Travel by Lightfoot

Adventurers scramble across rocks and swim
across pools. Left: Ready to take the plunge.
“The rock walls had been washed smooth by eons
of water and the cavern was almost luminous”"
We set off at a walk, the vertical walls closing above us,
leaving just the shape of ferns visible against the narrow
sky. We splashed through the stream. As I looked around
I could see that the erosion is still going on, with whorls of
water action carved into the walls as though by a massive
ice-cream scoop. Elsewhere there were ghostly, humanoid
shapes in the rockfaces.
We reached a lip, where the walls open out into a sort
of sinkhole, a roofless cavern 30 feet across with water
pooled 10 feet below us. It was a jump and so we launched
ourselves, slapping at the water to break our fall.
In the next slot the water became too deep to walk so
we swam along the chasm, pulling ourselves over rocks,
touching the canyon walls either side. Moss covered
the walls and everywhere there was subterranean green
gloom. But around a corner, entering another cavern,
suddenly there was sunlight. It penetrated in angled
beams, highlighting mist hanging in the canyon air. The
rock walls had been washed smooth by eons of water
action and the cavern was almost luminous. The water
glowed, showing every stone and rock under the surface.
The sedimentary layers stood out like huge wafer biscuits.
Soon the slot enclosed us again, and we were back
to swimming.
Farther down the cleft came a drop too large to jump.
We took out the climbing harnesses again and put them
on as the guide fixed the rope. The belay point was just
next to the water spout and so as we descended we found
ourselves falling in the cascade, the water spattering onto
our helmets. It was whipped up by wind from below,
which grabbed it and turned the droplets into a mist. It
was like dangling in a maelstrom. I slid into the water,
unhitched, and then swam to the side to watch the others
slide down into the pool.
Our exit was via an exploratory fissure that the water
had eroded for a while before gravity took it on a different
path. Then we found ourselves back in the eucalyptus
that give the Blue Mountains their name (their sap rises
on the air and gives it a blue tinge). Around us the air was
full of excited chat. Everyone was exhilarated.
Oddly though, my favourite moment came when we
reached a second, gentler canyon. We descended and
descended into the gully twisting and turning. There was
a small stream, which pooled in a few places and involved
a jump and a swim, but mostly it was dry. We scrambled
over rock and crept among boulders as the cliff-walls
climbed around us. As the sunlight was blocked out, it
seemed we were swallowed up by the centre of the earth.
Suddenly we emerged into bright sunlight and an
abrupt end. At our feet, the water splayed lazily across a
slab of sandstone and skittered off the lip into a waterfall.
We had reached one of the huge scarps that had foxed
the early explorers before us. And that's where we stayed.
Taking in a view that carried for miles across a whole
valley of eucalyptus trees 300 feet below.
EDITOR'S
NOTE
—
“Canyoning through
the Blue Mountains
sounds exhilarating
and so unique.”
TARA STILES
64 Travel By Lightfoot | www.travelbylightfoot.com