Heading for a Fall - Cascades Walk

It rolled, but as my foot went with it my other leg moved forward to the next rock.  It could be called luck but experienced rock-hoppers know that it’s putting two or three steps together before you move and that way you always have options.  The vast majority of times it works; the twice I can recall when it didn’t was when I was standing on fallen tree branches and they snapped.  From there no recovery is possible – you will get wet!

  

I was on a walk, one I never thought I’d get to.  Leaving home in the morning I’d done the four hours’ driving and suffered along the way.  I’d fired up the water pump at Pheasants Nest, 3 hours in, but it hadn’t stopped, simply kept on “barr”ing away, meaning that there was a leak somewhere.  10 minutes later, after looking aghast at the amount running out beside my storage tank, I worked out where it was coming from.  Then, all I needed to do, was find a motorhome repair place, though a trailer/caravan would do just as well and there appeared to be one at Mittagong.  There was, but their repertoire didn’t include plumbing so he suggested that his first call would be at the plumbing supplies just around the corner.

The man at the counter was a bit rough around the edges and he uttered a four letter word when he saw the piece of fitting I proffered but ventured out to the motorhome and, while I raised the mattress skywards, he clambered underneath and viewed the offending connections.  Knowing full well what I needed the parts were unearthed from an odd bits box as I gave a notable sigh of relief.  Counter man declined to assist further because “I’ve got a bad knee”, to which I added how lucky he was because I had two dodgy joints.  It took me another 20 minutes or so because initially it still leaked, as plumbing repairs are wont to do, and I had to reassemble it about four times before success was had.

So I set out for Kangaloon cemetery, a place I’d shot before but I was hoping for better light this time.  Alas, Miss Direction took me on the “shortest route” but it wasn’t the best for the motorhome.  I worked this out when told to turn left into a laneway that was but 1 ¼ times my width.  The thought of oncoming traffic was scary to say the least, so I continued on the way I was already on.

Apart from some scenic farm shots I focused on finding the Cascade Walk.  It had surfaced on the internet when I was researching the trip and seemed to offer a small drop over a rock shelf, but nothing to get really excited about.

   

Halfway down Macquarie Pass I came to a sharp curve, sorry, that should read one of a hundred sharp curves as those who have travelled it will only too readily know.  Here I pulled up because there was room and seemingly a trail; just the scenario I was looking for.  Alas, the trail was a 4WD access to power lines.  I duplicated this effort a few kilometres further down, walking in perhaps half a km before realising it wasn’t going anywhere.  I had to face it, today was not my day.

Easing down the steep pass road, it finally bottomed out and, lo and behold, there was a parking area on the left so I swung in.  Surely this could not be the place.  On the other side of the park was an interpretive sign, so I grabbed my camera with intent and walked over.  Hallelujah!  The Cascade Walk started right here. 

It’s listed as 45 minutes return on the sign but I’d seen an hour elsewhere so I had a rough idea.  Initially it was disappointing; well, the flow in the creek was anyway.  To say it was a trickle would be overstating the case.  Still, the gurgle was sweet, the rocks were moss covered and the crunch of the leaves underfoot was as music to my ears.  It was good to be bushwalking; then again, it’s always good to be bushwalking.

                               

I stepped down to creek level a couple of times and then came upon a wonderful rock that jutted out into the landscape.  Wow, it had been worth the walk just to see that shape.  Still, I hadn’t reached the falls yet so I continued on, reflecting on how amazing the results on the camera were.  They translated as being in full daylight, yet no sun’s rays penetrated the forest, it was all gloom.  Such is the wonder of shooting in the golden hour.

                         

As the falls came into view I espied a figure on a level below me, camera on tripod.  I set up and started taking pictures, admiring the sliver of water that neatly bisected the rock face, like a white knife leaving a permanent scar.  Soon the other man started packing up and we exchanged greetings as he ascended back up to the stairway.  He was the proud possessor of a Canon and I had to sadly inform him I was a Nikon man.  “Ah, the enemy eh” he retorted.  Such is the world of photography these days. 

Canon man was on the point of departure when he started waxing lyrical about the falls further up.  “What falls further up?  How do I get there,” I queried, totally unaware of any trail.  “You have to cross over to the other side,” he said, “They’re really wonderful.”  With the ever-fading light bidding me to hasten, I packed up and scampered across.  It was a narrow, worn trail of basic nature.  No made steps or boardwalks here.  On the side of seriously steep slopes you had to step on exposed tree roots to gain purchase and grasp at tree trunks in order to ascend.  Luckily it wasn’t far and as I stepped back into the water course I could instantly see just how right Canon man had been.

                         

A splendid stepped cascade was off to the left, an overflow course was in the middle and a scoured rock face off to the left, all sprinkled with vegetation here and there.  

                               

It was special now, when the rains came it would be something to behold.  Beyond lay the tallest of all the drops and I made a quick beeline for that before the lack of light made it dangerous to walk back.  It transpired that I should have brought my fishing head lamp because, as I neared the park once more, visibility was almost zilch and the steps and occasional tree root took on a menace that wasn’t apparent on the way in.

                             

Still, I made it safely back and reflected on just how well the day had finished after all the early dramas; something about not giving up.