Fitzroy Falls

Next stop from the Bradman Museum was Fitzroy Falls. To be honest I'd never before heard of this place and was a bit skeptical about it, but it turned out my suspicions were unnecessary. The waterfall itself is small and not special in any sense, but the surrounding scenery was quite spectacular. The lookout at the waterfall opens out to a deep valley, with mist shrouding the depths of the valley floor where the water falls and flows eastward to the ocean.

The rainforest scenery was really beautiful on this overcast, somewhat wet day. The cool, still air and the pleasant but sharp smell of the foliage combined with the vibrant, colourful wildflowers to make it a wonderful walk from the carpark to the two lookouts.There was even a termite mound on the way.Here are some wild berries we spotted, which are apparently good "bush tucker".At the second lookout, we noted that something odd was happening on the valley floor. Possibly due to a change in wind direction, the mass of fog started moving up the incline and over the ridge on the opposite side. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the valley was completely covered in thick fog and the fog began to move towards us. Within seconds, we were enveloped in thick, white, wet fog. The cloud passed through us at amazing speed; it felt like we were in an imax theatre. Unfortunately, my camera batteries went flat at the worst time and I dont have any photo evidence. But, some of the kids did take photos and hopefully they will send them to me as they were instructed.....

After having lunch, we headed off again, this time to Kiama, to see the blowholes (I must say, I've been there so many times its a bit tiresome now, but anyway...). On the way, we went through Jamberoo Road, scenic drive no.9 (or thereabouts). Never has a scenic drive designation been more justified. At first, we drove through thick fog which reduced visibility to about 10 metres, and then we came out onto green meadows, and fields of wildflowers, and pine plantations, and grazing cattle, and quaint farmhouses, and rolls of hay, and little ponds overflowing with the unseasonal rain. Soon, the road meandered into some steep hilly country, and the picturesque farms are replaced by luxuriant rainforest. The canopy is so thick that the sky is often not visible through it. The leaves of the ferns and other rainforest trees are an unbelievably bright green. And the chilled air carries the cloying scent of the wet earth mixed with the pungence of the dense foliage.

So impressed was everyone that we planned to detour to the Minnamurra Rainforest Centre, but we missed the turn and decided not to turn around. At Kiama, because of low tide (there was no shortage of wind), the blowhole was not blowing much to the disappointment of all. So most of us decided to have a coffee and relax. I went out to the rocks and sat for a while watching the grey waves crash upon the grey rocks, against the backdrop of a grey sky.

After much arguing, it was decided that to a beach we must go, even if it was raining and getting late. So we plotted a course for 7 mile beach, a long unbroken unspoilt stretch of grey sand situated in a national park. With the mist shrouding the horizon, we could not see the ends of the beach from where we were. The sand was wet and compact- perfect for a game of cricket. It was decided that the water was too cold for swimming. I think everyone had fun at the beach- whether playing cricket, watching the waves or just chatting. There was a cool seabreeze and the lightest of sprinkles, which could just have been the spray from the ocean, to keep us comfortable. I was very impressed by this beach as it was spotless- not a single piece of rubbish. Compare this to beaches of Sydney, littered with garbage. Even beaches in Wollongong and Kiama have some rubbish, but 7 mile beach was pristine. I wonder if that's because not many people use the beach, or because the people that go there are more thoughtful than the average person, or because the park rangers are clean freaks.

By now, it was nearly 7pm. So we packed up and headed home, through more fog, which became especially thick in the stretch between Wollongong and Helensburgh....

The Bradman Museum

This is the portrait I want in my living room!!


And wouldn't this bust look nice in the foyer.And of course, the immortal cover drive; perfect for the study desk....


After spending the morning at the Bradman museum, we decided that about two-thirds of the stuff on display would look much better in our houses. For any cricket enthusiast, this place is a must-see. Contrary to what the name suggests, the Bradman museum is actually a museum of cricket history that happens to contain lots of Bradman-related items. Apart from exhibits pertaining to Sir Donald, there are also sections devoted to the history of cricket, the origins of the game in Europe, the development of equipment, Australian cricket history and stuff relating to landmark series and events in cricket.

A team portrait of the 1882 test squad, the first to win a series against England. After the loss, some clever Englishmen burnt the bails and put the ashes in a little urn to symbolize the death of English cricket. Hence, the Ashes!!!
Collectibles from the immortals tour of 1948.



Sir Donald in his retirement.

19th century cricket in the meadows of England.
Bats from the 19th century!!

The Seeker

Siddhartha is the son of a brahmin priest- a promising, intelligent young pupil. He excels at the chanting of the mantras, recitation of the scriptures and scholarly debates on religious matters. His proud father believes that Siddhartha is destined to become the greatest amongst the priests.

But Siddhartha is also a spiritual seeker. Despite having 'learned' so much, Siddhartha feels that he has made inadequate progress on the spiritual path. He seeks to understand the highest of mysteries, the nature of the Self. Having realized that such realization he will not arrive at living the life of a brahmin priest, he decides to give up his worldly attachments and joins a group of wandering ascetics to learn about the Self.

Siddhartha is the story of one man's seeking, his teachers, his lessons and his teachings. At every step, Siddhartha learns something new about the world, about himself, about God. Yet at every step, he feels something missing. Until he meets the man who is to be his last, and best teacher, the illiterate ferryman.

Siddhartha is a novel written by the German Nobel-prize winner in literature, Hermann Hesse. Published in 1922, Siddhartha is considered Hesse's finest book, along with Der Steppenwolf.
Hesse had a keen interest in Eastern philosophy, particularly the Bhagavad Gita, Upanishads and the Buddhist canon. The skill with which the often abstract concepts of Hindu/Buddhist spirituality have been woven into a story that is supposed to be somewhat autobiographical, by a German author who hadnt been to India previously, is quite simply amazing. (Hesse had travelled to Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Thailand and so had been exposed directly to Buddhism)

Reindeer Herders of the Kola Peninsula

The Kola Peninsula, in north-west Russia, is a bleak tundra- cold, harsh but loaded with nature's bounties- minerals, fish, and terrain perfect for reindeer herding. It has historically been populated by the nomadic Sami people. As explained here, their plight has been the same as that of many indiginous minorities around the world, particularly but not exclusively in Communist and former Communist countries. Fighting to survive and keep their ancient culture alive, they have been hounded and harried by successive Soviet and Russian governments. The problem is that the ancestral lands of the Sami is full of valuable which the Russian government is keen to exploit maximally. The Sami, who number only a few thousand, are a weak opposition to the forces of economic rationalism, and so many people continue to make their fortunes off the Kola Peninsula whilst the Sami stagnate, as the roubles generated from their land bypasses them completely.

Bobbin Head

Friday 22/12/06

I decided to go to Bobbin Head today to do some bushwalking with a group of friends. Bobbin Head is a little picnic spot-cum-marina situated in valley in the Kuringai National Park, north of Sydney. Its proximity to the city attracts lots of boat owners who flock to the area and sail on the Hawkesbury river and its tributaries. The Kuringai National Park also has lots of bushwalking trails, of all lengths, including a part of the Great North Walk. The terrain varies from pockets of rainforest, stretches of mangrove swamp to the ubiquitous eucalypt forest seen all over Australia.

We decided to start the day on the Sphinx trail, which goes from Bobbin Head to the Sphinx memorial, a replica of the real Sphinx built in honour of the soldiers who perished fighting in Egypt in WWII. Part of this track is pretty heavy going with some tough climbs, but because these are well spaced out and quite short, we made good time walking the 5km in under 2 hours. On the way back, we took the Bobbin Head track which heads back to where we started. Unfortunately, this is a dirt track for offroad vehicles and is situated on top of the ridge. Hence it is exposed and dry making it much less interesting to walk through. The last part however, was lots of fun because we bushbashed down the slope rather than take the winding path down.

It was lunch time, and quite hot by now. Also, one of my friends had bad blisters on both his feet, the worst I've ever seen. So we couldnt do any more walking for the day, which was a shame as I wanted to walk on the other side of the river to the waterholes. Oh well, another time.....