Leviathan

See the ships sailing to and fro, and that Leviathan, which you made to sport in the deep.

My son and daughter-in-law, Simon and Jessica, run a whale watching venture on the beautiful NSW south coast (www.merimbulamarina.com). Dolphins, fur seals and sharks are regularly sighted on their tours, together with numerous sea birds, occasionally you will see a dugong or some other unusual creature, but in this post I share some of their amazing photos of the main attraction, the great sea monster - leviathan.

In recent years, thanks to the cessation of whaling, the numbers of these majestic creatures are slowing returning to more sustainable levels. Humpback whales, noted for their long pectoral fins and knobbly heads, are the most common species in these waters. They are social, inquisitive, gentle (surprising, given their bulk) and playful.

Humpbacks migrate enormous distances each year oscillating between their breeding and feeding grounds. They travel to warmer waters during the winter months to mate and give birth and then return to the cold Antarctic oceans for food in spring. It is mothers and their calves swimming slowly southwards in September, October and November that you are most likely to encounter off the coast of Merimbula.

 Humpbacks are famous for their haunting submarine songs. They are also among the most exuberant of whale species - celebrated for their energetic and dramatic antics.

On some days these giants of the sea seem as keen to taste life above the waves as below them. 

Or maybe they're just showing off. 

Look, Mum, no hands!!

Backflips R US

'Applause please... thank you, thank you.'

And now for some synchronised swimming.

Talk about sporting in the deep!! These delightful antics surely explain the origin of having 'a whale of a time'! 

And, no sooner are they here - joyfully performing, than they are gone again, diving once more into the mysterious ocean depths.

Thanks Simon and Jess, for your part in daily enabling our appreciation of these ancient and precious marine mammals. 

Mt Kelly

This is the story of a dogged rematch.

Earlier this year, my good friend Charles and I attempted a walk to Mt Kelly (1826m), situated in the remote far south of the Namadgi National Park on the NSW border. Kelly is the fourth highest peak in the ACT.

There are no marked tracks on this 15 km walk, it is a tough uphill grind in difficult scrubby terrain - a navigational and physical challenge. One blog described this trip as 'mind-numbing bushbashing suitable only for masochists'.

We don't think of ourselves as masochists but this peak had us intrigued. On our first attempt we were foiled by bad weather and dense scrub (thick regrowth since the 2003 Canberra bushfires). We got within a kilometre of the base but had no time or energy to keep going.

As any walker or climber will tell you, these peaks have a way of grabbing hold of you, and Kelly did that for us. Walking back on that first trip we thought we discerned some lines for an easier passage and so we determined to return - a second attempt - K2!

We set off from Yankee Hat Car Park, an hour's drive south of Canberra. The first 5 kms across open grassland are delightful and guaranteed to lull you into a false sense of security. How hard could this be??

But, once you cross Middle Creek at the end of these flats it's uphill the rest of the way - rugged, steep, dusty and densely vegetated. We scrambled and climbed for the next 8 hours.

As it turned out, the options we thought we'd discerned for an easier route we're not as clear as we'd hoped! We bashed on, determined this time to get there.

During one break we heard scrambling in the bush - something noisy was heading our way. It turned out to be a feral sow and her piglets. These pests have done great damage to the Australian fauna and flora. I've seen the evidence but never come across the living thing before.

Eventually, we breached Scabby Ridge and Mt Kelly came into view. That's her, looking pretty benign from this distance but don't be fooled, it was grinding all the way - the bush in the foreground gives some sense of how thick it is.

We reached the base of the final climb by late afternoon - weary and slightly frayed!!

Leaving our packs in a tree (out of reach of pigs), we girded our loins for the final climb - more thick bush, more scratches, more frustration - ugh! Eventually we reached an outcrop 100 metres from the summit - good enough. Besides, with the sun setting we needed to set up camp. We scrambled back down, heading for water and a camp spot in that clearing (below) about 1 km to the south.

With the day's walk finally at an end, tent pitched and a cuppa brewing our spirits lifted considerably - assisted later by Charles's fine tuna green-curry and red wine I'd lugged up for just this moment.

It was a cold night for me in my lightweight sleeping back - too light as it turned out!

Next morning we rose to a glorious new day - time to begin the long trip home.

Before long we were climbing again, scrambling over the rocky ridge that lay between us and the valley home.

We called these rock faces 'highways' -  they were a brief smooth respite from the almost impenetrable scrub (that's last night's camping spot back behind me).

That grassy patch in the distance is where it all began. My car is parked at the far end somewhere.

There's Mt Gudgenby on the left (below) - a peak we've climbed in the past.

And here's one of Charles on the top of the world taking it all in - a true mountain man!

At his feet was this strange hollow. What is it and why is it here on this isolated rocky peak? We wondered if it may have been a pool used by the indigenous Ngunnawal people for some sacred rite - perhaps some kind of washing or naming ceremony.

From this high rocky outcrop, we plunged back into the bush, struggling back through the steep valleys and eventually returning to the car - exhausted, relieved, grateful for the experience.

So, once again, we almost made it but not quite. In the end, Mt Kelly and its protective scrubland remain unconquered, and maybe that's as it needs to be. Surely, part of what we love about this wonderful, wild country is the fact that it can never finally be tamed. I finish with words from Rilke's poem, 'The Man Watching'.

'... Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.'

Rocket Man

It was early morn on the first Sunday of November that Sarah and I jumped into the trusty Subaru and headed westwards on our first foray into the world of amateur rocketeering.

The instructions for getting to the launch site were typically country: From the Barton Highway you turn left into Yass Valley road just past the Yass 5km sign. After about 4 kms you cross a small bridge. Turn left just past the bridge and proceed 1 km until you pass an old shearing shed. If you look up now you'll see a water tank on the crest of the hill. Enter the gate on the right just past the tank and you should see us somewhere out in the paddock.

We did as instructed and arrived without a hitch. Sure enough, once through the gate we spied a group cars and a small bunch of people standing on hill. We arrived and met John, Mark, Dave, Bruce and Hugh, all very friendly. Sheila was there too, but she seemed more interested in her crochet and mainly sat in the car

Alex was pleased to see us. He introduced his mate Cornelius and proudly showed the rocket they'd painstakingly assembled from a kit.

Pretty soon it was down to business. Alex and Cornelius (beard) were the first to be called, so out they went to the launch pad with Dave (chief launcher) to get things set. 

Dave showed them what to do and kept a watchful eye on proceedings.

Wires were connected and trailed back to the ignition box.

One last check, and with the authority of a NASA official, Dave called out: 'RANGE CLOSED'.

We duly retired 20 metres behind an imaginary line stretching from the launch table to 'the granite rock just past that cow'. 'Actually, what about the cows?' I asked, a little concerned that they were straying into the exclusion zone. 'They'll move soon enough', said Hugh, 'don't worry about them.'

Then came the official announcement - complete with stats: 'Our first launch today is the maiden flight of Alex Millar's new J1 rocket (that's it on the left - the black one is a J2) . This rocket is powered by a H1 engine and has a three second delay' (the time it takes after the engine ceases for the chute to open and bear the rocket gently back to earth). We're good for launch in 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1'

There was a puff of white smoke and a loud s-s-s-h-h-h-hing sound as Alex's rocket rocket shot up. Sarah and I cheered and clapped enthusiastically peering heavenwards.

A few seconds later the engine cut out. We strained to keep sight of the speck high above us and counted quietly - 1 second - 2 seconds - 3 seconds... (alas, no sign of the chute) 4 seconds - 5 seconds - 6 seconds - 7 seconds... By now, it was clear that something was wrong. The rocket was plummeting earthwards and people started to scatter. Someone yelled, 'LOOK OUT!!!'. There was muffled THUD and the rocket ploughed into the ground, just missing a cow pat, about 5 metres from the crowd.

'Hmmmm, we call that a grass dart', said Dave, laconically, 'it's happened to all of us at some stage'.

And there is was, the J1 stuck in the dirt and looking slightly worse for wear. In fact, this maiden flight turned out to be its last.

Needless to say, there's something to be learnt from every disaster.

'I think the nose cone was a bit tight', said John. 'Yeah', said Dave, 'it's s'posed to come off quite easily, and then the chute pops out like so...'

Alex took it all with good humour, and even Sheila got out of the car to have a look. 

So, not quite the success we were hoping for but good fun anyway. On ya, Alex, your old man's proud of you! You're rocket may have crashed but it did miss us, and the cows. That has to be a good start.

 Alex now has a new rocket - a bright pink J8 with an H5 engine and a 4 second delay. It's bigger, brighter, faster and more powerful. 

And, with all his experience, what could possibly go wrong???? 

Canyoning - Down Under

This photo was taken in Claustral Canyon, one of hundreds of canyons in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. These canyons are astonishing places. Narrow gorges created by water carving its way through slabs of sedimentary sandstone. Some are only a few meters wide and very deep.

As you can see from the photo, it’s a different world down here – beautiful weathered rock formations covered with moss and fragile ferns, underground watery caves with glow worms dotted on their ceiling, pools of crystal water filled with bright orange yabbies, chock stones and rotting logs, the occasional Lyre Bird or Tiger snake that’s fallen in from the top, and the whole scene pierced every now and then by a shaft of sunlight from high above.

To get into these canyons you need to abseil down slippery waterfalls 

and then wade, swim and scramble along the creek until you find a place to climb out. 

It’s an exhausting and exhilarating adventure.

I’ve explored many of these canyons over the years and had some challenging experiences, including a few bouts of hypothermia, getting benighted, and confronting an angry tiger snake that I'd disturbed as I clambered through a tight squeeze. I don't know who was more startled, him or me. I'm just glad he didn't strike when he had the chance - I can still see those angry fangs!!

One of the great things about these days is that I get to do them with some of my favourite people. They may look motley but in a tight spot when you need support, they're the best. Front row. Keith and Youngy. Back row. Neil, Simon and Ryan.

This is Kanagra Walls, location of Danae Brook, the 'Everest' of Canyons in the Blue Mountains.

A few relaxed moments before we head into the first of eight abseils in Danae Brook.

Pretty vertical this edge!

Over the years, canyoning has been an important experience I've shared with my boys - it's served as a rite of passage for them - and how well they navigated it! Here goes Simon at Danae Brook.

Lucky his old man is there to belay him (only slightly anxious!).

Very wet, and slightly relieved on arrival!

This slot in Pipeline Canyon is pretty narrow. That's Alex down there...

Where did he go??

Keith Castle, our fearless (and eager) leader on so many canyon trips. (If he had a tail it'd be wagging!)

Drying off after a wet abseil.

Alex on a more open abseil.

Guess who? Guess where?

Great adventures and great memories.