September 2024: Blue Mountains, NSW

The Grand Cliff Top Walk

For outdoor enthusiasts and nature lovers, the Blue Mountains offer a treasure trove of hikes, enough to keep anyone occupied for years. From easy strolls to adrenaline-pumping extremes, this region offers endless exploration. Yet, despite all this variety, I’d only scratched the surface. That was until the news of the Grand Cliff Top Walk popped up in my social media feed, igniting my curiosity and sparking the idea for a hiking weekend with friends.

Opened in early 2024, the Grand Cliff Top Walk is not entirely new but a combination of pre-existing tracks that have been stitched together into one seamless trail. Although it’s promoted as a two-day experience (perhaps to encourage overnight stays), the 20-kilometer route can easily be conquered in a single day—at least, that was our plan!

Our adventure began early in the day at Wentworth Falls. Following the distinct black cockatoo emblem on the wayfinding signs, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves on the edge of a towering precipice, gazing down into the breathtaking Jamison Valley. The vastness of the view is humbling, a sheer drop of ancient sandstone cliffs leading to a sea of green treetops stretching to the horizon.

While the Grand Cliff Top Walk strives to be a unified track, it’s still a work in progress. Some sections are closed due to recent flood damage, and parts of the trail require detours onto nearby roads. Even the cockatoo symbols that guide the way seem to lose their sense of direction at times, with confusing or poorly marked sections testing our navigational skills. But for hikers, these challenges are part of the fun.

Sometimes it is the detail that makes hiking special with the native flora and fauna putting on a show.

The trail isn’t only about sweeping views of the Blue Mountains. In several parts, it descends into lush, rainforest-clad gullies, with waterfalls both near and far to admire. We were treated to the sights of Wentworth Falls, Gordon Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, Katoomba Falls, Empress Falls, and the ever-serene Leura Cascades—each one offering a moment of tranquil beauty amidst the rugged bushland.

Although much of the hike allows you to immerse yourself in the beauty of the Australian bush, the proximity to suburbia is never too far away. Emerging from stretches of dry sclerophyll forest, we would sometimes hear the unmistakable sound of “Fore!” as we passed by the Fairmont Resort and the Leura Golf Course. These reminders of civilization are even more pronounced as the hike ends, transitioning from tranquil bushland to the throng of tourists snapping selfies at the Three Sisters lookout. The paved viewing platform, large enough to land a jumbo jet, is a stark contrast to the quiet solitude we experienced earlier on the trail.

Despite a few closed sections and the occasional suburban reminder, the Grand Cliff Top Walk was a great way to spend time with friends. And it also allowed us an excuse to relax and enjoy some heard earned drinks at the end of the day.

June 2024: Bali, Part 3

While it could be easy to spend the next three days between the pool and cocktails, this was not the reason we chose to come to Nusa Penida.

As I descended into the blue depths, my heart pounds with a mix of excitement and nerves. This isn’t just any dive—this is my first dive in almost 20 years. As I manage to equalize and settle into a steady breathing rhythm, a dark shadow looms in the distance. Mesmerised, the extra air bubbles floating to the surface provide a clear indication of my increasing breaths.

As the shadow draws nearer, it transforms from what appears to be a rubberised jet fighter plane into an organic form, resembling a bird flying underwater. Finally, the full majesty of the manta ray comes into view. It glides directly towards me, requiring a slight duck of the head as it passes above. I can see every detail—the intricate patterns on its belly and the serene, almost wise expression in its eyes. Time seems to stand still as we share this moment.

 

When we first set out to go to Bali, snorkeling with manta rays was always a priority on the agenda. However, I hadn’t considered using this opportunity to refresh a long-lost hobby: diving. With some prompting by Kathy, I did a refresher course in the pool the day before to prepare me for today’s unbelievable experience.

Sitting on the edge of the boat moored at Manta Bay, the heavy weight of diving gear adds to my nerves about getting back underwater. However, the tension disappears in seconds as I watch the calming giants of the sea glide into the cleaning station, allowing the next manta to arrive.

Reluctantly, we leave the mantas behind and move on to another dive site where I plunge myself among thousands of fish and coral. Like riding a bike, the muscle memory of diving returns, however I barely manage to emulate the graceful turtle floating from coral to coral in search of food.

Another day, another adventure. Extracting ourselves from the water, we set off to explore a couple of the well-known coastal beaches Nusa Penida is famous for. Our first stop is Angel’s Billabong, a rock pool not unlike many you would encounter along the NSW coastline. The difference here is the hordes of tourists standing around the edge, with a few brave souls venturing into the pool, waiting for the rogue wave to wash them out to sea.

 

Not far from the rock pool lies Broken Beach, a picturesque cove eroded out of the cliff face with a single archway allowing water to flow in and out from the ocean. However, all I can muster is a feeling that it’s a lesser version of the stunning coastline in Victoria, Australia.

As you can tell, I am probably at odds with the hundreds of blog posts that gush about how amazing these places are. It’s a reminder of how fortunate we are in Australia to have such majestic coastal scenes that are unrivalled in the world. While Nusa Penida offers its own unique charm and beauty, it also underscores the sheer magnificence of the coastal landscapes back home.

20 years ago, little more than locals or the intrepid traveller was aware of the golden sands below a shear horseshoe cliff line, adjacent azure blue waters. Now, because of the photogenic nature of the beach, Kelingking Beach has become another ‘insta’ landmark loved to death.

Arriving at Kelingking Beach, it is as though the crowds have magically materialised from nowhere. The parking lot is bigger than that of Bunnings Warehouse.  Reaching the cliff edge, visitors clamber for that perfect shot (that everyone else already has), jostling for an uninterrupted view. Women dressed in large floppy hats and flowing ballgown dresses, more suited to a nightclub, pose while photographers climb trees and perch on makeshift timber ladders, straining for ‘that shot.’ The surrounding area is part construction site, part tourist trap, obliterating what was once a pristine coastline.

I recently read that the ongoing construction aims to build a glass cliffside elevator down to the beach. I fear that the continued demand for social media posts and the need to build infrastructure so people don’t have to ‘walk’, will ultimately destroy the natural beauty that draws visitors in the first place.

As I quickly capture some images, I can’t shake the feeling that I am no different from the other tourists contributing to this decline. We retreat swiftly, hoping to find some sites more untouched by the ravages of popularity.

While the last week has been filled with stunning beaches, iconic Instagram spots, and vibrant marine life, the true essence of Bali lies not in its famous landmarks but in the rich tapestry of daily life. From the heartwarming welcomes of its people to the smiling faces of the children, the simplicity of local stalls, and the roadside warungs selling street food, it’s hard not to be captivated by the array of colors, scents, and sounds.

Walking through a local village, you’ll notice the narrow streets clearly designed for scooters, the main mode of transport. On these scooters, you’ll see all manner of items being carried—from multiple family members to a bathtub—proving that nothing is too large or unwieldy. The constant friendly hoot of the scooter horn warns the numerous dogs that roam the streets to keep clear. Behind the row of ramshackle stalls, the land opens up to fields of vegetables, with chickens and pigs searching for any food scraps of value.

Bali’s spirituality is also deeply woven into its daily life. The island is dotted with temples, each with its own significance and rituals. Every house has a colorful shrine, with the sweet smell of incense always filling the air. On every corner you come across ‘Canang sari’, intricate daily offerings crafted by the Balinese people as a symbol of gratitude and respect to the Gods. These beautiful woven bamboo baskets hold a vibrant array of rice, flowers, incense, sweets, fruits and spices.

While Bali’s scenic beauty and famous attractions are undoubtedly alluring, it’s the everyday life of its locals that have left a lasting impression on me.

As the sun drops below the horizon on the last day of our trip, I am grateful that we chose to avoid the well-trodden paths of Kuta, Sanur, and Nusa Dua. Instead, we ventured further afield to discover the true heart of Bali.

June 2024: Bali, Part 2

While we could have spent all week snorkeling at Amed, it was decided we should venture out and dedicate a day to discovering new landscapes and experiences beyond the enchanting waters of this seaside gem.

Driving through the interior one defining feature is the green terraced fields against the backdrop of towering palm trees, creating a checker-board pattern in the landscape. As farmers tend to their crops and the cows quietly graze, it is hard not to reflect on the madness and noise and of City life back home. It’s a reminder that amidst the rush and chaos of city living, places like this exist, where time seems to stand still, and nature takes its own leisurely course.

Searching Amed on Instagram, it is not long before you come across hundreds of photos of the gates of Lempuyang Temple, perfectly framing Mount Agung in the background. The white painted split gates, known as the “gates of heaven” date back to the 13th and 14th century. But like many beautiful places, they have become ‘insta’ honey pots as people flock to capture the same image as thousands have before them, involving someone striking all manner of poses between the gates.  

 You may have heard the stories: queues of over three hours, high entrance fees and mandatory shuttles to get there.  And yes, it is all true. Even the pictures you see of what looks like a reflective pool in front of the temple is not reality. Instead, one of the temple workers sits in front with a mirror and will take pictures for you with what looks like the perfect reflection.

Despite what appears to be an important religious space turning into a theme park, is it worth it?  Definitely, Yes.  In a surprising twist, the day was foggy obscuring any views of Mount Agung.  But this brought its own unique atmosphere where repetitive insta photos was replaced with a more tranquil place in keeping with the most sacred place of worship in Bali.

Ujung Water Palace is a former King’s palace, now a serene garden (although the serenity was broken by some locals doing very bad Karaoke). Its name means "Garden at the End" or "Garden at the Edge". Built in the 1920’s, it was almost entirely destroyed by the eruption of Mount Agung in 1963, later rebuilt in 1998. We spend the next hour wandering around the gardens and explore the buildings that seemingly float on the ponds, their distinct Dutch colonial white façade, reflecting off the water.

Our next stop is Tirta Gangga, a royal water palace and Hindu Temple devoted to the Dewa Tirta (the god of water).  Built in 1948, but destroyed almost entirely by the eruption of nearby Mount Agung in 1963 (seems to be a reoccuring theme). It has been rebuilt comprising lush gardens, intricate stone carvings, and an arrangement of tiered pools. Translating to “Water of the Ganges”, luckily it is cleaner than the Ganges, being fed by natural springs.

We join the hordes of both tourists and locals alike, hopping across the stone steps in the pond, with hundreds colourful koi fish looking up pleading to be fed. There is a legend that rats living in the surrounding area were once transformed into golden fish which now inhab the sacred pools.  If only this was possible in the Ganges.

Not being a coffee drinker, the idea of visiting a coffee plantation was not high on my highlight list of things to do.  Even less so, finding out that it is coffee that has been retrieved from the poo of a Luwak. This shy creature has a love of eating the fruit from coffee plants.  The beans pass through its digestive tract and, like a coffee percolator, out comes coffee (well, almost). This has been given some mythical power which supposedly result in a smoother flavour creating the rarest coffee (read this as most expensive) in the world. While the tour of the plantation was fascinating, and the tasting plate of numerous types of flavoured tea and coffee was ok, I think I will stick to my drinks without poo.

Later, I found a study that reported more than 80% of all coffee sold as Kopi Luwak today is fake. So that expensive coffee we drank was likely to be just a warm cup of placebo.

While the day exploring the east of Bali and the various temples and tourist stops was fascinating, it is the simple things that captivate me more. Among all the wonderful experiences, none is as pure as the simple innocent pleasure of watching children play.

Nusa Penida

While we could have spent our entire week in Amed, the adventurous spirit in us meant it was time to explore another part of this paradise.  So, jumping on a boat we take a short ferry ride to Nusa Penida for 3 nights.  This undeveloped island is not famous for its night clubs (there are not any) but the ability to swim with the Manta Rays (more on that later).

Settling into our hotel, I soon realised I could get very used to a day that looks something like this:

  • wake up and step out of the room directly into the pool for a quick refreshing swim

  • jump out of the pool and walk the 5 steps over to the outdoor restaurant for a breakfast fit for a king

  • Step off onto the sand and directly into the ocean to snorkel amongst the tropical corals and fish

  • Return to the restaurant for Nasi-goreng with its fragrant kecap manis sauce, loaded with chicken, shredded omelette and chilli

  • Alternate between pool and beach

  • Complete the evening with dinner of juicy skewers of Indonesian chicken satay

  • watch the sun go down with a pina-colada cocktail (or two) in hand - two for one is very dangerous

  • Start over again the next day.

Part 3 HERE

June 2024: Bali, Part 1

For years, our close-knit circle of friends had dreamt of celebrating our collective milestone—turning 55—with an unforgettable overseas adventure. After sifting through several travel options, we decided on Bali, not for its famed nightlife or bustling party scene, but for the promise of adventure and tranquility.

Determined to avoid the chaos of Kuta, we set our sights on Amed, a hidden gem on Bali's northern coast. Here, far from the madding crowds, we sought a different kind of excitement—a journey into Bali's serene and unique landscapes.

The journey to Amed, a village on the eastern coast of Bali, began with the hum of anticipation. Leaving the bustling streets of Denpasar behind, we wind our way through the mountains, the landscape transformed into a picturesque blend of emerald rice terraces, towering volcanoes, and rustic villages. The winding road to Amed offers glimpses of Bali's beauty that many Australians do not experience, a stark contrast to the island's more commercialized areas.

As we near Amed, the peaks of Mt Batur and Mt Agung stand proud looking out over the vast expanse of the Bali Sea. The first sight of the coastline is mesmerizing—black volcanic sands meet turquoise waters, and traditional jukung fishing boats dot the shoreline. This idyllic village, famous for its snorkling and laid-back atmosphere, promises to be an escape from the daily life back home.

Our accommodation, a charming villa nestled in lush gardens just metres from the beach, provided a perfect vantage point to base ourselves for 4 nights. Lazing by our private pool it was difficult to pull ourselves from spending the whole time here.

However adventure awaits. So rising at 1AM in the morning we make our way east to tackle the climb up Mt Batur (Gunung Batur).

After a somewhat harrowing drive in the dark twisting our way ever higher into the mountain, we eventually leave the car and revert to more simple transport on foot. Hiking up in complete darkness, with the exception of a flashlight to illuminate the few metres in front, it is hard to tell how high we have come.

The walk is enough to get the breathing heavy and make your muscles ache, but just before it becomes uncomfortable we reach the top. As dawn breaks, the sky turns from ink black dotted in stars, to pastel blues and pinks before streaks of orange fill the sky as the sun breaks the horizon. Sitting drinking a hot chocolate and warm bannana sanwiches (kindly made by our guide) we witness a breathtaking panorama —the island bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun, the imposing Mt Agur in the foreground, and the distant monutains of Lombok visible across the sea. Below, the reflections of the village lights on the lake a sign of the day just begining.

Fun Fact: Mount Batur is an active volcano, with the most recent eruption occurring in 2000. It features a caldera formed by a collapsed top, creating Lake Batur. Our climb took us up the 700-meter-tall stratovolcano, which is part of the larger caldera's rim rising above the lake's surface.

Bali's monkeys are an integral part of the island's charm, particularly the long-tailed macaques.  These mischievous creatures will swipe anything from sunglasses to a snack from any unsuspecting tourist.

It is not just the heights of mountains that provided us the opportunity for adventure, but the opportunity to explore the depths of the underwater world. We spend several days snorkling the clear, warm waters of Jemeluk Bay and Lipah Beach. Here we immerse ourselves in a kaleidoscope of colors from the corals and fish. Clownfish darting in and out of anemones, parrotfish nibbling at the coral, and even a sea turtle gliding gracefully by.

Jemeluk Bay is known for its incredible coral reef and unique underwater temple. Additionally, we explored the sunken Japanese shipwreck located just a short distance from the beach, providing a fascinating snorkeling experience.

While the golden sands of Australian beaches may be unrivaled, the black volcanic shores of Amed Beach in Bali hold a unique allure. Along this striking coastline, traditional jukung fishing boats rest, waiting for nightfall to venture out in search of mackerel and other catches. In an era where fiberglass boats dominate, these timeless timber vessels evoke a sense of nostalgia and cultural pride. The history of outrigger canoes spans thousands of years, and though construction methods have evolved, the deep connection to tradition remains evident. Each jukung is a work of art, adorned with colorful sails and personalized names, reflecting the craftsmanship and heritage of their owners.

While our days are full of adventure, our nights unfold in a comforting ritual of togetherness. Each evening, we gather to watch the sun set, sipping cocktails as the sky transforms into a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks. Sitting watching the sun dip below the horizon I am reminded of the true purpose of our journey—to savour these moments with our closest friends. As we share stories, laughter flowing out over the bay I feel a profound sense of gratitude for the incredible bond we share. These sunsets become more than just a beautiful view; they are a testament to the joy of friendship and the simple pleasure of being in each other's company.

See Part 2 here

MAY 2024: TJORITJA, NORTHERN TERRITORY. PART 2

6 DAYS HIKING THE LARAPINTA

DAY 4: Section 12 – Climbing ’Rwet Yepme’ - Mount Sondar

Along with my heavy breathing, the footfall of my boots is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows to the circular light cast by my head torch on the feet of the guide ahead of me. Beyond her, a dense void of darkness swallows everything in its embrace.  Trusting her instincts, she navigates along the narrow track only occasionally losing the path. I am sure if I was guiding, I would have led our party off the edge or into the endless wilderness never to be found again.  Glancing back, I see a line of small headlights bobbing like fireflies in a conga line, marking the trail of fellow adventurers ascending the mountain. As the hours pass, climbing in the dark becomes a meditative process only broken by the thrill of anticipation for what lies ahead.

I’ve never attempted to walk through the night to a mountain summit, but that is today’s adventure. Mount Sonder is located at the western end of the Larapinta Trail and is usually the end of the 12-day trek.  Known to the Arrernte people as ’Rwet Yepme’ - The Pregnant Lady – it is the fourth-highest peak in Australia’s Northern Territory at 1379 metres high. While it may not be high in comparison to European or Asian mountains, the views are equally spectacular.

The 16km-return hike to the top of Mt Sonder could be done as a day walk but there is a tradition to see the sun rise from the summit. With the brain doing some quick calculations it takes a while to compute what time we actually have to get up in the morning.

The day, or should I say night, began with a 1.30AM wakeup call with the music of Men at Works “Land Down Under’ filling the night air.  Through half closed eyes and a “head full of zombies”, I manage to get dressed with nothing inside-out.  Stumbling out of the swag the body has no idea why I am eating breakfast at 2AM in the morning so we bundle ourselves in the van for the drive to the beginning of the hike.

As we climb higher the still night air is replaced with a growing breeze.  Mt Sonder seems to have its own weather system, and as we get higher the winds begin to blow stronger.  It is not long before regular gusts are enough to drive you sideways threatening to blow you off the shear cliff that lies somewhere in the darkness.

Spending most of my life in the City the concept of darkness is misleading.  We are forever surrounded by lights, even if it is only the glow of light pollution.  Out hear, you get a true sense of the meaning of the words ‘Pitch Black’. However, after another hour of walking, the black inkiness sky is slowly replaced with a bright parallel line of colour on the horizon just as we reach the pinnacle.

While the cold winds continue to buffet us, the emerging pink of the light rippling on the clouds warms the mind. Then, the golden orb, first peaking above the horizon, bursts over the mountains spreading golden rays across the valley below.

While the sunrise is spectacular, it is the first shafts of light that illuminate the adjacent range, the valleys appearing like the backbone of an animal, that keeps me mesmerised.  Bathed in sunlight the rocks are transformed into dizzying shades of red and ochre. As the sun rises further, it casts a shadow of Mt Sonda across the valley.  The scale is almost too much to take in with 360-degree views of breathtaking scenery. In front, lies the seemingly endless landscape in its great vastness.

Having got drunk on the beauty, it is time to head back down the mountain.  In the early morning light, the rugged unspoilt terrain continues to keep me inebriated. It is only the steep cliffs that I didn’t see on my climb up that sobers the mind.

Returning to camp, we are all full of chatter on our achievement having conquered our fears and experiencing a view only few are willing to attempt. Opting for another bath in natures water hole, we return to Ormiston Gorge for another refreshing ice bath.

With the adrenalin long subsiding, and the early start catching up, what better excuse to return to the swag for a late afternoon nap. Along with my shallow breathing, the distant chatter of the Red-Tailed Black cockatoos is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows and my eyelids close disapearing into a dense void of darkness swallowing everything in its embrace.

DAY 5: Section 10 – Finke river to Ormiston Pound

A huge canvas awning stretches from one Ghost Gum to another, its organic curves evoking the charm of a Bedouin tent, offering a haven for desert wanderers. Beneath it lies a rustic kitchen, crafted from natural timbers and adorned with an eclectic mix of furniture, creating a space that feels both inviting and homey.

On any other day, this awning would shield us from the unrelenting desert sun. Today, however, it serves a different purpose. The MacDonnell Ranges, typically an arid expanse where life has adapted to survive in harsh conditions, has come alive. Every now and then, liquid gold falls from the sky, breathing life into this parched land.

When our guide, Violet, mentioned the possibility of rain the day before, I had dismissed it with the skepticism of someone accustomed to the rare and elusive showers of this region. Yet, not wanting to tempt fate, I opted for the shelter of a tent over the swag. This proved to be a wise decision, as I awoke to the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on the canvas.

Gathering at our communal kitchen, the group debates our plan for the day. Option 1: don our rain jackets and brave the trail. Option 2: wait a few hours and hope the rain passes. With our legs still aching from yesterday's hike, the idea of a leisurely morning is irresistible. We decide to relax, read, and play cards, letting the soothing sound of rain serenade us.

But the call of the trail is strong. Despite the drizzle, we eventually don our raincoats and set out for section 10 to Ormiston Pound. This section, kinder and gentler, winds and twists over rolling hills, crosses Davenport Creek and the mighty Finke River, now alive with the gift of rain.

Starting at Mt Sonar Lookout, we soon find ourselves tracking along the Finke River, past towering River Red Gums. Crossing to the other bank without wading through cold water, we carefully hop from one rock to another, thoughtfully placed by hikers before us.

Hiking in the rain might seem unappealing to some, but here, it adds a magical dimension. Small channels, normally dry, come alive with the gurgle of flowing water. Dry riverbeds transform into streams. While the blue sky is replaced with grey sky the colours of the landscape become more vivid.  The rain-saturated colors of the desert bloom painting the landscape in vibrant hues, with wildflowers bursting forth in pastel purples and pinks, like an intricate Aboriginal dot painting. There are over 760 species of flora to be found along the trail and the rains have brought a profusion of Mulla Mulla, Sturts Desert Rose, Paper Daisy, Desert Fuschia, Curry Wattle and Bush tomatoes. Some of the hills could be mistaken for a planted suburban rockery.

We navigate our way to Hilltop Lookout, with panoramic views of the Heavitree Range and Mount Sonar. Descending towards George Creek, the hillsides are blanketed with various types of spinifex. Some are knee-high and vivid green, others a bluish hue with long seed heads swaying in the breeze. These plants, used by Aboriginal people for their resin, appear soft and inviting from a distance. Up close, they reveal their true nature—each blade a slender spike, ready to pierce skin more easily than a doctors needle.

The rain not only brings colour and growth but also stirs the local wildlife. Although we didn’t spot the rare night parrots, flocks of budgerigars flit from tree to tree, revelling in the showers. The landscape feels alive, every drop of rain a blessing in this arid land.

Being one of the shortest sections, we soon reach the familiar embrace of Ormiston Pound. Despite the intermittent rain, which discourages a dip in the Gorge, we return to camp and our Bedouin tent. We sit under its protective canvas, grateful for the rare opportunity to experience the Larapinta Trail in its rain-soaked splendor. The rain has not just sustained life here—it has rejuvenated our spirits, making us feel more alive and connected to this ancient, vibrant land.

DAY 6: Ellery Creek Big Hole and Standley Chasm

Sitting atop Brinkley’s Bluff, gazing out over the expansive vastness of Hugh Gorge, I found myself pondering a question that had drifted in my mind throughout the past six days: is it the destination I seek, or the journey to reach it?

At home, time unfolds with the jarring beep of an electronic alarm and moves through a hazy transition of traffic, meetings, emails, social media, cooking, before collapsing into bed, the brain and body exhausted and beat.  In a world where time seems rush faster than a freight train, hiking offers a rare sanctuary – a chance to slow down, to savour each step, and to calm the mind.

Earlier today we bid farewell to our canvas home, packing up camp for the last time.  While one of us decided 7.30am was a good time for a celebratory beer, I opted to save our drinks for a more fitting moment later tonight.

Our journey back to Alice Springs commenced with a brief stop at Ellery Creek Big Hole—a pristine waterhole framed by sheer quartzite cliffs, sculpted over millennia by the relentless flow of floods.

If it was not for the need to return to work (and the family) we could have spent a full day enjoying this natural oasis. Reluctantly, we move on to our last stop - Standley Chasm, known to the Western Arrernte people as Angkerle Atwatye, translating to "Gap of Water."

While most tourists disembark from buses and stroll the flat 200 meters into the gorge before returning, we chose one final challenging hike—a steep ascent that would have rivaled any gym's stair-master.

 

Climbing out of the gorge and reaching the top of the bluff I find a rock to sit and ponder. 

Over the last 6 days the relentless city noise has been replaced with the chorus of bird songs, the madness of the streets traded with solitude, the bombardment of technology exchanged with uninterrupted 360 degree views. Each morning not only brought fresh challenges, but also a rejuvenation of the spirit. Each day was not only measured in kilometres but in moments of connection – connection with nature, with Aborigional culture, with country, with friends, with one-self.

 

 The last week has been a bucket-list of experiences: we pushed our lungs to limit; treked under night skies; braved winds that threatened to topple us from lofty peaks, experienced the outback's rare rainfall, marvelled at the grandeur of gorges, indulged in meals that rivalled any fine restaurant, slept under a blanket of stars in a simple swag, and gathered around crackling campfires sharing tales and laughter. Yet, what made it truly extraordinary was embarking on this adventure with cherished friends.

 

As I sit here, overlooking the vastness that stretches before me, it becomes clear: it is not merely the destination that beckons, but the transformative journey itself—a journey none more enriching than that along the Larapinta Trail.

 

May 2024: Tjoritja, Northern Territory. PART 1

6 Days hiking the Larapinta

DAY 1: Simpson Gap and Ormiston Pound

With my feet dangling over the edge of the rocky outcrop, I gaze at my boots, lightly dusted with the red sand that clings to their edges. I ponder whether I have walked enough to break them in for the hikes ahead. Beyond my feet, the vast natural amphitheater of Ormiston Pound stretches into the distance, enclosed by a spectacular ring of rust-red quartzite mountains, mirroring the hue of the sand on my boots. It is here that i sit at the beginning of a 10 km loop that gently rises to one of the Pound’s lookouts. It also marks the start of our adventure along the Larapinta Trail.

The Larapinta Trail is an epic trek of about 230km that winds its way through the west MacDonnell Ranges. But for us, we won’t be tackling the full 230km, rather a more manageable 70km over 6 days. While part of me has the desire to do this hike solo carrying everything I need on my back, the reason I am here is a motivating friend, Gabe, who invited me to join her on this shortened version. The upside is that the trip delivers the best parts of the trail’s conversation-stopping panoramic vistas and deep cool water filled gorges with only the need for a day pack. While less ambitious, this does not mean it was easy with enough elevation to get the heart pumping and the legs burning.

Our journey began earlier in the day when our guides picked us up from Alice Springs for a short 20-minute drive to Simpson Gap. As we leave Alice, the ever-present 4G bars on my mobile phone disappear, not to be seen until the end of the trip. While I miss my family, I don’t miss the constant pings of messages and emails or the habit of scrolling through meaningless social media. I am happy to be in a place where I feel at peace in the vastness of the Australian outback, reception-free and disconnected.

Arriving at Simpson Gap, we meander up to the shaded waterhole that the Arrernte people believe is the mythological home of a group of giant perentie (goanna) ancestors.  Looking at the distinctive rock formation, dry sandy riverbed and white ghost gums, it’s as though I have been transported into an Albert Namatjira painting.

Standing in the dry riverbed, we pass sand through our hands as we share stories of why we are here, reminiscent of the storytelling traditions of Aboriginal people through the generations. Gabe, the motivator, managed to convince six friends to join her on this trip. While she may not have contributed much else to the process, we wouldn’t be standing here connecting to country if not for her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to convince Kathy to join, but luckily a replacement, conveniently named Cathy, made up our party of eight.

This is not my first trip to the West MacDonald Ranges, having spent a week travelling here as part of a longer 4WD trip through the centre and up to Darwin.  Bu it would be the first time immersing myself fully in a multi-day hike along the range.

Having shared our stories, it was back in the van and off to commence our first real hike of the trip around Ormiston Pound. Dropping down from the ridge lookout, we continue through the flat center, finding a rhythm as boots connect with the earth. It is not long before the shade of a large tree next to a waterhole signals lunch.

With bellies full, we continue into the pound occasionally stopping to breath in the vastness of the landscape.  As the cliff walls converge, we mimic the flow of water, hiking along the riverbed. The last time I did this walk, it ended with a refreshing (read: freezing) chest-deep water crossing. I was somewhat disappointed (not really) that due to recent floods that had shifted the sand bars, we were able to cross with barely wet shoes. If Day 1 is a taste of things to come, I am certain by the end of the trip, we will be overflowing with awe.

With a sense of acheivement already, we head off to what will be our base camp for the rest of the trip. It isn’t long before we are settled in, and the guides busy themselves preparing dinner. We, on the other hand, sit around the crackling fire, watching it like a primal television as we dine on hors d'oeuvres and wine.

At this moment, I appreciate Gabe’s choice of hike, where freeze-dried concoctions are replaced with gastronomic feasts of kangaroo, wild-caught barramundi, lamb cutlets, various vegetables and salads, followed by dessert. This is hiking in luxury. Thanks, Gabe, for being the motivator. I take it all back.

DAY 2: Heavitree Range and Count Point

As dawn's first light gently penetrates my eyelids, it takes a moment for my mind to remember where I am. Unlike the jarring blare of an electronic alarm clock, sleeping in a swag out in the open tunes you to nature’s own clock where the sun rouses you from your slumber.  This is accompanied by the melodious chorus of zebra finches and grey-headed honeyeaters, serenading me into consciousness. Nestled on the edge of a dry riverbed, the soft sand beneath my swag rivals the comfort of any luxury hotel bed. Only the occasional buzz of a mosquito during the night serves as a reminder of my wild surroundings.

With an early start, we head towards Section 8 of the Larapinta Trail. While the full hike spans 12 sections, we only get to sample the menu, but what a taste it is. Section 8, through the Heavitree Range and Count Point, is undoubtedly the chef’s special.

Our morning begins with a short yet steep climb up the Heavitree Range, navigating through a landscape dotted with desert fuchsias and brittle-branched cypress trees. The West MacDonnell Range unfolds before us in three parallel ridges: the Pacoota, the Heavitree, and the Chewings. Flying into Alice Springs, these ranges appeared flat and featureless from above, but the reality is far from it. As I huff and puff my way up the incline, my admiration grows for the trail runners who, only a week prior, braved the "West Macs Monster," a grueling 231 km non-stop race (the 2023 record was 39 hours, 56 minutes, 26 sec!). I find a momentary reprieve in the sight of a spinifex pigeon, its wispy crest mimicking the surrounding tufts of spinifex grass, basking in the gentle morning light.

Reaching the ridgeline, the track levels out, allowing us to marvel at the undulating granite ridges stretching endlessly east and west. Segments of the range are chaotically beautiful, ancient rock formations bending and buckling like molten rubber. Below us, the valley hums with life, the distinctive whistle of the Whistling Kites piercing the air as they glide on thermals, ever watchful for prey.

After several stops to drink in the breathtaking views, we drop our packs for a well-deserved rest and take a side trail up to Counts Point, standing at an elevation of about 1,000 meters. Describing this view is akin to describing a meal from a five-star restaurant: stunning, spellbinding, mesmerizing. Yet, even these superlatives fall short. The panorama from Counts Point is one of the most awe-inspiring on the entire Larapinta Trail. From here, three parallel ridges—the Pacoota to the left, the Heavitree directly ahead, and the Chewings to the right—stretch into the horizon, with the majestic Mt Sonder, our summit goal in a few days, standing sentinel in the distance. Counts Point earns its name from the sheer number of peaks visible on either side of the MacDonnell Ranges. While it’s tempting to stay and soak in the vista all day, the trail beckons us onward.

Despite the arid landscape, water’s ancient presence on the Larapinta Trail is undeniable. Descending from the range, we traverse slabs of ripple-marked rock, remnants of an ancient seabed now perched 1,000 meters above sea level and 1,300 km from the nearest ocean. These quartzite layers, formed 900 million years ago, predate even the earliest vertebrates.

As we continue, the landscape shifts dramatically. We move from a cooling forest of old hill mulga trees into a barren, rock-strewn expanse reminiscent of the Martian surface. These rocks, deposited haphazardly during floods, offer a stark contrast to the surrounding scenery. Eventually, we enter a gorge, climbing up to Serpentine Chalet Dam. Built in the 1960s in a failed attempt to create a tourist destination, the dam is a man-made intrusion in an otherwise pristine canyon.

While many Larapinta hikers would camp here for the night, we return to our base camp. Those on the overland trek often brave the dam's freezing waters for a wash, but we enjoy the luxury of a warm water rinse. With a bowl of hot water, I head to a small, thatched-screened area on a hill. There, a simple rock serves as a seat and a carved post holds my towel. Bathing naked under the open sky, with only the stars for company, is a primal and deeply satisfying experience.

Back in my swag, gazing up at the heavens of a million stars, occasionally streaked by a shooting star, I watch the moonrise until my eyes grow heavy. Exhausted and content, I drift off, ready to embrace another day in this magnificent wilderness.

DAY 3: Inarlanga Pass and the Orcha Pits

“Before the Dreamtime, there was nothing. The Earth was flat and lifeless; no stars glittered in the sky. The universe was dark and silent. The Ancestors lay sleeping, deep in the ground where they had passed the ages. But the Ancestors were restless; their long sleep was nearing its end. On the first morning of the world, they awoke, flexed their ancient limbs, and began calling the world into existence.

In the centre of the continent that would one day be called Australia, the Ancestors dreamed of a long chain of mountains stretching east-west across the red, level country of the desert. They dreamed of billabongs and rivers, ghost gums and animals. They filled the waters with creatures and the country with food. Then the people came and sang their songlines, which radiated out through the chasms and gaps to the distant corners of the land. And the Ancestors returned to their slumber.”

While the last two days have offered a visual feast, the Larapinta Trail’s allure extends beyond its natural wonders. This ancient path is rich with Australian history, echoing with timeless Dreaming tales and the sobering history of Indigenous subjugation that still reverberates today.

The Arrernte people have called this part of Central Australia home for tens of thousands of years. Their stories tell of the Caterpillar Dreaming that called their lands into being and it is these stories that are written into the landscape of the ranges and billabongs and cliffs of day 3.

The name "Larapinta" originates from the Western Arrernte language—Lhere-pirnte means "salty river," referring to the Finke River that carves through the outback. Today’s hike begins where we left off at Serpentine Chalet, continuing through part of Section 8 via Inarlanga Pass, and looping back via the Arrernte Walk. Departing the Chalet (don’t expect much—just a concrete footing remains), the track hugs the base of the Heavitree Range, its steep, rocky face a natural northern barrier. It is for this reason the rare gaps in the range have been, and continue to be, an important connecting point for any passage north-south.

One such gap is Inarlanga Pass, named after the elusive echidna. This narrow corridor was a vital route for local Indigenous tribes heading to ceremonies at Giles Spring, under Mt Giles. Only the men of the tribe were allowed through, as it marked the boundary between different tribal groups.

As we enter the pass, we pause to quietly seek permission, then proceed in solitude, allowing each person a moment of isolation. The silence gradually gives way to the soft trickle of water along the creek bed and the calls of Emu-wrens and Dusky Grasswrens flitting among the branches. Ghost gums sway gently in the cool breeze funnelling through the canyon, carrying with it the ancient Dreaming stories of the past.

Life seems more intense in the cool, protected creekline with hundreds of butterflies emerging from their pupa to fill the air. The sheer cliff faces rise either side, trees twisting skyward cling to its edge having somehow got a root hold in the smallest of cracks. Below the towering red rock prehistoric looking cycads, little changed since their ancestors 200 million years ago, line the creek. This rare endemic species has been isolated for millennia in refuges in the MacDonnell Ranges, it’s nearest relative located 1,400 kms away.

Like countless Aboriginal people before us, we eventually emerge on the other side of the range. Though not connecting with tribes or attending ceremonies, we recognise the profound significance of this narrow opening. We pause, feeling a deeper connection to the land and a more reflective understanding of humanity’s place in the timeline of this ancient landscape.

While the traditional owners have roamed these lands for over 60,000 years, it is but a blink in the eye of the 1.8 billion-year-old gneiss rocks. Over time, they have melted, crystalised, cooked and twisted with wind, water, fire and ice carving them like a wood turner sculpting and whittling away the rock over the eons.

Retracing our steps through the pass, we join the Arrernte Walk heading south with the Pacoota range in the distance. This gentle trail meanders through foothills, just above creek lines shaded by river gums. We eventually reach the Ochre Pits, another site of great cultural importance.

About 300 million years ago, dramatic mountain-building events heaved and rolled the earth thrusting the MacDonnell Ranges to heights rivalling the present day Himalayas. Horizontal sediment layers were upturned to near-vertical, exposing bands of yellow, white, orange, and red clay on cliff faces. The different coloured layers result from varying amounts of iron oxide, with higher iron creating red hues and lower iron yielding white, kaolin-rich clay. Aboriginal people mined these pigments for decoration and trade, exchanging them along ancient routes stretching from the north to south coasts of the continent.

After a day of trekking through the rugged beauty of the Trail, we return to our camp, weary but fulfilled. Instead of the customary warm birdy bath, we decide to embrace nature in its rawest form with a refreshing – and freezing – dip in Ormiston Gorge. As we wade into the icy waters, tired from the day's journey, our muscles experience their own version of an ice bath. The frigid water, the sharp intake of breath, the rush of blood – all heightened the sensation of being truly alive.

Surrounding us, the sheer cliffs of the gorge glow like embers in the late afternoon light, casting a warm, fiery hue over the water. The juxtaposition of the cold water and the warm light create a magical setting, making this natural bath a moment to remember.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows over the ancient geology, this fittingly marks the end of today’s adventure, reflecting on the profound and timeless Aboriginal stories etched into the landscape of the Larapinta Trail.

PART 2 to HERE

 

APRIL 2024: Oxley Wild Rivers National Park, NSW

A public holiday provided a great excuse to hitch up the camper trailer and head away for the long weekend. Our origional plan was to head south to the Snowy Mountains, however horse culling meant a large section of the park was closed for several months. So pulling out a map and closing the eyes, the finger landed north on a green patch we have never ventured.

Oxley Wild Rivers National Park is part of a World Heritage Area, with its Gondwana Rainforests, dramatic gorges, waterfalls, and wild and scenic rivers proving to be a lucky choice for us to explore and experience the beauty of the area.

Named after John Oxley, who explored this area in 1818, its wonders were well known long before this with the Dangaddi people living here for thousands of years prior.

While much of the 145 thousand hectare park is inaccesible wilderness, there are several campsites on its edges with easy access to the numerous waterfalls that are the star attraction of the Park.

Dangar Falls, McDirty’s Lookout, Mihi Falls via Mihi Track

Located 18km from Armidale, Dangars Gorge Campground is the start of several walks to explore the gorge.

McDirty’s Lookout is an out and back walk of approximately 6km from the campsite, following a well-formed trail. Not far into the hike, you are greeted by the breathtaking sight of Dangards Falls, plunging 120m into the vast abyss below. The trail then winds along the cliff edge, offering numerous stunning views of the gorge, including a detour to Rock Wallaby Lookout. Finally, the walk concludes at a scenic platform, providing a perfect vantage point to soak in the panoramic vistas.

Mihi Lookout heads south from the car park and is an 8km out and back track (although less if combined with the above walk). This heads into the eucalypt woodland replacing gorge views with lots of kangaroos and wallabies to keep you occupied.

Reaching Mihi Falls we were somewhat disapoined with the flow of water but the hike was still well worth it.

Dangar Falls (left) and mihi Falls (right).

The sheer sided walls of the Gorge are caused by the slate in this area which splits vertically. While it is easy to get vertigo looking into the depth of the gorge, the brain gets just as confused looking at the vertical cliff face questioning how the trees and vegetation manage to cling to its edge.

We chose to camp at Apsley Falls Campground - any yes it even had flushing toilets!!

Tia Falls

35km from Walcha it is not long before you turn off the highway taking a dirt track through farmland until you reach the National Park enterance for Tia Falls campground and picnic area. The landscape dramatically changes from green rolling grasslands to vertical shale cliffs dropping away to the river below.

Following along the western side of the gorge, the Tia Falls walk is only 2km out and back but gives multiple mouth opening views along the way.

Apsley Falls

This is the most accesible of the waterfalls, featuring a short loop track leading from the car park. The first of the lookouts is called McMillans Lookout named after a Walcha resident who built the original near vertical stairs that dropped down into the gorge. Back in 1902, Ted Baker, Jim McMillan, and "Wattie" Joiner undertook the arduous task of building a wooden stairwell that descended its way from the gorge's summit down to the water's edge. Every piece of timber utilized in this perilous endeavor was made by hand. The original stairway remained in use until 1932 when safety concerns led to its partial dismantling. From this vantage point, visitors are treated to a direct and unobstructed view of the majestic Upper Apsley Falls.

The Oxley Walk is a 4km out and back trail along a well maintained track. It crosses the Apsely River suspension footbridge and continues along the edge of the northern side of the gorge through cliff top woodlands of snow gums and New England stringybark. Multiple lookouts offer breathtaking views of the waterfalls and gorge.

Further around, the Lower Apsley Falls comes into view. It is hard to believe that despite the water already cascading 65 meters over the Upper Apsley Falls, it plummets a further 58 metres down the second falls.

ps: We couldnt resist sneaking off from camp to go and grab a couple of cold beverages from the local establishments.

April 2024: Palm Cove, Queensland

(apology up front - this was our wedding anniversary so i left the camera behind so the iphone had to do)

30 years of blistful marriage (i had to say that in case Kathy reads this) so what better excuse to head north for a few days to Palm Cove near Cairns, Queensland.

As a surprise I booked the ‘Reef House’, a small boutique resort right on the bay.

The first thing that greets you when you arrive is the 300 year old Melaleuca trees that shelter the colonial style building. With a laid back vibe, this white-washed, timber louvered, open air resort is luxury from the minute you step inside.    

The Original Reef House was built in 1958 by a Cairns bookmaker who lived there with his family.  In 1970 the house was opened as a restaurant with limited accommodation of three suites in the garden.  In 1972 the ‘Reef House’ reverted to a private residence hosting Prime Ministers and celebrities from around the world. Now an adults only retreat, it was named the number one hotel in Australia by TripAdvisor in 2024.

We had several days being pampered with daily canapes, wine tasting, relaxing by the opulent pool (or I should say pools) and amazing personal service. While it is not your classical 5 star hotel resort, it does not pretent to be. Rather it is like visiting your wealthy grandmother who is willing to do anything for you.

While you could easily spend days not leaving the resort, we chose to extract ourselves from the pool and make the most of the time here.

Stepping out of the front door, in only a few steps you are standing on white sand with the ocean lapping enticingly on its edge. However, unknowing tourists would not be aware that two deadly animals lurk in the waters. If the Irukandji jellyfish does not sting you then a wandering saltwater crocodile may (you have to love Australia!)

We chose a safer way to get in the water, on I should say on the water, heading out for a sunrise Kayak paddle.

Just off Palm Cove is a Resport that once hosted Hollywood actors Jennifer Aniston and Keanu Reeves. It now makes for a different scene that could be used as a backdrop for a Hollywood survivor episode.

The island was bought by a Hong Kong bases billionaire for $5.68 Million in 2012 but has been abandoned allowing nature to reconsume it.

The Queensland Government has made multiple threats to cancel the lease if it is not restored.

As we were with the guide we had permission to explore the resort with its swamp like swimming pool, gym with plants growing inside and rooms strewn with broken furniture.

While visiting this far north we could not miss the opportunity to spend the day out on the Great Barrier Reef.

March 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

For someone who spends most of the time exploring this great country in a camper trailer and 4WD, every now and again it is nice to go back to simpler times fitting everyything you need into what you can carry on your back.

Not wanting to bite off more than i could chew, we settled for a very simple overnight stay at Tallows Beach in Bouddi National Park requiring a very small walk in.

Moonrise over Tallow Beach

Tallow beach is a short 1km hike down hill from the locked gate with some stunning views of Tallow and Little Tallow beaches, down to Barrenjoey in the south.

The campground is small with only six sites available but nicely laid out on a large grass area behind the dune. As a result it is sheltered from the wind but close enough to be lulled off to sleep from the sound of the waves. There is only a pit toilet with no wood fires or water – so be prepared.

After a hearty dinner of chicken cacciatore - yes the freeze dried packet meals are not that bad - i spent the night watching the moon rise over Tallow beack with the lights of Sydney twinkling in the distance.

While the hike in to Tallow Beack is short, that does not mean there is a shortage of things to do. The near by Box Head Trail is a short 4km (from Tallow Beach) out and back hike. The treack meanders through the bush before opening out onto several rocky outcrops then follows the cliff line out to the point. From hear you get great views of Barrenjoey, Lion Island, Broken Bay and out across the ocean.

Heading back to Hawke Head Drive, the Flannel Flower bushwalking track runs between Tallow Beach and Lobster Beach.

While there were no flannel flowers when we walked, this was made up for with the towering angophoras with their limbs twisting in all directions like a 100 legged octopus. the track continues to meander along the ridge before reaching a lookout with expansive views over Broken Bay, Umina and Pearl beach. The track then passes through some private property and the back of houses before dropping down several hundred steps to the shore of Lobster Beach. While there is no car access, it is clearly popular with numerous boats lining the shore.

February 2024: Ganguddy-Dunns Swamp, NSW

While Dunns Swamp may not have the best name, i think it must keep the crowds away from this beautiful campsite in Wollemi National Park. Where else will you find sandy beaches, swimming amongst the ducks, hikes and views, aboriginal artwork, caves, a place to paddle and a great shady campsite (with facilities!), so close to Sydney. So with Kayak on board, we headed off for the weekend to get wet.

Little did we know we would get more than just wet while we were away!

Waking up to the sounds of black cockatoos, it’s not long before the kayaks are blown up and we are gliding on the mirror-like water. Heading upstream, swamp hens and pied cormorant look on from the shore wondering who was intruding on their breakfast. We travel as far as we can, the inflow slowly narrowing and winding through the marshes. As the kayak scrapes on the sandy bottom we turn and head back towards the weir. The lake was formed with the construction of Kandos Weir built to supply water to the Kandos cement factory back in the 1920s.

Downstream the marsh edges are replaced with towering sandstone gorges, having been sculpted by wind, rain and erosion over time. From our kayaks we hug the edge exploring the ledges and crevices, with one rock appearing to be suspended overhead.

With a brief summer shower cooling us down it provided a glimpse of what was to later come that night.

Camping is summer has some great benefits. It’s hot enough to swim and you don’t need to pack lots of warm clothes. However, one thing you forget about is the possibility of a summer storm rolling in. And this is exactly what happened on this trip.

Much like the big bad wolf, it puffed and puffed and blew the house down - well our friends tent actually. Over 30 minutes we had lightening, hail, drenching rain and howling winds. Then, as quick as it came, it disappeared leaving one very flooded campsite.

Luckily for us the camper trailer remained upright with no damage.

Day 2 we woke to a beautiful morning, so the kayak was replaced with walking shoes for an easy hike up to Pagoda Lookout then on to the Weir.

Following the meandering path along the lake shore we disturb a lyrebird which quickly disappears into the undergrowth. IT is not long before we reach the base of the impressive rock pagodas. From here it’s a short but steep climb to the top of the rocks themselves which requires a little bit of rock climbing at the end. These unique rocks remind me of beehives with their dome shaped formations. Reaching the top, we are greeted with stunning 360-degree views over the river and valleys. It is from this vantage point that you can appreciate the way the Cudgegong River cuts through the landscape.

Heading back down (always harder than the climb) we turn back on to the main track towards the weir.  The track heads slowly climbs up through the bush, some well-placed stairs and climbing rails making life easier. Continuing along the track after the weir we reach the Long Cave.  While it is really just a long rock overhang, it is still impressive.  From here the track loops back the way we came.

With the weekend coming to an end dark storm clouds begin to brew on the horizon.  Not wanting to get caught in another gale, we quickly pack for home, the end of another lovely camp.

Luxury - indoor swiming pool!

Its wetter inside the tent than outside….

February 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

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