15.4km +286m -318m
A little chilly again this morning. We had a cheery little fire to warm up while having breakfast and packing up.
We initially headed up the road towards the ruins of Haines hut before cutting across country towards Blue Waterholes. The plain is porous limestone and all the water disappears into the ground, only to pop out again elsewhere.
We joined the Nichols Gorge circuit and descended into a spectacular gorge of towering cliffs. Birdlife abounded and the creek phased between being above ground and below.
Judging by the state of the track, the walk is not frequently taken, which is surprising given the relative popularity of the nearby campground.
We passed the entrances to Murray’s cave and Cooleman cave, both of which are apparently fairly extensive. Entry is by permission only. In the right light you can see how Blue Waterholes got its name.
As it continues downstream the creek collects a significant amount of water welling up out of the ground. Unfortunately the Clark Gorge trail is currently closed due to a rockfall.
We left Blue Waterholes and followed the road towards Pocket hut. Some familiar mountains started to take up prominent positions on the horizon.
We’ve seen some stunning big gum trees over the last few days. It’s gratifying to see that some have managed to avoid fire time and again.
And down the grassy road to Pocket Hut, with Mount Bimberi and Mount Murray looming large.
Pocket hut is another I can now cross off my list. It’s that rarest of creatures; a rustic hut with a functional verandah. This one provides ample shade while offering a stunning view of Bimberi and Dead Horse.
We’re done walking for the day around noon. Camp chores are milked for every ounce of entertainment possible. We sit and watch the mountains and the wedge tailed eagles wheeling high above, and crack jokes. Time runs slow. Rod erects his tent so that the slowly wheeling shadow of the hut will cover it as the afternoon wears on, but Rod has never been good at this and it never does; and spends the day baking it instead.
For Rod this was meant to be an opportunity to bond with his son, and while I’m reticent to step into those shoes (because honestly they sound painful and uncomfortable and give you blisters), perhaps there’s a sort of surrogacy here. Me, the eternally disappointing son, he the father figure I never would have wanted.
