Whale Watching - Little Bay to Cape Banks

Watching the evening news, with reports of a victim of yet another shark attack, and footage of a feeding frenzy as sharks devoured a whale carcass made me think "how about a spot of whale watching".

Last time we drove to Kurnell and Cape Solander to watch whales, but it took forever.  NPWS had suggestions for  Sydney whale watching locations  and Cape Banks at the northern end of Botany Bay looked like fun and was way closer.  Wildwalks as usual had a bunch of useful information to get us there.

I haven't been to Little Bay since I was a kid.  Not surprisingly, a few things had changed over forty years, including my memories of how to get there. I managed to get totally muddled along Anzac Parade looking for Long Bay Gaol.  After going back and forth doing laps of Anzac Parade, U turns, side streets, scenic tours of Maroubra...etc, we finally got to a start point at Little Bay.  Someone had built a whole new suburb upon the coastal heathland that I remembered.

It was cold.  Really really cold.  The wind was howling, it was overcast, and an occasional drizzly rain just added that something extra.  We were rugged up with hats, gloves, scarves, long pants, layers and layers of clothing.  Normally a walk warms you up, but today everything stayed on.

brrrrrrrrr freezing

a chilly view of Little Bay

Little Bay

Whatever way we were supposed to cross the Coast Golf Club totally eluded me.  The lovely Cait bravely followed my lead as we simply headed for the cliff line dodging golf balls and buggies.  She was worried about trespassing, but I have spent enough time on sporting fields to appreciate no one really cares unless you start digging holes somewhere.  The lovely Cait was amazed that the grass on the greens was real.  I told her that it was even OK to touch it, and she gave it a nervous pat.  The things you learn about someone even after years of marriage.

Reaching the cliff line, we skirted past greens and fairways and improvised our way along.  We got a bit muddled about which trail to take along to Cape Banks, but there is only one direction to go so we eventually got sorted.  We had to pass through the Coast Hospital Cemetery.  Lots of smallpox cases were buried here early last century, and it was an eerie place to pass through.

Coast Hospital Cemetery

After the cemetery it was past the pistol range and warning signs, a helicopter landing area, then we came to an old set of WWII bunkers. This walk may be short, but lots of interesting bits and pieces along the way.

WW II bunker

strike a pose

From here the track was well marked enough even for me to not get lost, and we hit the cliff line again.  We kept our eyes out for whales, but the entire ocean was a mess of wind blown swells and white foam.  We were going to be lucky to see a whale unless it was performing circus stunts.

looking for whales

still cold

We soon arrived at Cape Banks.  About 3.5km.  The lovely Cait was pleasantly surprised as a "short walk" with me usually entails hours of patiently enduring unexpected mountain climbing and a gross underestimation of the time required (but don't get comfortable little wifey - there will always be a next time).  I had trouble seeing as the ocean spray was coating my glasses as soon as I cleared them.  We were glad that we hadn't driven an extra hour or so to Cape Solander as there were definitely no whales on show.

from Cape Banks looking to Botany Bay and La Perouse

from Cape Banks looking north

across to Kurnell

The wind was howling as we wandered about Cape Banks.  There was no one else in sight. It was eerily beautiful, but such a cold, lonely place.  It made me wonder what it would have been like for the early colonists arriving.  We found a small hidey space behind some rocks and to huddle up and have lunch.  It is easy to eat when your teeth are chattering so hard that all the hard work is done for you.  We were chattering away, when "whoosh" suddenly a whale spouted directly out from us.  We quickly packed away so we could tag along up the coast to watch it.  When we climbed up from our refuge we discovered that a large walking group had arrived.  They looked surprised as we suddenly popped up in the middle of them.

looking back to Cape Banks as we chased whales up the coast

As we trotted along, we stopped regularly to scan the seas, and invariably one of us would shout "look" as another spout appeared.  There were clearly two.  They were a way out, but we saw plenty of spouting and breaching, which made the driving and the cold and the rain all worthwhile.  To make it even better, a lovely rainbow began developing against increasingly blue skies.  The lovely Cait stayed back to take play withe camera and take some pictures as I wandered along.

just wandering along with my old school army disposal pack

a distant rainbow

someone buggering around with the camera

Eventually we returned to the golf course.  The lovely Cait said "that old guy has a pack and looks like he knows where he's going" (a none too subtle reference to my below par navigating I think- however I did just manage to sneak in a golfing reference which makes it all worthwhile).

We followed him along a quicker (and safer) way through the golf course. I thought it was a more boring route as there were no golf balls suddenly dropping from the skies to keep things interesting.  We dropped down to Little Bay for a quick cold wet look, deciding that we needed to come back in summer for a snorkel when it was warmer, then back to the car well within our time frame (a strange feeling that has never ever happened on any walk I have ever organised and will probably never ever happen again).  After stripping off our countless layers, we dived into the refuge of the car and headed home on time for a change.

Hounslow Classic 2015 - Part 3

School holidays arrive, and it's time to head way out west (where the rain does fall, and sometimes it even snows) and get back to the Blue Mountains again. A trip from one of my many bushwalking books from Mt Victoria to Leura had caught my eye, but I tweaked it to run from Leura to Blackheath so as to capture a large chunk of the Hounslow Classic course.

The plan was drive to Leura and park, run off along Mt Hay fire trail, trot across to Blackheath, catch train to Leura, then off to Wentforth Falls for Mountain High Pies (of course). My goal was also to finish in good shape and not crawl on hands and knees to the train station. Easier said than done.

Weather reports suggested perfect weather, and that was the case. Blue skies and sun, which took care of lot of decision making. Jumping out of the car at Leura I did chuck an a fleece top in the pack (which turned out to be an awesome decision).

The trip out along Mt Hay Rd is 10km of fire trail. There were plenty of tyre tracks suggesting I wasn't alone, and a few family 4WD went past. I kept reminding myself that I was in no hurry, and stopped frequently to look at glimpses of emerging valley views and play with the camera.

Mt Hat Rd

Mt Hay Rd

My Hay Rd looking back to Flat Top

Of course on the map the track is a nice flat line, but in the real world there are actual ups and downs and winding turns, and these eventually led to a car park and the start of the rocky single trail to The Pinnacles and Lockley's Pylon (named after J.G. Lockley, a journalist who supported conservation efforts to save the Blue Gum Forest from logging in the 1930s).

heading to The Pinnacles

views from The Pinnacles

winding alongside The Pinnacles

looking back to The Pinnacles

The Pinnacles are interesting eroded sandstone formations, and I could have spent longer wandering around and doing some scrambling, but the best part was the way that Grose Valley views were unfolding. Until recently I have been reticent about exploring this part of the world because it is so BIG. Deep valleys, long climbs and extremes of weather demand respect. As I passed The Pinnacles and ran towards Lockley's Pylon, it became increasingly apparent just how big as extensive valleys with enormous cliff walls seemed to stretch on forever. Last time up here Dave Cannings had spoke about a walk from Blue Gum Forest down the Grose Valley to Richmond, a walk I had read about previously (see trip report). It sounds like a mad adventure (*sound of wife sighing*).

Lockley's Pylon was great, and I took the time to climb it, wander around, have a bite to eat, and play with the camera. Possibly I may not enjoy it as much on race day (make that “highly likely”), so today I took my time to soak it all in.

heading towards Lockley's

view from top of Lockley's down the Grose Valley

from Lockley's across to Docker Head (Perry's Lookdown is at the top)

Again, a line on a map does not always match reality on the ground. Leaving Lockley's Pylon and heading to the track down off Du Faur Head was far more scrambly and hard to find than I had expected. In a few places where it looked like the track was heading down, all  I could think was “I am not going down there !”. After a good deal of back and forth and head scratching I did find two arrows carved into the rock. Even with this clear sign, I was still a bit nervous. I had a good drink of “Harden the F*%# Up” (a recognised hydration product for wuss bags like me), reorganised my pack, and started down.

track off Lockley's to Du Faur Head

follow the arrows

It was a bit steep at first (think escape from Mordor), but not nearly as bad as it had first looked. It was also nice being out of the strong cold winds up above. On the way down I met a great bloke with a pack, gaiters, and masses of bloody scratches all over his legs. Not a reassuring sight, but it seems he accumulated them yesterday going off trail in the Jamison Valley between the Ruined Castle and Scenic Railway.  I suspect he was having a crack at locating the old cable way more info here, yet another adventure for another day (insert sound of wife sighing again).   We didn't talk long as we both had places to be, and we went our separate ways.

The wander down was lovely, but kept eyes peeled for snakes as I wandered through long open sections of trail where red bellied snakies just love to stretch out and have a bake (and I speak from experience). The faster runners in October might be in for a few surprises. I worked up a trot in places, but backed off when I hit sections where my feet were obscured by growth. I had my compression bandage, but absolutely no intention of seeing how well it worked.

looking upstream on Govett's Creek

I hate wet shoes. At the bottom I was faced with the choice of scouting a creek crossing, or removing shoes and socks. Oh wait. What about that big tree fallen across the creek. That looks incredibly dangerous, so why not give that a go. I steeled myself, and began shuffling across. It was clear that other fellow morons had done the same as the surface was nicely worn. Halfway across logic kicked in, but too late now. I reached the other side, looked back and thought “well that was stupid”.

the log challenge

Now I faced the climb up to Perry's Lookdown. I had last been up this way about thirty years ago. I remembered the climb being steep, but it was way beyond what I recalled. It was pure slog. However, I do love a good climb, and it didn't disappoint. What did surprise me was how many times I thought “that must be the top”, but...no. Eventually I did hit the top, and came across a group of about eight. There was a smell of marijuana in the air, and young bodies climbing over the safety fence. My goal had been to get to the top and be able to get myself running, and this was made much easier by wanting to avoid becoming involved in a body recovery operation. Time to push on to Pulpit Rock (the young'uns later drove past me and gave me thumbs up out the windows, so clearly no one had plummeted to their death).

please make it end

Once I got the legs ticking over, it was just good old fashioned head down stuff. In recent readings (actually a podcast ), I had come across the blazingly simple concept that if you are going to be some kind of endurance athlete, and go signing up for crazy events, then you need to “do the work”. Entering an event is a commitment to not only fork over a wad of cash and turn up at the start line, but to also get out of bed and “do the work” in the months leading up to it. The “4.30am Rule” it was called (or in my case, the “alarm at 6am, sleep in until 6.30, two cups of coffee and leave late” rule). I liked the idea of “do the work”. Doesn't mean that training needs to be a continual horrible suffer fest (if it is then what is the point), but some days it just needs to be done (and if you are building to a peak, then some days are probably going to be a horrible suffer fest); but once it's done, you are free to enjoy race day a whole lot more. I had mumbled it to myself all thew way up the climb, and I kept mumbling it as I worked my way towards Pulpit Rock. Do the work, do the work.  If you are going to cover 75km in October in under 17 hours Rob, do the work.

From Pulpit Rock the fire trail became single trail, with lots of mud and water. I caught up with a group of walkers talking about “the burn” of walking as they casually ambled along. There was no real way around them, so I casually ambled along behind them feeling no burn whatsoever, just frustration. At that point the Karma Fairy of judgement sprinkled her magic dust and placed my foot on a slippery muddy rock and my body dropped suddenly to the ground in an excruciatingly painful one legged squat way past where it can comfortably go, and I grabbed the orange barrier tape to stop myself sliding over the edge. I'm not sure what horrible noise I made (a gut shot pig perhaps), but one of the walkers ahead turned quickly and asked if I was OK. Yeah, fine. Serves me right Karma Fairy.

Being a solo trip, I had cut the kept the water weight down, and by now I had run dry. At Govett's Leap I had a big drink, which left me feeling a little bloaty. It was also more than a little chilly. Technically the track went back into the bush for the next few km, but I was worried about the cold catching me out. I have done the hypothermia thing and it is not fun. I would be in shade and not running fast enough to keep warm, so I just set out along the main road in the lovely afternoon sun. It was nice to peek into peoples lovely gardens instead of whizzing past in a car.

I had been pushing to catch the 3.02pm train (so I could get to Mountain High Pies before 4pm and buy pies of course! ). I knew it wasn't going to happen, but tried anyway. Eventually I missed the train by minutes, so I took the chance to strip off and dry in the sun for a while. Then I popped on my fleece top (so glad now that I had lugged it around all day), closed my eyes, and enjoyed that wonderful feeling of not having to move. A training goal today was to finish and be able to keep going, which is exactly what happened. If I really really had to, I could have got up and dragged myself all the way back to Leura; but bugger me if it didn't feel so good to not have to do that, instead just sit and snooze in the sun and wait for a nice warm train.

A good day.

Hounslow Classic 2015 - Part 2

My first scouting trip through the Grand Canyon was purely exploratory. This time a few running buddies were coming along to make it more serious (as if). After a succession of Facebook messages we finally managed to organise ourselves into some kind of shambles.  Jeff kindly offered to drive, and as I stumbled up my driveway in the dark and saw a glowing cigarette, I knew Jeff was right on time (no surprise there).  Ted was in the back seat as chatty as ever.   Jeff finished his smoke and jumped behind the wheel to drive away just as Ted jumped out for a last quick wizz and we nearly lost a team member straight up.  Jeff kindly let Ted back in, we collected Karin and Dave, and at the crack of dawn we set off to Blackheath.

 

Last time was a nice warm stroll, but this time there was an extra element of cold added. Jumping out of Jeff's lovely warm toasty car at Govett's Leap, it was decidely brisk. After much umming and aahing I decided thermal pants were definitely in order.

We all got ourselves sorted to head off. It's amazing the amount of fuffing that happens before a run and you still forget stuff (well I do anyway). Karin asked a fellow to take a group photo of us all, but for some reason this proved a challenge for him and it was a strangely awkward moment. After our photo op, we set off. 

 

Jeff, Karin, Dave, me, Ted

Shortly into our run I began stripping off layers. Like last time, the stretch along the Cliff Walk became blazingly hot in the morning sun (another note for the race plan). At Evan's Lookout we all went ooh and ahh (if you don't you must seriously be mad), then some of the group headed off down the wrong track (which is why you sneak off and scout a course ahead of time). To reinforce this, we soon encountered another runner totally confused about his location on the planet Earth. He turned out to be a local from our own area, and was up here training on the course as well. We set him straight, he thanked us, then he took off like a rocket.  He was lost, but he wasn't slow.  He had a massive pack which appeared to be full of house bricks, and legs like tree trunks.  I suspect I won't see him much on race day either.

Trotting down into Neate's Glen I was stunned by the amount of track work completed since last visit several weeks ago. Last time it was piles of rubbish, today it was sandstone steps and metres of new railing. Very impressive.  A tad over done perhaps, but impressive nonetheless.

Another reason to scout out the course became apparent as everyone stopped and gazed at the views. This part of the world is magnificent. Folks who think runners just run, and somehow “miss out” has never been around enough runners. We walked and chatted and snapped photos continously. If we did this on race day we would never finish. We would run out of time (but never conversation). A part of running is the exercise and fitness, but another part is the fun and games and chatter. 

We entered the Rodriguez Pass.  Last time I learned that the nice yellow warning sign was perfectly accurate.  The track is steep and rough and hard to find.  I took the chance to do my best "Timmy" from "Jurassic Park" impersonation on the cable across the cliff face as we scrambled down to Greave's Creek.  I had only been through here three weeks ago, but still missed the trail in places and had to scout around.   

A fair warning

Being zapped by 10,000 volts.  Lucky to survive.

We reached Junction Rock in good time.  Last time I was a bit stressed as I felt it was taking too long.  This time I was more relaxed and enjoyed it far more, knowing a bit more about the lie of the land.  After a bit of horse play, a few lollies (thanks Ted) and a gel, it was time to start the last long slog.  Eventually we stood at the base of the climb to Govetts' Leap Lookout. The others took off, but I had to finally strip away the thermal leggings as I was well and truly cooking. As I set out, my GPS lost signal for a few minutes. Later uploading my data, I discovered that my missing minutes had given me a new STRAVA course record for the climb. It will probably send a bunch of twenty somethings into a climbing frenzy. If they ever meet me in person they will most definitely be in for a shock, wondering forever “how did he do it?” (easy - he cheated). 

 

At the top Karin wanted to keep going on to Pulpit Rock, but the enthusiasm of youth was crushed as we blokes all stripped out of our running gear, popped on dry shirts, and wandered off to sit in the sun a while. Another time perhaps.  The training was done for the day, and it was time to set off to Mountain High Pies for pies (and possibly a nice vegetarian sausage roll with a bit of dead horse on top).

Stay posted for Part 3
 

Hounslow Classic 2015 - Part 1

My life is less a story in search of a headline, than a series of disorganised stories in search of chapter headings. To try and capture some of the current madness, I am just going to put a lump of it under the banner of “Hounslow Classic”, a 75km event I am running (walking, scrambling, crawling, crying) through in October 2015.  Blackheath - Govett's Leap - Evan's Lookout - Grand Canyon - Govett's Leap (again) - Pulpit Rock - Perry's Lookdown - Blue Gum Forest - Lockley's Pylon - the Pinnacles; then turn around and run the same way all the way back again.  Time to start training.

I know other runners have all kinds of impressive looking training plans, but my brain tends to work along different lines. Like all good preschool teachers I believe that play is the key to learning. Unlike most preschool teachers though, it usually applies to my own life. Yes, I am a big kid. So here is how a not very serious preschool teacher trains for a seriously tough 75km ultra running event on an unbelievably difficult course. 

First arrange some kind of scouting of the area.  A romantic week end away with the wife that is coincidentally in close proximity to the course makes for a good starting point.  You have to make sure you at least try keeping the Domestic Harmony Index in the black (however at some point you know that you are going to screw up somehow and send the DHI screaming into the red zone).  I stumbled upon a tiny cottage called Albert Hall in Leura catering for couples wanting one night stays. Small, simple, perfect for us (the lovely Cait is small, and well, I am simple). Nutrition is important and was covered by ZEST Restaurant in Leura.  What a hidden gem of middle Eastern cuisine.  Hydration requirements were nicely covered by half a bottle of red wine. Training should also include a day at Scenic World doing all the rides and walking the Rain Forest Boardwalk. I got lost on a training run last year and had a great time thundering around the rain forest board walks all alone in the dawn and have wanted to return with the lovely Cait ever since then. It is such a brilliant creation. Today was the day. In return I had to ride the Skyway and assorted rides. Hanging by a thread over great heights is not one of my favourite things, but quid pro quo as she was walking with me on the morrow.  I have to admit I had a ball.

enjoying the views from the Skyway

How cool.  The floor becomes see through and you can see how far you are going to fall to your death

2.5 km of board walk along the rain forest floor.  Not a "real" bushwalk, but heaps of fun

The Hounslow Classic starts in Blackheath, but today the lovely Cait and I were starting from Govett's Leap, heading up to Evan's Lookout, down Neate's Glen, through the Grand Canyon, Rodriguez Pass, Junction Rock, then back up to Govett's Leap ("leap" being a Scottish word for waterfall). I had mapped it out to be about 14.5 km. This turned out to be quite short of the actual  distance.  By "quite short" I mean "way off".  It finished up being 19km according to both our GPS watches.

Views from Govett's Leap.  Run down from the left, up the right, then repeat.  Add some extra bits to make it longer.  That's the Hounslow course in a very big nutshell.

the lovely Cait and some idiot photo bomber

We set out our usual jaunty selves along the Cliff Top walk. Our first water crossing gave me an opportunity to sprawl across a rock and practice my mermaid skills.  After the first photo, the wife suggested that a mermaid should possibly keep his legs more together.  Take 2.

The Little Mermaid

Govett's Leap with all the those lovely stairs winding up the cliff face

Evan's Lookout is spectacular and we spent a while here ooohing and aaahing appropriately. As we wandered up to the Neate's Glen car park we encountered a distressed woman redirecting traffic as her husband attempted to reverse a very large campervan along the road. Apparently even enormous warning signs are not large enough for some. Great big vehicles, little tiny brains.

We arrived at what we guessed was the Neate's Glen car park. An abundance of signs had guided us here, but no sign actually announced where we were. We asked a couple donning enormous packs “is this the Neate's Glen car park ? Is that the track down to Neate's Glen?” They had never heard of the place, yet appeared to be heading off into the wilderness for what looked like a month. We left them to their fate and set off down what seemed to be the right trail (it was).

There is little to be said for the walk through Neate's Glen and the Grand Canyon. I am embarrassed that given all my wanderings, I had never been through this part of the world. It is breathtakingly beautiful and I have no idea why I have never done it before. We were doing a longer loop, but the short cut back up to Evan's makes it a brilliant 6km loop, and it was lovely to see so many families enjoying it.

Neate's Glen

Grand Canyon

Someone got a little excited about walking behind a waterfall (but really, who wouldn't)

We, however, were off through the Rodriguez Pass. Bright yellow warning signs had the lovely Cait looking at me enquiringly, but she trusts me (silly woman). Maybe she was feeling a little less trusting grasping a steel cable as she later crossed a cliff wall; but she didn't fall, so all good.

The climb down to Greave's Creek is not a simple dawdle along a trail. In places it becomes a full scramble over rocks, and lots of scouting to pick up the trail. Eventually we hit clear trail again and moved along nicely. However, at one point we saw a couple down below us who were clearly lost and heading towards Beauchamp Falls along a smooth and slippery (and increasingly dangerous) water course. We yelled for them to stop, and led them back down stream to the point where they had missed the creek crossing. As they set off, we wished them luck. I thought the man might need it, as the woman looked less than impressed at proceedings and there were so many places a man could fall to his death with just an innocent nudge.

Greave's Creek met up with Govett's Creek, and it was a pleasant stroll. We found a clearing with a creepy wooden hut which the lovely Cait refused to enter (possibly my ill timed Ivan Milat joke didn't help). After a bite to eat by the lovely Govett's Creek, we set off again.
 

The Milat Meditation Centre

By now both our GPS watches suggested we should be near finished, which obviously was not the case. I began to worry that the “lovely walk” I promised was becoming a horrible slog, and maybe I had missed a turn. Cait was pushing on fast up front, but I felt obliged to mention that last time in this area I has seen more than a few black snakes.  She thanked me for the advice, and suddenly I was pushing on up front. Eventually, though, we reached Junction Rock, I breathed a sigh of relief, and we headed west on the last stretch up towards Govett's Leap. Not, however, before the lovely Cait came to within a half a whisker of taking a massive plummet down a waterfall. I won't mention that we were only crossing because I misread a sign and it was actually a needless recrossing back to the right side.

From here on it was a long up up up, with endless zig zags and small water crossings. It was strange to look at the time and think it was only early afternoon, because it was so dark in places that it felt like night was rapidly closing in upon us. It seemed to be taking forever. To my surprise, the lovely Cait turned to me and said that if I needed to spend a bit more time than usual up here training, she would understand. I kindly thanked her for her support, but by now was secretly thinking I was mad for signing up. I had been concerned about the extra distance, but the lovely Cait was thundering along. She was proclaiming her gazelle like performance as she leaped from rock to rock, whereas I, ultra runner in training, was struggling. At last we hit the base of Govett's Leap and the beginning of the final climb.  Along the way, Cait made friends with what was later identified as a Superb Lyrebird. It just kept hopping and flying alongside her all the way to the very top. A very special way to end the day (and partially took her mind off the fact that I had majorly underestimated the distance).

Cait's little mate

Govett's Leap

A great day out, a good work out, a lot of course knowledge tucked away and the beginnings off a race strategy (“don't do it”); all made even better by a stop off at Wentworth Falls to pick up some Mountain High Pies for dinner.  A good start to the training cycle.