9 April 2011 - Zigzag Rail Station, Clarence, Blue Mountains, NSW

Last night was the coldest we have spent in Australia so far. The thermometer we purchased in one of the cheapy shops showed that it was only 10 degrees, however I am convinced it is faulty. It felt more like 3 degrees! Chris had woken during the night and ventured bravely into the bathroom cupboard where our sleeping bags were stored away. One of those opened out and on top of the duvet and the two blankets I had already added, managed to keep us warm for the rest of the night. Then it was layer upon layer of clothes this morning and I was planning all the shopping I needed to do to cope with the Arctic-like temperatures, however again Chris saved the day and reminded me that within days we would be heading north to warmer climes. No need for a new wardrobe after all!

Outside as the sun rose above the high trees and the orange sandstone bluffs, so did the mist until we were spoiled with yet another gloriously fine day.

The blue Blue Mountains

Before heading off, we climbed the clay track above the camp in the erroneous hope of a view further down the valley. The bush was too thick and we could see that we were still too hemmed in by the encircling escarpment. It was however a pretty walk.

Our exit from the valley was far less stressful than I had expected. Despite the numerous vehicles that we saw and heard speeding down into the valley on this Saturday morning, none caused any problem on the sharp steep bends as we climbed back up to Blackheath.

Horseshoe Falls

We drove straight through this pretty little resort town, the highest in the Blue Mountains, and out to the Govitt’s Leap Lookout, from where one can view a couple of waterfalls plunging down in to the Grose valley, the other side of the escarpment from the Three Sisters and the Megalong valley. This canyon is no less awesome than the others; one can stand for ages and just wonder at the grandeur of the scene below. Because we were still early, we were fortunate enough to park the caravan close to the lookout in a safe manner, and so headed off for a short walk around the cliff face to get a closer view of the Horseshoe Falls. Alas the track was muddy and very wet, and so our going was slow, but then, we were in no hurry.

Govitt’s Leap is so named because the story goes that Govitt was being pursued by the law, and he rode his horse over the cliff rather than face the consequences of capture. Tough choice, I say.

At Govitt's Leap

Returning the way we had come, we parked down a side street in Blackheath and did our usual main street reconnaissance. The town was busy; there was a wine and food festival on. A blues band was just setting up on the back of a big truck, the food stalls were setting up their wares, however the wine vendors were already making sales.

Instead we called in to Victory Theatre Antiques, over two floors representing fifty dealers whose wares range from antique jewellery, books, paintings, light fittings, the finest European porcelains (you can tell I am quoting from the promotional brochure) through to modern furnishings. The Theatre is a revamped Art Décor picture theatre and is a Blue Mountains landmark, featuring a café in the entrance. As Chris said, an antique store is really just an upmarket or classy second hand shop, and so this was too.

We called into two art galleries, the Keith Rowe Gallery where we enjoyed his glassworks and even more so, those of his Japanese wife, along with a few other excellent pieces, and another gallery featuring about three local female painters whose work we also thoroughly enjoyed.

From there we travelled east, on the lookout for a rest area where we could stop to eat our in-house lunch. Finally, after descending steeply from the Blue Mountains and just within ten kilometres of Lithgow, we stopped and partook of our humble fare.

At Lithgow we called into the Information Centre, sought information from the bored but informative employee and headed in to the town centre to do another recci. We had noted that Lithgow had been awarded a Tidy Town Award in 2009, and it still lives up to that. With autumn truly upon us, the leaves of the many exotic trees are turning yellow, gold and red, all very decorative. Alas the buildings are tired and without charm, even with the autumn accessories, and so we were not hugely impressed. Granted, it is unfair to judge a town walking up it’s main street on a Saturday afternoon, however I suspect it would not too different on a Tuesday afternoon.

I had spotted in the promotional blurb, the Blast Furnace Park, the ruins of Australia’s first blast furnace established in 1886, and so we headed toward that, easily found and not at all crowded, unlike all the other tourist attractions we have seen the past few days. Just a motorcyclist. There were informative interpretive panels that had escaped vandalism all around the ruins and so one was able to glean the history of Lithgow. It was established principally as an iron and steel manufacturing town, and employed many, including immigrant labour from Italy and Malta. In 1911 there was a big strike that lasted many many months where scab labour was engaged, riots took place and train loads of police were brought in from Sydney. This particular factory closed in 1928 but the industry remained in various forms in the town, more recently represented by firearms manufacture.

We decided that we would settle into our camp early today, unlike yesterday when we had had so little daylight to appreciate our lovely spot. We keyed in the co-ordinates from the CMCA bible, and found that it was just a little further up the road from the park. Alas, when Tomtom said, “You have reached your destination”, we found ourselves on a crossroad to nowhere beside a house and garden opposite a wilderness of scrub. The lady of the house came out to warn us not to go up the road opposite and we explained that we were looking for a camp site. She said that there was no such thing here, the waterworks was just around the corner and that she had seen a caravan overnight there once, and she had also seen a couple of caravans back down the road from time to time. We asked (tongue in cheek) if we could camp on her front lawn, to which she responded positively and did invite us in for a cup of tea. We thanked her but declined and decided that the CMCA co-ordinates were just wrong and that we would have another go at finding the place by description.

And so we headed east on the road back to Windsor, the alternative road across the Blue Mountains, called Bells Line of Road, climbing very steeply up from Lithgow. We passed a park with some sort of monument as we climbed, reached the top and then turned and retraced our tracks as far as the monument. The park was called POW something or rather and we found an acceptable place down the far end, remained hitched up but otherwise set up for the night. I put a bag on my hand like a glove and walked around the immediate area picking up rubbish as I had done the night before; I hate camping in a dirty site, then we walked to the top of the “park” to see what the “something” was. As we passed a van parked near the top, a chap got out and asked us if we were going to stay the night. I said yes, and Chris said no, and he said that it would not be a good idea because the hoons would be in later. “But”, he, another Norman, said, “come on up to the Zigzag Railway Station, just four kilometres further on, where I am caretaker. Come after 5.30 when all the tourists have gone” and he promptly drew a map of the metal pile which we should camp behind on arriving at the station.

And so we did, after Chris had prepared the dinner, and we had stowed it safely for travel. The distance was more like six kilometres, however the drive was worth it. We are now parked between the rail and the stock pile, at an altitude of 3,658 feet above sea level. The evening so far does not feel quite as chilly as last, however I have left the sleeping bag out and available for adding to the bed if required.