They really are blue!

It was a two hour train journey from Sydney to Katoomba, but I could not spend a few days in Sydney and not go to the Blue Mountains. When I first set eyes on them many years previously, I had gasped. “Wow! They really are blue!” The view was breath-taking.

The hue results from the scent of thousands of Eucalyptus trees being reflected through sunlight. I could have stood at Echo Point, looking across at The Three Sister and the enormous valley, all day except I was cold. I remembered to bring my jumpers for the mountain air, but forgot my feet. I bought a pair of socks.

The cliff top path round to where the Skyrail departed wasn’t wheelchair accessible. It had steps. So I went the road way. As I scootered down the steep road, I was thinking “I do hope the map’s not lying to me. I’ll never make it back up this hill.”

It was ok and I scootered onto the nice new cable car for the short ride across the deep valley. Below was the gentle waterfall I remembered passing before, when I had walked through the forest from The Three Sisters to the base of the steepest railway in the world.

The Skyrail took me across to the top. It was also the top of a new cable car which would take me to the bottom and a wheelchair accessible walk. I was in heaven.

Wheeling through the depths of the forest was wonderful. Part of me was a wee bit sad that it was no longer the wilderness it had once been. But more of me was overwhelmed by the magic of what had been achieved. By building the wooden walkways and cable car, not only was it accessible for the less able, it would protect the forest.

That night I had dinner with Nicola, my new friend I’d made in Port Douglas. It was a lovely way to end my time in Australia. I had caught up with everyone I had wanted to see, made two new friends and staying in Youth Hostels had rekindled my love of independent travel. I was leaving with happy memories.

Sunset over Sydney Harbour

As I emerged from Circular Quay station, my first glimpse of Sydney Harbour Bridge was silhouetted by a pink sunset. Next to it was a huge cruise ship, pristine in the soft sunlight. What a welcome!

The Youth Hostel was built over what had been the largest archaeological dig in Australia, and much of it was still on show. You could make out buildings from the earliest European settlers in the 1790s. It struck me again how young the popular image of Australia is.  

I wandered around the city, revisiting some old haunts from my first visit to Sydney twenty-three years earlier. I had spent three months there and got to know it well. The Queen Victoria Building was as beautiful as I remember. Luxury shopping with balconies on each floor overlooking a central atrium. In the middle was a history clock. Each side had a panel depicting a time in history from aboriginal beginnings to Cook’s landing. 

In David Jones, the luxury department store of Australia, there was a lady playing a grand piano. I had forgotten. She had first been employed to play during the year of my first visit in 1990. What a fabulous job to have.

I wandered through the Botanical Gardens down to the harbour edge. I knew there was a step-free way to get there. Finding it, of course, was a case of trial an error. I had a lovely tour around the gardens. Eventually I made it to Mrs MacQuirie’s Point. Well the bottom of it anyway. I didn’t feel inclined to climb the steps. I could still see the view I wanted of the Opera House and the Bridge. 

The sun lowered to the top of the Bridge. I had wanted to watch it set completely but couldn’t. My way back was through the Botanical Gardens which closed before it got dark. I didn’t want to get stuck. 

The next day I met up with Kate, another friend I used to go to college with. We cruised the harbour on a ferry while catching up. You can’t come to Sydney and not take a trip on its greatest asset.