| The canyon log is my chronological account of the various canyon
trips that I have been fortunate enough to partake, and in some cases,
lead.
Sydney is blessed with an abundance of rugged bush land less than two
hours drive away, and in this bush land lie some of the most pristine and
delicate environments that can be found.
These trips are 'canyon' trips which involves starting high in the range and following a creek or stream as it carves it's way down to the river valley. The Kanangra canyons are generally fairly open and following these is an exercise in abseiling and scrambling. The beauty of this area is the panoramic views along the Kanangra Walls and valleys. The incredible ruggedness of the area. Blue Mountains canyons like Claustral, cut deep into the sandstone below them and over time have worn channels and gutters, deep enough that direct sunlight never reaches the bottom. Walking and swimming through these is a magical tour through a ferny green wonderland. A visit to the lost planet. I have kept these notes as a reminder to myself of the individual trips, as well as to provide 'some' useful information for following excursions, or to supply to others planning similar outings. Earlier trips are documented on my original canyons page, and other trips are indexed on my main canyoning page |
As I have been hap-hazardly adding pictures lately, these pages are best viewed at a screen resolution of 1024 x 768 pixels !
Trip 27 Dalpura Ck (Bells Line of road)
8th Apr 2001
Vert. Elev:
Distance :
Time (approx.) : 1.5 hrs
Other Sources of information on this area : Canyons Near Sydney (Rick Jamieson)
Geoff and Nick had teased me about their run through Dalpura the previouse week, and although I knew I wouldn't be able to match their speed for the trip, I was keen to at least to try!
The drive up was dispatched without incident and locating the starting point was a no brainer. From what the guys had told me, I knew I didn't need a full rope, but I did decide to pack my handline... just in case. With that I also threw in my waterproof bag and checked the map one last time before changing from my clean 'driving home' attire into my shorts and thermal top.
That done, I strapped up my pack, locked the car and hesitantly stepped into the bush and began my way down the hill. All the time something niggling at the back of my mind, I was a little apprehensive about the 'jump' but that wasn't it ...
When heading off on a short trip like this, by myself, my predominint fear is that I will not recognise the exit, and possibly get into trouble by overshooting it. Terry had told me that the path out was pretty well worn and easy to follow, but I still like my map and compass along for the ride... (sure glad I packed them ...), still that strange niggly feeling, is it the jump? !
Letting gravity do it's work down the easy slope I could easily imagine how the others must have charged off down this section, leaping and bounding over fallen trees, and hopping from rock to rock as the faint path criss-crosses small creeks and heads deeper and deeper towards the 'unknown'. Almost surprisingly sudenly, I found myself at the lip of a small pool. The shallow creek I had been following now dropped maybe a meter between two moss covered boulders into a pool about a meter deep and just long and wide enough that I could neither jump nor bridge it. It looked like I would have to get wet. (That niggly feeling again ...). I didn't want to get wet yet ! Suddenly the race was on, and I was losing preciouse time prevaracating about getting wet. About 5 meters back I found a short scramble taking me up the left bank which allowed me to bypass the ofending pool, and continue my run at my best pace. This is silly I told myself and slowed to a walk and began to take in my surroundings again.
The walking here was pleasant and the scenery inspiring as the the sunlight filtered it's way between the ferns and trees and the canyon walls grew in height on either side of me. In record time (for a slow coach like me) I arrived at what is unmistakably..the 'jump'.
The creek here drops past a large boulder into a dark cavern, and lands noisily on a submerged rock shelf in a pool about 5-6m below.
Beyond the shelf the water looks deep enough, but it's hard to tell. The more I look and peer, the less good I feel about it.
(That stange niggly feeling). I'm getting cold standing here in the shadows and the time is racing on. I devise a brilliant and cunning plan !
I decide to turn my back on the dark hole and 'free my mind' on putting my warm vest on, and stowing the rest of my gear in my waterproof bag.
With everything stowed away I will toss my pack and jump in after it ! Easy !...
The vest part went well ... then the stowing. The important things I wanted to stow were, the car keys, the phone, the food, AND THE MAP!..
THE MAP! ...
WHERE THE "F" WAS THE MAP !!!
(That niggly feeling was fading now and being replaced with something else).
Of course! The map
was safe and dry on the drivers seat of the car. Exactly where I put it while getting dressed. Oh well,
only two choices now.
Continue (and have fun)
or
Return and try to explain my failure due to aprehension, due in turn to a missing (and by all accounts, uneccesary),
map.
I made my choice, hefted my pack, took a deep calming breath and turned back to the drop. Squatting on the edge and peering into the darkenss,
I cast my pack into the gloom, hoping it's
trajectory would clear the spider webs in preparation for my own.
Watching my pack sail through the air was like watching a slow motion film.
It took so long to hit the water, I though surely I must have miscalculated my height.
As I sat there pondering the drop, my situation slowly dawned on me ...
I really had to go now...
Slowly drifting away from me now were my keys, wallet, phone, as well as other items I quite wanted to keep
and be reunited with. (This was actually the brilliant part of my cunning plan!).
Bracing myself on the lip, I could not help but be reminded of "Misty", Sue's Grey Cattle dog that used
to accompany us on our shore dives around Palm Beach, Manly, Fairlight and our southern trips to Bass Pt.
Misty used to love comming diving with us and would get quite excited whenever we started packing the car with dive gear.
The obvioise attractions to her were:
It was in this exact same predicament, that I now found myself. (The dog ... not the sheep).
I wanted to go.
My feet were ready, but my hands and arms, splayed out on either side of the void,
would not let me go.
I balked once ...
I balked twice ...
I balked three times ...
Paranoid now about how much time I was losing, I setup one more time. It's great when that niggly feeling is replaced by pure excitement. I arced through the air nowhere near where my pack had gone and collected a lot of web for my efforts. Splashdown was pinpoint perfect, and without the added floatation of my pack, I allowed myself the luxury of stretching out and descending to the bottom of the pool, touching the bottom with just enough force to spring my way to the surface and reclaim my cap and my pack.
The water was cold so exiting the pool was my first priority. Saddling back up on the far side I looked back and really couldn't see what the fuss was all about. With motion the only thing I had to keep me warm, I hightailed it along the creek for a while, as best I could. The jump had left me with a HUGE buzz, and I couldn't tell if my cheeks were sore from cold or from grinning.
The next puzzle Dalpura had for me was a smooth curved shute, that dropped into a shallow pool and led off, out of sight to the right. I didn't like my chances of getting back up again if there was more than a small drop beyond, and felt a little stymied. As at the first pool, I scanned the wall on the left to see a really dodgey looking traverse. Mossy, wet looking and probably slippery as all hell. Also I still couldn't see where it might lead me, presumably only to being higher above the creek rather than back down into it. On my right was an equally slimy looking wall, but much sorter and leading to a wide horizontal ledge. Two quick steps landed me on the ledge and an easy scramble and jump put me back in the creek again. As it turned out, I saw that the ledge itself can be followed by grovelling along to it's end, where a short easy climb drops back into the canyon anyway. (I don't like grovelling).
Still cold from my swim I was eager now to get to the end of the canyon as quickly as possible. Surprisingly, this was not much further on. As if to ally my fears about finding the end... This one is pretty obviouse. It's worth checking out the views here as the creek tumbles off into the void.
The 'race' was really on now. I felt I had done reasonably well in terms of time through the canyon, but this was likley to be my weakest leg. The uphill part. Following the well made track back was simple and eventually it emerged from the bush into a rocky clearing which I found to be the perfect spot to stop for a breather, some food and some sun. Eventually an old fire trail is met which can be followed back to the main road. I can't help wondering what the people driving by must have thought as they passed my nearly naked figure, humping my pack along the side of the road as fast as I could, back to my car. (Strange place to be jogging this time of day... Why has he got a pack on and almost nothing else ?) ...
Back at the car, with warm dry clothes, a cool drink in hand and still plenty of daylight left, I had time to reflect on the
experiences of the day. (That niggly feeling has long since gone and in it's place now is a warm feeling of accomplishment).
All in all, I was only about 10-15 minutes slower than the other guys and was well pleased with this result.
Dalpura Ck is a sensational trip (of the short variety). As with many canyons, the views at the end are surprising.
I love it when a canyon ends with a view !
I'm looking forward to visiting other creeks on this side of the road. (Next week end perhaps?).