Well it started off as a walk like any other. Having exhausted most of the possibilities within walking distance of my home I looked a little further afield for a walk and settled on the Georges River. The Georges River is the southernmost of the four major rivers in the Sydney area and is best known for having the highest dumped stolen car to water ratio in the southern hemisphere. Nevertheless its quite nice to look at and the authorities have graced the less buildable parts with the title of Georges River National Park. Most of the park is on the southern bank of the river. I, in a spirit of sheer perversity decided to walk along the north. I did actually have a reason. Back in the mists of time (four years ago to be precise) I had had a surprisingly enjoyable time walking around the Salt Pan Creek wetlands and a glance at the map showed me that there was a decent strip of green between said wetlands and East Hills a suburb on the Georges River. I decided that I would pop down to East Hills and see if I could walk back to the scene of my earlier triumph.
There turned out to be a bit of problem with that. A closer examination of the map showed me that the strip of green between the two was intermittent at best and there would be a certain amount of walking through suburbs. It was also not entirely clear whether there was actually a path through some of the green that did exist. I dealt with this problem by ignoring it and hoping for the best. Thus with optimism taking the place of common sense I hopped off the train at East Hills (which appeared to be closed) and pointed my nose towards the river. I strolled through a park, overhead feathered swoopy things swooped featherily. I wasn't quite sure what they were, probably crows but I like to think they were eagles. The park ended at Henry Lawson Drive a road that would rapidly become my nemesis. There was a fence to stop you crossing the road which was a problem as the river was on the other side. I had to retrace my steps and find another way across the road. Eventually I did so and found myself in a park on the riverbank. This was picturesque but walking through a park is like walking across your back lawn with the added disadvantage that you can't tell all of the other people there to piss off.
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| Yes, ok quite picturesque really |
The park in East Hills was named, in a burst of inspiration, East Hills Park and there were reeds and small beaches populated by little crabs all of whom fled into their holes at my approach and none of which hung around for a photo. I walked through the park and wound up on Henry Lawson Drive. Here's the thing about Henry Lawson Drive, except where it actually goes through an inhabited area they haven't bothered to make the slightest concession to pedestrians. Walking along Henry Lawson Drive is a sure way to get yourself killed. There are no footpaths except where houses actually front on to the thing. Fortunately this was one of those spots. I headed along aiming for the next bit of green, Monash Reserve. The houses ended before I got there but I scurried along the road and managed to hit parkland before I decorated someone's bumper.
Monash Reserve was slightly different to East Hills Park, it was less manicured for one thing. I can hardly claim it was untamed bush but it was at least not quite bludgeoned completely to death bush. A slimy looking creek oozed between overhanging trees and I felt quite happy with my choice as I strode along a path between the trees, which ended about thirty seconds later and I was once again in what was essentially a park.
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| A slimy looking creek |
I walked across this park too. A couple had pitched a tent there apparently under the impression that they were getting back to nature or possibly just further evidence of the housing crisis. More reeds and river presented themselves for my delectation and since they had made an effort I took a photo to encourage them.
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| From Monash Reserve |
Once across Monash Reserve it was back to Henry Lawson sodding Drive for another burst of suburban strolling. Fortunately there was a footpath on this bit. Unfortunately the footpath ended before I needed to get off the road. I scurried along the shoulder until I found I path leading into the bush. And bush there was because I had encountered Lambeth Reserve which had a genuine bush trail which extended for metres before coming to an end in yet another riverside park. This time however I was not to be disappointed for the path (and the bush) reappeared on the other side of the park and I was able to make my way down to the river surrounded by trees.
Having arrived at the river a path led along the shore line with the river to my right and bush to my left. I Left the frustrations of the suburbs (temporarily) behind me and struck out along the path.
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| Now this is a little more like it |
The path skirted the waters edge indeed you can see from the above photo that it did more than skirt. From time to time it struck out boldly across the river itself before returning to a more appropriate land based version. I leaned on the bridge and looked out at the water. Things went "glop" and I stared without success to see if I could find the glop origination point sadly I was unsuccessful. A rather handsome bird slid into the water and submerged beneath surface. I waited for quite a while but it didn't emerge again. I hope I witnessed a water bird in all its glory and not some normal bird bringing an end to its miserable existence. Pushing thoughts of avian suicide from my mind I carried on pausing only to photograph one of the smallest beaches I've ever seen.
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| A very small beach |
The river curved in a bend to stop Picnic Point from falling into the water and the path (and therefore I) followed the same route. East Hills was behind me now and the charming suburb of Picnic Point was my new location. I say it was charming because I saw it at its best; bushland, a river, no houses and very few people. Of course it couldn't last, as I approached the bend itself the hitherto accommodating population of Picnic Point lost all of their brownie points with me by pushing their dwellings as close to the river as possible. What had been bushland became a narrow riverside park festooned with people and a beast that looked like someone had cross bred a dalmation with a great dane and given the resulting offspring steroids. It was not unfriendly for which I was grateful as it could probably have killed me if it had accidentally trodden on me.
A glance at the map told me that this collection of foreshore parks went on for a while but then I could walk around a lagoon. I paused for lunch in a convenient park and studiously ignored the bird eyeing the crumbs falling as I ate. It tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing but every time I looked up the bird was a little closer staring innocently out over the river until I dropped my eyes again. I left approximately thirty seconds before it decided to mug me.
I struck away from the river now heading towards that artery of annoyance Henry Lawson Drive. Just on this one occasion however the road came up trumps. The river was on one side of the road and the lagoon (and an associated walking track) were on the other. There wasn't a formal pedestrian crossing but a path led to the road and continued on the other side with the distinct implication that if you survived the crossing you could continue your journey. I did survive the crossing and was rewarding with the Yeramba Lagoon Loop Track. It will probably come as no surprise that I didn't in fact loop the lagoon.
I started off well though, the path passed conveniently close to the lagoon and I crossed a small creek on my way where a particularly handsome bird preened for my camera.
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| Yeramba Lagoon |
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| A particulary handsome bird |
I headed off through genuine bush and soon lost all sight of the lagoon. What thirty seconds of research would have told me was that the lagoon was only the centrepiece of a chunk of bushland that was crisscrossed with a range of paths some of which indeed led back to the lagoon and others led up to the more inhabited parts of Picnic Point.
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| Roaming the wilds of Picnic Point |
From time to time the happy shrieks (I presume they were happy, perhaps I'd better check the news) of other walkers interrupted my otherwise solitary roaming but with a little care I was able to avoid coming into contact with most of them. Despite being unaware of the presence of a virtual road network of walking tracks I was aware that I was climbing which didn't seem conducive to reacquainting myself with the lagoon. Eventually I pulled out my phone and realised I was in the middle of a spider web of tracks. The other thing I was in the middle of was a spider web of spider webs. Many of the tracks obviously weren't traveled terribly much and of course spiders had taken the opportunity to build their homes across them. This turned out to be a terrible mistake as I blundered through cutting a swathe through their artfully constructed dwellings.
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| Definitely going up |
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| A last glimpse of the lagoon before goodbye forever |
As I climbed the bushland changed from the ferns and trees around the lagoon to the more traditional Australian bush of widely spaced trees, scrubby bushes and exposed sandstone. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly that happens. I have literally climbed fifty to a hundred metres at most and I'm in a completely different world. The one constant was the inconveniently located spider webs.
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| A very different environment |
I roamed up this track and wandered down that. Despite the distance I was travelling I was doing it within quite a constrained area. I had checked out the map and realised that when I got bored with this I could make my way along one of a number of tracks that would spit me out in the inhabited part of Picnic Point. Then, according to my map, I could walk down a few suburban streets before picking up a firetrail that would take me to the next step on my journey, Boomerang Park. Very technically this was correct. But before I left this little patch of bush I was treated to a glorious bright red dragonfly which graciously paused on a branch for photos.
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| Now that's worth the price of admission |
Eventually semi-aimless wandering palled and I emerged blinking from the bush into the afternoon sunlight where I rapidly discovered I had arrived just too late to be served coffee by the only convenient cafe. Weary, dehydrated and craving caffeine I stumbled down the street towards the firetrail. Here's a funny thing, I actually find it more exhausting and hard on my body to walk down a concrete footpath than to traipse through the bush.
Without fanfare I left Picnic Point and entered Revesby Heights. I hadn't realised Revesby had heights, I was soon to discover it also had lowts. According to my map the Gurawak Fire Trail would lead me through a stretch of bushland and arrive at Boomerang Park from where I would work out the rest of my trip. As noted above this was technically correct.
The firetrail skirted the edge of human development, there were suburban houses on my left and bushland sloping down to the river on my right. I caught what would turn out to be my last glimpses of the Georges River as I went along.
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| A last glimpse of the Georges River |
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| And of course the Clare McIntyre Memorial Fungus |
I made my way cheerily through the bush and feeling, I will confess, rather pleased with myself. So far my journey had worked out pretty much as planned and Salt Pan Creek was only a few kilometres ahead. There was no obvious path out of Boomerang Park shown on the map but even if there wasn't I could simply retrace my steps and do a little more suburb hopping.
Then the path ended and I gazed down on Boomerang Park. And I do mean "down". The firetrail had followed the top of the hill and the park was at the bottom. Between the two was a modest cliff or ambitious hillside depending on your definition and whether you have to climb up and down it. There was no immediately obvious way of getting to the park. I stopped in confusion for a moment wondering what to do. Then I made what was in retrospect the second silliest decision of this walk. While there wasn't an actual path it did seem as though a certain amount of scrambling and clinging onto convenient bushes would get me to the bottom in one piece.
Down I plunged following I suspect the same course that water would when it rained. I hopped from rock to rock and forced my way through inoffensive bushes. Ok I guess hillside is a better definition than cliff, it isn't as though I had to step out into space. I arrived at the bottom sweaty, a little scratched and foolishly feeling quite pleased with myself. I then discovered that there is literally no way out of Boomerang Park if you don't have a car. Henry Lawson Drive in all its pedestrian hating glory bound one side and the rest was surrounded by the bush shrouded hillside devoid of paths that I had just descended.
I wandered around the park for a little wondering what the hell I was going to do. Then I made the silliest decision of this walk. On the other side of the park from where I had emerged an access path for some piece of electricity infrastructure presented itself. Rather than retrace my steps which I already knew was manageable I would walk up this path and possibly the path itself would go further and I could make my way to the top. It was obvious I was going to have to walk back along the firetrail, the issue was getting there. I walked up the path, it ended very soon but there was a convenient rock so I pulled myself up it and kept on going. I forced my way through some intervening bush until I encountered another rock I could pull myself up. By this time I realised I had made a blunder but I was also surrounded by trackless bush and random rocks and going on seemed at least as useful as going back, assuming I could find back since I had left the path. The bush grew thicker and the number of spiders I was dehousing became quite spectacular. I'm pretty sure I'm the number one cause of arachnid homelessness in the Sydney reason.
Walking through the bush without a path to follow is actually very difficult since the bush itself is disinclined to get out of your way. It's even harder when you're doing it uphill. I was reduced to hurling myself at the bush and smashing my way through by brute force. Obviously you have to be judicious, if you hurl yourself at a tree you're going to come off second best. Slowly and painfully I made progress, turning aside occasionally when the bush was obviously too thick to penetrate. I was exhausted, gasping, baby spiders I had recklessly dehoused were crawling over the accessible bits of my body and my body was wet and sticky with sweat. Then I looked down at my hand and realised it wasn't just sweat making me wet and sticky. Using my body as a battering ram had been moderately successful at the price of covering myself with scratches (perhaps wearing a singlet wasn't the brightest idea) one of said scratches was deep enough to draw blood which was now disporting itself all over my hand and, because I had just pulled it out, my phone as well.
It is amazing the among of blood that can be produced from the most trivial of injuries and the injury was trivial, a tiny cut on the finger. At home you'd put a bandaid on it and get on with your day. I took a much needed rest while I cleaned off such of the evidence as I could find, mopped the sweat (and spiders) from my brow and took stock. Despite my somewhat chaotic approach I was making progress in so far as I was higher and further from my starting point. Encouraged, or possibly with few choices I plunged on and almost banged into somebody's back fence. Here's the thing, I was likely never more than a couple of hundred metres from this housing at any time. The bushland was a tiny fringe between the houses up on Revesby Heights and the park which was down at river level. A walkable path or a flight of steps and you could probably get from one to the other in about two minutes. Absent a walkable track it had taken me considerably longer and used up all of my reserves. I followed the fences until I rediscovered the firetrail and walked (stumbled) back down it until I came to a street. I sat down, dislodged a few more spiders and called an Uber. The driver politely didn't comment about the exhausted, bloody individual who got into the back of his car and I left before he discovered the spiders.
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