Geez, can’t wait to get back to the mountains for a climb. The virus has kept me away for a couple of weeks, but another week to go and we are going to have a go at climbing “Tom Thumb”…
Hey, check out the countdown to New Zealand – 29 days to go. Hell, talk about getting excited!
And remember, if all else fails, remain out of control and see what develops…
Brother-in-law, and fellow adventurer, Ray Tong, and I decided to save the train fare and walk.
The walk commences in Sydney’s Central Business District and the first couple of days are spent walking through the inner and outer northern suburbs of Sydney, mostly along bush tracks, before arriving at the Hawkesbury River.
There are two ways to get to the other side of the Hawkesbury. One is via a ferry to Patonga, and the second on a train. We elected to take the train, and its departure marked our moment of truth as we stood there, back-packs loaded with twenty kilograms of gear and water, another seven days ahead of us.
The half-way point of the walk was marked at the small locality of Yarramalong nestled in the Central Coast hinterland. And similar to previous this day it had its fair share of hills, gullies, and at times, open forestry trails.
We were greeted to the sleepy township by a scarecrow at almost every house, part of the area’s welcome to spring celebrations.
I’d venture to suggest that had we stood still many would have been forgiven for mistaking this couple of weary and dishevelled walkers as just another pair of scarecrows.
As we turned in for the night Ray suggested the next day was going to be a real slog and that we should get an early start. But when the alarm clock went off a two-thirty something in the morning I was left to ponder, half comatose, just how far this days walk was going to be if we had to rise so early.
It turns out the alarm clock in the next room, which was unoccupied, had been set for this time, and Ray was still blissfully asleep as I lay there listening to the mind-numbing sound for two hours leaving me an hour’s sleep before needing to rise and get underway on the day’s walk..
The walk took us along a quiet country road to Cedar Brush track head, the point from which we would launch our assault, and long climb, into the Watagan Mountains.
After six full days on the walk you would think the hills would come just a little easier, especially as our fitness levels were increasing each day. Our walk to Barraba Trig threw a number of hills and gullies at us, but it saved the best till last. This was an hour and half’s walk up the side of a hill that got steeper with every step we took.
The Watagan Mountains is a beautiful place with many walking tracks and fire trails to be explored.
The view from our campsite was magnificent and took in parts of the Hunter Valley wine growing region.
The next day was spent wandering in quiet contemplation along shaded fire trails before arriving at Heaton’s Lookout, and a wonderful panorama of the hinterland through to the ocean.
From here we could even see our destination, a mere forty-five kilometres away.
However, before we could wind down for the day and relax at the cabins located at Heaton’s Gap we had to negotiate our way down a steep power line track. The bottom of the hill would signify a couple of things though, a refreshing shower, and importantly, we would be rid of some of the gear out of our back-packs as we were to be joined by Janet, my partner, and our son TomO that evening.
In fact, we even had a visit from friends Michael and Emma, to see how we were going. The term ambulance chasing did come to mind briefly after all this was day eight. Michael had actually walked the same trek some months earlier and was well aware of how we might just be feeling right now, and the night quickly passed though with good company, ample food and plenty of good humour…
However, there is a downside to most things, and over dinner Michael casually mentioned that with the sign suggesting it was only forty-one kilometres to the Brewery Pub at Newcastle, yes the walk finishes at a pub, that we should give consideration to knocking it off tomorrow instead of over the planned two days.
There was an awkward, but silent moment, as Ray and I caught glances, and Michael with a hint of a wry smile on the corner of his mouth recognised the bombshell he had just dropped.
I thought, that confirms my thinking, and Ray had a look of disbelief and no doubt was hoping that I hadn’t actually heard what Michael had said.
But the penny had dropped!
The next day we were greeted to a lovely sunny spring day and with a hug and a kiss from Janet and TomO we headed off on what was to be our last day on the walk.
Oddly, there was no discussion of Michael’s suggestion; I didn’t want to raise it too early, and Ray surely didn’t want to remind me of what Michael had said. But like an irritating blister on the heel of your foot I raised it with Ray just as we walked into what was supposed to be our night’s rest spot at Warner’s Bay.
There was an animated discussion at that point.
But to his credit, Ray, a Kiwi, pushed through the pain of his blisters, egged on by my promise that I would have us sitting at the Brewery Pub downing a pint of lager as the sun set over Newcastle harbour.
Michael joined us at Burwood Beach and walked the final six kilometre’s to the centre of Newcastle where Janet, TomO, and Leah we waiting for us, with a pint of beer…
And remember, if all else fails, just Like The Landy on Facebook, remain out of control and see what develops…
And remember, if all else fails, just Like The Landy on Facebook, remain out of control and see what develops…
Okay, yes, it is true, my boss does occasionally read this, so I like to toss him a bone every now and then!
Anyway, today, TomO managed to get through his first date emotionally unscarred, Janet read the Sunday papers on the couch with a hot cup of tea and Milo the wonder dog kept her company…
And long before they surfaced to see if the sun had risen today, I was on my way to the Blue Mountains for a day of abseiling and climbing. It was a fantastic day abseiling from Boar’s Head, and then climbing back out. It is quite a remarkable rock-formation situated not too far from downtown Katoomba.
I have been trying too do as much rope handling, abseiling, and climbing as I can ahead of the ascent of Mount Aspiring, in New Zealand’s Southern Alps this coming January.
The Blue Mountains is a fantastic playground, with something for everyone, and if you love adventure you could get yourself lost there for a thousand life times!
Crikey, I was just looking at some of today’s piccies and thinking, strewth Baz, you can’t even tie your own shoelaces and you’re hanging off the side of a cliff, with a rope you tied a knot in!
Clearly, I’m having better success with rope climbing knots, thankfully!
And what a change that is to only one week ago when I was climbing in the Southern Alps of New Zealand’s south island. It was freezing cold at Pioneer Hut, even the thought of extracting yourself from a warm down-sleeping bag took some effort, and food was basic camp food.
Not that I’m complaining about that mind you, after all there is something very comforting about camp food, a warming tea, sweetened with sugar, before heading out onto the glacier.
My week of instruction under the guidance of Dean Staples, one of New Zealand’s most accomplished high altitude climbers was fantastic. And with eight Everest summits to his credit it puts him in a very elite club, so I count myself very lucky to be able to tap into his knowledge.
After a gear check at Adventure Consultant’s Wanaka headquarters, the nerve centre for its climbing operations that span the seven continents, Dean and I headed for Foxtown on the west coast, a drive of around 3 hours that takes you over the top of New Zealand’s dividing range.
It was a great opportunity for me to hear about the climbing that Dean has done around the world. It also enabled me to discuss my climbing ambitions and what I was looking to achieve during the week ahead.
We spoke of Cho Oyu and Mount Everest in a way that there is no reason why either won’t be possible for me to achieve. Ambition, mental drive, fitness, and climbing skills can be achieved by those who desire it badly enough.
It is all up to the individual!
Originally we had planned to fly into Pioneer Hut by helicopter on the Saturday afternoon, but low cloud in the valley meant this would not be possible, so we stayed in one of the Alpine Association’s huts at Foxtown, or Fox, as it is known to the locals.
The Fox Glacier is the town’s drawcard and there are numerous helicopter companies offering flights over the glacier, which is situated very nearby.
We managed to fly into Pioneer Hut on the Sunday morning, along with Caroline from Adventure Consultants, who was taking a few days off from work to ski in the backcountry with her friend, Aviette.
The 15 minute helicopter ride straight up the glacier was spectacular, in fact it is hard to find the right adjective to best describe it, so I’ll leave it at spectacular!
I had to take a couple of deep breathes to take it all in as I stood there watching the helicopter depart, apart from the air being a little thinner, the scenery was simply breathtaking. We wasted little time and headed out for some time on the snow, to give Dean a chance to assess where my skill levels stood in terms of glacier travel, cramponing, and ice-climbing. We did a little of all these things, including climbing a small peak, before heading back to the hut in the freezing cold and deteriorating weather.
It was a great opportunity for me to test out some of my new gear and those thousand dollar boots…
It all worked perfectly and those boots were as warm as a piece of freshly popped toast!
The following day was snowing and visibility was severely limited so we spent the day doing some skill-based training in the hut. Dean literally had me hanging from the rafters, prussiking and doing self-rescues.
The rest of the day was spent in the warmth of my sleeping bag!
But we were rewarded with great weather on the Tuesday and with snow shoes strapped on we headed towards Grey’s Peak. Now I must say judging distances across the snow is perhaps a learned thing as it didn’t look that far away, but it still took a number of hours to get to the summit, and travel slowed as we made our way across the glacier.
Dean had to slow my pace from time to time as I was trying to push it too hard. He was quick to point out that good mountaineering means travelling at a pace that you can go all day and the higher you go the harder it becomes, adjust your pace was his catch-cry, advice well heeded!
The hut was quite full on Tuesday night with a couple of other groups flying in and swelling the number to nine. But the atmosphere was fantastic as we had our evening meal, before settling into those warm down-sleeping bags for the night.
I would have loved to stay another night, but as I was leaving for Fiji in a couple of days I could not afford to be “snowed in” at the hut. And the weather looked like it was deteriorating once again.
Note to self, next time you climb in New Zealand’s Alps do it just before heading back to work, that way you can happily be snowed in, on the boss’s time!
Wednesday morning we made our way down the glacier towards Chancellor Hut, a distance of about 8-kilometres, although distance is better measured in time. Travel was slow initially as the snow was deeper and the slope made travel in snowshoes too difficult, especially with some ice in parts.
And how was that view!
We stopped on the glacier against the backdrop of Chancellor Dome. We were debating whether to climb it, which would take around 3-4 hours up and down, or find a suitable crevasse to do some ice climbing and rescue training.
We decided on ice climbing and rescue training, eventually finding the perfect spot for it. I’m glad we elected to as it was a lot of fun. It did wonders for my confidence and helped build on my skill base.
Closer to Chancellor Hut travel became slower as the snow was much softer by now with the temperature rising as we descended in altitude. And despite still being near sub zero temperatures, travel across the glacier was hot and hard work, especially with a 25-kilogram pack on my back!
It was a wise move to choose to leave Pioneer Hut on the Wednesday as the cloud base was sitting not too far above Chancellor Hut on the Thursday morning, and around 8am we could hear the thump-thump sound of the helicopter making its way up the glacier towards us. Loading the helicopter with our gear probably took longer than the ride back down to Fox.
By mid-afternoon we had arrived back in Wanaka and after saying our good-byes I was on my way to Queenstown and an early Friday morning flight back to Australia.
And as I cleared customs, Janet and TomO were waiting eagerly, glad I had a great time, and wanting to know all the details…
It was a great week and one in which I can anchor my climbing ambitions to.
The feeling of standing on top of Grey’s Peak, a small peak by any standard, was one of great satisfaction and something that will remain with me forever, no matter where my climbing takes me…
And the Blue Mountains is a great adventure playground. The area is an internationally recognised World Heritage Area where you can bush walk, mountain bike, abseil, climb and canyon in any number of spectacular locations.
As part of my mountaineering training I want to do plenty of multi-pitch abseiling to ensure I can do it quickly, safely, and with a high level of proficiency.
Our choice was Malatia Wall, which is not too far from the main street of Katoomba and close to the scenic railway, a very popular tourist destination.
The plan was to abseil into the Jamison Valley and walk back out via the Furber Stairs, a short, but very spectacular bush-walk which starts at the base of the scenic railway.
The descent is around 230 metres in total requiring five abseils on two 60-metre ropes. On average each abseil was around 40-50 metres. On the first pitch I just had to stop on the wall and take in the view over the Jamison Valley and The Three Sisters. In the valley below cockatoos and lorikeets flew amongst the tall standing trees.
I marveled at the view as I hung in my harness.
And if everything goes to plan I’ll be back up in the mountains next weekend to multi-pitch off of Boar’s Head, with a climb back out…
Each day I paddled the coastline on my surf ski, a sit-on-top kayak measuring around 6 metres in length. At the time there were no other craft like mine in this area, if not the country, and it always caught the interest of the villagers’. It was sleek and glided effortlessly through the water…
There was much to explore and the local villages I passed were always friendly and welcoming.
The tropical waters of the Papuan Coast are full of marine life, large stingrays, and majestic turtles, some of the most colourful reef fish you will ever see and of course sharks of many varieties.
I’m pleased to be able to say that the most common sharks I encountered where the black tip reef sharks which are mostly harmless if left alone. And I was often told they are well fed… Just on what and how often seemingly was an unanswered question.
Of course, the tropical waters are also home to the more menacing and much larger tiger shark.
From a hill top vantage point near Port Moresby, the capital city, I once observed the largest tiger shark I have ever seen.
It was following a pod of dolphins heading towards Local Island, which is situated about 3-kilometres offshore from the local beach, Ela beach.
We lived within a stone’s throw of this beach and it was a paddle I did regularly and after this encounter I was left wondering how many times I may have been stalked as I crossed to the island.
Papua New Guinea is also home to the saltwater crocodile, or Puk-Puk as it is known in the local language. I was always alert for the possibility of one of these creatures being present in the waterways I paddled. Realistically, I’m not sure what I would have done if I encountered one, and it is unlikely there would ever have been any forewarning before encountering the “death roll”.
The sight of local villagers’ fishing in the water from the shore was always a comforting sign, as they are also alert for the Puk-Puk’s presence. And normally there are telltale signs they may be present.
Recently, a friend and I were discussing paddling in Papua New Guinea and an encounter I did have with one of these creatures.
It was in the mountains about 40 kilometres from Port Moresby at a place not to far from the start of the Kokoda Trail, a place immortalised in Australian Military history.
I had decided to take my kayak into the mountains for a paddle down one of the rivers just for a change to the coastal paddling I was more accustomed to. During a two-hour paddle I was rewarded with magnificent scenery and a couple of friendly villages along the way.
I had Janet drop me off and I was to meet her at the Kokoda Trail Motel, a small pub, after negotiating my way along the river. I was a little nervous at first and any bump underneath the kayak left me wondering if these were to be my final moments before the jaws of one of these pre-historic creatures crushed the kayak, or worse!
There was an element of excitement about it…
As I made my way with the flow of the river I was observing the muddy banks for any telltale signs of a slide. Places where a crocodile may have slipped into the water from its resting point.
Crikey, in an instant my heart skipped a beat…
There was no doubting what I saw heading my way.
Isn’t it funny how sometimes every thing around you can go into slow motion?
Strewth, this was a moment suspended in time.
Was it to be my one and only encounter with a crocodile?
The final scorecard reading, Puk-Puk, one; Baz, nil…
I’m pleased to say it wasn’t…
Upon sighting my arrival on the banks of the river beside the motel, Janet ordered me a Puk-Puk steak for lunch and it was heading my way, suitably seasoned, and on a plate…
And to this day, the sight of Janet always makes my heart skip a beat!
I had many more visits to the mountains where I enjoyed a paddle, a Puk-Puk steak, and a couple of ice-cold beers with Janet…
And if you have never tried Puk-Puk, do yourself a favour, it is delicious; just make sure it is on a plate…
Strewth, we’ve had our fair share of them over the years, but we are lucky to have great neighbours all around us these days!
But I’ll share a yarn about one neighbour that we had not so long ago.
We were out touring in Far North-Queensland, FNQ (pronounced ef-fen-Q), up in the Gulf Savannah Country where Janet, my partner, has her roots. Mott’s are still grazing sheep and cattle in that region to this day, and for me, growing up in Townsville, this region was my backyard.
Over the past few years we have made the 7,000 kilometre round-trip to one of our most favourite spots in the Australian bush, Lawn Hill Gorge.
Now let me tell you, this is one heck of a beautiful spot that we first visited back in the 1990s. It was literally a flying visit in an aircraft we owned, a Piper Arrow, call sign Foxtrot-Tango-Hotel. This was before the little tacka, TomO came along, and we flew it extensively over the Australian outback before selling it some years back.
These days we enjoy the drive north through the outback in The Landy just as much as we did flying over it.
The Aussie Outback, it’s a great place to just stand still and take it all in, a place where the barren land and ochre red soil meets the deep blue of the never-ending sky…
Anyway…
Last year when we were up there we had no problem securing a great spot beside the creek, which surprised us as there were a few others around at Adel’s Grove, a small tourist resort that caters for travellers just nearby to the main gorge.
It was our neighbour, a magnificent Olive Python that measured about 5 metres in length. A beautiful specimen it was. Apparently, only known to eat small children…
Just kiddin’…
It had taken up residence just on the bank where we had set up camp. These are not an aggressive snake, despite their size, and not venomous. And we have our fair share of those venomous ones.
Crikey, we’ve got a bagful of the world’s most deadly snakes, and none of those “rattling” things that they have elsewhere, just hard-core mean and downright dangerous ones!
Okay, fair’s fair, the North American rattle snake does make it into the top ten…I don’t want to turn this into a “mine’s bigger than your’s thing”…
Most passing by our camp were totally oblivious to it being there, many who saw it thought they were about to be eaten alive, others were curious at a seemingly chance encounter with something so wonderful.
Late in the day, as the sun drifted low into the western horizon and shadows started to cast long, it would move on, returning first thing the next morning to take up its position once again.
Ps. For those who might be wondering, Janet loved it, she was the photographer. Um, I must’ve been busy with something…
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