* TWO WEEKS OVER DUE*
For weeks now in Sydney (and around the world), the buzz has been around the World Cup.
Now, as you may have guessed, I’m not necessarily a sports fan (I own a Red Sox hat…does that count?), but I do enjoy watching other people become enthusiastic about matches, and because Sydney was one of the five countries in the world to host an “official” World Cup celebration in Darling Harbour, I had to go catch this once and a lifetime opportunity.
With the swarms of people, stunning lampposts shaped like soccer balls, and a floating big screen TV (complete with live Aboriginal dancers putting on a jamboree), the Harbour was alive and well with football frenzy, and international intensity.
The opening match between Mexico and South Africa prompted the wave of midnight madness, as lively supporters of both countries were littered in the crowd. The games here are always shown at obscene hours, like 9 PM, 12 AM, 2 AM and 4:30 AM. If I owned more than just a Red Sox hat, I definitely would have dragged myself out at 4:30 to watch the England Vs. US game, but the events of the following day prevented even my biggest spirits from rising at such an ungodly hour.
Starting when I was in London this past Winter, the rivalry between the US and UK football teams was already in full bloom for a match that was six months away, and I really did hate to miss it. The 13 of June became almost a deadline for the two “U”s to duke it out head to head—or should I say- foot to foot, for the “best” man to win—and funnily enough- it was a tie.
Anyway, enough about sports.
Annie, Rebecca, Gaby and I left Darling Harbour on Friday night at 1 AM, after checking out the sensational scene, making some new friends, and flouncing through a sea of flags.
At 4:30 AM, Annie and I woke up, not for a big match, but for a big date with two horses, and the Blue Mountains.
Rushing in the darkness to catch the 5:47 AM train toward Blackheath (just outside of Katoomba) from Sydney’s Central Station, Annie and I sprinted through the tunnels of the train station, combating post-game drunkies to reach out desired track. With a slight mishap, we somehow lost our track number, and at 5:45, we finally emerged in the general direction of our nearly-departed train. With a hop, skip, and a jump (almost literally), we made it through the darkness of the early morning, to start our journey trying to make it through, and to, the wilderness.
That morning, I watched the sunrise over the Blue Mountains—a sight I’ll probably never see again. With the bright yellow sun beaming through the red and orange horizon, I almost felt as if I was witnessing a private moment of nature’s —and one so rare that it almost didn’t’ feel like mine to keep. Although I wanted to yawn and drift away beyond the sounds of Coldplay, or jabber to Annie about the events of the night before, I didn’t dare break the silence of the break of dawn against the blue hazy mountaintops. I watched the tips of green emerge from the hidden shadows of nighttime come through, and I absorbed the peaceful moment of rebirth without any sound except the gliding of the railroad. I finally felt like I was out of the city, and into Australia.
Ah, but when I did get the beaming, sunny land of Australia, there was frost on the cars, and icicles forming on our noses. While waiting for the lady from Werriberri trails to come get us to take us out on horses, Annie and I couldn’t believe we were falling into the December-like air, and that no cups of tea would be waiting to warm us up in this deserted town. As we watched our train leave us behind in the middle of nowhere, we wondered if this big adventure was such a good idea.
To start, I haven’t really been much of an equestrian—er—ever. And although I have ridden horses along trails more than once, I may have fibbed a little on my information sheet with the trail leaders. The options for experience were as follows: Question One: Have you ever ridden a horse? Check. Question 2: How many times? Options: Less than 25 times, Less than 50 times, Experienced rider. Okay, thought I, with my “three” times, I’ll go with box one. However, apparently, box one means you get a former race horse named FLAME, who sometimes forgets she’s no longer a race horse, and falls back into her old lifestyle, whilst a three timer holds on for dear life…
I exaggerate—a little.
As Annie and I (and Flame and Pumpkin) rode along the steep and sticky trails of the Blue Mountains (famous for their colour…and height), all seemed well in the world. After about 20 minutes into our two-hour trek through the slopes, and unmarked trails, Flame and I started to get along quite nicely. Basically, I just set up a bargain: You don’t throw me, I won’t scream. Easy as pie.
However… old Flame must have gotten a bit nostalgic for her old track days along the slope of one steep hill (that lead into a river…way down), because before I knew it, she flew off of the guided trail, and up some rocks, heading into some trees dashing to bring us somewhere up the Blue Mountains (and this I don’t exaggerate).
Luckily, Annie is an experienced equestrian, and controlled her horse long enough to try to talk me down off the tree hill, and back on the trail, whilst holding her horse back so feisty little Flame could find her way on track.
Helluva scary little episode, and one I definitely won’t forget…but after Flame and I reignited our comfort with one another (and I stopped holding my breath around every corner), the last hour was full of sweeping shots of the Blue Mountains, and idyllic scenes of back country Australia, only two hours outside of Sydney.
As an added surprise, we also ran into a few kangas in the wild, that aren’t usually seen along the trails. And not just the big brave ones, but a tiny little Joey also made a shy appearance, popping his little feet from the mommas pouch. Only in Australia. J
Anyway, Annie and I brushed ourselves off, I kissed the good earth from my normal height, and we headed to Katoomba, the sight of the famous Three Sisters.
A little tired, and a lot pekish, I waddled my newly bowed legs down the town for some grub and a tour of the town with a leisurely stroll to ease the straightness back into my limbs. The Three Sisters were hidden in the back of the town, and boy were they worth the wait. I think the pictures can speak for themselves. It was the perfect time of day, and the perfect way to end our excursion in such a peaceful place. For the hour that we were there, I felt as though I was a part of something harmonious, as the birds and bugs chirped from beyond the layers and layers of trees, cliffs, and streams into miles and miles of unseen land and life. Literally, as I stood on the foot of the lookout, I felt the overwhelming sea of mortal insignificance in such an ancient and timeless space. One that has housed the ancient Aboriginals, given life to new society, preserved the animals, the insects, the fish, the bacteria, the cells and the bones of those gone by, and nurtures space for those to come.
The Blue Mountains, and the legendary Three Sisters, are landmarks of Australia for folklore, and fun, but more importantly, this moment (and the whole day) was just full of time to listen, to absorb, and to see with more than just my glancing eyes. For a while, standing there in the sea of ranges, I really looked beyond the blue haze, and into the trees. I imagined where I nearly got lost because of Flame, where I thought life would be over, and where I realized it could actually be pretty fun and risky, but always worth a try. We stayed there for a good hour taking in the sights and sounds of the natural world, and for that time, Annie and I were part of the living, breathing microcosm of Australia’s everlasting, undeniable, indescribably beauty & wonder.
Catching the train at 4 PM, Annie and I watched the sun set over the Blue Mountains. We started our day with it, and now that we had our time in the land, we were ready to drift into the newfound feeling of rest and renewal.
Happy Travels,
xx
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