Words and mistakes by Christian Christiansen. Photo curation by Angela Ha. Photos by everybody on the trip. Account hijacked from Sammy Millard.
Tuesday 15th June, the morning after the long weekend
Two kookaburras sit aplomb on a power line, passing judgement on the early morning exercisers below. The power line descends down a steep slope, reaching out towards the ocean, flanking the stairs upon which the exercisers ascend and descend, in a continual loop from dawn until dusk.
Before dawn, Sammy and I set off towards the cliffs south of Coogee Beach to see the sunrise. The day breaks with the sun obscured by rain in the distance; a red disc shines through a dark blue haze, casting pink and orange highlights onto clouds which hang in the vast, ever-bluer sky.
After the sun fully rises from the horizon, we join the exercisers at the stairs. We grimace as our legs remind us of the past long weekend. The grimaces fade as we remind ourselves of how fun it was. The memories still swim in our minds as we part with the kookaburras and take a dip back at the beach, the ocean water washing the pain from our legs away.
Friday 11th June, the evening before
K2K is cancelled. Flying pig shooters have left our plans in tatters. The emergency council of trip leaders decree that we shall celebrate Queen Lizzie's birthday at Bell (Wollangambe Crater) instead. The meeting time has been moved from 8am to 10am.
Hallelujah!
Saturday 12th June
With the extra time, Niels, Sammy and I stop off to say hello at Moon 2 Moon café prior to joining the rest of the gang, gathering vegan carrot cakes, a coffee and hot chocolates. At the meeting point the group slowly assembles. Soon, we number sixteen. We load our packs and trek in, swapping names, snacks and stories.
The leisurely pace is punctuated by a sitting tree and Juri's expertise; his keen eyes spot a myriad of Nature's miracles which pass the rest of us by unnoticed. We pass cocoons between ourselves, point out paw prints and pause at a pair of pagodas. Blades of grass, which adorn Sam's three clumps of tied up hair (thanks to Georgie), coquettishly sway and point our way forward.
Finally, we reach our stop, a clearing in a crater with a campsite. We drop our packs, pop up tents, collect firewood, and before we know it, we have time to kill before sunset. Juri leads the way upstream the Wollangambe River to explore a cave. Along the way, there and back, multiple river crossings are attempted with varying degrees of success.
The campfire cackles and dries Lloyd and Stephen's shoes, socks and trousers. We huddle around the flickering flames and cook up evening meals around gas stoves. The smoke billows, menacing our senses, puppeteered by the incessant wind, which howls with laughter.
A loud crack pierces our ears. Ollie investigates and reports back that a huge branch has fallen from a tree, less than ten meters from a tent in another camp. Note: Always look up before pitching up a tent.
After dinner, we settle back and watch the show above. The sky, with the Milky Way strewn across, sets the arena for shooting stars to spark, dazzle and vanish, their afterglow fading from our eyes and into our memories.
Sunday 13th June
Sammy salutes the sun, stretching her limbs and body out, casting off the stiffness of sleep. The other early morning risers try to copy her moves, grace and flexibility. We fail on most counts.
After breakfast, we split into two groups. Stephen's group beeline towards Interesting Creek, an ambitious hike away. Brendan's group point at the nearest pagoda, and dub it Interesting Point. We go to Interesting Point, look for the next pagoda, and dub that Interesting Point instead. Rinse and repeat.
It is evident the bush hasn't yet fully recovered from the fires; we see few signs of wildlife. But still the views are stunning. Charcoal streaks our clothes and faces when we brush against the gum trees, the green of the new shoots shines against the black bark, illuminating the landscape. We saunter through bizarre rock formations, with no end target, and a glorious sun accompanies us on our journey directed by the whims of our curiousity. Angela and Mali snap the scenery, taking digital records of the beauty abound.
On our return to camp, the cameras are out again. The cameras will recall Brendan's brief intimate encounter with a knob on a tree he's straddling, with a soundtrack of roaring laughter emanating from the witnesses. A little brown bird watches the commotion, just out of sight.
Back at camp, we take bets on when the other group will return. By the time we've made vague justifications for our ever-more ludicrous predictions, headlights dance in the distance, approaching us. A slither of the moon sits in the sky.
We swap tales over dinner. Interesting Creek was never reached; we will have to report back another day. After two days together, we begin to finish each other's sentences and jokes. Babushka Tom steals the show with his lightning fast reactions.
Ninja shapes follows dinner. A loose enforcement of rules, lack of light and zealous diving leads to a tangle of limbs, accidental caresses and hoots of laughter. Those puffed out recuperate by the fire, refuelling on chocolate distributed by Georgie. Niels tends to the flames, as Meg and Glenn share their plans for The Larapinta Trail. We exchange dreams of future hikes and stories of hikes gone by.
The wind of yesterday is replaced with the cold today. Midnight blankets us with frost. We retreat to our sleeping bags and snuggle into warm socks.
Monday 14th June
Angela, Mali, Lloyd, Tom, Niels and Brendan set off to beat the traffic back to Sydney. The rest of us stay to wander downstream. The river bisects two sheer cliff faces. Vegetation bursts from the stone. Rubble marks past rockfalls, reminding us of the impermanence of even matter as solid as rock. We hop from slab to slab, clamber up mud grasping onto shrubbery and gawp at the splendour enveloping us.
Georgie, Sam, Juri and Stephen continue exploring; the dry canyoning ends early for Meg, Glenn, Ollie, Nick, Sammy and me. We head back to our packs, hide Sam's bag in a tree, and retrace our steps to the cars.
A bird sounds in the distance. Nick and Ollie try to determine if it's a lyrebird. As we leave the bush and approach the cars, thankful for the weekend, worrying about the traffic, planning for the evening, for the week, whether to wake up early tomorrow to watch the sunrise, we hear another bird pipe up. We hear a kookaburra, somewhere back in the bush, throw back its head, and laugh.