Exciting new walk south of Sydney

Exciting new walk south of Sydney

With waterfalls, cascades and a canyon, the Tahmoor Gorge and Mermaid Pool area provides a beautiful half day walk near Picton.

The stunning Mermaid Pool on the Bargo River, in rain.

It's always a joy when I discover a new walk, particularly one relatively close to home. This is a fabulous 10km loop and at the moment it is relatively clearly marked. There are lookouts, cliffs, waterfalls, a range of vegetation (from flowering scrub to rainforest) and cascades galore. Would be well worth a swim or two along the way in summer, or see it at its most dramatic, in driving rain (as I did this week).

Getting there

Heading south from Sydney as if going to Canberra, pass the Pheasants Nest roadhouse, then take the next turnoff (Avon Dam Road). Cross over the freeway, and take the first right (Arina Road). Follow it for 8km.
Park near the Rockford Road bridge that goes over the Bargo River at Tahmoor. (Turn left into Charles Point Road just before the bridge, then immediately right and follow the dirt track down to the parking area and bridge.) I met some police here who assured me that car break-ins here are NOT common.
There is a wading/swimming area near the carpark that may be popular.
More instructions can be found on the Wollondilly Shire Council site.

The walk

Walk under the bridge, then follow the river for a few hundred metres until you cross a small creek. Once across the creek, take the higher track and follow this for 10 minutes or so. A small sign on a tree will lead you down to the See Through Pool cascade.

See Through Pool and cascades.

A little further along the main track, another track leads down to Mermaid Pool. You'll follow the river downstream for a bit and come to a large overhang, a cascade and waterfall beneath you, and the huge Mermaid Pool. A sign warns you that there is no "safe" exit from the pool. Two ring bolts in the rock may allow you rope access down through the hole in the rock, but if you go down there, you will need to be able to get out again. Some fixed ropes near the cascade may be present to help. If you swim right across the large pool, it is possible to evacuate on the far side, on the downstream side, by hiking and climbing up the steep ridgeline that comes down.
Anyway, the view down the bottom isn't as spectacular as the views from the top. The adventurous may like to cross the river a little higher up, and work your way up to the top of the cliff on the other side (there is a chute near the pool that is easy to climb). A thin track goes along the top of the cliff and provides some great views. There are also brilliant views further along the pool on the same side as the overhang (the side you come in on). A difficult track goes up from the "No safe access" painted sign to a hanging ledge way above the pool. It has two bolts in the rock, which I assume are used for a high and fairly scary abseil.
To continue to the canyon, make your way back up to the main track. You'll pass by some great lookouts of Mermaid Pool before coming to the canyon turnoff. From here it is a loop walk, and I recommend doing the loop anticlockwise - stay high, and follow the cliffline until the track (marked with flagging tape and markers in trees) starts to descend. You'll then be walking back up the canyon back towards the way you came.
Allow at least an hour to walk along the bottom of the gorge. There are enough flagging tape markers at the moment to follow the track, but be warned, it does cross over the river for a while, and then back again. The rocks can be very slippery and you may need to take it slow. Before the track crosses back, the flagging tape and markers became indistinct for a few hundred metres, but keep an eye on the original side of the river and you will eventually see where to cross (just above a small cascade on the bend of the river. I did need to do a little bit of scrambling here to safely get across in wet conditions with the river rising.

The bottom of Tahmoor Gorge, with waterfalls, cascades and rock features.

There are some great little overhangs, pools, rock features and cascades to enjoy along the gorge, so if the weather is good, take your time and enjoy it. Soon enough the track wanders fairly steeply back up to the top and you'll rejoin the original track. Turn right and head back to the car.
Along the walk keep an eye out for a small brown and orange bird in the rock overhangs and cliffs - it is the rock warbler, the only bird endemic to NSW. It has been called the cave bird.

How long will it take?

It's signposted as a 10km walk, but there are a few steep ups and downs in there. With my 12-year-old son, in very wet conditions, we took 4 hours, so it should make for a pleasant half day walk for most people. If you are unfit or not used to bushwalking, it could take longer. It is not recommended to drink the water in the Bargo River, so take water and food.


I've visited the spot twice in a week, and have plans to head back in warmer weather to enjoy some of those pools.

www.kensbigbackyard.com.au

Did I kill Andrew McAuley?

Did I kill Andrew McAuley?

Photo on the cover of Rock's guide to The Rock, photo by Greg Claire.

You won’t find my name in the coroner’s report. You won’t find my name in the story in Australian Geographic written after his death. No one, to my knowledge, associates my name with the death of one of Australia’s greatest modern adventurers.

But every so often, as a particularly dark cloud crosses the sun, something triggers a memory in me: a memory of a particular meeting, where I argued strongly to support Andrew McAuley in his daring quest to be the first person to kayak from Australia to New Zealand. Having crossed huge open seas and ridden through gale-force winds, completely alone, for 29 days, snatching moments of sleep imprisoned inside his wildly bobbing kayak, he tragically disappeared within sight of New Zealand’s mountains on 8 February 2007. His upturned kayak was eventually found, but he never was. He left behind a young son and dedicated partner.

One of these dark moments hit me recently. I pulled out an old rock-climbing guide, and there he was, on the cover. On a sheer rock wall, his toes smearing on tiny footholds, he looks poised and relaxed, yet coiled like a spring, with an inner strength that is almost visible.

 In my decade or so working at Australian Geographic, it was always a joy to mix with adventurers like Andrew. Just hanging around them inspired me to be bolder in my mini-adventurers – whether canyoning, hiking or climbing. Andrew was always one of the harder core adventurers, a step up from some of the other doorknockers. He was also my age, so gave me a direct comparison. I remember him telling me of his commute to work in the city from his home in the Blue Mountains. He would get up at some ridiculously early hour, cycle or drive to the Parramatta River, and then hop in a kayak and paddle the rest of the way.

A keen and accomplished rock-climber and kayaker, he really blew me away when he paddled across the Gulf of Carpentaria. Alone, he watched crocs and sharks bigger than his kayak circle around and under him, as he paddled 530km over seven days. When he got to the other side he couldn’t walk, because his legs had been inactive and pinned in the vessel for so long. He also had salt sores all over his back.

Andrew’s other kayaking adventures included crossing Bass Strait three times, and a 1000km sea-kayaking expedition along the Antarctic Peninsula. Believe me, this bloke knew his stuff. He was renowned for being painstaking in his planning and preparation, and yet still able to occasionally pull the pin on a trip. 

So when he came to the Australian Geographic Society for sponsorship to cross the Tasman Sea, his case had serious merit. At that stage I was part of a small team that helped determined what projects the Society would sponsor, in science, the environment, education and adventure. In most cases, the Society’s emphasis was on granting smaller amounts of money (usually in the low thousands) for lots of people rather than larger sums for one or two. An exception was the extraordinary project by Lloyd Godson to live underwater for a week, and he received $50,000.

But even with smaller amounts of money, there was fierce competition for the limited funds, and we sometimes had fiery debates. In this case, I have clear memories that several people in the room said we shouldn’t support such a high-risk venture as kayaking alone across the Tasman. I argued strongly that Australian Geographic should support him. “If anyone can do it, this bloke can,” I said.

If I hadn’t argued so strongly, and he hadn’t got sponsorship from Australian Geographic, would he have still gone? Would his four-year-old son, Finlay, have been left fatherless?

Probably. The amount of money we supplied wasn’t a deal breaker for Andrew. But if no one had supported him – if everyone had said to him “sorry mate, not this time, not this adventure” – then he probably would have had to reconsider.

When the dark cloud moves on and the sun shines brightly again, what do I do with my thoughts that I may have contributed to his death? Do I shy away from my love of adventure, and my firm beliefs that adventurers and adventurous activities should continue to be supported? It certainly would be easy to do so in an increasingly litigious and scared society.

No, I continue to believe that our lives here on this planet are a precious and very short gift. We are just a “vapour in the wind” as the Old Book says, and I believe we are to use our gift of life in exciting and interesting ways, not locking it away in a bank. Adventuring is part of that. Bear Grylls says that when he gets to heaven he wants to come in dirty, bleeding and limping, with a huge smile on his face saying “what a ride!” As many have said before me, it is more scary to think that people like Andrew – or any of us in our own ways – might never really get to “live”, than that misadventure may occasionally occur.

Other adventurers sponsored by Australian Geographic also died on various trips, and that affected other members of staff. Sue Fear’s death on Manaslu in 2006 had a huge effect on one colleague.

But for me, Andrew McAuley will be a reminder of the struggle between the value of human life, and yet the importance of adventure and a life lived to the max. Even eight years after his death, he still inspires me and troubles me.

Vale Andrew McAuley.

1968–2007

www.kensbigbackyard.com.au

The start of the excellent Australian Geographic article that tried to discover what happened to Andrew McAuley.