A MORNING TO REMEMBER - Blue Mountains N.S.W., near Blackheath

It’s magic.  No matter how many times you view it, there’s an inescapable beauty to the sight of a draped morning mist escaping the valley floor and climbing the surrounding cliffs in fingers of white; like they’re clutching the high edges in an effort to scramble out of their imprisonment, dragging the main bleached body behind them.  ‘Tis a place of wonder, these Blue Mountains.

Stirred by a gentle zephyr that soon becomes a breeze the white shroud echoes the path of the wind by spilling skywards as it chases the air above that has been warmed by the sun; turning and tumbling until it has been shredded into nothingness and the trees, dipped in dew, glisten as the first rays kiss the droplets and sparkle like a jewellers cabinet.

We step out on the trail that is dressed with wildflowers and an overcoat of eucalypts, splashing our way along the route that bore the brunt of last night’s storm that pounded relentlessly on the roof of the motorhome, keeping us awake at times.  The pools on the trail are many and they reflect the forest and the clearing sky overhead, adding another dimension to what is a delightful scenic walk to begin with.

The sounds of the escarpment are clearly audible in the crisp morning air.  The tell-tale splashing of waterfalls resound around the canyon walls interspersed with the peeping of wrens nearby and squawking of cockatoos as they rise on the uplifting currents, flashes of white above the blue gum forests whirling this way and that.

As we dip into Hayward’s Gully, named after probably the first white man to descend into Grose Valley, there’s a change in vegetation and a proliferation of the wildflowers.  The various shapes and sizes catch our attention, the rain droplets that are still clinging sparkle in the backlight of the sun’s rays.  You can feel the cleansing effect of atmosphere on your lungs as you breathe deeply while ascending from the gully floor.

Soon we come to what we had hoped for, a gap in the cliff top vegetation that allows us an uninterrupted vista across Grose Valley.  Time to sit down and let our breakfast settle a little while we snap off a few shots to remember the moment by.

The cliffs, cleansed by the overnight downpour, looked so fresh in the early light and here and there ephemeral waterfalls flashed, adding life to an otherwise dormant surface.  Cheeky grey fantails and wrens flitted around, their presence often announced by moving undergrowth as they actively bounced around in search of a morsel.  A lone blooming waratah looked simply beautiful with the background of the forest to enhance its stunning red.

The return walk was just as enjoyable, the crispness of the fresh morning airs something that we’d been unaccustomed to for some time, especially after 9 weeks of no rain.

We’d left ourselves ample time to have a cuppa and then move on to the Blackheath Rhododendron Gardens, situated in an unlikely back street west of the main shopping area.  I love them because they’ve tried to meld the colourful flowers with Australian native bush and it’s all done by volunteers.  Where once there was handful of plants, there now can be found eight kilometres of trails meandering through the flora and fauna (particularly birds).

The colours vie with one another for favourable glances.  From stark white it continues through the spectrum.  Yellows, reds, apricot oranges, delicate pinks and mauves are randomly scattered through mature Blue Mountains Ash.  Splashed here and there you may well note azaleas and camellias, not to mention some native flowers like bush peas.

You could zig-zag for a couple of hours through this mish-mash of vegetation, lose yourself behind thick bushes and take in the sharp fragrance of the yellow rhododendron, whose perfume-like odour gives great pleasure to the olfactory senses.  Whatever time you take it will be time well spent and you can later repair to the volunteer-staffed café atop the rise and take in the special panorama over the gardens while you enjoy your repast.