Blue Mountains Adventure

On Saturday morning I drove to the Blue Mountains, about 1.5 hours west of Sydney, to meet up with Gill who had been there for a work 'bonding' session on Friday. I arrived in time for, yes, a 'coffee' in Leura, a small, pretentiously quaint and slightly posh little town (village really) in the mountains; cafes, street musicians, and yes, vintage and shabby chic clothes shops and overpriced art galleries.

designer doughnut

probably the best coffee in Leura

Gill looking out from Sublime Point, near Leura

You can just about make out "The Three Sisters" in the top right

Our new house

We then drove to Katoomba, about 15 minutes further along the Great Western Highway, and the heart of the Blue Mountains. Katoomba is one of the main NSW tourist destinations - by day full of daytripping backpackers and Asians, by night full of actually tripping locals. Most of whom are 50s+ wannabe artists and retired CEOs, their precocious 20 something vintage-clad offspring who clearly never heard the word 'no' during their childhoods, and their 5 year old grandchildren who have names like "Apple". 

Compulsory photo in front of the Three Sisters, sandstone pillars who take their name from the Aboriginal Dreaming story from this area.

With the temperature in the 30s, it was obviously far too hot to do much in the afternoon, except go to the pub and drink beer.

A schooner of James Squire's Amber Ale in the Old Bank bar of the Carrington Hotel. 

This beer was pretty much the last clear memory I have of Saturday. After a few more, we went for dinner at the Swiss Cottage restaurant where we had authentic Swiss food, featuring rosti and various forms of potato and cheese. We then went to a live music gig at the Clarendon Hotel, where we were staying. The gig started harmlessly enough; an indie-folk/country band called Tigertown, consisting of a husband and wife with their various brothers and sisters on supporting vocals and other instruments. They were pretty good; the harmonies were excellent, though their music was a little samey. The second act was a solo acoustic indie-pop Prosac infused James Blunt guy. After his first few songs Gill turned to me and said "The music's good but the lyrics are a bit..." - suddenly a look of horror came over her face - "Oh my god.... I've got to out of here!" before jumping out of her seat and running for the door, screaming.

All of which is totally true, apart from the screaming bit. Back in the (empty) main bar she explained. The penny had dropped. We were virtually the oldest of the 100 or so people crammed in to the venue. Apart from probably three other people who had no more than one beer each, we were the only people drinking (a bottle of wine). In their mid-gig banter, none of the musicians had sworn or referred to getting drunk or taking drugs. They were all about 12 and married. Like St Paul on the road to Damascus we had been struck blind by a sudden revelation - not that we were in the presence of the risen Christ, but we were in a gig surrounded by hillbilly Christians - happy clappy, Pentecostal Christians. Gill had twigged having noticed that the songs were all about love and used the word 'light' just a few too many times.

So we left, went up the road to the (other) pub and sought sanctuary amongst the drunk and/or stoned heathens. 

Having gone to bed at 3am, Sunday morning was kinda interesting. We met up with Sarah, one of Gill's best friends, and her partner Michael, who both live in the mountains. Michael is a bit of an outdoor adventure addict (climbing, hiking, kayaking, mountain biking.... you name it), but today, were going four wheel driving. I was a bit concerned about being thrown around in a car, but I needn't have been - we had a really great day. After meeting in Blackheath, we drove out to an disused railway tunnel to see the glow worms, which meant going out in to the bush - and off road.....

Michael tests the depth of this 'puddle' (er.... lake?) to see if it's navigable by car, whilst I 'supervise'.

We made it through, although the number plate very nearly didn't

Michael stops for a yarn about cars and other manly stuff  with other real Aussie men, whilst clean white t-shirted Pom tries to get back in the car without getting mud under his fingernails.

Sarah and Michael