The back roads to Oberon – through beautiful forest roads. A visit to the National Park office to check on road condition and water availability. It’ll be a challenging day tomorrow.
The forest on Bastard Point Road
Today I saw some deer – together with lots of the standard kangaroos. No wild pig spottings like the last 2 days.
The back roads
A major shopping spree in Oberon, including lots of water. There’s no water until I get to tomorrow’s destination of Yerranderie. I have been eating like there’s no tomorrow, so lots of food was bought too.
Today was a big day. Sunrise at the Kanangra Walls and waterfall hunting on the back roads. Like yesterday, it was a sunny morning with a thundery and rainy afternoon. The jam-packed day included a mad dash in the rain and hail to the camping ground.
Kanangra Walls
The sunrise on the plateau at Kanangra Walls was spectacular. And I was the only one there.
The iconic image at Kanangra WallsA view over everything
After a late breakfast, it was waterfall spotting – checking off all the falls in the book from #lostmtns in the Kanangra region.
Kalang Falls was a disappointment. I guess the reason may be it is only a short walk from the carpark, and I was not alone. By the time I got there, the masses had arrived.
Kalang Falls
Then it was on the side roads down to Morong Falls I hadn’t realised how far it was off the main road. By the time I got there, the thunder was growling from all directions, and the rain fell intermittently. While I wanted to try out the natural bubble spa, and clamber down to the multiple pools below, I didn’t want to be caught in the thunderstorm on the (potentially slippery) rocks. It was a quick photo, a dip of the toes in the water, and off.
Morong Falls
After a thigh-deep river crossing, it was time to try Box Hill waterfall. Following an unmarked route, sometimes in the rain and hail, I made it there.
Crossing the Boyd RiverBox Hill Falls
I just missed capturing the many fingers of lightening seconds before I took this photo. While I wanted to stay, I was aware that the track back to the road is easy to miss, and I didn’t want to hang around for the next bout of rain. As it was, the last 10km to the camping ground was in the rain.
Back at the camping ground, it was time to warm up, have dinner and wait until the rain stops so I can set up my tent.
I’m sitting in the eating shelter at the Kanangra Walls carpark. Today was sunny and rainy with a few claps of thunder. I didn’t get wet.
The rain is coming
With the office closed this week, I’m taking compulsory leave. A perfect opportunity to visit all the places in the back parts of the Blue Mountains that are too far to reach on weekend trips.
Kanangra Walls has always been on my list. Massive cliff faces dropping down to a spectacular valley.
Kanangra Walls
The weather has been weird the last few days. Sunny and beautiful in the morning. Dark, imposing clouds roll over in the afternoon. Rolls of thunder from the heavens. The occasional bolt of lightning.
But first the beautiful sunny morning undulating through the farmland.
The road to Oberon
Oberon was my refueling stop.
Entering Oberon
The rain started just as I arrived at the camping ground. I had a chat with two nature enthusiasts, Paul and Rebecca. They gave me some tips for things to see in the coming days.
I just made it to and from the famous lookout before the rain set in. Let’s see where I set up my tent (once the rain stops).
Before the clouds rolled over.
Before the clouds rolled over.
After the rain, the impressive clouds and the constant growl of thunder, the sun shone through just as it dipped below the horizon. My tent could be set up (and remain dry) just behind the shelter. I’m all set for my early morning walk on the Kanangra plateau.
The sinking of the sun at Kanangra WallsThe sinking of the sun at Kanangra Walls
I haven’t been there for a while as the bike, Drahtesel 1.0, was on life support. The sun was shining, and the Blue Mountains were calling. One of my favourite places there – Dalpura Canyon.
Not much cycling, really. A short cycle from the train to the trailhead, and then a walk down through the pagodas to the shady, cool canyon.
The bike rides like a dream. Bring on the next 95,000km.
This is the start of a new series of short posts of beautiful places to visit around Sydney. As you would expect, I visit them by bicycle (and train).
Fisho’s Hut has a nice picnic table with a view. It is a cave with a view out over the deep blue ocean, perched inside the cliff face 90 metres above the water.
Fisho’s Hut at Jervis Bay
Sitting at the table looking down, I watched a massive turtle paddling along. It must have been a metre across.
Situated on the Beecroft Peninsula on Jervis Bay, around 200km south of Sydney, the whole area is incredible. Massive cliff faces with lots of scenic perches to contemplate the ocean below. There is a well hidden path to Fisho’s Hut. You will have to bush-bash through parts of this forgotten path, but you will be alone in this beautiful place.
The cliff faces near Fisho’s HutThe beautiful Beecroft Peninsula cliff faces
A cycle of around 45km one-way from the train station at Bomaderry, mostly on country roads in an undulating landscape.
On arrival back in Bomaderry, I passed 89,000km on my bike since I bought it in 2012.
89,000km for the bicycle since I bought it in 2012
The sunsets in Croydon (in Far North Queensland) are famous. When my friend moved there, I had to visit – but, of course, by bicycle. I had a smörgåsbord of sunsets, but also waterfalls and long outback roads as I cycled from the tropical eastern coast to the mangroves on the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Many thanks to John Thompson and the Cairns Cycling Group Rides Facebook Group for the tips, especially how to get from the coast to the Tablelands without becoming roadkill (from windy, steep, narrow roads). Quaid Road is the go! Thanks to Elizabeth in Croydon for the motivation to discover this part of Australia!
The grass was crackeling as the smoke billowed up and was blown away by the wind. The eagles and hawks circled and dived in a mad feeding frenzy. They were feeding on grasshoppers fleeing the flames. It felt like a special moment in this beautiful, barren landscape.
The birds circled in a feeding frenzy
Looking at the landscape on Google Maps gets me excited. White plains with fingers of green in a fractal pattern as the rivers meander to the sea. I asked around how to get to this landscape. Many roads were blocked, but I could go to the Mutton Hole Wetlands. I’m glad I did.
Mutton Hole WetlandsMutton Hole Wetlands
It is a maze of tracks criss-crossing the landscape. Some ended in dead ends. Some ended at water that I didn’t dare to explore (because of crocs).
Dotted across the horizon were burns with smoke billowing out. I finally went to explore, and was amazed by the feeding spectacle.
The sandy track followed the beach on the other side of a sandhill. I was exploring in the dark as the sun was just becoming a pink glow on the horizon. The sea began to be studded with little mangrove bushes. They became more dense. Finally they opened out into a mangrove swamp the other side of the beach. Dead trees stood high in the mud, with birds perched on their tips. It was a beautiful sight. Silence broken by bird calls. And this was all for me.
The mangrove beachThe mangrove beachThe mangrove beach
This beautiful place I visited for two sunrises. It was my favourite, secret place. On the second morning I made a pire from the dead wood.
My very own pire
My second sunset at Karumba was on a sand bar 7km out to see. A boat took me and the other visitors out to have a meal and drinks. It was a beautiful, surreal place.
Arrival at the sand bank7km off shore on the sand bankThe sun setsThe sun setsOur return ride arrives
All of this was on my day off pottering around Karumba. The return trip to Normanton was a bit of a slog. I have grown accustomed to a tailwind. Heading east, my friend became my enemy, and I had to remember how it is slowly counting down the kms into the wind. Tomorrow is another rest day in Normanton.
It’s the end of the road. The road from Cairns has led here, and has now stopped. The land ends at this remote ‘Outback by the Sea’ town. People sip their drinks under the palm trees watching the sun turn to orange and then red over the sea, the mangroves and the emerging sand bars. The end of the world vibe. I love it.
Sunset at Karumba
The road here saw the vegetation slowly disappear as I pedalled through low grasslands and then salt pans.
50km to KarumbaThe final approach
And then the road rises and I pop out to a view of the sea.
The Gulf of Carpentaria
The cycling day was short, but my body decided it was time to be lazy. And what a chill place to be lazy.
“They sun themselves on the salt flats. Massive things. As big as the statue. If you stay more than 50m away you’ll be fine. And stay away from the water.” I contemplate my stay in croc territory as I watch the sunset from the bridge over the Norman River. I’m excited.
Life size, so they say
Today was a perfect cycling day. An ever so gradual slope downwards and a handy tailwind. I left at 5:15am in the dark and glided along through the dark, watching the sky turn pink and then orange before the direct sunbeams poked out between the trees.
Early morning on the road
The Gulflander train stops at Blackbull siding at 10:15am on Thursdays. I was there at 9 for a snack and photos.
Blackbull SidingBlackbull Siding
I waited for the train 105km from Croydon, waving as it passed.
A snack stop at Leichardt Lake before on to the big smoke – Normanton.
Leichardt LakeLeichardt LakeThe famous Purple Pub in Normanton
Out of Normanton is a pedestrian bridge over the Norman River. Its quite an impressive waterway. I spent an hour looking for crocs and watching the sky turn amazing colours.
The GoPro is capturing the sunsetNorman River at sunsetNorman River at sunset
arctic-cycler.com 