Travel Biography - Week 95

Of the six weeks spent Down Under, I found that taking to city life in Sydney was straightforward. Not that I had never camped out in the sticks under canvas, but always preferred to bed down for the night surrounded by masonry. Yet, my wife Alex was always keen on outdoor camping, but after over 24 years of marriage, has yet to set foot inside a backpacker's hostel.

Hence, the City Backpackers in the heart of Sydney was the largest hostel I stayed at in Australia, but not the largest in the world. That honour goes to HI-AYH New York City, featured in the Guinness Book of Records, where I stayed for over a week in 1998. 

Sydney City Monorail.

As I saw it, Sydney was so characteristically similar to London, that I have referred to it as London-by-the-Harbour. Unlike Singapore, little had changed over the following years. The Business District was already fully developed, a cluster of modern, tall office blocks overlooking the harbour estuary and across Darling Harbour. Further back, the streets were dominated by Victorian-era buildings, including the handsome shopping mall, and even the City Hostel itself, a former office block from the same era.

However, there has been one significant change since I arrived in Sydney in 1997. That is, the demolishing of the Monorail, which was fully operational in my day. Trains ran one way along the single track, forming a closed circuit suspended high above the streets, and serving eight stations spaced around the ring. The monorail circuit enclosed the Business District before crossing the waterway on the Pyrmont Bridge and passing through the Darling Harbour shopping precinct before returning back to the Financial District, thus completing a lap of 2.2 miles or 3.6 km. The Monorail was decommissioned on June 30, 2013, after just 25 years of service since opening in July 1988.

The main reason for such a short lifespan was due to its unpopularity with the locals, as it was at least 5.5 metres above the main streets. There was also the possibility that the Monorail didn't draw in as many tourists as hoped, thus with financial setbacks along with local unpopularity, it was decommissioned 25 years before its official closing year of 2038. In other words, the Monorail survived for just half its planned 50-year lifetime.

The Monorail Train glides above Pyrmont Bridge.

View of the single-track seen from the rear of a train.

On board the train passing over Pyrmont Bridge.

One morning, I took a ride on one of the Monorail trains, boarding and alighting at the same station, completing a full lap of the circuit. At 21 mph, the trains ran smoothly, having tyred wheels. By choosing the last carriage, I was able to see the track the train ran on from its rear window. The most spectacular view was when the train rolled along the pedestrian Pyrmont Bridge and the track was 5.5 metres above the walkway, thus giving fine views of the waterway as it approached the shopping precinct.

The Rocks, Harbour Bridge, and the Opera House. 

The Rocks were where Sydney had its beginnings. From 1788, the first settlers were Prisoners of His Majesty's Service, or POMS. From there, the city began to grow, especially during the reign of Queen Victoria, spreading out like a fan surrounding the river estuary. For many of its early days, the Rocks began to look like a slum estate, with visiting sailors, hard living, and prostitution. In a nutshell, the Rocks was a rough estate until the 1870s. However, by 1997, the Rocks has become a popular tourist spot. I spent an hour or two looking around and taking in the history of the area, with the famous arch of the Harbour Bridge looming above.

At the Rocks.

The Interior of the Queen Victoria Shopping Mall.

Castle Clock inside the Queen Victoria Building.

Manly Ferry sails towards Circular Quay.

And that was thanks to the Builders Labourers Federation in the late 1960s and the early seventies, many of the old warehouses were saved from demolishment and instead, modernised whilst retaining their historic look. The older, more original warehouse buildings in that area were retained rather than demolished for redevelopment. By 1997, the area has become a popular tourist spot.

And the bridge itself. One afternoon, I bought a ticket to ascend the southeast tower or turret, one of the four structures, two at each end of the arch. From there, I enjoyed a magnificent view of the harbour waterway with the Opera House in full prominence. Had it been summer, there would have been a flotilla of boats crowding the waterway. But I was there in July, hence their winter, when the only boats seen were ferries and cruising boats. If only I was there by midnight on December 31st. The harbour would have been crowded with privately owned vessels as well as the Opera House packed with spectators, all watching a magnificent firework display exploding from the arch of the bridge in the warm, summer air.

I must have spent a considerable amount of time at the turret lookout. The sun was preparing to set, and the structure's long and almost indistinct shadow almost touched the Opera House as it fell on the Manly Ferry as the ship pulled out of the Circular Quay. I was fortunate. The southeast turret was accessible to the public on certain days of the week, and I took full advantage.

One evening, I crossed the bridge on foot to get to the harbour's north side. Whilst doing so, I compared this bridge with the other world-famous bridge I walked along, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. While the latter was just a road bridge which carried Highway 101 from the city to Marin County, and featured a sidewalk, the Sydney Harbour Bridge carried a main road, a railway line, a cycleway, and a footpath. The Golden Gate Bridge is 1.7 miles or 2,740 metres long and is held up by suspension. By contrast, the Sydney Harbour Bridge has a total length of 1,149 metres, therefore shorter by 1,591 metres than the Golden Gate Bridge, and it is held up by a single-span steel arch.

When I arrived at the other end, I saw that here everything was so different. Instead of tall office blocks, I arrived at Kirribilli residential estate, a quiet, middle-class housing area very much the same as I saw at Palm Beach. Not far from the northern end of the bridge was a small shop where I bought some refreshments. The quieter, more sedate area of Sydney had made me almost forget that I was still in Australia's largest city.

And there was the Botanic Gardens, an area of greenery south of the Opera House and with its small, separate peninsula jutting into the estuary east of the Opera House. This small peninsula is the home of Mrs Macquarie's Chair, a stone bench set on a summit and offering views of the Harbour. However, although I did stroll to the tip of the headland, I didn't get around to seeing Mrs Macquarie's Chair itself, but I still enjoyed splendid views of the waterway, the Opera House backed by the Harbour Bridge. A splendid view during sunset.

As for the opera House, I entered the building twice. The first time was on the day I arrived in Sydney. In the morning, the building was closed. But by the afternoon, the doors had opened to allow visitors in to browse around (but not in the theatre itself) and to make bookings. During my first visit, I didn't consider attending any shows, as I was never theatre-oriented. However, after returning from the Blue Mountains National Park, I considered whether I would give up an evening to watch a show. I was in the Concert House, what appeared to be the larger building of the two. I bought a ticket, the cheapest one on the market, to watch that evening's piano concert.

That evening, I entered the theatre, dressed not in a suit-and-tie, but in my daily tracksuit befitting an Australian winter. I wasn't refused admission, however, I still had to follow the instructions printed on my ticket. I found my seat, right on the back row and at the highest and furthest point from the stage as the vast cavernous interior allowed. Yet, when the piano started to play, the sound came across so loud and clear, even over a distance without any echoing. This goes to show how advanced the acoustics were in such a large building. At first, I couldn't make out the tune, but as other band members joined in to sound a crescendo at the climax, I came to realise the meticulous skill needed to produce such a piece, and this skill was recognised by the whole audience. When the performance ended, we all stood up to applaud the musicians, making the air in the theatre electric with excitement.

How long the performance lasted, I wasn't sure, but it must be over an hour. There was even a half-time interlude which allowed me to check out the interior more thoroughly. After the end of the show and as we were making for the exit, I mentioned to a passerby about an advert for Puccini's Madame Butterfly opera held in the other building, as I was familiar with the story of this devoted Chinese ladylove patiently waiting for her fiance to return to marry her. When she found out that he married someone else whilst away, the Chinese girl committed suicide. And since the show was scheduled for the following week, I wouldn't be able to watch it, as by then I'll be across the Pacific in San Diego. Just then, a young man, apparently a student, having overheard, approached me and backed my desire to see the opera. I was surprised at his keenness.

Botanical Gardens seen from the Westfield Tower.

View from near Mrs Macquarie's Chair.

At Botanical Gardens, Sydney.

Archibald Fountain, Hyde Park, Sydney.

Another venue I visited was the Queen Victoria Building on Georges Street, further back from the quay. This building is topped with a cathedral-type dome, and although it houses a modern shopping mall, it is brimmed with history. There was one museum-type exhibit within the shopping precinct, the Foucault's Pendulum. The idea behind this swaying plumbline is that as the Earth rotates, the arc made by the swinging ball at the end of the line appears to rotate. It would be most effective at the Poles. Nearer the Equator, the rotation was more restricted, as I found out after returning to it after a couple of hours. There is, or was, a longer version of the pendulum housed in the Science Museum in London, hence I was already familiar with it here in Sydney.

The Lookout Tower Eye, better known as the Westfield Tower, or as I affectionately call the Gearstick, was, I believe, the highest skywalk in Sydney at 250 metres of the 309 metres from the ground to the tip of its spire. From it, I could make out both the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, each on either side of a tall office block that was obstructing the view of the Quay. From the other side was a splendid view of Hyde Park with its hexagonal Archibald Fountain. Also, St Mary Cathedral was nearby, adjacent to the park. A ticket allowed me to ride the fast elevator to the circular glass-panelled observation floor. Afterwards, I decided to attend mass at St Mary's, and after the service was over, the Bishop singled me out to give a personal greeting. I thought that was a wonderful gesture.

Soon, I would be vacating the Sydney City hostel to make my way to the international airport.

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Next week: an overview of the trip so far as I prepare to fly to California.

Travel Biography - Week 94.

Sydney so far.

I have narrated the earlier days after arriving in Sydney, Australia's largest city. After spending two days and a night at the Blue Mountains National Park, I returned to the City Hostel. At Darling Harbour, I bumped into two Chinese students who were backpacking Australia, whom I had already met in Brisbane. After they had gone, I took a ferry from the Circular Harbour to Manly, a coastal town north of the city and built on a peninsula connecting North Head Sanctuary with the mainland. Hence, Manly has two beaches, one on each side of the land strip.

Last week, due to a lack of foresight, the corresponding photos of Manly weren't ready for inclusion. Therefore, in this week's blog, I have included them along with those of the next venue.

The Corso, Manly Town Centre. From Week 93.

Manly Beach. Note how we dressed, it wasn't warm!

Manly Cove, on the opposite side of Manly Beach.

On my way up to the cliff walk at North Head.

North Head Cliffs.

Sydney is blessed by having natural beauty surrounding it. The Blue Mountains National Park is one of them. It's sixty miles or 100 km west inland, However, there is another National Park, the Kuringgai Chase National Park. To the east of Kuringgai, a long, slender peninsula stretches north/south parallel to, and east of an inlet, the Pittwater inlet penetrating south for 13 km or eight miles, separating the two landmasses. The slender peninsula consists of two beaches, the oddly-named Station Beach facing west towards the inlet, and Palm Beach, facing east towards the ocean. Both Palm Beach and Station Beach terminate with the forested mound at its northern end, Barrenjoey Head with its lighthouse, around 27 miles or 43 km north of Sydney Circular Quay, and accessible by bus all the way, or part bus part ferry, the latter was the route I used to arrive there. Palm Beach, with its boathouse made famous by the TV crew, was the setting for the teatime soap, Home and Away.

A Day Trip to Palm Beach.

I was fortunate to pick a warm, sunny day to get to Palm Beach. This meant, for once, I could go dressed in a singlet for a top, the same way I dressed for Singapore and Cairns. After breakfast, I made my way to the Quay quickly by boarding the City Line train from the Sydney Central through platform, to the Quay Station in readiness to board the ferry to the other side of the Harbour. From here, it wasn't difficult to find the appropriate bus stop for Palm Beach.

The bus ride took about an hour. From the terminal bus stop, it was a short walk to get to the base of the peninsula with the ocean lapping gently at Palm Beach. At the other end of the sandy strip, Barrenjoey Head terminated the sandbank.

Both the geography and the geology of this peninsula, as I walked along, have made me wonder whether Barrenjoey Head was once an isolated island off the coast of the mainland before the ocean deposited sand to eventually form a land bridge between the island and the mainland. Such geological phenomena have always intrigued me. A shorter and wider sandbank formation looked to have also occurred where Manly now thrives, connecting the one-time island of North Head to the mainland, long before any settlement was founded on it.

This sandbank formation isn't unique to Australia. More recently, I took my wife Alex to Llandudno in North Wales, UK. The main geological feature, other than its two beaches, is the Great Orme, a huge limestone mound offering picturesque views of the town with Little Orme to the east, and even the Isle of Man on a clear day, over 60 miles or 100 km across the Irish Sea from its summit. The whole town of Llandudno is built on the short, squat sandbank joining Great Orme to the mainland. But this I know, the Great Orme was once an island off the coast of Wales. It could be difficult to imagine where traffic now winds its way along the busy streets of the town, marine life once thrived beneath the waves which lapped between the two separate landmasses.

Palm Beach peninsula seen from Barrenjoey Head.

At Palm Beach. Behind me is the southern mainland.

Palm Beach. Looking north towards Barrenjoey H.

Barrenjoey Lighthouse.

And that was how Palm Beach, north of Sydney appeared. The slenderness of the peninsula wasn't so apparent from the summit of Barrenjoey Head. Rather, from that level, it looked a lot shorter and wider. As I strolled along Palm Beach itself, I was able to recognise the scenery where the cast of Home and Away was filmed, especially when I became a fan of the soap during its early nineties heyday. I then found the start of a trail which ascended the mound on the northern end of the sandbank. From where the lighthouse was situated, lovely views were enjoyed.

I spent a good few hours at Palm Beach before boarding the bus to the ferry. This included strolling along Station Beach (which I formerly referred to as Pittwater Beach). It was narrower, looked shabbier and more weed-strawn than the sandy strip on the other side. Yet, to me, it was equally intriguing. Unlike the main beach, this one boasted a boat jetty and boathouse which featured a cafe - a familiar site to all soap fans. When not filming, the cafe was open to the public, and although there was hardly anyone around, save the assistant, I still enjoyed a coffee as I sat and absorbed the experience.

And here was something I found rather surprising. That was the scarcity of people. Indeed, I did see a few souls strolling around, even a lone fisherman on the jetty during the early evening, not long before the sun was due to set. Yet, this location was made famous, not only in Australia, but in the UK, and perhaps Europe and America as well. (When I was in France in 1989 with a friend, we stopped at a cafe with a television showing the rival teatime soap, Neighbours, with French subtitles. Perhaps Home and Away had the same viewing range?) Hence, when I arrived at Palm Beach, I was expecting crowds of tourists to populate the area, especially in escorted groups, admiring the site of the filming. Instead, it was nothing of the kind. I just about had the peninsula to myself.

The walk also allowed me to see how the Aussies lived in rural or suburban environments. At the southern end of the peninsula was a housing estate. Each property was fully detached and set in its own gardens, and each house looked slightly different from its neighbour. The housing estate looked very much like what I saw in California, a middle-class residential estate, as according to one travel documentary I watched on YouTube, Aussies have a dislike for apartment blocks.

I thought how wonderful it must be to live in such an area, right on the coast, yet, on ground high enough not to be threatened by high tides, and also on firm rock that hardly ever erodes, even in a storm. It was a beautiful place to live, always within easy reach of the beach. On the downside, the car is essential for getting about. Palm Beach is on a remote section of the coast, and although there were frequent buses to the city, there was no railway line nearby, hence no station for commuting. And just a ferry sailing from Station Beach is Kuringgai Chase National Park, itself a large peninsula covered in what looked to be forest and with isolated beaches sloping into Pittwater Inlet. Although I could see this wild area from the summit of Barrenjoey Head, there were no plans to visit the Park, even if I might have had a desire to hike along the trails.

First of all, Kuringgai Chase N.P. is huge, around 150 square km, or 58 sq. miles. Some of its trails were actually roads used by vehicles, and what were designated walking tracks were paths wide enough to give access to a vehicle, cutting through bushland rather than a proper forest as was with the trails cutting through Blue Mountains, Byron Bay, and Whitsunday Island. I had no real desire to hike through a track with a high risk of a car horn beeping from behind!

Looking South along Station Beach at Pittwater.

The Boathouse and Jetty at Station Beach. 

The Boathouse seen from the Jetty.

Barrenjoey Head seen from Station Beach.

A lone fisherman at Palm Beach.

Back to the City.

When evening arrived, I boarded the bus back into town. I could have remained on the bus until it pulled outside Central Station, but that would have been a long, monotonous journey. Instead, I took the same route in reverse as the outgoing journey. I alighted at the ferry terminal and boarded a boat for the sailing across the water to arrive at Circular Quay. From there, at the harbour station, I didn't have to wait long for a train to whisk me underground back to Sydney Central after a few other stops along the way.

For the next two or three days, I remained in the city. Although, to me, it didn't hold a candle to Cairns, Port Douglas, or the Great Barrier Reef, there were plenty of things to see in the city itself. I will go into detail about city life next week before concluding the whole journey on the Indo-Pacific Highway from Cairns to Sydney. After that, the rather extraordinary trans-Pacific flight from Sydney International to Los Angeles when I literally go back in time!

But all that is still yet to come. Meanwhile, after settling down in my dormitory, there is grocery shopping still to be done. This was normal. Usually, I shop in the evenings, buying groceries for both the evening meal and the following morning's breakfast. I also find time to attend the hostel launderette, although this could be at any time of the day. There is, however, one regret. That is, I wished that I stayed in Australia a lot longer, like some of the other backpackers who are on a gap year. I have come across these people throughout the entire stay. Most were college students, but unlike me, they weren't permanently employed, and in general, they were still living at home. Looking back, had I not flown the nest, chances were that I could have spent a year just travelling, perhaps taking in South Africa, possibly making a cross-border journey into Zimbabwe to visit the Victoria Falls, then spending several months in Australia and New Zealand, and maybe set foot in South America or Mexico before ending in the States.

Wishful thinking.

Or was it really? Had I come from a wealthy family, indeed, all that might have been within my realm. Were these long-stay backpackers from wealthy families? Not necessarily. At Sydney Hostel Reception, there was a desk for those looking for temporary work. Fruit picking? No, thank you. From what I have heard, one has to work hard and fast to keep up with an unrealistic schedule. A round peg in a square hole. Instead, I have learned to be grateful for what I already experienced, and believe me, it was a wonderful privilege.

And there is still more to come.

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Next Week: A look at city life before take-off to California.

Travel Biography - Week 93.

A Small World? A Pure Coincidence? Or Divine Will? You Choose.

The two days I spent at the Blue Mountains National Park left no regrets. Rather, going out on a backcountry hike whilst staying in a city added momentum to the holiday. And that wasn't all. Two other day trips were also completed whilst living in the city. One was a ferry to Manly. The other was a combined bus and ferry to Palm Beach, the filming site for the popular tea-time soap, Home and Away.

These were planned events. But another of the unexpected arose when I was at Darling Harbour. But it wasn't anything negative this time, such as encountering a smartly dressed queue jumper. Instead, I was called from behind by two casually dressed Chinese undergraduates. However, I didn't recognise them at first until one of them reminded me that we met at the hostel in Brisbane.

View of the Gearstick from Darling Harbour, Sydney.

Museum Ships moored at Darling Harbour.

 Two undergrads I met first in Brisbane, then in Sydney.

Pyrmont Bridge from the City to Darling Harbour.

With this knowledge, I greeted them warmly. They then asked me to spend the rest of the day with them. As we walked around and talked, one of them suggested a cruise around the harbour. I thought that was a good idea and having bought my own ticket, boarded the boat with them.

It was while we were cruising along that I realised how big the harbour really was. We passed the twin buildings of the Opera House and headed seawards. A circuit was completed in an hour, arriving where we started, at the Circular Quay, between the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

The three of us spent the rest of the day together. Somehow, I marvelled at their level of hospitality, which I saw was quite contrary to the "Englishman's home is his castle" mentality of our national culture. So who were these two? Unfortunately, I had never recorded their names. Perhaps coming from China, their names I would have found difficult to pronounce. However, their bodily physiques were each distinct. One was tall and fairly slim, and he was the friendlier of the pair. The other was shorter in height, stockier in build, yet kept more to himself. However, he still had a friendly attitude towards me as well as his companion.

Where each studied, unfortunately, I wasn't able to recall, but apparently, they were students in China but had taken leave to backpack Australia together. However, the stockier one had to leave Sydney a day earlier than his companion. Whatever the reasons, it looked to me that the taller one found pleasure accompanying me as we explored the city together. However, I was assured that their separation had nothing to do with me but was already planned from the start of their adventures. One possibility was that each had a family at a different location, even if each studied at the same university. This may have necessitated different flights at different times of the day. At least, that was the hint I have gotten from my new friend who stayed behind.

Back at the hostel, we separated, with them going to their dormitory while I returned to mine to freshen up. Sometime later, I went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, and I sat alone, as usual, in the dining room. However, I was still there when the two students also arrived and took a vacant table by the window nearby. Again, it was the taller one who called me over to join them at their meal.

The meal they had was Chinese, and that included seaweed. Having already eaten, I didn't take any of their fare, but they persuaded me to try some seaweed after I had expressed surprise. I sampled some, and it tasted good. I found that it was almost addictive as I sampled more. The atmosphere between us was wonderful. It was as if we were all one family. Finally, we made our way to our dorms.

Sydney Opera House is seen from the cruiser.

The boat leaves the city far behind.

The cruiser reaches the mouth of the natural Harbour.

The next morning, the taller friend and I saw off his companion as he made his way by bus to the airport. His companion and I stayed together throughout the day until the evening when I saw him off to the airport. During that day, we didn't go far into town. Instead, on one occasion, he invited me to join him at the rooftop sauna. After I collected my gear, I made my way to the facility. He was already there, still fully dressed, but with a change of mind. He didn't want the sauna after all. Maybe there was something about the facility which he found offputting. What it was, I didn't get to ask. So we took the lift to the ground floor. Next to the reception hall was the games room. Here, we played snooker with a couple of other backpackers, forming a foursome. As expected, I didn't win!

That evening, he vacated the hostel and we both made our way to the appropriate bus stop. When the bus to the airport arrived, he boarded it alone. However, after settling down, he waved to me until the bus disappeared out of sight. Once again, I was by myself to continue with the rest of my 1997 Round-the-World trip.

It's here that I wish to correct an error I made on Week 76 of the Biography. In the last line of the 13th paragraph, I wrote:

I spent the rest of my RTW trip on my own, as no one had stepped forward to invite me to join them, and neither had I invited anyone to accompany me.

This was written in a referral to Singapore. Not long after arriving there, two European backpackers invited me to join them for the day to enjoy the facilities on Sentosa Island, including swimming in a leisure pool. This was when I learned never to rely on memory alone but to check the records, especially in the photo album. At the time of writing, I had forgotten about these two Chinese undergrads until I checked the photo album for reference and memory refreshing.

My intention is to write this Biography as accurately as possible and I apologise for the error in week 76.

A Ferry to Manly.

During the remaining days, I stayed in the vicinity of Sydney. This included a ferry sailing to Manly, a district north of the city. This trip goes to show how I felt drawn to natural features rather than urbanisation. And despite that, I was born in London, grew up there, and always felt nostalgic about Britain's capital. From my home town of Bracknell, I wouldn't hesitate to move back to London if all circumstances had been favourable. Unfortunately, failing secondary education dealt a fatal blow to that idea, mainly due to a lack of job opportunities.

However, with Manly, I didn't have any hiking or country walks planned for this trip across the harbour. Rather, it was to experience the ferry sailing itself. The boat had a bow at both ends, hence it was able to move in both directions without the need for a turnaround at the start of each sailing. On board, I found that the interior was very basic with no buffet or comfy lounge seating.

After arriving at Manly, I saw that the town was not unlike the 3rd Parade at Santa Monica, as this street, named the Corso, was also fully pedestrianised with decorative palm trees and artistic sculpture throughout its length. The Corso was the town's main shopping precinct and it was a through street from Manly Cove, where our boat docked at the wharf located there, to Manly Beach, on the other side of the peninsula and facing into the open ocean. Manly Beach was a favourite location for wetsuit-clad surfers. When I arrived at Manly Beach, I saw what appeared to be a surfing club in full swing. With the coolness of the June/July midwinter weather, the sea looked uninviting for a swimmer, and I had no regrets about leaving my gear at the hostel.

Instead, I saw what looked like a clifftop walk further south along the coast. This was North Head, a stubby headland, and from the air, forming a prominent upper lip of the harbour mouth. I wanted to see whether a footpath ran along the clifftop with the hope of a captivating view into the natural harbour.

I started to walk along the beach towards the headland. Sure enough, the path did ascend the hill, and pretty soon I was on the clifftop. However, the path carried on for some distance along the clifftop before it gradually petered out. Hoping to have completed a circuit, taking in some fantastic views and eventually ending up back at Manly, instead, I had no option but to turn back. Just as well. The ground ahead was covered in thick vegetation such as ferns. Could I prove that no venomous snakes or other harmful nasties were lurking in those bushes? And so, I returned to town in the same way I came out, a potentially picturesque hike ending in failure.

View of the opera House from the Manly Ferry.

Cruise ship view of the famous icon.

Meanwhile, in China...

Meanwhile, while I was staying in Sydney, another piece of the old British Empire was about to fall into the sea, so to speak. After all, Australia itself was once a British colony before it became independent in 1901, although it has remained in the Commonwealth to this day. This time it will be Hong Kong. On July 1st, 1997, this former British outpost was handed back to China after 156 years of British colonialism. I remember the occasion well. I was sitting in the hostel TV room with many other backpackers. The UK was under Tony Blair's New Labour administration which had only recently been elected into power, defeating John Major's Conservatives a mere several weeks earlier. And there he was, with Charles Prince of Wales, signing away over a century and a half of history to the Chinese President, Jiang Zemin. Why am I detailing this? This is another wonder with world travel. I was 10,620 miles from home, in the heart of Sydney City Centre whilst watching the world historic event happening on TV.

After the programme, preparing supper in its superb kitchen as the hostel routine continues.

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Next Week: a day trip to Palm Beach and the city itself before take off.

Also, the photos of Manly will appear in next week's blog. This was due to a lack of foresight during preparation.

Travel Biography - Week 92.

Sydney's Superlatives.

Sydney remains the furthest point I have ever travelled to from home in the UK. It's just over 10,620 miles or 17,092 km from London, eleven hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time. It's 33.68 degrees S. and 151.12 degrees E. Hence, Sydney was not only the most distant destination I have ever travelled to but also the furthest south. However, the furthest east I have been to was Byron Bay, New South Wales, which is 153.61 degrees E. For comparison, Sydney's latitude South has roughly the same equivalence on the Northern latitude as Pheonix, Arizona, Casablanca in Morocco, and Damascus in Syria, each of these cities close to 33 degrees North.

However, throughout my life's travels, there has been a contest on where the most westerly point I stayed. Checking between Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Vancouver, it looks to be in Vancouver, where I stayed in 1977, which lies 123.11 degrees W. In turn, San Francisco is 122.43 W, and Los Angeles is 118.24 degrees W. I stayed in both Californian cities in 1977, 1978, and again in 1995.

The only remaining record for the furthest North I have ever visited in 1990, for the matter of interest, is much closer to home. It's in the United Kingdom, the Scottish Highland village and port of John O'Groats, which is 58.64 degrees N. and just over 503 miles or 815 km from London.

Hence, despite being midwinter when I was in Sydney in 1997, I didn't feel cold. Instead, palm trees and other subtropical vegetation thrived. However, I still had to wear heavier clothing than those I wore in Singapore, and at the tropical regions of Australia's Pacific coast.

Preparing to visit the Blue Mountains National Park.

Soon after arriving at the YHA City Hostel, I found out about the Blue Mountains N.P. It wasn't far from Sydney compared to the rest of Australia, just a sixty-mile, two-hour train journey from Sydney Central. If any photo of the Blue Mountains N.P. was advertised, they would always show a picture of the Three Sisters, three pinnacles which make these rock formations the most important vista of the whole park, the central theme for advertising. Therefore, by the time I arrived there, I was already familiar with this geological feature.

The Three Sisters, Blue Mountains N.P.

General view of Blue Mountains from the rim.

Cliff formation.

The Hiking Trail

Another view of the trail with a safety rail.

As already mentioned last week, I reserved a bed at the YHA Katoomba Hostel for one night, allowing me ample time to explore the area, at least the most popular areas, and maybe do some trail hiking which comes naturally.

Blue Mountains N.P. has gotten its name from the blue haze that, on a calm day, hovers over the valley forested with eucalyptus trees. After arrival, I began to compare this valley with the Grand Canyon. As I have recently found out, there is a trail leading into the valley which is called the Grand Canyon Trail. However, back in 1997, the name of that trail may not have existed, as nothing about it was mentioned at the park or in any literature published at that time.

There is a resemblance between the Blue Mountains and the Grand Canyon. That was what I was thinking as I looked around. Each is a valley cutting into a plateau. But there were some striking differences too. While the Canyon is a sparsely vegetated desert cutting deeply through northern Arizona, the Blue Mountains is covered in forest and features waterfalls here and there. The Blue Mountains are not as deep as the Canyon, hence trail hiking is far less strenuous than the Arizonian equivalent. Also, here in Australia, the Park authorities have installed both a funicular railway (originally for industrial use) and a cable car, both of these too impractical at the Canyon.

That morning, from the hostel, I made my way over the short distance to the Central Station. It was the moment when I couldn't get the name of the destination station right. Instead of Katoomba, I was thinking of Kathmandu. When I approached the ticket office that deals with Cross Country Services, I tried to get the name across to the female teller at the counter. When I explained that I wanted to visit the Blue Mountains National Park, she kindly explained that the station I wanted was Katoomba and not the capital of Nepal! She then directed me to the Intercity Services ticket office. When I got there, I saw that the male teller was having a disagreement with a couple at the window.

I stood behind them and waited for my turn. How this couple got into a tussle with the teller, I will never know, but he refused point blank to sell any tickets to the couple. Both the young man and his girlfriend ended up pleading, but the teller was obstinate. He wouldn't sell the tickets to them. That means they were unable to board their train, as to get onto the platform, they would have to pass through the electronic ticket barrier. The typical laid-back temperament of the Aussie ticket officer has ruined the day's plans for the twosome.

Rock feature, Blue Mountains NP.

Cliff face Detail.

Waterfalls like this one were frequent.

Look Closely. Is that a Panther ahead?

The scene made me nervous as my turn came around. I nearly dropped myself in it when I asked, 

I wish to visit the Blue Mountains National Park. Is the station I need to get to Kath-?

"It's Katoomba." He cut in as he intervened. 

That's right, Katoomba. Do you sell return tickets?

"No, we don't. Singles only. Five dollars."

I thought that just five dollars for a two-hour journey was incredibly cheap when compared to our fares in the UK. I felt relief when the transaction was completed and walked away with the ticket in my hand.

I passed through the electronic barriers and boarded the train. It was an Intercity express bound for Katoomba and beyond, and I was rather surprised when I saw that not many were boarding. I almost had the whole carriage to myself. Furthermore, I was impressed with the seats. The backrest of each seat was moveable, and I could just either sit facing forward or sit facing backwards without the need to change seats. This was a feature I had never seen in trains elsewhere.

The train flew through one station after another non-stop until we were out of the city suburbs. After that, the train stopped at most stations until it pulled into Katoomba Station, where I alighted. The YHA hostel wasn't far from the station, and with the Book-a-Bed-Ahead scheme activated, I entered, expecting to claim a bed for the night. But shortly afterwards, the receptionist called me over (I was waiting in the games room) and apologised, saying that a group of students had booked in for that night. I was then told to find another hostel, as there were others in town.

Dismayed at the failure of the advance bed-booking scheme for the first time, I had to set out bed-hunting. Presently, I came across a private unaffiliated backpackers hostel and went in to ask if a bed was available. To my relief, I was offered one for the coming night.

The rest of the day I spent in the local area of the park. This included watching the afternoon sun shining on the Three Sisters, and even watching an Aborigene, naked except for his waist, playing the flute at the Three Sisters lookout. I did a bit of walking but decided to leave any serious hiking for the next day when I could take a late train back to Sydney.

Along the rim of the canyon, I watched climbers scramble around one of the Three Sisters, a cable car carrying passengers to the most startling views of the valley, and a fully functioning funicular railway. I was on a walk to the bottom of the valley when I decided to ride the funicular car back up to the rim just for the sake of the experience.

The Second Day Hike.

On the evening of the first day at Blue Mountains National Park, I followed the normal hostel procedure, shopping for groceries, followed by preparing and enjoying supper at the hostel dining room. This, I think, is the main difference between a hostel and a hotel. Hostel self-catering does wonders for the budget, and friendships could be made. The downside is the lack of privacy of sleeping in a dormitory and risking a night spoilt by someone's persistent snore. 

Leura Falls, Blue Mountains NP.

Parts of the Trail have safety rails.

Katoomba Falls

Empress Falls.

The next morning, I prepared breakfast and afterwards, prepared to vacate the hostel. With the main rucksack over my shoulders, I made my way along Katoomba Street to the Three Sisters. From there there was a trailhead, and I set off to do some serious hiking. I made my way down to the bottom of the valley and followed the trail. The forest around me became more dense as I walked further into the Park.

However, further along the trail, I saw a suspicious object some distance ahead. It looked like a panther or a bear. I slowed down as I felt my hair stand on end and my skin crawl. I was totally alone, no one was anywhere near me. I watched the object carefully for any sign of movement. There was no movement. Cautiously, I approached the object. It still didn't move. But as I drew closer, ready to sprint back if any movement was seen, I then realised that the object was a log. Just a log, an inanimate dead bit of tree. As I walked past it, I gazed at it, knowing that this was a classic example of pareidolia - like seeing a face in a curtain pattern in the middle of the night.

I hiked on, alone, on and on. I arrived at the first of the three waterfalls. This one was Katoomba Falls. Watching the water tumble down the cliff above me was the pinnacle of the visit to Sydney, perhaps more so than the splendour of the Opera House. After a while, I hiked on and on along the trail, until I arrived at the second waterfall, Leura Falls. Again, how wonderful it was to stand at the foot of a waterfall like these two, in solitariness in a wilderness just outside a major city. There was no other sound other than the warbling of the cockatoos echoing across the valley. I kept along the trail until I arrived at Empress Falls. From there, I decided to turn back.

How many miles I hiked on that day I couldn't tell, unlike that of the Grand Canyon where the Bright Angel Trail was well measured. But one big difference between New South Wales and Arizona was that here in the Blue Mountains National Park, I was totally alone on the trail. As far as I remember, I didn't pass by anyone else.

That evening, I boarded the train for the return journey to Sydney. At least, this time there were a lot more passengers occupying the carriage. Back at the City hostel, my bed awaits.

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Next Week: It's a Small World. Disneyland? No, Sydney.