Down Again

So we climbed down again and hopped into the trusty Utility to find ourselves a place to settle down for the night.

A 4WD track climbs up the back side of the park and around the back. We ambled along there past kangaroos and wallabies having their evening saunter before arriving at Racecourse Creek and settling down next to a peaceful waterhole and the sun was soon disappearing behind the battlements of the valley leaving us to collect the plentiful firewood, make ourselves some serious canned soup with sausage sandwiches, and drink our respective beverages of choice in a fugue of fragrant smoke.

Down and Up

It had taken us an hour, maybe a bit longer to mount the Pyramid.

It took about twenty minutes to come back down again.

We broke out the peanut butter, and the honey, and the bread.

We drank coffee from plastic wine glasses. Someone had forgotten the cups.

We climbed through the forest on the other side of the valley to Castle Rock, which wasn't as difficult a climb, though it still was quite steep... and getting a bit warm. The forest was haunted by big rocks, and wildflowers. The big rocks are quite spooky.

Will identified the most realistic rock we had seen so far. After all, the Pyramid isn't a Pyramid, Castle Rock doesn't look like a Castle and the Sphinx is a bit of a stretch too, not to mention Turtle Rock, which doesn't look like a turtle either. However Bumcrack Rock on the path to Castle Rock is a shoe-in.

After a deeply knackering climb to the top of Castle Rock we once again basked on the summit with views across the valley. We looked across at the Sphinx and though maybe it was best appreciated from a distance.

It was three on the afternoon, after all. We had a campsite to find and food to prepare.

Girraween

The alarm clock went off at 4.30am.

Autonomically the inclination was to return to slumber but semi-concious reflex took over and instead I packed, whilst simultaneously cooking toast and making coffee.

When Will turned up at 5, he informed me in a good-news bad-news type way that his license had expired and that therefore I would be doing the on-road driving. That served as both the good and the bad news. We set off for Girraween.

At 9am or so after a stop-off at Warwick for croissants we arrived at Girraween and paid for our camping permit and all that before sitting down to a coffee in the valley.

The plan was to climb the Pyramid first off then we'd see how we went and maybe go for Castle Rock in the afternoon.

Girraween is a landscape that is defined by granite. It's a rugged place (though strangely no carpets) that is dotted by huge granite domes on top of which site huge granite boulders. Sometimes there are more boulders sitting on top of those boulders.

The elements have worked their magic over millions of years and lichens have eaten their way through stone until some of the boulders are apparently very finely balanced on top of one another.

And the hills are hellish steep.

Still not to be overawed by silly things like steepness, we climbed through the forested hills till we broke the tree-line then climbed the granite dome of the Pyramid. We looked at it across the way and a little eye-protraction said thirty degrees of protracted inclination, inclining us towards slow, careful progress with shoes pointed up the hill.

The Pyramid used to be called the Dome and this seems a better name really, since it isn't a Pyramid... it's a dome. A rocky bubole that penetrates from the green landscape and surges up for a considerable scramble before flattening out to reveal a crown of titan rocks, the most striking and famous of which stands on a tiny little foot and looks for all the world as though it's about to fall over.

The rock on that side of the dome falls away precipitously and slightly gut-wrenchingly into a valley. On the other side is the Second Pyramid.

We hung around at the top of the Pyramid taking in the expansive valley around us.

Curse Words

Nicole has returned in one piece and it's jolly nice to have her back.

Eloise is becoming quite foul-mouthed, in an amusingly Aussie kind of way.

She dropped something earlier on in the bathroom. Her voice floating up the hall "Bugger!"

Then shortly afterwards "Pardon my French."

Awww.

It should be noted that Bugger isn't a swear word here, though of course we don't actually encourage her to use it. Other than by pressing our lips together to suppress our laughter.

Tomorrow I'm off on a little jaunt to the Granite Belt. I'll be sleeping in the back of a Ute. Should be fun. Back Thursday, fingers crossed.

Ngungun

Rain.

Nicole-less

Nicole has been away for a few days on a conference to New Zealand, which was nice for her, but of course we missed her.

She left me to deal with the Birthday Party at Stafford Skate City, which of course was dead easy. I went roller-skating. Eloise was less interested in having me help her than other more experienced practitioners, which was fine by me.

I ferried her out to the middle of the rink for the Birdie Dance. I drew the line at dancing. It would have been too, um, dangerous. Seriously.

That was Saturday... after dropping Nicole off at the Airport we'd been to the market in the morning and seen some friends there who live just around the corner. We bagged an invitation to use their swimming pool.

So on Sunday in the afternoon we toddled around there and Eloise had a swim for about thirty seconds in the frigid waters. After that much play was had and we ended up being invited to supper, so that turned out to be a little more major than expected.

On Monday Eloise had the day off school for a pupil-free day so we went for our constitutional up to Mount Coot-tha and did walk number two which works its way past a pond, up the side of a creek before hanging a right over a hill, round the top and back down.

It was round the top that Matilda went missing; we called her for a while but no answer so, having a five-year-old in tow and the priority being on progress, we pressed on.

After a while Matilda caught up, and starting walking along with us. That's pretty suspicious behaviour. She seemed to be limping a bit too, so I thought she's probably twisted her ankle or something, and didn't think too much of it.

After a while she was still with us, and my curiosity got the better of me. I checked that leg out and there were no apparent problems. When I checked a little bit higher up I noticed a little blood on my hand so we looked underneath her torso to be confronted by the mother of all gashes, the subcutaneous fat red and bursting out from the flensed skin, pulled an inch wide and probably five inches long.

So quickly down the mountain, Eloise commendably cool in the crisis, and quickly to the vet, who as it happens is having surgery monday anyway and can get her in within half and hour.

And Matilda picked up at six o'clock, dazed, confused, stitched up, and on no-walking orders with various parts of her body shaved and her chest looking like a furry Frankenstein's monster.

On Tuesday Eloise was back at school for Wilston State School's 90th birthday. I went along for the morning celebration and heard her/them sing the song they've been practicing for for ages. Think Wind Beneath Your Wings. It wasn't that ghastly thing, but it was in the ballpark.

On Wednesday, unencumbered by such commitments, I drove up to the Glass House Mountains and climbed Mount Ngungun. It was steep, but dry.

From the top I saw the approach of rain. I descended, hastily.

Mount Glorious Rainforest

With Eloise back at school, dog-walking leaves just a few hours for useful day-time activity, enough time for a drive up into the mountains, a quick stomp around the rainforest and a very careful drive back down again.

The paths around the Maiala rainforest were damp and several little streams had to be forded, stepping tentatively around woody debris coming down with the wash.

The damp ground had been loosening its grip and several trees had overcome its resistance and come crashing down. Some titans had fallen and taken some others with them.

On the way back the clouds came over the hill and a faint mist started to drift over the forest.

Clear Mountain Water

In further rain-chasing activity one day I visited Cedar Creek for half an hour or so. The road there had just re-opened after the flood waters receded and the creek was in full flow with the waters coming down from the rainforests of Mount Glorious.

Rain Rain Rain

Since our sojourn to the tropics it seems like it's been nothing but rain rain rain.

It can't have been that bad really since we've cycled to school every day, but we haven't seen so much sunshine.

A couple of weekends ago Eloise and I were out walking when the heavens opened. Eloise had had the foresight to bring an umbrella, so she was alright, Jack, but I relied on my Northern Territory hat and was therefore soaked to the skin.

Last weekend it absolutely bucketed down and we had around 50mm in a day, causing flooding and general consternation. Whereasa couple of years ago the reservoirs were in danger of falling below 20% full, now they are at 100%.

In fact at Wivenhoe Dam, the largest of Brisbane's reservoirs there was so much water that the floodgates were opened for the first time in over ten years, so I went up and had a look at the epic amounts of water being released.

For a couple of days the woods were awash and normally quiescent streams transformed into rushing torrents.

A few days later and most of water has gone back to the sea.

Darwin

Fine plans we had for our final day until we realised that we didn't have time to realise any of them, what with the car having to be back by 3pm.

In fact, after we'd had our customary morning swim and gotten our, um, selves together, we were hard-pressed to make it back to Darwin in time. It turned out to be very much further than we thought....

However due to some inspired guesswork by Nicole we managed to return the truck with everything ship shape.

With our flight departing at ridiculous o'clock am we had serious time to kill so we went and visited Mindil Beach and the market there for the eating of international foods, the counting of backpackers and so on and so forth, for many hours until the sunset.

Eloise tried her hand at stock-whip trickery and inviegled her way into the tent of an Aboriginal Artist then proceeded to follow her around.

Eventually our time was up and we headed for the airport.