A warm welcome in Katoomba.

Katoomba, the largest town in the Blue Mountains, is about a 90 minute drive west of Sydney. It started life as a coal mine in the late 1870s but, because of the wonderful mountain scenery, soon became a tourist centre. Katoomba is a native word meaning water falling over rocks and there are plenty of waterfalls and cascades to merit that description.

After a trouble free run out of Sydney, thanks to the excellent navigational skills of lovely Navigator Lesley, we arrived in Katoomba around 12-30pm. We were in a Ford FG Mark11 Falcon, which was a spacious and comfortable vehicle with all sorts of bells and whistles. As we were keen to depart Sydney as quickly as possible I did not waste too much time exploring the various capabilities of the car. I managed to start it and get the radio and the air conditioning to work, but as we crossed the ANZAC Bridge onto the Great Western Highway I realised that I had no idea how to open the boot or the petrol cap. Fortunately, these were not too difficult to operate.

Captain Arthur Philip planted the British flag at Sydney Cove in 1788. That first European  settlement in Australia consisted mainly of sailors, convicts and the soldiers who guarded them. After a shaky start in which everyone almost starved to death, the colony gradually established itself. At first they had relied on supplies brought from Britain by ship. Eventually convicts, with rudimentary farming skills, began to grow enough food to support the settlers.

After a while, free settlers arrived and began to extend farms out into the hinterland. However, continued growth was blocked by the impenetrable sandstone barrier of what the locals called The Blue Mountains, 100 kilometres to the west.  Why the BLUE mountains? Well they were thickly covered with eucalyptus trees which gave off tiny droplets that caused blue light from the lower end of the spectrum to disperse into the atmosphere, creating a blue haze. It is the exact same reason that dust particles in the atmosphere make our skies appear blue. The Blue Mountains were a giant wall that trapped the settlers on the enclosed narrow coastal plain. For twenty five years, until 1813, every attempt to cross the Blue Mountains ended up with the explorers facing 1000 foot high cliffs. The local indigenous people, who had lived in the area for around 60 000 years, knew several ways to cross the mountain barrier but nobody thought of asking them.

Then in 1813, Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson, tried a new strategy. Instead of walking along the valleys and coming to a dead end, they decided to walk along the ridges. Eventually, they were successful and crossed the mountains. As Andrew “Banjo” Patterson” so eloquently put it, they then “gazed upon that vision splendid of the sunlit plain extended.” 

Pretty soon farmers and squatters were taking up land well to the west of Sydney.  It was basically along the direction of that bush track made by Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson in 1813, that Lesley and I cruised, ever so comfortably towards Katoomba, on the well paved Great Western Highway.

Just outside of Katoomba, at Faulconbridge, we stopped to visit the studio and picturesque rural property of Norman Lindsay. Born in 1879, Lindsay was the Australian precursor of Playboy's Hugh Heffner. Lindsay promoted the naked female form well before Heffner was born. The property is dotted with many of Lindsay’s sculptures, which are mainly of nude women. We had an interesting hour wandering around Lindsay's home and studio and were given an informative commentary by a volunteer guide.

The entry to Norman Lindsay's Studio at Faulconbridge.

Apart from writing the children’s classic, “The Magic Pudding”, and about another hundred books, many of which were banned, Lindsay was a prolific artist, poet, sculptor and maker of beautifully designed model boats. Two of his most controversial novels were “The Age of Consent” and “Redheap” which were banned in Australia until the 1960s.  He contributed cartoons to the Bulletin Magazine for over half a century. He also did a lot of etchings and we visited the workshop, adjacent to his studio, where these etchings were made.

Lindsay was a very bohemian character and made a speciallity of drawing voluptuous nude ladies. He even ditched his first wife to marry his second wife, Mary Soady, who was one of his statuesque nude models. Mary was chiefly responsible for producing his etchings, as Lindsay lacked the physical strength to turn the large wheel on his printing press. In the 1980s a movie was made about his life called “Sirens”, starring Sam Neill as Lindsay and Elle MacPherson as one of the many nude ladies who frequented his studio. Our very knowledgeable guide said Sirens was a totally inaccurate depiction of Lindsay’s life.

Lindsay’s full bodied, sexy nude drawings were highly controversial. In the 1940s Rose Soady took sixteen crates of his paintings, drawings and etching to the United States for safe storage from the war. Unfortunately, in America, the train on which she was travelling  caught on fire and his art work was impounded. When the authorities saw the nature of Lindsay’s art they destroyed it, saying that it was pornographic. When he heard what had happened Lindsay is reported to have said, “Don’t worry. I’ll do more.”  Norman Lindsay died, aged 90, in 1969. He was an interesting character from an interesting family. You can find out more by a Control/Click on this link:

http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/lindsay-norman-alfred-7757

When you are travelling you like to be well organised and well prepared. Sometimes it backfires.

I chose our motel, via the internet, because it was centrally located in Katoomba's Main Street, which is in fact, Katoomba Street. The hotel is called Katoomba Town Centre Motel. However, when I swung into Katoomba Street we came to a road block and a major detour right in the centre of Katoomba Street. They were building a very big roundabout at the very intersection on which our motel was situated and roads in four directions were blocked off for about 50 meters. After following the detour signs we eventually came to the other end of Katoomba Street and then doubled back to our motel. As you will read subsequently, this was not the only time our travel plans were thwarted by unexpected road closures.

After booking in and dragging our cases up two flights of stairs, we decided to wander downtown for some lunch. We noticed a lot of Chinese, Japanese, Thai and Korean food outlets mixed in with the usual cafes and restaurants. The large number of Asian food outlets reflects the fact that these days an increasing number of tourists are from Asia. In general, Katoomba looked a little bit tired and in urgent need of sprucing up. Maybe it is a result of the Global Financial Crisis, but it is clear that the tourist industry is obviously not as profitable as it was previously. Having said that, we did notice large numbers of Japanese, Chinese and American tour groups as we moved around.

After lunch we did a bit more walking before returning to the motel to sort ourselves out and have a bit of a rest. About ten minutes later the fire alarm went off. We quickly went out in the car park trying to find out what was going on. Then a fire truck turned up. I couldn’t see any smoke, but I could smell that acrid aroma that occurs when something like a toaster or electric kettle fuses.

Our friendly fireman at the back of the motel.. His mates are inside tackling the problem

The crisis is over

A couple of firemen, dressed up in all sorts of protective clothing and masks, went into the building. We started talking to another fireman who was unrolling some hoses. He did not seem too concerned and I said, "There is no smoke."

He gave me a smile and said, “Well, that is always a good sign." Later on he told us a dryer in the laundrette had fused and started smoking but his firey mates had handled it all.

The burnt filter and some other burnt matter from the faulty dryer.

Earlier, I had walked around the motel looking for smoke. I didn't see any, but I did notice a rather grand stained glass window over the main entry door. At the top of the door the coloured glass spelt out, "St Elmo". Well, I guess that says it all, really.

We were there when St Elmo's fire took on a whole new meaning.

About 4-30pm we set off to see some of the fabulous Blue Mountains. We immediately noticed that the previously blue skies were now filed with threatening black thunder clouds. We drove about two kilometres to Echo Point to the Three Sisters lookout. According to an Aboriginal Dream Time story the Three Sisters represent three young maidens who were in love with three boys from a neighbouring tribe. Their marriages were opposed by both tribes and a war broke out. In order to protect the girls from the war, their mother arranged for them to be turned into stone. And there they have stood so beauteously ever since. Despite the dark and gloomy outlook overhead, the Three Sisters stood majestically as they ever have for thousands of years. The scene certainly impressed the very big number of Asian and American tourists who were all standing around taking photos and being photographed with the Blue Mountains in the background.

The Three Sisters at Echo Point as storm clouds gather.

After I had taken a few pictures a young American asked if I could take a picture of him with his friends. There were about ten of them, all young and very fit looking. He handed me his camera as his mates all lined up for the picture. I took the camera and jokingly said, “There could be a small fee for a group sitting.” His friends all laughed.

He looked at me, then smiled and took his place in the group. After I had taken a couple of photos the group thanked me and slowly moved away. As he retrieved his camera, the young man smiled again and called out, “Hey, Billy, pay the man.” I guess Billy did not hear him.

Lesley remarked that this group of young men looked like the American baseball players she had seen featured on TV the day before. This could very well have been so, because on the next weekend in Sydney, two US major league teams played games against two Australian baseball teams and then they played each other in an official major league game at the Sydney Cricket Ground. This was why the Western Australia cricket team was playing the Sheffield Shield Final against New South Wales in Canberra instead of at the Sydney Cricket Ground. I tried to imagine the situation whereby two US Football teams would be scheduled to play at the MCG on the last Saturday in September and the two AFL grand finalists had to play their Grand Final in Geelong. Somehow, I don't think that will ever happen.

Shortly after the American baseballers' photo shoot, there was a massive thunderclap. Obviously it was soon going to rain. As there were no interesting bars nearby for us to take refuge in, we returned to the car and back to the safety (barring the odd fire or two) of our motel.

The next morning we ventured down to Echo Point again. The whole area was packed with tourists and school groups. Tour buses where everywhere. Unfortunately the focus of all of this attention, the Three Sisters, was completely shrouded by a thick blanket of fog. I felt terribly sorry for the tourists, especially the schoolchildren and their teachers who had missed out on what was to be the highlight of their excursion. I was reminded of the time my sister, Valerie, travelled to the Blue mountains with her English born husband, John. John had never been to the Blue Mountains before and was disappointed when he and Valerie arrived to find everything covered in fog. Valerie änd John drove back into town. Valerie led him into a newsagent's shop. She found some large postcards of the Three Sisters and other scenic places, thrust them in front to John and said, "This is what you would be seeing if the fog wasn't there."

Later in the morning the fog lifted and we drove around Blue Mountains Drive, stopping at various vantage spots to enjoy the grand views and the ambient tranquillity of it all. It was amazing to see that even in this wilderness there were very well established houses in the National Park. I imagined the occupants of these minor mansions at breakfast time, eating their corn flakes as they gazed out on million dollar views.

The Three Sisters shrouded by the morning fog.

After some more sightseeing we had lunch in the beautiful town of Leura. Here we found a picture postcard main street with a median strip of cherry trees. On both sides there were very well presented shops selling food, clothing, jewellery and knick knacks of various kinds. Leura is the native word for lava. There is some lava in the area, but I am reliably informed that the last volcanic activity occurred about ten million years ago.

Leura looked much fresher and brighter than Katoomba and we soon discovered that there is a fairly intense rivalry between the two towns.  Our waitress in Leura was almost ecstatic when we told her that we thought Leura was far prettier than Katoomba. “Oh, it most definitely is,” she assured us, quickly adding, “and the people are nicer too.” I had noticed that in Katoomba you would often see groups of young men sitting idly by, smoking and indulging in noisy conversations. I wondered if maybe Katoomba had a drug culture problem that Leura did not.

This is why the first settlers in Sydney found it difficult to move to the west.

From Leura we proceeded east along Sublime Point Road, aptly named, because after about twenty minutes we came to Sublime Point. After a downhill walk of 250 metres from the car park we reached the Sublime Point lookout, which offers magnificent views across the Jamieson Valley. We stayed here quite a while, mainly to enjoy the serenity of the moment and the superb views, but also to gather our strength for the 250 metre walk uphill back to the car. Some things do come at a price!

A view from Sublime Point.

Another sublime view.

On our final night in Katoomba we decided to eat out at the Katoomba RSL Club. In Western Australia we do not have poker machines, except at the Crown Casino at Burswood. So our Returned Services League clubs are rather spare. They may have an occasional alcohol licence for Friday night socials or other gatherings. Their income is mainly from bar sales, chook raffles and hall hire. In the eastern states, poker machines are legal and they are everywhere. The constant flow of casino money enables places like Returned Services League clubs to provide very luxurious club room facilities for returned service men and women and their guests. A feature of all of these clubs is the very inexpensive food and drink which you can enjoy before, during and after putting your money into the pokies. Of course these RSL clubs also welcome passing strangers who are able to obtain a Visitors Membership Card merely by producing some identification and signing a form. There is no membership fee. Of the people in the dining room that evening I would say more than 50% of them were travelling nomads like Lesley and me. I know that these travelling people are usually called "grey haired nomads" but Lesley and I are not quite at that stage yet.

While enjoying some pre dinner drink in the well upholstered RSL lounge I gazed into the adjacent dining room. I was astounded to see that the franchise for the catering section of the Katoomba RSL had been handed over to the Japanese. I immediately thought of those gallant old diggers, who fought and died on The Kokoda Track defending Australia in 1942, turning in their graves at the fact that the Japanese were now serving up the food in Katoomba’s RSL. Lesley assured me that the Asian people serving in the restaurant were in fact Chinese. Later we went in and I enjoyed a very large Chinese meal of Roast Lamb and three vege.

We thoroughly enjoyed our Blue Mountains visit. The next morning we set off bright and early to drive to Canberra, via  the hair raising hair pin bends that lead  down, way down, from the Blue Mountains to  Jenolan Caves.

On Blue Mountains Drive.
One of the well placed houses in the background that overlooks a magnificent view.

Sydney and the Bush.

The first time I visited Sydney I was nineteen years old and I slept on a camp stretcher in the store room of the Cremorne Garden Tearooms, just a very short tram ride away from the Taronga Park ferry landing. It was kind of creepy, but I soon got used to the scurrying noises of the rats and the thumping humping of the possums in the roof. I tried not to think of the large and furry triantalope spiders and other creepy crawlies that inhabited the darkness of night in that store room.

In those days I used to spend my summer holidays in Melbourne with my cousin, Maurie Carr and his wife, Bobbie. Her real name was Thelma but we all called her Bobbie. In January of that particular summer, while I was in Melbourne, I received a telegram from my Uncle Ray inviting me to come and stay with him in Sydney for two weeks. Uncle Ray was a yachtsman competing in the 16 foot skiff Australian Sailing Championships on the magnificent Sydney Harbour. Like the many hundreds of yachtsmen visiting Sydney for that event, my uncle had been billeted out, which is how I came to be bunking down in the Cremorne Gardens Tearooms.

Since then I have visited Sydney many times and have always enjoyed the hustle and bustle of this most exciting city. In  March  this year I was in Sydney once again, this time with the beautiful Lesley, after we had spent the previous nine days sailing in the sumptuous luxury of the Queen Mary 2. Unlike my first visit, this time in Sydney we were ensconced in the comfortable and very well appointed Menzies Hotel, which is in Carrington Street, one short block away from hustling, bustling George Street.

Our rather splendid hotel.

After our very well organised disembarkation from QM2, we taxied to the Menzies, arriving at about 10-00am. Check in was not till 2-00pm but I had contacted the Menzies and been told that we could leave our luggage there whenever we arrived. A very cheerful and friendly young man on the desk welcomed us and said that there were no rooms available at present  but suggested if we came back at about Noon he should be able to book us in.

One entry to Wynyard Station. Opposite our hotel.

After checking in our luggage with the Concierge, Lesley and I made a beeline across the road to Wynyard Underground Station and purchased two Senior Travel Passes at $2.50 each. What a bargain. These tickets allowed us to travel on any train bus or ferry and were valid until 4-00am the following morning. This would have enabled us to cut loose in some dimly lit den of iniquity in Kings Cross until the wee small hours. Lesley and I resisted that temptation and generally finished up safe and snug back at the Menzies well before 4-00am.

Armed with our travel passes we caught the underground train from Wynyard to Central where we alighted and viewed the fine old architecture of the Sydney Town Hall and the Queen Victoria Building, which has been magnificently renovated inside its grand façade to provide shopping arcades for trendy, upmarket fashion houses, jewellers and a host of other attractive shops fronts.

Then we boarded a bus for Circular Quay where we gave a friendly wave to the grand old Queen Mary 2, taking centre stage in front of the passenger terminal with the Sydney Harbour Bridge as a backdrop. From the Quay we walked into The Rocks area to visit the Sydney Visitors Centre to pick up some maps and other useful information.

The Rocks is now a famous tourist precinct consisting of many of the original buildings that were constructed in the 19^th Century from “the rocks” that were part of the large sandstone outcrops there. From the earliest days The Rocks was frequented by sailors, prostitutes and other unsavoury characters. In 1900 an outbreak of bubonic plague made the government move to demolish all the buildings. This plan was thwarted by World War One. 

In the 1920s many houses in the Rocks were demolished as part of the construction of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The Second World War delayed any further demolition. In the 1960s it was decided to continue the demolition programme but this scheme fell foul of building unions and “Green” groups who wanted the area kept intact.

As it happens, a very distant cousin, Owen Magee, was the engineer who was given the job of developing the area into the brilliant mixture of old and new that makes it such a wonderful tourist attraction and vibrant living area today. Owen was the first cousin of my Magee first cousins, John, Noreen and Patricia (sadly deceased) who were the children of my dad’s sister, Margaret.

After graduating from Aquinas College, Owen joined the army in 1943 and saw service overseas at Wewak. He later completed a degree in engineering at the University of Western Australia and was involved in many major building programmes for the defence forces in Australia as well as Korea and Vietnam.

At one stage Owen was the youngest Lieutenant Colonel in the Australian Army and finished up as a Brigadier before retiring from the army in the late 1960s. He was put in charge of the Rocks Redevelopment Project and spent fifteen year working with the competing interests of building developers, politicians of various parties, businessmen, building unions and environmental groups. 

His completed  project was voted to be an outstanding success and built at no cost to the NSW or Federal government. When he started in 1970 about 200 000 people visited the Rocks each year. When he finished in 1985 the figure was well in excess of 2 000 000. Today the figure would be even greater. Owen died in 2006.

Sydney is fortunate that it still retains so many of its major historic buildings. The Town Hall, the Queen Victoria Building, The Old Post Office, the Commonwealth Bank and the Customs House are just some of the fine examples of 19^th Century and early 20^th Century architecture still on display. 

Unfortunately in Perth we managed to knock down most of our historic buildings in the 1960s and replaced them with glass and aluminium CD stacker look alikes. At least we still have the old Museum, the Art Gallery and the Town Hall to remind us of the grandeur of the built  heritage that we knocked down and carted off to the tip.

The Old Post Office building in Martin Place, sydney.

After exploring The Rocks, and armed with a few maps from the Visitor Centre, Lesley and I caught a bus back along George Street to Wynyard and the Menzies Hotel where the very pleasant young fellow at the desk told us that not only did we have a room but we had been upgraded from Queen Size Double to King Size Double. But wait. There’s more. Yes Sir, we were on the eighth floor with a window view overlooking Wynyard Park. Our date with unexcelled excellence was to continue. The king sized bed was so huge that at night if I wanted to speak with Lesley I had to call her on her mobile telephone. (Well, maybe not!)

Lunch in Wynyard Park.

While lunching in Wynyard Park I noticed that there were a whole line of buses lined up in Carrington Street, opposite The Menzies. One of these indicated it was going to Palm Beach, one of our very favourite destinations. We clambered on board for the very enjoyable45 kilometre ride to that wonderful beach. We passed over the harbour bridge where we again saw the majestic Queen Mary2 completely dominating the foreground. All of the passengers craned their necks and strained to get a view of the mighty ship. I resisted the urge to leap up and say, “Hey, everybody, we just travelled into Sydney on that ship.”

We passed onto North Shore, across Spit Bridge, past wonderful beaches such as Dee Why and Newport, passed Avalon beach and along Barrenjoey Road and Pittwater where millionaires’ mansions dotted the steep green hills. Finally we drove in to Palm Beach, surely one of the greatest beaches anywhere. They even use the northern end as the setting for one of Australia’s  favourite soapies, “Home and Away.”

The Home and Away end of Palm Beach.

Manly man at Manly beach.

And that is basically how we spent the next six days, happily using our travel passes to board buses, trains and ferries to Manly Beach, Taronga Park, Bondi Beach, Kings Cross, St Mary's Cathedral, Darling Harbour, The Maritime Museum and of course the Opera House. The weather treated us kindly, except when we were at Bondi Beach. Just as we were about to leave the storm clouds gathered, the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and heavy rain started to fall. It was a fairly typical sudden Sydney storm or Southerly Buster as the locals call them.

St Mary's Cathedral. It was the bells of St Mary's that called American sailors back from the war zones.

Lesley in the Lush Bar while the storm rages over Bondi Beach.

We had about 200 metres to travel across open ground to reach our unprotected bus stop so we were forced to take shelter in a cosy little bar in the Bondi Pavilion. There was a group of Japanese college girls in the bar, plus a couple of English backpackers who were trying to chat them up. Unfortunately, we did not see how successful their chatting up was because after about twenty minutes the storm blew itself out and we moved out of the bar and up to the bus stop.

The rainbow after the storm.

On my first visit to Sydney I wanted to visit the Sydney Cricket Ground to watch Australia playing a Test Match against England. On a Saturday afternoon I went to Castlreagh Street where several trams were waiting at the terminus and some trammies were standing around talking and puffing on their cigarettes.

I hopped on board the first tram in the line and after about five minutes two trammies hopped on board too. One was the driver and the other was the conductor collecting the fares. As he came to my seat I asked him if the tram was going to the cricket ground and he said it was and the fare was threepence each way. I paid the money and he moved on.There were not many passengers on the tram and eventually the conductor came back to where I was sitting.

“Visiting Sydney, are you?” he enquired.

When I told him that I was indeed a visitor he then asked, “Are you from Newcastle?” I said no.

 “Are you from Wollongong, then?” Again I answered no.

He then asked if I was from Penrith or Golburn and again I said I was not.

He gave a very perplexed look and said, “Well, where the heck do you come from?”

“I’m from Perth,” I smiled proudly, hoping to give him an everlasting impression of all of us friendly folk in the west. He was as stunned as if I told him I came from the dark side of the moon.

“Perth!” he exclaimed. “That’s a bloody long way away.” I agreed, but he didn’t hear my reply because he had quickly moved up to the driver’s cabin, no doubt to tell him that they actually had a person from Perth on their tram.

That was the attitude of most Sydneysiders in those days.  It was Sydney or the Bush. There was Sydney and there was the Bush and not much else in the world really. Of course most American tourists still think that Sydney is Australia.

Well, Lesley and I really enjoyed our stay in Sydney, but after six days we set off early one morning in our hire car, over the ANZAC Bridge, through Parramatta and into the bush on our way to Katoomba and the beautiful Blue Mountains about 80 kilometres away. We had seen a lot of Sydney and now we were to see a lot of the Australian bush as we spent a week travelling south from Katoomba, via Jenolan Caves, Kosciusko National Park into Victoria and eventually to Melbourne. It was the third time that Lesley and I had driven from Sydney to Melbourne, but the scenery we passed through this time surpassed anything we had seen before.

Replica of Captain Cook's Endeavour. Built of course in WA.

One of Australia's greatest treasures. Sydney Harbour Bridge in the background.