actually want to be taken into care.
As I passed by one particular tree a rather handsome parrot posed for a photo. The quality of this photo leads me to the suspicion that the brush turkeys were being blurry on purpose.
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| brush turkeys take note |
Eventually with the shadows lengthening I decided to try and find my way out. I didn't actually know the shadows were lengthening as shadows are a bit of a thing in the garden but a glance at the time indicated that in the outside world any shadows would definitely be showing signs of length. To make up trip a circuit rather than just a there and back I eschewed returning the way I came and instead made my way through Lavender Bay (the suburb not the actual bay) and down to Milson's Point just in time for the ferry. Which was overloaded so I had to take the next one.
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