Travelling Tentatively

 I haven't been doing much walking lately since the steroid injection wore off and my weekends have involved trotting (or sometimes limping) down to my friendly local physiotherapist for treatment but yesterday she looked up from something she was doing to my leg and announced that I could try walking.  As long as the walk wasn't very far and didn't involve too much in the way of elevation change.

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

She smiled reassuringly, "Let's find out."

With that slightly less than ringing endorsement of my knee's capabilities I cast about for a shortish, flattish walk that wouldn't be entirely boring.  I chanced upon Tarban Creek which flows or at least trickles into the Parramatta River at Huntley's Point just a little to the west of the scene of previous walking triumphs around Hunters Hill and the Lane Cove River.  This would be a far more modest affair, a mere few kilometres of not too much in the way of effort.

Huntleys Point juts out into the Parramatta River almost severed from the remainder of human civilisation by Victoria Road which leaps across the river courtesy of Gladesville Bridge and lands in Huntleys Point amid a flurry of concrete pylons and access roads and promptly engages in a union with Burns Bay Road so explicit it should carry a children's advisory warning.  All of this makes it difficult to access the actual suburb unless you arrive by ferry.  I arrived by ferry and circumnavigated my way around nice houses and looming concrete until I arrived at Huntleys Point Reserve which is basically a bit of mown grass fronting the creek.  Further up is Riverglade Reserve which has more mown grass but also bits of well not wilderness exactly but at least places where the natural bushland hasn't been completely beaten to death.

First I had to get there.  Hopping off at what a sign proclaimed, in defiance of evidence to the contrary, was the Huntleys Point Public Transport Interchange I set out on my journey.  Incidentally the Huntleys Point Public Transport Interchange consists of the ferry wharf and a bus stop about five hundred metres up the road.

A narrow path through the wilderness which extended about fifty metres either side of this path

A park clung to the side of the slope leading down to the water and I followed it along passing a very small beach and then hugging the bridge and associated roadworks which served as escort on the early stage of my journey. 

A very small beach

 

Some straggly looking trees had been planted and a sign proudly announced that a local group was in the process of renaturing those bits of the ground not actually covered in concrete to help create a "green corridor" between the Lane Cove and Parramatta Rivers.  After a few minutes of tree fringed bridge buttresses the road veered left and I turned right in a generally creekward direction.

A green corridor, the sign says so

I came to a broad open area with a sign announcing that dogs were allowed off leash as long as they didn't maul small children very often.  It also begged the owners of the suddenly emancipated hounds to make sure they didn't crap in the creek which was lurking at one side of the parkAs a beginning to a bushwalk it was somewhat underwhelming.  I made my way to the creek which on the park side had a stone wall separating it from the land (just in case it leapt out and attempted to drown those pesky dogs) but on the other side had mangroves.  I'm just going to go onto the record here, mangroves must be some of the most visually unappealing scenery nature has to offer.  Depending on the tide you're either looking at what appear to be drowned trees or infected mud.  I had come at infected mud time.

I'm walking along the bit that is mowed

Once the excitement value of photographing mangroves was exhausted (estimated time about fifteen seconds) I continued on hoping that my side of the creek would eventually become a little more like its compatriot across the way.  Having waded my way through freedom crazed canines I left Huntleys Point Reserve behind me and immediately entered Riverglade Reserve.  A sign announced the change in jurisdiction otherwise I might not have noticed.

I suppose the least you can say about Riverglade Reserve is that it tries, it really does.  While most of it is an extension of the boring mowed lawn that made Huntley Point Reserve a delight to take dogs and small children in Riverglade there are patches of wetland and where the creek flows a genuine attempt has been made not to kill every plant over two inches in height.  They are also incredibly excited about the existence (at least theoretical) of wildlife that apparently frolic in this untouched wilderness.  There is a sign every ten metres giving you the latest turtle updates and facts on where you can see the turtles (nowhere) what types of turtle there are (none) and how to identify the beloved native turtles from the malevolent invasive species turtle.

Given the limited amount of creek space available you might have expected turtles to be stacked six deep along the waterway.  You would be disappointed.  You could examine flattish rocks.  A sign announced that flattish rocks like these were favoured by turtles for basking in the sun.  The evidence seemed to contradict this.  Signs told me how to identify turtles in the creek, where to look for them on land and then went completely mad and noted that they could be found in the creek, on rocks basking, nesting and sometimes wandering across the road.  It would appear that Riverglade is a hive of turtle activity or, considering that two of the four activities mentioned involved basking and nesting a hive of turtle inactivity.  What I didn't see was any turtles.  I'm embarrassed to say I did go looking.

In contrast to the manic profusion of signs about apparently invisible turtle population a mere solitary sign said something along the lines of, "oh yeah, there are flying foxes too."  I looked up to see if I could see them and realised I was in the middle of something that looked like the opening credits of Scooby Doo.

Flying foxes

They're an endangered species apparently

I have to admit I'm a bit of a sucker for bats and the sight of scads of them hanging out in trees, making a hell of a racket and swooping in that cool leathery way quite made up for the ongoing absence of turtles.  Yet another sign proudly announced that Tarban Creek was a free flowing stream as opposed to having been reduced to a wretched storm water drain that is usually the fate of creeks flowing into Parramatta River.  This statement is true for a given definition of true.  Between the partially walled entrance to the river and a sadly typical storm water drain there are several hundred metres of free flowing creek.  It is here that the turtles hang out (allegedly) and the flying foxes congregate (definitely).  It would be more accurate to say we did turn Tarban Creek into a storm water drain but didn't do a particularly good job of it.

For a few brief moments I was able to enjoy a stream trickling through bushland with notional turtles swimming free and flying foxes swooping overhead.  I even saw a great candidate for the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus.

Not a bad entrant if I say so myself

And another a bit further along.

But after that the creek vanished under a road and remerged channeled through concrete.  I walked along it until I ran out of path but my heart wasn't really in it so when I did run out of path I turned around and walked back.

I've got to admit you can imagine turtles lurking here

As walks go it was less than spectacular although the flying foxes were worth the price of admission.  It also has to be admitted that my knee wasn't crazy about even five kilometres over largely level ground.  Still I managed it without collapsing to the ground writhing in agony and because my standards are disturbingly low I'm going to call that a success.