Bright, sparkling water

We lived in Katoomba for five years, over a decade ago. We lived in this street:

Our old street in Katoomba

The years we spent there coincided with our years of wandering the state as nomadic troubadours. Our house was a combination office, storage facility and party venue for drunken actors.

We loved our time at Katoomba. At night, long after the final tourist bus had left for its long haul back to Sydney, we would go and visit the Three Sisters. The early evening is definitely the best time to look at these rocky remains of three aboriginal sisters, turned to stone by an evil witchdoctor.

The Three Sisters, Katoomba

On the way up to Katoomba, we had a lovely lunch at the Norman Lindsay Gallery cafe. Always a favourite of ours, Norman Lindsay was an extraordinary talent. A man who was equally at home with cartoon characters and lascivious, naked women, Lindsay littered his house with statues both human and supernatural.

One of his most famous images was that of the Magic Pudding. Here he is with Mirinda.

Mirinda -v- the Magic Pudding

As well as wandering the various rooms of what once was his house, admiring his etchings, paintings and drawings, we spent a little time dawdling along the various garden paths, peeking behind hedges and making smutty comments about the statues. It was all very idyllic (if that is possible, after all, idyllic is about as good as it gets) but we had to move on so we jumped back into the car and zoomed off towards the top of the mountain.

Actually, it’s not really possible to jump into the MX-5, unless you’re a child of about 12. In the movies when grown men hoik themselves over the door and slide into the seat, all cool and slick, it’s clearly not in an MX-5. You’d end up looking decidedly silly if you tried in such a tiny car.

Both of us, while growing up in various bits of the suburbs of Sydney, went to the Blue Mountains with our families and on school trips. This was way back when it wasn’t a World Heritage Site and the valley floor was just that. These days, while the journey down to the walkway on the train is the same, the elevated walkway at the bottom is not. Having recently visited, I’m sure Aunty Jan and the rest of the Orrs will agree how beautiful it all is.

Gary on the walkway in the Jamieson Valley

After wandering the various paths, we ended up at the cableway (a cable car which takes you from the floor of the valley back to the top) and were hoisted back up to where we started. It was an excellent end to a lovely morning. After briefly stopping for a photo op with the original three sisters…

The Three Sisters

…we went for lunch at the Parakeet Cafe, where Mirinda used to lunch while perusing the latest editions of The European magazine in the hope of garnering some insight to life up north before we actually left. The food was as lovely as we remembered though we didn’t recognise the hippies serving it.

Tomorrow I shall complete this great, long, short break with the Everglades, Narnia and the duck that tasted too strongly of duck.