Saturday, June 7, 2025

Travelling Pathetically - Trail Plod

 Those of my readers with a retentive memory will no doubt recall that in May last year I subjected my aging and not particularly healthy body to the UTMB trail run in the Blue Mountains.  Of course if any of my readers had a retentive memory it is unlikely that they would still be readers unless they also have a penchant for masochism.  I did this run (or in my case agonised stagger) with a couple of friends and as May rolled around this year they were keen to do it again.  Despite recollections of the previous year they invited me to accompany them (that's the masochism bit coming out).  Since that time however I have learnt of the parlous state of the cartilage in my knees and was less keen on road testing my body to destruction.  I agreed to join them in the Blue Mountains but while they hurled their (much fitter) bodies at breakneck speeds over twenty two kilometres of terrain carefully selected for its pain infliction qualities I would take a much more modest walk in splendid isolation.  We were staying in Leura and being spectacularly lazy even when I'm exercising I selected a walk that started as close to our accommodation as possible.  The walk I chose was a twelve kilometre stroll from Leura railway station to Wentworth Falls railway station taking in some visually pleasing parts of the Blue Mountains along the way.  Incidentally the walk was only supposed to be ten kilometres but I wandered off the track a few times.

The weather over the previous week had been notable for rain and the day dawned with clouds, mist and occasional drizzle.  Deciding it was on to a good thing the day decided to stick with this weather for the next several hours.  At much earlier than I was comfortable with my friends hurled me from a car in the general vicinity of Leura railway station and headed off to perform feats of athletic magnificence while I coughed and stumbled through the misty streets. 

And I did have to stumble through the streets.  Even in the Blue Mountains the bushland doesn't come right up to the station.  I had to navigate my way through much of Leura before I came to the end of the, I want to say suburb but the inhabitants would probably prefer "village", wankers.  Once I left the, sigh, village the mist came into its own.  Until now it had just been an irritation as I tried to read street signs, now it became an atmospheric accompaniment to the bushland that lurked charmingly vaguely behind its protective coils.

There is bushland behind and occasionally in front of the mist

I descended into the misty, fern strewn wilderness.  Visibility was good enough to see where I was going (insofar as I do that anyway) but poor enough to make every turned corner a surprise.  Around me the sound of water trickling was a constant background.  The rain of the previous few days had encouraged every wannabe creek and rivulet in the vicinity to put on a display of cascading water.  What with the moisture in the air and the occasional rain it would be difficult to get more surrounded by water without actually drowning.  Incidentally most of the photos will be blurry, I'm going to blame the mist and I'd appreciate it if you did too.

As evidence of the previous statement

 Sheer delight overtook me as I cautiously made my way through the dripping, misty forest.  The mist and the dampness, the constant sound of water and the absence of other people made me feel alone in a mysterious wonderland.  I strode cautiously forward, and downward, literally reveling in the dripping ferns and the unfocussed bushland around me.  If you're into sightseeing I guess it would be annoying as all of the wonders of nature were obscured or invisible but I loved it.  The only tiny fly in the ointment was the "downward" nature of my travel.  This strongly implied there would be an "upward" part at some point in the future.

There's a waterfall in there somewhere

 
And this is what the water was falling into

Given that my journey was downward and given I was surrounded by water essentially making the same journey it was only to be expected that I would eventually come to a creek which was the immediate destination of all this extraneous liquid.

Blurry waterfall picture
 

Now creek adjacent I continued along through the mist shrouded forest.  Sorry to keep going on about the mist incidentally but there really wasn't much else to see and anything you did see was sort of poking out of the mist.

You see what I mean?

Of course given the prevailing moisture levels the local fungi thought all of their Christmases had come at once and candidates for the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus were plentiful and richly qualified.  Unfortunately as a photographer I'm less richly qualified as the series of blurred fungus photos on my camera attest.  Since I was taking these photos at a range of about two feet I can't decently blame the mist for the quality and have to fall back on sheer incompetence.  I realise that isn't an excuse but it is most certainly an explanation.

A rare semi adequate fungus shot

Repetition bores some people.  For me it entirely depends on what is being repeated.  As I walked on I encountered everything I've already mentioned.  Ferns, check.  Waterfalls, check.  Creek, check.  Fungus, check.  I greeted each one as though I had never seen an example of their kind before.  My expressions of delight at each (technically) new sight never wavered.

Waterfall  

A somewhat more professional waterfall

 
Ferns plus creek 

Semi competent fungus photo

And a waterfall one more time

It felt like I was alone in the wilderness but while technically this was true it was also true that the "wilderness" was skirting the very edge of the inhabited part of the Blue Mountains.  The true wilderness was further in and further down and I would not be venturing there largely because I can get lost in my apartment.  I plodded on molesting fungi and photographing mist and as I plodded the ground wound inexorably upwards.  Having teased me with creeks and waterfalls the walk had decided it was time I put in a little effort in return for the photographic bounty that had been laid out before me.  

I do not, in my wildest dreams, pretend that I am fit.  I do claim that walking is something that I can usually do without issue.  This claim is immediately put to the test the moment there is the slightest hint of verticality in the path I'm following.  I panted up what in retrospect were gentle rises with frequent pauses that I told myself were to take advantage of photo opportunities and not at all because I needed the black spots to stop swimming in front of my eyes.  It did enable me to take some spectacular mist shots.

There is probably scenery behind the mist

As I gasped and scrambled every tiny diversion was an excuse to grab for my camera and, most importantly, stop moving.  Here the fungus really came to my aid, springing from the ground (and trees) in such ridiculous profusion that this blog entry could really be nothing more than a series of fungus photos (to the extent it isn't already).

Every fungus was a life saver and the photos are marks of gratitude

 
Of course it helps that they were terribly photogenic

 Somewhat to my surprise I stumbled out of the bush and onto a street.  The path I was following dipped in to pay a quick visit to civilisation before heading back to the bush.  I had come up in the vicinity of Fairmont resort and their golfcourse backed onto the bush.  It was cold, the rain was drizzling and the mist still hung thick in the air.  Despite this there were people playing golf.  I shook my head at their stupidity and hurried past eager to plunge back into sodden, mist filled, fungus infested bush.  As I reentered the trail a sign warned me that snakes abounded in the area I was about to soil with my clumsy feet.  I wasn't worried, in keeping with my usual experiences if an area was proclaimed to be full of a certain type of animal it was absolutely certain that I wouldn't see it.  Given the amount of rain we had had the snakes were no doubt getting plumbers to drain their holes and trying to get their clothes dry. Certainly snakes were just one of a wide variety of animals I didn't see.

What I did see was more fungus and more mist wreathed trees.  The tourist authorities should promote these things.  Since people are going to see them anyway the authorities might as well pretend its deliberate.

fungus

mist wreathed trees, now you're up to date

As I headed into the next leg of my walk it was obvious that we were getting to a more heavily trafficked part of the bush.  Other trails intersected with mine and helpful signs directed the walker to spots of interest that they wouldn't be able to see because of the mist.  Of course now that there was more than one trail to follow I amused myself by following the wrong one until the trail app on my phone finally demanded to know what I was doing and guided me back onto what, after a certain amount of experimentation, turned out to be the right path.

The path now took me past handsome lookouts where one could gaze across the valley in awe and marvel at the beauties of nature.  I was so struck by the sight that I took a photograph.

Supposedly this lookout gives you a great view of the valley

Finally the bush evicted me onto the back streets of Wentworth Falls and I trudged wearily along the streets until I got to the station where I officially finished my walk and took the train back to my starting point.  The weather had cleared somewhat and for the first time today I saw a bird.  I took a photo of it as I sat on the station.

It looks like it belongs on a soup can

Full of a sense of achievement I made my way back to our rented accommodation to wait for my friends.  They, freed from my encumbering presence, managed to run twenty two kilometres in about the same time as it took me to walk twelve.  This didn't cheapen my sense of achievement at all but only because my standards are so low.

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