On Saturday morning three of us drove up and over the Blue Mountains to Newnes, 200 km west of the city in the Wollemi National Park on the western edge of the mountains. Newnes is an abandoned mining town. All that remains of the town is an old pub that is inhabited on weekends. Besides that, there is a couple of newish cabins for rent and a camping ground which, on this weekend had a total of 5 groups of campers scattered about. The nearest other human habitation is a farm about 5 km back along the road. No phones, solar panels for the "pub" and cabins. To reach the camping ground we had to drive through a creek. In the evening, some kangaroos were seen in the field, in the morning a flock of native ducks.


We lunched on provolone, proscuitto and fresh tomatoes, then went walking to explore the oil-shale works. The scale of these was totally unexpected. After all, we were in a remote mountain valley, surrounded by steep cliffs. The works were built on a series of terraces with brick retaining walls, and making use of gravity to transport raw material and product from one level to another. The brickworks alone must have sustained a hundred or more workers. The current walking track takes you up to the top terrace and then down in a series of zig-zags through the coke ovens, various refining works, storage tanks, distilleries, condensers, etc., covering about 5 km. Even more incredible was the fact that this large industrial complex only operated for about 30 years, from 1903 to 1932. The main products seem to have been paraffin candles and kerosene.

Here's a section of the coke ovens - about 50 of them in varying states of disrepair.




This must have been the works manager's office - not visible to Muggles.


Part of the cliff looming above the complex.


On the way there and back we had to wade through the Wolgan River - just a few inches deep, beautifully cool and clear - scarcely credible that 75 years ago it was bordered by so much filthy industry.


Upon returning to our campsite we had to chase out a couple of 4-wheel drivers who'd set up camp almost on top of us. They "assumed" we'd only gone bushwalking since we hadn't set up our tent before leaving. Also we obviously didn't have tables and chairs and all the other paraphernalia that you can fit inside a huge gas guzzler. Anyway, they moved and we set about the extremely complex task of putting up a tent (women's work) and cooking an excellent meal of pasta bolognese (man's work) which we then proceeded to wash down with plenty of excellent red wine. We had a real campfire too. And we spent some time gazing at all the stars that one cannot see in the city. Unfortunately the stars faded, there was a nearly full moon coming up somewhere behind the cliffs, the sky went whitish and the cliffs on the western side of the valley glowed luminously. The wind in the treetops made a sound like waves on the beach.

We spent nearly all of Sunday morning grilling sausages over the coals on the end of sticks and brewing copious amounts of coffee on our little stove. Just after noon we set out to follow the former railway track to the Glow Worm Tunnel. This, we discovered too late, is accessible by two routes. One involves walking 13 km to the tunnel, the other involves driving the car 7 km back down the road and walking only 4 km to the tunnel. We found this out only after we'd already walked 10 of the 13 km and found a sign pointing to the car park.

Along the railway track:


Every time there should have been a railway bridge, we had to clamber down the side of the gully and crawl back up again. We stopped here to chill our aching feet and eat some fruit and nuts.

It being a railway line, however, the rest of the gradient wasn't steep, so we made good time to the tunnel with spectacular views from our cliff-edge position over the valley below. The last section before the tunnel was amazingly beautiful - a very narrow steep-sided gorge full of tall tree ferns. Except for the odd sleeper or bit of iron rail, it was hardly believable that this path was actually made to carry steam engines.


Finally we reached the tunnel itself. It is half a kilometre long, with a bend in the middle so that once you've walked 200 m inside it is pitch dark and, when you switch off your torch you see the most extraordinary phenomenon. The tunnel wall is inhabited by little worms, each of which has a tiny speck of luminous substance that glows in the dark. Standing there in the dark is like looking at the night sky with millions of tiny stars dotted around wherever you look.

By the time we came out of the tunnel it was 4.40 pm and we had, at most 2 hrs 30 mins of daylight left. We marched back down the hill at a rapid rate, slipping and sliding down the steep road to the river, where we stopped again to bathe our feet. Then it was only 7 more km back to the campsite. Saw a few kangaroos crossing the road, heading back uphill from their evening drink down at the river. We arrived in a fairly crippled state, but still managed to pack up the tent, eat up our leftovers and then drive back to the city.



I crawled into bed a few minutes after midnight. I had a meeting with a delegation from Ho Chi Minh City at 9.30 the next morning, but when I stood up I found it quite impossible to walk, so had to send my apologies. Main problem is blisters on the soles of my feet. But the pain is fading and I'm hobbling about quite successfully by now! We ended up walking 24 km (nearly 15 miles), which is more than any of us has ever done in one day by a very long margin - and 14 km more than we needed to walk. Still it was a fantastic weekend. Looks like I've found some companions for future camping and bushwalking trips.