Having winced and hobbled my way to Brooklyn I looked around for another walk that would test my endurance. I didn't exactly look too far. It transpired that if I got off the train at Cowan (again) and turned left instead of right there was a walking trail that would take me down to Berowra Waters before skirting the creek bank and turning to climb back up again to Berowra which was the station before Cowan. I had actually been through Berowra Waters before (in a car) and was well aware that it was steep and difficult but this time I was prepared.
I had acquired compression bandages for my knees in the hope that the extra support might ease their progress somewhat. I gobbled advil like tictacs and finally I borrowed a pair of walking poles from a work colleague. It is to these poles that I attribute the fact that my desiccated corpse isn't still adorning a track somewhere between Cowan and Berowra. A group of random individuals in far off Norway having assured me that the weather would be fine and I set off early one morning on the trip to Cowan. By the time I got there it was mid morning but the mist was still hanging low as I stepped off the highway and into wilderness.
The mist and accompanying coolness added a slightly unreal aspect to my walk. The unreal aspect was rapidly shattered by a group of twenty or so hikers taking the same path who were enjoying nature at the tops of their voices. Not wishing to disturb their communing with nature, or at least each other, I politely stood aside and studied the mist until they were out of earshot which took quite a while.
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| See, mist |
My impromptu mist watching did enable me to glimpse the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus out of the corner of my eye and somewhat desperately I lavished camera attention on it while the cheery voices of my fellow hikers faded, finally, into the distance.
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| The Clare McIntyre memorial fungus |
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| A very similar fungus nearby |
Once I was relatively alone in the bush I resumed my walk which at this point was quite pleasant. There was a certain amount of relatively flat walking to get me to the point where the hell began. The escarpment I would have to descend was hidden from me by the mist. I strode through the trees and bush trying to enjoy the current pleasant outing and not think too much about the future. There was even time to photograph some flowers so I obediently did so.
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| A random flower photo |
From time to time the path I was taking would come close to the cliff edge for the purpose of providing walkers with a warning of what was to come but the depths were still full of mist. It was still very picturesque if you like trees and mist. I include a photograph just in case you do.
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| For all you mistophiles out there |
My walk divided itself into two parts. The first which I was currently engaging in was a pleasant walk therough the bush with the mist adding a level of intimacy which anyone who hasn't watched a whole bunch of horror movies would have found pleasant. The second part, fast approaching was the reason for the trip; a steep descent down to Berowra Creek and after a short while an equally steep ascent to put me within at least a few kilometres of my starting point.
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| The mist is starting to go and the day is getting warm |
I paused for a bite to eat and congratulated myself on how easy things had been so far. Not being an idiot I swallowed water and Advil in about equal quantities and thoroughly refreshed I set forth along the path which came to an abrupt end. Closer examination proved the path hadn't come to an abrupt end it had just dropped off a cliff and obviously expected me to do the same. I am of course exaggerating for dramatic effect. The path didn't drop off a cliff, it merely made its way down an extremely steep hillside where holding on was a necessary prerequisite if you didn't want to make your way to the bottom considerably more quickly than is conducive with bodily integrity. Fortunately there were plenty of rocks to break your fall, among other things.
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| The tops of trees, unfortunately my destination was at the bottom |
Now my walking poles which up until now I had considered a slightly irritating encumbrance came into my own as I was able to ease my way downwards with their assistance. There were hand holds or possibly foot holds driven into the more difficult to traverse rocks. I was quite catholic and stuck either my hand or foot into them depending on which body part was more conveniently located at the time. Eventually I got down and was rewarded with a pretty little creek for me to photograph. Because I'm easily manipulated I did so.
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| A pretty little creek |
As I struggled up the other side of the creek I was uneasily aware of the fact that this creek wasn't actually my destination and all of my ascending simply meant more descending before I got to the spot where I could officially start ascending. Another fungus presented itself and I took several photos to record it properly and not at all because I was desperate for any excuse to stop walking.
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| A convenient excuse for a rest |
A little further along I snatched at the opportunity to photograph a small lizard. Actually animals were noticeable by their absence on this walk. This lizard was small and barely photoworthy but it was interestingly coloured and more importantly while I was photographing I wasn't walking. I lavished photographic attention on this miniature reptile until it got embarrassed and fled into the undergrowth.
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| A small but temporarily fascinating lizard |
Eventually the ascent ended and I enjoyed a brief period of walking along relatively flat terrain while I waited for the other shoe to drop. Along the way I took photos of flowers because, well you do don't you.
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| Flowers, I don't need a reason |
My brief rest period when the path was largely horizontal was coming to an end. Now I was heading down to Berowra Waters itself. I couldn't really delay it any longer. The lizard had fled and even the flowers were starting to move discreetly out of the way when I produced a camera. Fortunately the rocks were somewhat slower moving.
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| The path doesn't end at the tree. It just takes a more downward trajectory |
Before I set off on the final descent I was granted a view of my destination. With the mist now a thing of the past I was able to look out over Berowra Creek which provides the waters present in the suburb's name. Incidentally, calling Berowra Waters a suburb is rather generous, less than two hundred people live there and most of the "suburb" is actually water with just little patches of adjacent land here and there.
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| Beauty tempered by the fact that I have to get down there and then back up |
Now that I was on the final descent the walk obviously decided to do things properly. The drop was steep and frequently narrow. The presence of rocks on either side was reassuring as it gave me something to cling on to. My progress was slow as the only alternative was much too fast.
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| Looking back up |
I struggled on down, briefly things flattened out to provide space for another small creek but this was just a teaser. Down was the definite trend.
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| Picturesque and tranquil. I ignored it and staggered on |
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| Now this really is my destination and still quite a way down |
As I made my way painfully downward the scenery gradually changed, swapping dry bushland for more water intensive riverside appropriate greenery. I took these as signs I was getting close, when I saw my first fern there were tears in my eyes. Finally and with very little fanfare I had to stop traveling down due to the imminent danger of drowning. One of the reasons not many people live in Berowra Waters is because very little of it is flat enough to build on. Not wanting to get my feet wet I turned left along the track which became a road. I was officially back in civilisation and what was more civilisation with a broad picturesque creek on one side of it.
I passed a father and son (or possibly predator and victim, it's difficult to tell these days) who were staring at the creek. Upon noticing me the adult informed me that there was a stingray in the water. He added, I suspect for the benefit of his son that it was "resting". I'm pretty sure that was a euphemism so that the father didn't have to have an awkward aquatic based version of the "cycle of life" story with a kid who looked about eight years old. The stingray was resting in shallow water and I took photos which surprised me by turning out rather well.
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| Definitely resting |
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| Past the weary stingray |
After ten minutes walking down the road the presence of a path leading inexorably upwards told me that it was time to leave the valley and return to the world above. There are no photos of this part of the walk. I had already done nine or ten kilometres over quite rough terrain and every ounce of my reserves would be needed to drag myself back up the escarpment I had just struggled to come down. It was brutal and without the walking poles I doubt if I would have managed it. The sun was now hot and I gasped and took every excuse I could to pause for breath and water. Once I got over what I thought was the worst I discovered that there was quite a bit more of not necessarily the worst but perhaps not suited for a family picnic to go. Largely the only thing keeping me going was the fact that I didn't actually have any choice. Having plunged into the bush I would damn well have to plunge back out again.
In total it took me six and a half hours to cover fourteen kilometres which means a speed of just over 2 kilometres an hour. I stumbled out at Berowra in a state of utter exhaustion (but with my knees in pleasingly good shape) and flopped down on to a train seat. I didn't particularly care where the train went.
As it turned out the train went to Lindfield where I got off and caught an uber to friends, who live inconveniently at Queenscliff, for dinner.
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