Six Foot Track

October 31, 2016



1 October 2016


The cleft in the sandstone lets us down off the bluff through sheer slab sides that drop away into the bush below. The knees protest at each step but we are distracted by the howling wind that bends and buffets the trees on the edge high above us even as we stop and gaze at the buffeting out of our still, green hued glen of motionless ferns and mossy rocks. It’s two different worlds  – the icy wind that cut us to pieces as we departed is quickly left behind as we drop through this veil of green, and descend past water washing down rocks to Nellies Glen. Who is Nellie? We have no idea. No one knows. But in short order we find ourselves on the overgrown road that once pressed up into here as far as it could before yielding to those sheer escarpments behind us. I’m always move by the merest evidence of human endeavour, even if it is a mean scratching in the scrub. Someone with hopes and dreams was involved in the cutting of this road, while others used it in support of their families and farms. Some of those folk are buried at Megalong Cemetery though their graves are long gone and the names of the interred are remembered on a plaque. Families are buried together, too often without a decent interval between the dates. Read more

A Scraped Knee a Spiritual Experience?

May 17, 2013

knee290You betcha.  In the inelegant scramble to haul over the edge of a two meter overhang, sections of pelt were left on the sandstone, and down an indented shin the claret seeps. You don’t notice the latter until the hot water of the shower hits the skin that evening and startles you awake.  Read more