THE HEATHLAND – BEYOND HOLLYWOOD

 

                                          

Having researched the location I picked something I would remember, Hollywood Street, no boulevard here.  The street I wanted was two past that.  I’d chosen not to use google maps in order to save batteries, don’t want to run low while I’m taking photographs. The Princes Highway was busy despite lockdowns so I gratefully turned off and headed up Dowling Street to one of two main entrances.

It was there I was stunned.  For decades I’d tried to get a meaningful book on wildflowers, I’d even spent money for heavens sake.  Yet, for some reason, I could never crack a relevant one.  In Thredbo I was assured that the volume I’d just purchased would identify plants I’d seen and photographed that day.  It didn’t.

So, imagine my surprise when I stopped at the entrance to South Pacific Heathland Reserve.  Here were some laminated sheets with relevant plant information but, just in behind them, was a free pamphlet that identified half the plants that I’d seen today.  If there’s an annual contest for the most useful brochure, City of Shoalhaven would surely romp in.  There was a map as well, take a bow Shoalhaven.

                                                      Variable Smoke Bush

The trustees in charge of the 14 hectares of reserve won a best in the state award in 2017.  The brochures, track and lookouts are all well developed and when you get a brochure it actually relates to the trails.  There are appropriate signs so it’s almost impossible to get misplaced and you certainly can’t get lost because you’re only ever 500 metres from an intersection.  In the whole reserve there’s less than 4 kms of trail, no hills, protected by the forest.  No wonder it’s popular with locals.

                                      

                                                           Fab Flower

There’s only 14 hectares of the reserve but it’s clear that people care about it, particularly bearing in mind that there was a protest just two days ago about developers wanting to clear more of the wonderful forest that’s left at Narrawallee just down the road.  It’s always sad when some of the reasons for people moving to an area disappear.  Glossy black parrots are already endangered here and the bushfires didn’t help. 

                                        

                                                        Hardenbergia

Rennies Beach was my ultimate destination, so I thought.  I didn’t even know it existed until one week earlier.  There’s many kilometres of coast around here and everywhere I’ve been, you can’t help but notice there’s small unnamed islands and adjacent rock shelfs in many places.  Their influence on wave patterns is undeniable but, today, the swell is having a day off.  However, on the plus side, the colours are brilliant, the blues and greens as stunning as any you’ll see.

Getting there IS half the fun.  The recent sunshine has sparked interest from the plants of the coastal heath.  Windblown though it is, flora survive and thrive here on either side of the narrow bush trail that I decide to ride.  Here in the land of acacia, she-oaks and banksia there’s any number of flowers competing for space on the floor.  On the reverse side, the fire, started by arsonists in 2018, has left its scars on more than one place and the remnants of the banksia stand like wizened old men at odd angles.  In time, their seeds will take hold and it will all come again but, for the time being, the low growing flowers are having a field day, literally and figuratively.

The wash sound of the sea floats up the escarpment, enchanting in its own way, controlled by the offshore winds that were dipping over the hill to the waters.  Sitting on the cliff edge on this gorgeous day I took time out just to recharge my batteries. 

The lookouts here and on Wardens Headland appear to have no maintenance schedule as the vegetation steadily climbs in front of the lookouts, blocking some of the view on all but one I’d been to.  Many are the feet that have gone outside the protective barriers in order to get a decent shot.  Still, parts could be viewed and the presence of that ocean sound just wafted all over you, something soothing about being beside an active sea.

                                                     Sheoak

However, not far away, along a narrow unnamed track, there’s a better viewpoint because of the fires.  Naked banksia branches indicate dead trees whose seeds will take a few years to re-emerge.  Meanwhile, the view is significantly enhanced so I sit down with a pie and drink and soak it all up.

Just north nearby is Rennies Beach, access to which is via a steep path off Dowling Street but, from this viewpoint, defining individual beaches is problematic, especially when you’re not a local.  What you see is a long stretch of sand interspersed with small headlands and/or a rock shelf.  It’s quite beautiful, enhanced by the sublime colours of the ocean, changing from green to blue the further offshore you look with dark patches indicating rock slabs.  It’s the definition of sublime, and it would draw me back time and time again.

 

                                                        WATKIN STREET, WHO KNEW

It’s maybe a reflection of the inner suburbs of Sydney that people seemingly aren’t that interested in either the historic architecture or the large body of street art, yet, when I’ve posted photos, the opposite seems to be the case.

Again, with no agenda, I ventured west, probing, looking and eventually finding satisfaction up a side street called Watkin.  No surprise that I hadn’t heard of it; apart from Wilson Street, hardly anyone knew any of the streets I’d been photographing.  In fact, when I later sent some pictures of Watkin to the lady who owns my house sit, she was aghast that she proudly went looking for the architecture yet had never been to Watkin, just six blocks away.

The sheer delight of the daily discoveries could not be over-estimated.  The patterns of the pristine wrought iron (these days aluminium) work, variety of exterior colours, the 100 year old trees that lined the streets, amazing attempts at some sort of a garden and the extraordinary paintings that popped up in the most unlikely places, often down back alleys hardly visited by any humans except maybe the garbage collectors, were all lures that had me biting.

Being on a bike was, in itself, a distinct advantage because some lanes are so narrow that cars wouldn’t even get down there and some art works are beside walkways in public park areas.  It’s one of the great disadvantages of the housing in the area that car parking, if possible, is very limited.

Then there’s the tiny laneways that are closed off to vehicular traffic where people have put pot plants and rustic artwork all along one side.  The urge for beautification seems ingrained in the human psyche. 

Crossing from one area to the next sometimes entailed going through Sydney University, whose own structures are architecturally significant, modelled as they were on that shrine of learning, Oxford.  It was overkill.

So it came to pass that I turned up this obscure road down the way from my digs in Eveleigh called Watkin.  Tucked in behind the significant paper barks and spotted gums were Greek style Ionic columns supporting decorative curved balconies and, above, on the verandah, were beautiful coloured-glass semicircular windows gracing these treasures of 19^th C Victorian architecture.  Here and there in their tiny yards a modicum of greenery and a couple of tall palm trees with their slender trunks reaching skywards stood out.

Still, getting a picture without a parking sign, car, unwanted growth or the obligatory garbage bin was, at times, nigh on impossible.

By the time I reached the top of the hill I realised I’d just been somewhere special, vindicated by the later discovery that it’s Newtown’s number one rated street.