Travelling Pathetically - Recycling Pyrmont

 I had big plans.  I had prepared for one of my more ambitious walks to date.  There would be ups and downs and making my way through a national park in one of the more scenic Sydney adjacent areas.  Then it rained.  I muttered and put off my plans for a week.  The next Saturday it also rained but this time I had a contingency plan in place.  For reasons I can't really explain I had been glancing at a map of Pyrmont.  I have of course been to Pyrmont before, several times.  In my thrilling series of blog entries centred around light rail stations (I really do need to find a more interesting hobby) I had wandered around bits of Pyrmont as that suburb is practically overrun with light rail stations.  There are five such stations within Pyrmont's official boundaries, not bad for a suburb which is only one square kilometre in area.

Being small and quite densely populated Pyrmont is obviously covered in buildings which made me wonder if there were in fact any parks or open spaces at all.  There are of course a couple of significant parks at the waterside but what about within the suburb itself.  I applied myself to the map and by zooming in as far as I could go managed to identify quite a few tiny little green splashes amongst the grey.  That was sufficient excuse for me.

"I shall go to Pyrmont," I announced to a collection of disinterested plush toys, "and I shall attempt to walk around the suburb through as many parks, parkettes, reserves and random pot plants as possible."

"You really need a hobby," said Humpy the camel.

"This is a hobby."

"I mean a much better one."

"I could always take up camel racing."

"Enjoy your walk."

Of course having wandered around bits of Pyrmont in the past I would perforce be going over some old ground.  That means while I might struggle to have something new to say I could shamelessly crib bits from the earlier blog entries, toss in a few photos and claim its all new.  Pleased with the concept of achievement for little effort I set out on a Sunday which after a rainy Saturday rapidly developed into the sort of day it would be nice to go on a proper bushwalk but I was committed to Pyrmont and I wasn't intending to let the suburb down.

Like many inner city suburbs Pyrmont has gone through its ups and downs over the years.  At first it was a working class suburb with warehouses, factories, docks, a power station and quarries.  In fact much of the sandstone used to build Sydney's handsome public buildings was quarried here.  This has led to a fair amount of up and down in Pyrmont.  Your next door neighbour can sometimes live thirty metres higher than you do.  There are quite a few sets of steps to assist pedestrians in getting about.  

Over the years the industry moved away or shut down and Pyrmont went into significant decline.  Then in the 1980s inner city living became popular and a spectacular renaissance took place as the population jumped from a few hundred to about twelve thousand.  Now there are pubs, cafes and all of the usual accoutrements of inner city living.  Despite the vast influx of population Pyrmont manages to give the impression of being slightly apart from the rest of the city.  The main reason for this is motorways.  A series of motorways taking people from somewhere that isn't Pyrmont to somewhere else that isn't Pyrmont encircle and virtually transform the suburb into an island.  The council signs announcing "Sydney, a City of Villages" sounds slightly less like fatuous garbage when you read them in Pyrmont although only slightly.

I hopped on the fabled light rail, subject of many an excellent blog entry (and a few crappy ones) and rode the rails to Wentworth Park the first of many light rail stations that serve Pyrmont.  Wentworth Park clings to the south west corner of Pyrmont wedged between some new apartment buildings and a large vacant lot.  In a pitiful attempt to make it look like a country railway station a small fringe of bushland approximately two trees wide flanks both sides of the station.  The attempt is more successful than you might think.

A charming country lane next to Wentworth Park light rail station

In contrast to my usual half arsed attempts at organisation I had made detailed plans for this walk.  I would hop out at Wentworth Park, walk along Wattle St and then turn left up Fig Street to take me into the belly of the beast or, rather, Pyrmont.  This plan came to an abrupt halt two minutes later when Fig Street disappeared under a bridge that would eventually spit it out onto the Western Distributor.  What I actually wanted to be on was Upper Fig Street which was on top of said bridge.  I retraced my steps and headed further up Wattle Street until I reached Quarry Street.  It had taken me precisely five minutes to leave Pyrmont and instead venture into the gritty urban landscape of Ultimo.

I hurried up Quarry Street before roaming cannibal gangs took advantage of my soft sweet flesh.  Reaching Jones Street in a lather of sweat (that wasn't the cannibal gangs, I'm just not used to going uphill) I took a sharp left and headed back towards the safe haven of Fig Street (Upper).  I paused just long enough to take a photo of Quarry Green a little park attempting to bring a spot of nature to Ultimo.

This is Quarry Green but its in Ultimo so it doesn't count

Fig Lane Park occupies a narrow block between Fig Lane and Fig Street but I didn't take any photos of it because it was occupied by a large number of children in bathing costumes disporting themselves and I can do without another visit from the police.  More importantly by stepping onto Fig Street I was back in Pyrmont.  I promised not to leave again before I was done.

Having found Fig Street I promptly abandoned it again instead taking shelter under the Western Distributor which made its way overhead supported by quite low lying concrete.  I almost had to duck my head to avoid hitting my forehead on a motorway which is something that doesn't happen every day.  Once past the just overpass I found myself in the rear of a handsome block of flats and my next destination the Ada Place Streetscape.  Ada Place used to be (and a little further on still is) a narrow lane between two blocks of flats.  The "streetscape" is a name given when you've removed the cars and tossed in a few pot plants but the result still can't legitimately be called a park.  It was essentially a walkway with plants on one side and balconies of flats on the other.  Beyond the plants there were more balconies belonging to a different set flats.

Not exactly untamed wilderness but the best Ada Place Streetscape can do

Making my way through the tangled wilderness of the streetscape took about two minutes before I was thrust out onto a leafless street.  I turned left and scurried down Bulwara Road in search of my next patch of green.  In fact the green was immediately to my left.  It wasn't dignified with a park name and was fenced off so that you couldn't enter it.  The reason is that nestling at the bottom of once again a narrow fringe of trees was the light rail line I had abandoned earlier and which had now come crawling back.  It was nice to have trees by my side again after an agonised two and a half minutes walking down a suburban street but I had bigger fish to fry.  Ahead of me lay Paradise Reserve.  You may have heard of Paradise Reserve but unless you live in Pyrmont probably not.  It usefully fills a gap between the Western Distributor and Bulwara Road and incidentally gives the passengers of the light rail something green as they journey through Pyrmont.

Paradise Reserve announced itself with a truly enormous tree and for a moment I thought that was the reserve but no, the reserve went on with well sculpted greenery for whole minutes until it spat me out near Fish Market light rail station.

A tree so big it didn't all fit in the view finder

 

Gazing from Paradise Reserve over the light rail

The earlier greyness of the day had already starting swinging around to "don't you wish you'd brought sunblock and water" which is ridiculous when you're five minutes from a shopping centre.  A light rail vehicle pulled up and disgorged no doubt fish crazed individuals eager to spend their hard earned on the least polluted thing that can be dragged from the nearby waters.  I hope the damage to their DNA is limited to the bare minimum.

Fish Market station complete with tram

Above is Fish Market station.  If you hop off here, turn left, go under the overpass and keep on walking you will fall into the harbour.  If you stop just before that point you will find the fish market your focal point for all things piscine as long as they're dead.  If you want living sea creatures don't stop walking when you hit the fish market.

I had no interest in fish of either a living or dead persuasion so instead I made my way across what was probably a normal intersection before somebody decided to shoehorn a motorway off ramp onto it and fled down Jones Street.  Jones Street once upon a time stretched from Broadway all the way to Pyrmont.  Technically it still does but various developments and motorways mean that the street tends to vanish and then reappear when you least expect it.  At the end of Jones Street is Jones Street Pocket Park.  A pocket park is another cute name for "there isn't enough room here for another apartment block so lets stick some trees around and pretend it's deliberate".

I've been to the pocket park before (when I did the Fish Market station blog entry) but saw no reason why I shouldn't grace it with my presence again.  Remember I mentioned that Pyrmont was a quarry?  It was actually three quarries and I had been walking around the bottom of one.  The pocket park is where the you run out of flat land before having to climb to the top of the quarry.  Since people don't necessarily like living next to a cliff that can drop rocks on their homes there was scope for a pocket park although not much more because these people can afford insurance.

Jones Street Pocket Park with the quarry wall.

The pocket park stretched left and right, my journey took me left but to show willing I went right first and traveled the length of the park although it would be more accurate to say I traveled the shortth of the park.  The last time I was there a fence was protecting passers by in case bits of the quarry wall leapt out at them.  Now four years later the fence is still there, apparently feral quarry walls are an ongoing problem.  I came to the end of the park shortly after I started.  There was a flight of steps that would lead stout hearted pedestrians up to the top of the quarry where Pyrmont continued at a slightly higher altitude but I hadn't finished with the lowlands yet.

The fence is there for my own protection apparently

I headed back to my pocket park starting point and went left as I had always intended to do.  A bridge took me across the light rail and into what I assume was a public walkway through an apartment block.  Once out on the street I headed for Carmichael Park fifteen seconds up the road.

There was a dead fish in Carmichael Park for reasons I can't imagine.  There were also lots of rainbow lorikeets and the back yard of an apartment block (I think the one I just walked through).  A few seconds of walking and a fence prevented my from tumbling onto the light rail line.  To my right another fence prevented me from tumbling into the apartment block.  I took a couple of photos of the lorikeets because they hung around badgering me until I relented.  Then I walked to the other end of Carmichael Park which took all of a minute and climbed up the side of the quarry.  I was going up in the world but not far and not for long.

Rainbow lorikeets

A much better photo of rainbow lorikeets although the people in the apartment probably weren't pleased

Now I was up on high and after a few minutes to acclimatise to the altitude I set off across The Knoll a neatly shaved park perched on the top of Pyrmont.  I was heading towards the water (to be fair in Pyrmont its difficult not to, its a headland) and the more decorative, well sculptured parks of the foreshore.  I did pause for a couple of photos from my new elevated vantage point.

A photo to the left

And a photo to the right

Then I was off again skirting the western part of The Knoll until I found a flight of steps to take me down to sea level.  Said steps dutifully presented themselves and I trotted back down to the level I just left and made my way through what was either a very well sculpted miniature park of the front yard of the apartment block just to my right.  It was getting increasingly difficult to tell.  On the one hand nobody chased me off on the other I didn't feel quite comfortable about taking photos and there weren't any lorikeets around to justify my invasion of privacy.

All that came to an end when I crossed the road and wound up in the unimaginatively named Waterfront Park.  I knew that I had stepped into something a little more impressive than a pocket park or a street scape when I saw the art.  I know it was art because there was a sign announcing that it was art.  If the sign hadn't been there I would have assumed that I was looking at bits of abandoned industrial machinery.

Waterfront Park, the art is on the right

Along with a sudden outbreak of art I also encountered people.  It may seem strange but I hadn't run into too many people so far on my walk because I had essentially been walking through the back parts of Pyrmont but now I had emerged into an area where the denizens disported themselves in the afternoon sun.  I decided it was time to move on.  Other parks awaited my attention.  Lest I seem ungrateful I did take a couple of photos of the less people intensive parts of the park which I present for your delectation.

Waterfront Park without people

The water that the park is fronting

Once past the park there was a bit of dockside with a sign warning you about a crane.  There was no crane in sight, I can only presume that it was hiding somewhere waiting to jump out at unsuspecting passers by.  I kept alert and put my best crane threatening face on.  Not only did this stop the crane from making an appearance but it also kept the other pedestrians at a safe distance.  Although from the expression on some of their faces not safe enough.

There was no crane in sight

Although I was largely ambling along the waterfront I took a detour to go up a flight of stairs.  Stairs aren't something you can really avoid in Pyrmont although I could have avoided these ones.  At the top of the stairs was another park.  All neatly trimmed lawn with the occasional tree.  I suppose it was nice enough but it was a little too manicured for me.  I like my parks the way I like my men, a little rough around the edges.

A little too well trimmed for my taste

Having graced the over presented park with my presence I returned to the waterfront and another park.  This was the big one, Pirrama Park.  Pirrama Park is the largest park in Pyrmont with lots of space for families and children to frolic.  All of this frolic territory was walled off with temporary fencing and signs noting that due to an unfortunate asbestos situation the frolic parts of the park were out of commission.  I walked along the path gazing at the gaoled greenery.  This was only the most extreme example of something that I had encountered all the way along.  At least half the greenery I had admired had been separated from me by similar warning signs.  It would appear that asbestos was the material of choice for park bedding in Pyrmont.  The entire "asbestos in parks" issue has developed into a low level scandal as it turns out that a lot of the government's attempt to promote green spaces include the insides of people's lungs.

I made my way through the small part of the park that was walkable and headed south.  There were other parks to see but I figured I'd inhaled enough asbestos fibres for one day so I turned right, climbed another flight of stairs and made my way to Johns Square Light Rail Station to cough my way home.