Travelling Pathetically - Olympic Park Again

After several weeks of inactivity which can only partially be ascribed to sheer laziness I decided to get out of the flat before my leg muscles atrophied completely. I decided on what I thought was a gentle walk around some of the parklands around the Sydney Olympic Park area. I had been there before tramping through or, more accurately, over mangroves and a bird sanctuary. Now I would fill in some of the gaps wandering through what was almost certainly inaccurately described as a forest and some wetlands.

I waited until the weather was uncomfortably hot and set out for the city. My journey would start at the Olympic Park ferry wharf which meant getting a ferry which in turn meant making my way to Barangaroo so that I could hop on a boat which would deposit me at said wharf. I intended to walk from the wharf along what the map assured me was a walking path along the Parramatta River. Once Silverwater Road blocked my path I would turn left ploughing through various suburbs until I encountered the second part of the walk, up along Haslam's Creek towards my starting point. Actually walking through Silverwater and Newington was also part of the walk but not a very pleasant or picturesque part of it so let us never mention it again.

I stepped off the ferry light of heart and sweaty of body (it was very hot) and immediately encountered my first problem. The path that the map assured me existed was a construction site. I trudged down the road peering at my phone looking for some pathway that might skirt this monument to industry and get me roughly to where I had hoped to be. Eventually I found it and plunged into the bush.

Well not really, the bush was on either side of the road, much of it fenced off as if there was a danger of it leaping out and attacking people. The road itself was a narrow little thing announcing itself as a path for walkers and bicyclists. I sometimes think that planners just assume that everything that isn't a car can cheerfully and safely occupy the same space. Fortunately bicyclists were few and far between although I did have to flatten myself against the fence as a car, in defiance of the signage, made its way through. Eventually I came to a sign proudly announcing the presence of all sorts of birds in the area along with helpful photos just in case one mugs you and you have to describe it to the police. Pride of place was given to a rather handsome little thing with red markings called the red browed finch. I walked on a dozen paces and suddenly there they were, chirping and fluttering. I stared in disbelief, never had a sign made good on its promise so quickly. I actually went back to the sign to confirm what I was looking at. Definitely red browed finches. I spent the next ten minutes trying and completely failing to take photos of the flighty little bastards and eventually slunk on shoulders sagging with defeat.

Somewhere in there is a red browed finch. Don't bother looking, I couldn't find it either

 

This narrow road did eventually deliver me to the river walk and I strolled along with the Parramatta River on one side and carefully fenced off nature on the other. This fencing gave me a foretaste of what was to come. Most of the bushland was fenced off as the authorities were trying to encourage it to get a little more enthusiastic about its job. In the meantime human footprints were deemed an inconvenience. Still the walk was pleasant, the path was another of those pedestrian/cycle paths which seem designed in the hopes that these two inconvenient groups of people will kill each other if forced into close proximity. Dotted along the sides were seats and benches carefully located as far from any shade as possible presumably in the hopes that any survivors of the preceding carnage would die of sunstroke when they stopped for a rest.

 

Walking along the river. On the left you can just see the fence protecting the bushland from rampaging pedestrians

Have I mentioned how hot it was? It was very hot. The fact that I was walking on asphalt didn't help matters. Still the river glistened, wading birds (mainly ibis) waded and on my left the fence finally turned left leaving the remaining trees exposed to the wilful hands of passing humanity. Fortunately there wasn't much passing humanity although in a very technical sense I qualify.

The path culminated is a series of parks including another fenced off hill. The fencing this time was for the excellent reason that this was where they had dumped the toxic soil from the sites previous incarnation as an oil cracking plant. An attached sign told anyone who cared that bacteria were in the process of breaking down the filthy soil in a completely harmless and ecologically friendly way but until they were finished it was probably wiser not to touch.

Having come to the end of my stroll along the river I headed inland through the charming suburbs of Silverwater and Newington. Not for the first time I was amazed at the difference in temperature provided by a few trees and some grass. Through the concrete and tarmac suburbs the heat was insanely oppressive and by the time I stumbled into the second part of my advertised walk I was an exhausted, panting mess. Now however there was a creek, there was a path through something roughly approximating bushland (never mind the homes a few metres away, pretend they're not there) and I could actually reach out and touch the trees.

Haslam's Creek is one of those waterways that we decided to straighten and line with brick, possibly because we thought it looked neater on a map. Several decades later having learnt that curvy unbricked creeks are more helpful to the local environment we unstraightened and debricked at least parts of it. Now it curves and oozes and the remaining bricks give something for waterbirds to sit on. And waterbirds there were. In fact one small park along the creek had been so overrun with ibis that I don't recommend leaving small children there unattended. I took a quick photo and hurried on, avoiding eye contact. 

I've never really felt threatened by ibis before but I didn't linger here

I was getting into the swing of this walking thing now that I had trees around me and a creek in proximity. Somewhat less aggressive birds disported themselves on the creek's rather murky waters and I paused to make a atttempt at taking a photo of a dragonfly. Failing in that I took a photo of the creek instead which had the advantage that it was sufficiently large that I couldn't miss it.

How terribly quaint and idyllic

The journey through the suburbs had taken its toll and I was struggling somewhat despite the rather scanty number of kilometres under my belt. I sank down to rest on a bench that had inexplicably been placed in a shady spot with a good view of the creek. I kicked back for fifteen minutes or so while fish hurled themselves out of the water for my amusement. At least the fish hurled themselves out of the water and I was amused. I take no shame in implying causation between those two events.

Eventually I dragged myself onwards, took a wrong turn, crossed a road and found myself looking across the water at Qudos Arena. Deciding this was a sign I caught an uber home.