Thirlmere Lakes

 This walk takes place on Gandangarra and Dharawal Country

After returning home from Iceland, and going through the process of recovering from Covid-19, I tried to focus on trying to improve my career opportunities by trying to focus on doing my Certificate IV in Business Admin with TAFE NSW, however I found the whole thing monotonous, convoluted, and disorganised. Between that and feeling incredibly exhausted and burnt out from work (and feeling a real struggle after covid, maybe due to my pre-existing health conditions).

I tried once to organise a walk with my friend Tristan, which was locked in, however a relative of mine passed away and her funeral was held on the date we had planned. Time passed and I thought about organising it, however found myself incredibly fatigued with work, and I began to wonder whether it was long-covid, or just because of my cancer treatment. After weeks of neglecting my TAFE, I began to feel a decline in my mental health, and deep depression began to take hold. I thought about trying to organise the walk with Tristan again, but as it was a mountain I began to get in my head about my feeling of intense fatigue and whether I would struggle.

Soon my Wife suggested the idea of a day out at a nearby Apple Orchard across from Madden's Falls. Looking into the pricing and the way it was run we decided against going there and my Wife started looking into other orchards that may have more agreeable rules and prices, before finding a strawberry picking place in the town of Thirlmere. I got excited as she suggested it, as I had never been to Thirlmere and my brother Scott had been there before and suggested I go. I had looked into the town after he suggested it learning about its heritage of being successfully developed by Estonian Immigrants. 

I suggested to my Wife that way make a full day of it, and do a nearby bushwalk after visiting the Strawberry Farm. After quick Google Search I suggested the Thirlmere Lakes walking track, a 6km loop track (apparently a Grade 4, though I've never in my life paid attention to grading systems). She was aggregable to this on the condition that the weather be good and 'not too hot', a hard ask in Australia, so I waited for the time to be right with eager anticipation to break up the monotony that I had felt since returning from overseas.

The week leading up to it, my Wife then asked if I even wanted to pick Strawberries, saying it wasn't the experience, like walking through an Apple Orchard would be, and we could just buy Strawberries for the same price.
I asked if she was still ok to go to Thirlmere, which was my main draw and she said she was, so the excitement remained. I also had a guy reach out to me from ABC Illawarra wanted to talk to me in regard to a Facebook page I run about the 'Bull of Bull Island' and I agreed to speak to him on Monday, after the weekend, feeling a churn in my stomach of nervousness as I had been on the news before and found that I get anxious and tend to ramble.

Saturday morning came, and we packed some food for the day, including some homegrown cucumbers with hummus, and set out to Thirlmere. Driving through Picton, a place I had also never gone before I commented that it wasn't like what I thought it would be like (in my head picturing Liverpool or other areas of Western Sydney).
"It's giving me Jamberoo vibes." I said, and as we progressed into a busier section of the town, I said it now reminded me of Bowral.

We turned off the road towards the lakes and ended up following a dirt road downhill. As we reached the base of the hill there was a sign. I stopped on the road to look up which was the best way to begin our walk. The NSW National Park website said to begin at the Couridjah picnic area, and so we turned left and in 10 seconds we pulled up to our right at a picnic area overlooking a lake.

"This is a nice spot." I said as we both applied some sunscreen. My Wife has started feeling ill with vertigo on the drive up and I double checked that she was still ok to do the walk and she assured me she was.

I walked up to the information board at the picnic area to learn a little about the lake. With my Wife pointing out that there were two missing Dogs with signs stuck to the board making us sad. "Although you're not meant to bring Dogs into national parks" I commented.
"Maybe they escape from a nearby home?" My Wife commented.
Either way we felt sad for the lost Dogs.


"People and the Lakes
The Dharawal and Gundungurra have lived around Thirlmere lakes for many thousands of years, leaving grinding grooves, rock engravings, artwork, and other evidence of occupation.
The local Aboriginal people were some of the first to feel the impact of European settlement, suffering from new diseases, violence and occupation of their lands. 
They called the area Couridjah, which is believed to mean honey and refer to the nectar of the abundant banksia flowers.
Europeans officially found the lakes in 1798, and they have been popular with visitors since at least the 1860's.
In 1867 a pumphouse, which still stand beside Lake Couridjah, was built to supply water to steam engines plying the new southern railway.
Today the park is a significant conservation reserve ideal for quiet public enjoyment."

"Are there any toilets around here?" My Wife asked.
"I'm not sure." I replied. Before spotting one a short distance away through the bush along the trail, before finishing reading the second half of the board.

"Birds of the Water
More than 140 different birds use Thirlmere Lakes, including many waterfowl. The threatened Australasian bittern needs to dense shoreline vegetation for nesting and foraging. It is hard to see because it is mainly active at night.
Endangered Japanese snipes fly 9,000 kilometres from their breeding grounds in Japan to feed in Australia every summer. They are sometimes seen wading around these muddy shores. The snipe is protected by a special agreement between the two countries."

"I hope we see a Snipe." I said.
"We say them in Iceland." My Wife replied.
"I know, and they're super cute."

(There was more information on the board about the vegetation, geology and lake animals and I will share systematically throughout the post.)

As I went to walk down the path to the toilet, my Wife pointed out a built path to the toilet up further, so we walked up to that and along to the toilets which also had stairs leading down to the walking track. As we looked to see which toilet to enter, we were amused, as there was a male toilet, but the female toilet was duel male/female toilet. 

"This is just the patriarchy all over, we get to use both toilets." I teased my Wife.

This would upset J.K. Rowling

The toilet was one of those old school hole-in-the-ground bush toilets, and as soon as I entered, I was instantly swarmed, and my ankles were attacked by mosquitoes. We walked back to the start of the walk to have a look at a map. It appeared to show two walks, with one going straight, but the one doing a loop going off to the left and not going around the lake.

"I thought the loop track went around the lake." I told my Wife, and she said she should just do the loop.

We began down the path, and after a short walk there was a little trail down to the water once more, for another view of the lake.

"Waves of Vegetation
Have you noticed the bands of different sedges fringing the lakeshore?
Some species can handle constant wetness while others prefer to be 'high and dry' when the water level falls.
Above the shoreline grows a wave of moisture-loving paperbarks and, in a few places, the locally rare river peppermint.
The paperbarks merge upslope into the open woodlands featuring rough-barked apples, Sydney peppermints and red and yellow bloodwoods"

After a short while we came to a fork in the road, and I wondered if we suppose to turn left here. However, we noticed an arrow carved into the tree and decided to follow it to our right instead.

"Hopefully it's not just someone trying to trick us into going the wrong way." My ever-suspicious Wife commented.

"God my ankle is itchy." I said, giving it a quick scratch that instantly drew blood. "Damn mosquitoes."

"You couldn't take a photo of me looking less sick?" My Wife commented

"When the Earth Moves
The meandering valley where these waters now rest was formed by an ancient stream flowing downhill, gradually cutting into the land.
But about 15 million years ago the valley was tilted up by earth movements. Water that could no longer drain away pooled in the valley floor.
In the vast sweep of geological time, lakes don't usually last long. They're filled in quickly by sediment washed from the surrounding slopes - perhaps in just a few million years.
Thirlmere lakes are certainly shallower than they used to be amongst the oldest of all lakes. Why have the been so stable for so long?
Maybe the small catchment has something to do with it, but no one knows for sure."

After a short walk we came to another split but this time there was a metal marker telling us that the walking track was the track on our right, which continued along the lake.

"That's the problem with bushwalks in Australia, there are so many alternate trails, and you're don't know if they're just people walking off and creating them, if it's people doing bush regeneration work." I complained.

As we continued along, I pointed to a plant growing in the trees. The way it grew it looked like a plant net that had washed up and been caught high up in the tree by flooding, though I knew that was probably not the case, it was the story my mind made up by looking at it. (Which is probably some insight into human psychology and where stories and mythologies throughout history have come from.

(Aetiological: serving to explain something by giving a cause or reason for it, often in historical or mythical terms)

The weather was nice, and not too hot. I had been non-stop checking the BOM weather app for rain, and the car was receiving spitting rain on the drive-up Mount Ousley before the turn of towards Picton. But now that we were here, it was sunny, and not too hot, and as we wandered along the path surrounded by trees. I already felt my mental health improving. I wondered to myself if my fatigue was long-covid, or even cancer related, or if it was simply depression. I wondered if my solution to tiredness was to actually be active. I had been putting of walks because of how I had been feeling, but maybe they were just what I needed.

I took a deep breath of air and it felt clean, I wasn't struggling to breath at all. Then the doubt set in. "What if I'm just having a good day?" I questioned. Suddenly another burst of childish joy and enthusiam.
"Mushrooms!" I knelt down to photograph them.

Continuing along this relaxing walk, my Wife and I talked and just connected. Occasionally with me interrupting to point out pretty wildflowers.

We approached a wider section of the track, passing some horse poo.
"If I knew there was going to be horse poo, I would have brought a bag to collect it." My Wife said, thinking about using it to fertilize our garden.

This wider section had a fallen log you could step over on the left side of the track, with a tree and some ferns and lomandra in the middle splitting the path so you had to choose a route to take. I didn't particularly think about it but walked to the right, not paying attention.

As I walked around, in the lead ahead of my Wife, just passing the log, I instantly froze and threw up a head to stop my Wife. Just ahead, very closing to walking right into it, was a large Red Belly Black Snake. I took out my phone to take a photo, but it slithered away into the bush before I was able to.

My heart was racing.
"That was unexpected." I commented.
We then began discussing that although Red Belly Black Snakes are venomous, they are passive. They are not aggressive creates at all and will usually slither off at any sign of humans, and attacks, although they do happen, are usually the result of them being messed with, or accidentally stepped on.

My Wife told me it was the first she had seen in years, maybe in 10 plus years, with me commenting that the last time I saw them was on a bush walk with my friend Tristan when we went to Kelly's Falls.

As we were discussing this, I was again not paying attention, and I had not even been expecting to see the first Snake, so when I almost walked upon the second also out soaking in the sun on the dirt track I vocalised "Shit!" I exclaimed.

This Snake also quickly slithered away into the bush, but I was able to snap a quick photo before it disappeared.

I was focused now, and keeping an eye on our trail, wary. Not because I worried about getting attacked, but because I didn't want to accidentally step on one and get bitten. My Wife was slightly nervous now in case there were other snakes, like brown snakes or tiger snakes, which are more aggressive and dangerous.
"If we came across any of those snakes and they didn't immediately slither off I wouldn't try and get closer by stomping to even scare them, I'd just turn around and go home." I commented, and began telling her about all the Brown snakes my Dad encountered at a quarry at Glen Davis when we went on our road trip out west.
"That was back in 2009, in like late November, early December, and it was crazy hot." I said.

We approached a log, and I went slowly over it first, cautious in case of a Snake underneath or on the other side. I then proceeded to help my Wife up onto and down off it as she is not use to the outdoors.
"How do I get down?" She asked once up on there.
"You have to just step down with one leg until it touches the ground and then down with the other."
I held her as she managed to do it.
"See, that's like my whole leg length though, she said, referring to her height."

I began telling my Wife about my bedroom as a child. That when I was a really young child this was a part of the carpet at the entrance of my room, and at night there was a line of it that appeared darker than the rest, and that it would terrify me. That I always thought it was a Snake. I knew it wasn't, but my mind always saw it that way and would fill my young child mind with fear.
She commented that it was probably and evolutionary trait, from cavemen, needing to spot things in and amongst the trees and snow looking for predators to keep us safe, the same was probably true with Snakes.

The path then wound back and we could see a clearer view of the lake once more.
"I thought it said we weren't going around the lake?" I asked once more, referring to the map, even though the walk online had said it would.

"Stange Creatures of the Deep
Lurking in the waters of Thirlmere Lakes is a remarkable sponge. All other Australian freshwater sponges are able to reproduce asexually by sending off bits of themselves - rather like a plant cutting.
This ability, called gemmulation, is useful for dealing with the changing conditions of ageing lakes. But 'Radiospongilla sceptroides' can't gemmulate, a fact which seems to confirm the great age and stability of these lakes.
Other strange and significant animals have evolved in Thirlmere Lakes in isolation from other water bodies. A mussel, some worms and various microscopic organisms are mostly restricted to this one lake system."

We could hear people now from across the lake. It sounded like kids playing, they're always irrationally loud.
"I think they're at the other carpark, the one we could have turned right to go to." I said to my Wife.

I passed another big mushroom, kneeling quickly to take a photo, that ended up blurry, which is a good reason to segue into the fact that about two weeks before this I had an eye-test at Specsavers, because I was having headaches while reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Turns out I am farsighted and need reading glasses. (That novel had ultra small writing though!), though, that not being an excuse for my blurry image, which probably had more to do with rushing to not be kneeling down in the bush that had already had more Snakes on it than I'd seen in years.

The wind began to gently blow, and you could hear the sounds of it gently blowing the tree leaves.
"Can you hear that?" I asked my Wife, making her stop and listen.
"Yes, it freaks me out." She responded.
"What?!" I said, perplexed. "That sound is beautiful!"

I made us stop to feel the wind slightly cool us. A gentle flutter of leaves all at once began to fall from the trees and slowly spin towards the ground. We stood there in the silence, watching them lightly fall around us, and it felt like be in a fantasy forest realm in a movie or a video game.
"That was beautiful." I said when it had finished. My Wife agreed.

In reference to my Wife finding the wind creepy, she began trying to say there was something about the Australian bush that 'creeped her out.' but she couldn't quite but her finger on why. (Her Mum is from England and her Dad's family German immigrants, so maybe she doesn't have the cultural heritage of the land in her yet?)
"I know why it is." I confidently told her. "It's because we grew up watching Jeopardy." I told her, referring to the BBC found footage style show about Aliens filmed int he Australian Bush, not the quiz game show which is also excellent.

"Christ!" I yelled. Once more startled by a Red Belly Black Snake. This one at least was a distance away, and just to the right side of the path.

I walked towards it, having more distance between it and the others and more time to get it to slither off. I stomped my feet as I approached, but it did not want to move. I threw a few sticks near it hoping that was frighten it enough (keeping them landing far enough away as to not hit it, I'm not cruel.) However the Snake did not want to move.

"Want me to just walk past it?" My Wife offered.
"No, don't." If it's not moving it might be being territorial, I just don't want it to turn around and bite you all the way out here. If he doesn't want to move, we'll just cut through the bush."

I pointed to our left, we would cut through the grass, and the trailed after the Snake turned left so it wouldn't be too long a walk through to make it back onto the path.
"What about other snakes?" She asked.
"I'll keep an eye out. Just follow behind me." I said, and began into the grass, keeping a careful eye out. About a metre and a half in, the Black Snake slithered off further away to the right, and we walked back onto the path and past it.

"God I'm really on edge now." I said, my heart beating quick every time I saw a fallen piece of black bark to the side of the path, now hyper vigilant for snakes.

As we continued along my Wife began noticing all the holes around.
"Are they Wombat holes or...?" She asked.
"Yeah." I responded.
"Why couldn't we see them instead of all the Snakes."
"You see them out more at night."
"God that's scary." Said my Wife, pointing as we turned a corner to a fallen down tree.

I assumed she meant because Snakes could be leaving underneath it, but she just meant how big it was and the thought of if it fell on you.

Continuing along any sort of breeze had disappeared, and it was now well and truly warm, and we were starting to sweat. I put my sunglasses on to dim the brightness out, but as they were polarized, I found it harder to keep an eye out for snakes, so ended up resting them on the brim of my hat.

We continued along the trail, I pointed out big boulders out in the bush every now and again, wondering if they were the places that featured the Aboriginal rock engraving and artwork. As a history buff, living on Aboriginal land I couldn't help but think about how little I was ever taught about the Indigenous culture here. I'm only 32 (still young according to people older than me, but feeling old now), and even I was brought up calling Uluru 'Ayer's Rock', and with the latest voice to parliament result I couldn't help but think there was still a long way for our country to go. I pictured in my head what life was like for them all those years ago. Living around this water source. Wondering how they dealt with the Snakes, which in the Dharawal/Tharawal language is 'Munda Gari'.

After walking in silence for a while, sweating and keeping an eye out for Snakes, we saw the path open up onto a dirt road.

"I guess we took the other track." I said. Saying that the loop track must have including the dirt roads that my Wife didn't want to walk on in case of 'speeding cars'.

A lady on horseback was coming up the road towards us. I greeted her and asked if she had seen any snakes, informing her of the three we had encountered along the trail. I then double checked with her that the way she'd came led back to the car park and she said it did. I thanked her and we began along the dirt road in the heat, now with less shade back towards the carpark.

"You're becoming your Dad." My Wife told me, mentioning the fact that I started up a conversation with a random. 
"Ah well. We're out on an adventure, got to talk to folk." I replied. "Usually when we're out it's Tristan who does it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he loves a good chat." I said as we continued along the road.

This dirt road led to another dirt road with a gate blocking off car access. it pointed us right towards the Lake Werri Berri carpark and picnic area, which was about 1 kilometre out from the Lake Couridjah picnic area where we had parked.

After a decent walk along the road with two passing cars, discussing our recently bought shoes we arrived at the bustling picnic area, and I walked to the information board to see if there was any difference. The information provided appeared to be the same, but the map seemed to more accurately show the loop trail we had just done.

We continued along the dirt road.

"We'll know when we're almost there once we reach the pump house." I said, having seen it less than a minute away from the picnic area as we drove in.
In less than no time we arrived at the pumphouse, built in 1867.

"The Couridjah Pumphouse
This building was once the pumphouse that supplied water for steam trains using the southern railway line.
Built when the line was extended to Mittagong in 1867, the pump house once contained a boiler and steam-powered pump capable of delivering 27,000 litres of water an hour to the nearby Couridjah Railway Station.
Demand for the water from the pumphouse dropped dramatically in 1919 once an alternative rail line between Picton and Mittagong commenced operation.
Pumping operations continued here until 1964 when the boiler and pump were removed.
Today the site is recognised and conserved as an important historic place within Thirlmere Lakes National Park."

You couldn't enter inside but could peer in through the barred door.
"Creepy." I commented.

"Servants of Steam
Both this pumphouse and the locomotives it provided for had one crucial thing in common - they were driven by steam engines.
Steam was the critical element that powered up the industrial revolution which in turned changed the world forever.
The key difference between steam power and the modern internal combustion engine is that with steam, all the real action happens before the steam enters the cylinder chamber.
The heart of the steam engine is the boiler where water is boiled as it passes around a coal fire via a system of internal metal tubes.
Pressure thus builds up to around 150 lbs/sq inch before a safety value cuts in to "let off steam" and prevent the boiler exploding.
With a "full head of steam up", the boiler is then ready to do some work. A regulator (throttle) releases the steam into the cylinder where it forces the piston downwards thus turning the crankshaft and hence the flywheel. Most steam engines have two cylinders.
Having done its work in the cylinders, the steam is then blown out through the chimney. A fair bit of power goes with it as you could tell if you heard the noise made by the exhaust.
Owing to limitations on space, weight and wasted heat, steam locomotives were very inefficient energy users. Of every 100 units of heat produced by fuel on the fire grate, only 6 or 7 were turned into useful work in normal running conditions." 

A few metres up the road we were back and Couridjah Lake picnic area, and we sat at a little table in the shade looking out at the water while we ate our homegrown cucumbers with hummus.

"Would you like to go into Thirlmere after this?" I asked my Wife. I was happy out, exploring somewhere new. I wasn't ready to go home yet.
"Nah there's nothing there." She said dismissing it.
"We could go into town? Maybe find a bakery? Try a pie. I love trying a local pie." I said, hoping she'd relent.

She was soon on Google Maps, where she found both a local bakery that looked good (Loop-Line Pies), and a cake shop she thought looked good (DeliciousLeigh Cakes).
"Sounds good to me." I replied as I had been down by the water while she was looking them up.

As we drove into town, we passed the NSW Rail Museum. I enquired if she was interested in going. She gave me a look that said, 'Do you even need to ask?' and she directed me to a spot to pull up near the bakery for a pie. As we crossed through the town, I couldn't notice anything particular 'Estonian' about it, but not having been to Estonia, and really not knowing too much about it as a place I probably wouldn't have noticed if there was.

"I like the name of the Inn." My Wife said, point out it was called 'the Welcome Inn' as in, welcome in.

As we entered, I was devastated to see they were sold out of my favourite; chilli pies.
"Do you want one?" My Wife asked.
"Can we check and see if the other bakery has them?"
"The other one only sells cakes." She answered.

I decided upon a Beef Curry pie and my Wife got a sausage roll. She said it was the best sausage roll she'd had in years and my pie was excellent too. Like a full on slow cooked beef curry put inside a large pie casing. I was so full after eating it.
We walked down to the cake shop which wasn't too far away and ended up indulging a lot, buying a large Orea slice, Turkish Delight Slice, Blueberry frosted cupcake and a large caramel donut. (All of which we ate later at home on separate days, and they were delicious). I also got a medium sized honeycomb milkshakes and my Wife a lime flavoured one.

As we drank them on the drive home, I commented that I was 'so full from that pie' and that it was nice to get out somewhere different for the day. I also said because that pie was so good I was even more upset that I didn't get to try the chili pie.
"Maybe we can come back one day." My Wife said.
My mood lifted once more. 
"Yeah, I should have a look for other walks around nearby, and maybe we can stop in first to get a pie, before they sell out."
I would have been straight on my phone researching walks had I not been the one behind the wheel.

After the weekend and back into the grind of work I had my interview with ABC Illawarra about the history of the Bull of Bull Island. It was a recording which made me panic slightly, and I felt like I rambled incoherently the whole time, wishing the interview had been written, my preferred style of communication as I feel like I can stop, think and articulate my thoughts in a much more coherent manner. It played on the ABC Illawarra radio just after 10:30am on Tuesday morning and I had my friends Stuart and Megan listen as I had told them about my perceived 'ramblings'. They were quick to assure me that I 'did good' and that it didn't come across as ramblings. (You can listen to it HERE and it starts at about the 2 hours and 2 minutes mark, though I can't guarantee that in a few years time when this post is still here that that link will work). However, I think if I were to do interviews again, I would still prefer them to be written (the same reason I tell my friend Tristan that Steventure will remain a blog, and not a TikTok or YouTube style thing. I like my style, though not popular (TLDR, people might say), this is how it will stay.

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Thanks for reading! - Steven

Bens Walk

 Having been super busy with work and doing a lot of overtime and weekend shifts (not a complaint, money in the bank for a holiday to Iceland next year!) I had been getting really antsy about not getting out in nature for a walk. Although I had quite a few things occur between now and my last post, I will leave that for the end of this post for anyone who cares to read and get straight on to Bens Walk.

I had been meaning to do the walk for almost a year after learning it was Dog friendly, as I love being able to take my little girl Orla with me. So I finally said to my Wife that we were going to go on the weekend, I locked it in, knowing the weather was too be nice and sunny (or monstrously hot according to my Wife).

"Where are we even going?" She asked in the morning as I packed my backpack with water enough for the three of us.
"I dunno, I looked it up and it just said it starts at Nowra Showground so just GPS to there." I told her as I tied the laces on my brand new hiking boots I had bought for my recent 31st birthday.

We jumped in the car and I set up the bluetooth, asking her what she wanted to listen to.
"Just not jazz." She responded as I had been blasting Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker and Dizzie Gillespie all week around the house. I chucked on some John Butler Trio, and we set off with Orla super excited for her adventure.

I always find the drive down the coast particular pleasant, maybe some part of me is always reminded of going down there multiple times a year when I was younger with my Dad and my brothers, as we frequently went camping at Coolendel Campground along the Shoalhaven when I was younger, and it's some of the best memories I have.

We arrived at the Nowra Showground, pulling up in the street just before the entry and putting on sunscreen. We hopped out of the car into the hot sun and walked into the showground.

We were surprised by the sign allowing Dogs off leash, but kept Orla on a lead as we didn't trust her to not run in front of cars.  

We soon noticed the area was a campground and wasn't too busy, but imaged it would get much busier in the lead up to Christmas.

"Is there a toilet around?" I asked looking around while we also looked for the start of the walk.
My Wife rolled her eyes at my frequent need of the toilet, (due to bladder damage during my Stem Cell Transplant).
Right in front of us was a block with the toilets, I handed the lead with Orla to my Wife and quickly ducked into the large room, with showers that I figured was the campers. I looked around before finding the toilet with a sticker warning of asbestos that gave me pause, before quickly ducking in and looking around for openings in the wall and slightly holding my breath.

As I left I noticed someone had drawn a picture on the back of the door warning of Snakes, reminding me to keep more of an eye out than usual as I had to worry about my Dog, not myself (who I worry little about).

*tread

After leaving my Wife walked to the opposite side to find the female door locked, before trying to enter the men's and finding it locked.
"It must just be for campers." I said, pointing at a point next to the door that looked like a card swipe.
My Wife was annoyed, and I said that surely there would be a public toilet in the showgrounds, before walking up a short way and finding them right next to a sign pointing us in the direction of Bens Walk.

I quickly gave Orla a big drink from a tap here as to not waste any of the water I had packed and we followed the direction of the signpost down to Hanging Rock Lookout, overlooking the Shoalhaven River.

We turned right and began following the stairs down towards the river.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs we passed through the split rock that didn't allow abseiling and turned left to continue on that path down below the Hanging Rock Lookout.

As we continued along I there were more moments of stairs and I noticed that all the plants down by the water were looking much greener compared to up at the showground.

I noticed the walk was now turning in away from the Shoalhaven, but still along a little river. I questioned out loud what an offshoot of a main river was called.

"Is it an Estuary?" I asked before shaking my hand, unable to think of what it might be. But I was right as we were no longer following along the Shoalhaven but Nowra Creek.

We followed the trail on a short distance before the trail split in 3 different directions. Left, looking like it headed back uphill, right over a bridge and straight ahead. 

Of course I was excited to cross the bridge, having not a few days early been messaging my brother Scott about how good the 'Rope Bridge Trope' was.

As I began crossing with Orla admiring the water way, a loud boat passed by blasting loud music, but was quickly gone.

"Does it move?" My Wife asked me.

"No it's pretty steady." I said as I continued admiring the creek.
My Wife began to cross shortly after me.

"It moves!" She said, and quickly ran across as if she was afraid it would collapse on her.

I finally met up with her on the opposite side, which opened to a meadow filled with long grass. My Wife began talking like she wanted to go back, fearful of Snakes in the long grass after I had told her of the image drawn on the back of the door.

I stood for a bit trying to convince my Wife to follow the path and that it would be fine until I eventually began walking with her following me. The path through eventually widened, and you could see the trail was clearly much lower than the surrounding grass, giving ample time to spot any sneaky serpents.

It was a beautiful spot to walk through, by my Wife soon began to complain about the heat and lack of shade (she did get sunburned in Scotland in Autumn). As we continued across the field I noticed on the opposite side acorss the long grass seemed to be someone's property. The path turned left away from the property and began along a dirt track in between casuarina trees (She-Oaks).

I told her that at least now she had some shade, as I smiled and continued walking, looking all over at all of my surroundings taking in all the scenery. You could almost see the creek through the thick layering of the casuarinas, and another boat when past with someone saying something obnoxiously loud with a thick bogan accent. She mentioned something about someone being stabbed on Bens Walk a few years ago (I think hinting at being afraid of whoever was in the boat), I just replied to her that she didn't have to worry and it was going to be like in Deliverance (a movie she hasn't seen).

As we cleared the casuarinas and the area on our right opened up to a puddly grass area I instantly thought of and area in the video game Red Dead Redemption 2 called 'Big Valley near 'Little Creek River', if you've played it, you might know what I mean.

Though looking at it here reminds me of 'Heartland Overflow' near 'Emerald Ranch'

There were openings in on our left along the way giving clear views of the creek and we soon came to an area with a sign designating the spot 'Depot Farm Picnic Area'.

Where there obviously used to be some kind of jetty

I expected to come across a picnic table, or something that made this area a 'picnic area', however there was nothing else around, so I assumed the old remains of the jetty might have been the designated picnic area. I queried to my Wife whether or not this creek would be in the book we had purchased her Father for Christmas, (a book of NSW kayaking locations).

Across the creek from us I saw a Mother and her young son doing the walk, heading the opposite direction to us. We heard her calling to him to 'come down' and to 'not climb up there'. I said that I hoped the kid didn't fall and have an accident, thinking back on the incident where my own Father fell off a cliff.

We came to the section where we were to cross the creek, I expected a simple path at the end of the creek but where instead met with some rocks to cross over. They were simple enough, however there were gaps between the rocks and my Wife suddenly got cross and refused to try and cross with Orla.

I told my Wife that it would be fine that Orla is good at agility. She adamantly refused, saying she was 'putting her foot down'. I stood out on the end with Orla, looking at the small gap across the first rock, stating that I could carry her while I stepped over, as the rest wasn't too bad for her to cross.
She adamantly refused saying that Orla seemed scared, and so she took Orla and began walking back.

I was annoyed and frustrated, because now we would need to walk back to the bridge and take the alternate route down to the other side instead of simply crossing over and continuing the walk back along the opposite side of the river.

I let my frustrations go, telling myself it just means I get to do extra of the walk, even if my Wife had been negative about it so far (not being very outdoorsy).

I tried to tell her to hand Orla back, as she can sometimes pull, and we were walking along an uneven surface. She wouldn't listen (still annoyed with me for trying to let Orla cross the creek). Not shortly after of course, walking along the uneven surface Orla jumped up, pulling my Wife and hurting her back.

I did a sort of 'I told you so' before taking the lead and continuing ahead with Olra while my Wife proceeded to slowly walk behind. Soon a couple who were doing the walk passed us by, and the guy asked my Wife if she was OK as it looked like she was limping. "Yeah, not that he gives a shit", she said angrily referring to me, causing my blood to boil.

As the passed we proceeded to get into an argument and walk almost back to the field of grass barely speaking to each other, before quickly reconciling (and I assume the pain of her awkward fall lessening). We crossed the wooden bridge back over the creek and I asked if she wanted to simply wait on a little wooden seat while I just ran down the end of the opposite side, to save her having to walk injured down. She said she should be fine, but we sat on the little bench to have some water an allow another couple who were beginning the walk with their Dog to cross the bridge.

"Is that a Shiba-Inu?" I asked My Wife, who is a self-proclaimed Dog expert, about the couple's Dog.
"That or maybe an Akita." She replied.

As we sat mosquitos began to swarm us, and I could see them landing all over Orla too, who was having a rest laying down in all the thick and vibrant green trad. We quickly got up and began to walk down the opposite side of the creek, back towards the creek crossing.

Compared to the open grasslands or woodland hallway of the opposite side of the creek, this side felt more like walking through a rainforest.

As it progressed further, I began to get bayou vibes, though that is an American term I couldn't think in my head of an Australian natural equivalent to that (the closest I could think of were mangroves which is completely different as it referred to specific flora).

My own limitations of descriptive language began to irk me, as I gazed through the melaleuca trees at the creek. I began to think about my writing style of this blog, and conversations with my brother Scott who had criticised it's "this happen and then this happen" aspect of my blog. I thought about how busy I was in everyday life. So much overtime at work, trying to maintain the house, spend time with my family, take care of Orla, and the fact I struggle to find time to even get out on adventures and walk let alone write about them, and when I did write I felt time pressured with the limitations of my memory, to recollect to walk so I would rush to churn out something lest I forget, then I would be disappointed with my writing, unhappy with lack of descriptive or poetry language, that I wasn't writing like how I wanted to write. I thought about how I was constantly entering the lotto, desperate to ease some pressure from my life as interest rates rose, fuel prices inflated, and food was costing an arm and a leg. The everyman struggle that I didn't want. How I envied those who had the freedom of leisure and travel. "Maybe this week I will win." I thought. (I didn't.)

I stopped to video the creek.

"Is that a tick?" I heard my Wife ask, as soon as I had stopped filming. 
I looked and saw it on Orla's back. I quickly flicked it away and have her a quick brush over to make sure she had none that had latched on. Luckily she was free of them, and we began moving to make sure no more in the area landed on her.

We soon came to a split in the path, one heading along the creek, leading to the creek crossing, and one leading uphill to a scout hall.

We continued on the path heading towards the creek crossing.

As we passed the rocky outcrop on our left, I pondered out loud if there was maybe Aboriginal art in there, as if I was going to camp in a location a good spot with shelter under the stable looking rocky ledges would be where I would pick.
"Why would they?" My Wife asked me. "They built shelters?"
"Yeah, but going under an established shelter where you can have an open fire, and save the hassle of doing that, I dunno. That's what I would do." I replied.

We arrived at the crossing while my Wife and Dog stopped for some water I quickly crossed over the crossing as I had not crossed from the other side and then snapped a few quick photos as the couple with the Shiba-Inu like Dog arrived on the opposite side.

They saw the same gap we had seen and had a moment of hesitation because of their Dog.

"Yeah." I said to them while I was still standing in the middle of the crossing. "That's why we turned back and walk the other way around." I pointed to my Wife and Dog sitting on the opposite side in the shade.

I walked back to my Wife and Dog to have some water and sat to watch to see if this couple and their Dog would cross. 

They seemed like they wanted to, but every time they got near the first gap in the rocks their Dog retreated. After about 5 minutes they decided that they wouldn't be able to cross with their Dog and turned around.

"Not a very Dog friendly walk then, is it?" My Wife remarked.

We began to head back, arriving at the scout hall sign I told her I would quickly jog up to have a look up at the scout hall while she waited for me. So, Orla and I began a fast-paced walk up the zigzagging tarred track to the top. Arriving off the path opened up to and area along the back of houses linking up to fire-trails and power pole trails. There was a bunch of different tracks I could walk down and I didn't have all day, and most probably led no-where and were not part of the walk, I simply turned around and returned to my Wife who was being devoured by mosquitos.

We began the walk back as I stopped to take a photo to our right, away from the creek.

"You take a lot of photos." My Wife stated. 
"So people can get an idea of the walk and the scenery. Doesn't that just remind you if Lemoyne from Red Dead 2?" I asked, again comparing the natural scenery towards that of a video game. We passed a couple who were pulled up in a Kayak alongside the creek with Orla hanging her head over the bank looking down on them. "Leave it Orla" I said as we said a polite 'hello' to the couple and continued on.

"A Goanna!" I whispered with excitement, pointing ahead down the trail. I stayed back with Orla as it ran across the path and began climbing one of the She-Oaks. My Wife tried to quietly walk forward and take a few photos and videos of it, but ultimately, I am using the one I took after I had walked back up to her and looked up at it casually hanging in the tree.

"It's not a Goanna, it's a Monitor Lizard." My Wife informed me, as we began walking.
"What's the difference?" I asked.
"Monitor Lizards are smaller I think." She replied before she began looking it up on her phone.
"Oh no," She said still reading, "They're the same. Goannas are just monitor lizards and there was just confusion with it back in the day."
"So, all Goannas are monitor lizards, but not all monitor Lizards are Goannas." I replied, nodding.

We soon reached the split in the path where the wooden suspension bridge over the creek was, with straight leading us back the way we had came, I suggested turning right heading up the stairs saying it would probably take us back to the showground at just another point you could begin the walk from (as the couple with the other Dog had come down this way)

A very short way up, my suspicions were confirmed with signage

It wasn't too much of an incline uphill before we once again reached the showgrounds at a different spot to begin the walk right near a bush regeneration site with a sign detailing who 'Ben' was that the walk was named after as well as confirming my suspicion about aboriginal rock art. 

We made our way back to the toilets, and returned to the car both commenting that we probably just have packed some lunch as our stomachs grumbled. We loaded Orla into the car and cranked the aircon for her as she was panting pretty vigorously from the heat and I began to drive us home.

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Thanks for reading! - Steven

Extra tidbits! - Prior to the walk I had been asked to take part in a scientific study as I was a survivor of a Stem Cell Transplant. The study was apparently the first of its kind, basically testing whether or not after a Stem Cell Transplant if the donor cells could form in the testes thus if you were not made infertile from the chemotherapy, would any children sired be genetically those of the donor? A very important question, so I was happy and fascinated to take part in the study. This took place up at Concord Hosptial in Sydney. Obviously, sperm collection was required so you can use your imagination there. The Doctor informed the study was happening after someone undergoing the treatment was adamant that a child he had sired was not his. I was also told I had the option (if I was not sterile) to learn if this was the case with the donor cells or to remain ignorant (which some people had chosen). I said I would like to know and wondered why this wasn't already known. I was told that they actually struggled to get permission to even conduct the study due to the ethics board being against it.

"We I think it's something we should really know, not just people getting it but donors out there who have people walking around with their stem cells." I said.

Afterwards I had a wait for my results so went looking for lunch, on my way finding a Kokoda Track Memorial Walk so ended up killing some time exploring along there (giving me inspiration to one day do the actual Kokoda Trail myself).

There were signs along the paved walk, marking different sections of the Kokoda Trail and offering up information about the war and the trail all along the path, I stopped to read them along the way as Bush Turkeys scuttled past.

I follow the stairs down to a bay with some remnants of a ship.

I accidentally came across a guy peeing off of the path into the bush and he quickly zipped up and walked away, I continued following the trail snapping a photo of the cool looking table that was next door to an Italian restaurant.

I crossed the busy road over to a mall for lunch before following the trail back the opposite way so I could fully walk it, arriving at the beginning of it right next to the hospital carpark (not in the random suburban streets nearby where I had stumbled upon it).

The path continued left, away from the hospital, and I checked the time figuring I would have time still to walk down and I began following this new trail which turned out to be the 'Foreshore Trail'.

I continued along ultimately running out of time and having to run back to the hospital to not miss my appointment. Returning back, I had a blood test and was told my sperm count was incredibly low, that I wasn't 'sterile' but 'sub-fertile' and would not be able to conceive with the low number. I was told that I would have to retest in another year as it was still too soon from my treatment to be sure whether or not they would recover. (Though I secretly hoped they wouldn't, you can probably image why, plus my sperm was saved already before my first round of chemo in case we ever wanted children).

This occurred early November. Mid November, for my birthday I bought tickets in Sydney to see my favourite stand-up comedian Louis C.K.

So my Wife and I travelled to Sydney for the day (in order to try and find me some good hiking boots as we could get none in and around Wollongong), we stopped in at the Lillipad Cafe in Glebe, an Indigenous Cafe as I had read about it on an SBS Food post and had really wanted to go. I got a wattleseed coffee and the Gangurru Burger, a saltbush spiced Kangaroo burger flavoured with wattleseed, pepperleaf, fingerlime mayo, and bush tomato chutney that was absolutely delicious.

Noticing in their fridge non-alcoholic Bush tucker flavoured beers I bought all 3 and as we walked around Sydney during the day looking for my boots I slowly made my way through all three of them.

I finally found a good pair of boots in a Kathmandu and had to carry them around for the rest of the day with me while we waited to see Louie.

Finally we saw him (though we did endure to not particularly funny opening acts), and he was hilarious, I laughed the most I had in a long while (so much so I struggled to breathe). Four days later my actual birthday happened, hitting 31 years of age, getting on in my years. One of the gifts I got was a Kombucha making kit. And thus concluded the very very end of this blog post, with hopefully some more walks in the future, and a trip to Iceland in September next year to look forward to.