Killalea/Ariijong

    This walk takes place on Dharawal Country

After spending multiple days indoors, working on completing my Certificate III in Horticulture with TAFE Digital (awful lot of time spent indoors for an outdoor career!), I needed to get outside for my own mental health. I didn't want to do anything to interesting or exciting, so I decided just to get out for a walk and some fresh air locally. I decided to head to Killalea Regional Park, known as 'Arrijong' to First Nations People.

A beautiful pristine local area, and one that had evoked some great personal memories for me as I spent 6 months working there back in 2016, for a project called 'The Green Army'. This program was created by the federal government, as a way to help young Australians aged 17–24 protect their local environment, provide training, skills, and experience to help the participants build their careers. 
It was my introduction into the world of Conservation and Land Management, also known as Bush Regeneration, or simply, Bush Regen.
This was around the time I had returned from my 'Trip to Europe and the UK'.

I set off just on lunch, deciding to begin my day out by grabbing some lunch from the local Kiosk.
As I arrived at the old grounds, I couldn't help but be flooded with fond recollections. It was crazy to me that a single 6 months of my life had such a huge and lasting impact, and to this day was my favourite job (even if it was the worst paying!).

As I stood outside the kiosk inspecting the menu, I decided to order a hamburger with some bush tomato chutney. As I approached to order the young man working there was having some issues.

"Fucking fuck." He swore. I sympathised with him; everyone knows what it's like to be having a bad day. "Sorry" he apologised, "it just feels like nothing is going right today."
I nodded in agreement. "It can be like that sometimes." I told him.
"Lately it feels like it's most the time." I acknowledged back to me.
I smiled, "Yeah, it can feel like that sometimes too." I reassured him.
I placed my order and took a seat with a beeper, which he told me to collect at the window. I sat wait reminded of the many lunches spent at that exact spot, even the table looked the same, whether it was after 9 years I couldn't say.
Soon I got the beep for my order so headed over.
"At least I didn't mess this one up." The man said to me, a small win for him on an otherwise frustrating day.
"Have a good day." I said, taking my burger and heading over to overlook the beach below, colloquially known as 'The Farm'.

"The first land grants at Killalea were given to D’Arcy Wentworth and William Ralph. Ralph made no claim to his grant, and so Wentworth became owner of both portions.
These portions became part of the Bassett-Darley Estate.
Wentworth’s daughter, Katherine, married Benjamin Darley in 1847 and according to the custom of that time handed her estate over to her husband, who administered the land until his death in 1864.
Katherine married William Thomas Bassett in 1867, hence the name ‘The Bassett- Darley Estate’.
Many leaseholders have farmed the estate over the years including Edward Killalea, for which the area is named.
Edward Killalea was born in Ireland c.1816. He was involved in a fight when he was 19 years old, which resulted in the death of two men. He was charged with manslaughter and sentenced to transport to Australia for the term of his natural life.
Edward was an Alderman on Shellharbour City Council from 1870-1873. He was involved in gold mining on his property at Killalea with Thomas Henry, who had set up mining operations at Bass Point. Operations ceased until 1872, when Killalea and Thomas Alexander Reddall reopened the operation. Edward died the same year and operations once again stopped.
Killalea was later farmed by the Fraser family and eventually taken over by ICI (Imperial Chemical Industries), who planned to use the site for explosives testing. The testing never eventuated. ICI leased the farms 'Seaview' (near today's kiosk) and 'Sunnyvale' (Old Bass Point Road), and charged a fee to surfers and tourists, to access their land.
The park was officially assigned Killalea State Recreation Area on the 11th September 1987." c

As I wandered towards the bench to eat my burger, I noticed someone sitting nearby at a table talking to two ladies. It was celebrity Chef Mark Olive, who also runs the Killalea Kiosk, as well as a 'Midden by Mark Olive' which is just underneath the Sydney Opera House, overlooking the Sydney Harbour bridge, where only 2 weekend prior my Wife and I had gone up for a delayed Valentine's Day date to try the Native High Tea.

We had also recently watched him on the ABC TV show 'A Bite to Eat with Alice'.
I didn't engage, letting him have his private conversation, as I sat and ate my burger, looking down at the waves, the sand, and the beautiful landscape in front of me. My eyes wandered from the beach over to the lagoon. I could remember a few years ago (2020) when the lagoon completely dried up killing off hundreds of fish and eels. I wracked my brain trying to remember if there was a specific reason for it or if there was just a drought.

I looked down upon the full lagoon and wondered to myself if the wildlife that called it home had been restored, before I headed over to the ruins of the old farmhouse, 'Seaview'.

"It is believed one of the Buckley brothers built the original farmhouse 'Seaview' in the area we know as Killalea State Park today. The Buckley's used to farm the area, then known as 'Clear Hills'.

John and Marion Fraser's son, Hector, carried on farming at his parent's farm 'Brushgrove' at Tongarra, until 1923 when he and his wife Hilda (nee Dunster) and their family moved to 'Seaview', at Killalea.

Hilda Fraser later renamed the farm 'Killalea' after a chance meeting with Patrick Killalea, the son Edward and Maria Killalea who farmed the area in the 1860's.

After the farm became part of what is now known as Killalea Regional Park, the home was destroyed by fire.
Concrete slabs of the dairy, feed house, cattle trough, dry stone walls, and remnants of the garden are all that remain of Killalea farm today." c

I began to follow the remnants of these ruins down towards a gazebo, which I knew from my numerous hours spent working here would lead me down into a valley where I would walk past old stone walls that had once been completely hidden from view behind thick walls of lantana before the team I was working on had cleared this back, restoring them back into sight from the overgrowth.

I could see yellow flowers in amongst the green bushes, and I instantly knew this weed. It was one of the first weeds I had learned to identify when beginning at Green Army, which I joined, for wanting to work outdoors, and also because even since I was a kid people would name trees, or bushes or weeds, and it wasn't something you learned at school, and I wanted a bit more awareness about what this things around me were.
This yellow flowered plant was Senna, also known as Cassia, and sometimes known as a 'Golden Shower', not the weird sexual fetish of being peed on, but because of its yellow flowers and its fruit, which are cylindrical pods that hang downwards, imitating 'rain'.

I continued down past a cleared line of these old stone walls, past the gazebo, and down into the area I had spent the majority of my time working all those years ago.

I walked along the dirt trail, looking at the stone wall, flooded with memories, while noticing blue dye sprayed on plants growing on the wall. A marker for herbicides, as the dye is added so that people can be aware of where it had been sprayed, a good practice, though I know in practicality it is not always done, but we had always done it back when I had worked here.

Through the bushes behind this stone wall, you could see another stone wall. I thought back on memories of going through here not only clearing lantana but also canopy lifting. 

Because I was returning to a site of bush regen work, I was looking closely, remembering how it had looked at the time we had started that work, versus how it looked by the time my time at Green Army had ended, and comparing it to now. I couldn't help but feel that had been some regression, as I wondered to myself who looked after the park now.
Every weed and plant stood out to me. Whether or not they were aesthetically pleasing like Vervain, or repulsive looking weeds like wild tobacco.

Vervain

Wild Tabacco 'Solanum mauritianum'

I looked down at Cape Ivy crawling through the grasses at the side of the trail on my left, before coming along a massive patch of native raspberry 'Rubus parvifolius'.

I wandered through remembering when we had first broken through the lantana at Green Army, clearing back metres worth and exposing them to the first light of day in God-knows how long. At the time some members of our group had also taken part in a radio interview about them, and it was posted on some news site (I think on Facebook?), but any attempts to find any reference to this on the internet were fruitless. I also searched through old photos on my phone and 'messenger' looking for a picture of me working there but could only find a few different pictures of me in my uniform, not on the job. A deeper search through old emails revealed this old image of me in front of the Killalea 'Scar Tree'.

I couldn't recognise the initial site of that we had worked and first cleared and wondered if this was just a failure of my memory over the years.

The trail opened up next to a large Morton Bay Fig and as the lagoon was now in my line of sight.

Fig behind me

The trail continued to the left where it would do continue around and loop back to the park entry, but I followed along the road to the right to walk along the lagoon, which I knew would continue on to 'the farm' or, for the unfamiliar, 'the beach'.

When I reached the corner where the trail bent around (as seen in the above picture), there was a Senna (Golden Shower), close to the road, allowing me to take a photo that showed the yellow flowers and one of the hanging bean-like fruits.

I walked a bit further onwards before deciding to return the other way and continue on the Federation Walk loop. When I returned to the fig tree, I noticed a memorial plaque I had not noticed at the base of the tree which I went up to inspect. It was a memorial plaque.

"In Loving Memory of
Mandy Courtney
21st Dec 1958 - 26th Sep 2009
Twin Sister if (Aunty) Lindy Lawler
You will always be forever in our hearts"

I knew Aunty Lindy through me work, where I had spoken to her on a few occasions, but only on a superficial level, and I had no idea she had a sister, so I felt moved by the memorial.

As I continued along the trail, the weather changed slightly, with a cool breeze blowing and cooling me from the muggy and humid heat.

I passed between the two forests, one of casuarinas and one of melaleucas, when on the other side I came to a sign for the Killalea Lagoon, where I remember working down around the swampy section of the lagoon here, but for the life of me I couldn't remember the work undertaken.

The road trail continued on ahead, and I could remember driving along in the back of a four-wheel drive with my workmates up that way, where you could look down over the lagoon. However, instead of following the road up I headed left, into what I knew as 'the valley' that we colloquially called it when I had worked here. I had vivid memories of a mass tree planting days when all current Green Army teams had some together for the day to plant out the area and restore the environment here by bringing the tree line out more into the valley. It had almost been competitive as to which team could plant more and do a better job, and I took pride in how much I had actually planted there that day.

However, as I followed the grassy path up, looking out into the valley as I walked it was different than I recollected. The area looked filled with unmown grass, and there were sporadic trees in there. 'Had everything we planted just died?' I wondered, looking at the tree line, which didn't look any further out and I felt a sense of sadness.

The grass track now turned into a small rocky road passing through a melaleuca forest.

I knew this trail led back up to another open plain, with the trail following along a fence by the entry road leading back into the start of the park. However, there was a small trail into the bush on my right, which I was sure where that led, so I decided to follow it in.

The trail in a short way diverged... (Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— took the one on the right!)

There were a few signposts along the trail, however they had all faded, with whatever was previously written on them long since faded and now they were simply left covered with graffiti.

I saw a fence leading down to an enclosed bridge that I hadn't seen before, and I followed it down where it crossed over a road. 'I wonder where that leads', I thought to myself while I had vague recollections that I had been along the road before.

I walked through to the opposite side of the bridge, which had a locked gate not allowing access through. It all seemed a little odd as I wondered why the bridge was fully enclosed, but my brain instantly made me think of the scene in the aviary from the third Jurassic Park movie.

This is how geek brains work

As I turned to head back to the trail I heard a sound behind me, and turned around to notice a young kid on a push-bike had pulled up outside the locked gate. I noticed a surfboard on the back, and he was fiddling with his bike as I stood watching, seeing what he was going to do while he didn't notice me. I got sick of waiting and turned to continue just as he looked up and noticed me. As I reached the other side, I took one last look back and the boy was gone, obviously the path on the other side continued on out of sight on the right.

I followed the trail around to on my right showing it was just a little circle loop, and I entered out the way I had entered, and continued up the main road.

I continued looking at the surrounding plants, as I came upon one that has that famous marijuana leaf shape (palmately compound/digitate leaf). I couldn't remember the name, but I believed it may have been one of the first plants I incorrectly learned as when I began with Green Army our team-leader was explaining some different plants, and I think I was looking at the wrong plant at the time. I uploaded the picture to the app 'iNaturalist' in the hope I can finally learn it's true name.

A little further along I encountered a dead and blackened tree, with a piece at the top where the blackened bark had fallen away revealing the white inner bark, which the top of looked like the head of one of the llamas from the online cartoon 'Llamas with Hats'.

It's ok if you can't see it, but I could. Also, fun fact seeing faces in objects is called 'Pareidolia'. Or as Google AI explains: "Pareidolia is where people perceive familiar patterns, often faces, in random stimuli like clouds, textures, or even toast, even when they aren't actually there."

A tree a little further up also caught my attention, for the sheer amount of hardened sap (resin) dripping from over the tree.

As a young child I grew up not very far from a bushland area, a very particular area known as a 'Lowland Grassy Woodland'. I spent a lot of time around trees and climbing trees and without being taught or told, I had learned through observation that sap was tree blood. There was something about it that captured my attention and imagination (I don't know if being a mad Jurassic Park nut, which features the Mosquito in fossilised Amber also played a part).

"Qué lindo eres!"

Obligatory selfie to show walk progression

The trail opened up to the field at the top alongside the local suburb homes and road leading into the park which I followed along towards the Killalea entrance.

I thought back on a memory of my Green Army days, being inside the main entrance building as well all did out First Aid Certificates. A large huntsman spider had appeared on the wall, terrifying some of the girls with some of the guys ready to kill it. I scooped him up in my old Slate bourbon cap and let him go outside. I smiled at the memory, while I thought of the weird synchronicity of that memory, as the following day I was booked in to renew my First Aid Certificate (which had long since expired). However, as I walked past the entry, I noticed that the building in which we had conducted this was no longer there.

I continued around towards the Scar Tree, (where the picture of me in my Green Army days I posted earlier was taken), when I noticed the old caretaker home had also now been demolished as well, with just a colorbond fence surrounding nothing.

Scar Tree

What is a scar tree you ask? Well, our good friend Wikipedia will explain: "A scarred tree or scar tree, also known as a canoe tree and shield tree, is a tree which has had bark removed by Aboriginal Australians for the creation of bark canoes, shelters, weapons such as shields, tools, traps, containers (such as coolamons), or other artefacts. Carved trees may also be created as a form of artistic and spiritual expression by some Aboriginal peoples, to mark sites of significance such as burial sites."

The path continued along by the road, sealed in by a fence, but I decided to follow the tree line along. I noticed what looked like a path through the bush, just behind a random ring mark on the grass and headed over to see where it led.

It went in a few metres before just becoming thick scrub. I wandered back out to continue around, thinking how back in the day we would simply wander into the bush. 

I had originally joined Green Army as part of the 'African Olive' program (certain teams focused on certain projects), ours was to clear the area from the invasive African Olive tree. We would wander through the bush looking for them, learning to identify them from the colour and pattern of the tree bark, but then to double check, we would look at the shape and colour of the undersides of the leaves. Soon it became second nature as you could easily identify them at any stage of their development. Ripping smaller ones straight out of the ground roots and all, cutting and pasting glyphosate onto ones a bit too large to do that, and with the fully established trees we would wander through the bush in pairs, one with a drill, the other with the little bottle of blue dye infused chemical and drill and fill them.

By the end of our program, you could look out over the bushland and see which ones were the African olives as you watched the canopy begin to die.

Continued around the tree line I encountered another trail in through the bush. I had vivid recollection and knew that I had entered before.

As I wandered in, I could see some small African Olives beginning to grow, feeling dismayed that we hadn't been able to completely wipe them from the park. Walking further in I was flooded with memories once more, one in particular involved a large Maclura vine thorn catching in the top of my previously mentioned 'slate bourbon cap' (you'll see me wearing in old blog posts and the Steventure logo). This was a sad moment for me, and I temporarily had to wear an 'Australian Defense Force' black cap that said 'Navy, Army, Air Force' which I received at Army information session (after finishing Green Army I had tried to join the army reserves, as a job, but they asked for me to join a sporting team or SES, but I ended up getting another job and never trying again, it's a longer more convoluted story than that but that's the gist). You can see that hat in a certain old blog post too, before I found a second identical slate bourbon hat, that lasted me all the way until the end of 2023.
If you wanted to know a story about my hat wearing history for some fucking reason!
Anyway, as I wandered in this time, keeping an eye out for rogue Maclura vines, I came upon a fig tree within where I remember many fun, gossipy work conversations taking place (while working hard of course!)

Down the hill through the bush, I could see the old stone walls and beyond them the track I had taken down towards the lagoon, as I back tracked back out onto the grassy hills and headed back towards the kiosk.

African Olive

As I wandered back towards the kiosk, I wondered to myself if there was a volunteer Landcare group at Killalea. I thought that I could volunteer here as it might be a nice thing to do. Then I thought about my busy schedule, between work and TAFE, but then thought that when I finished that it could be something I do, even if it was a once-a-month sort of thing.

As I went to cross the carpark next to the kiosk, I noticed another plaque beneath a tree which I stopped to read.

"This tree was planted in November 2013 in loving memory of Peter Hector John Fraser who spent a very happy boyhood growing up on this farm.
This is the site of the original farm homestead called Killalea, where the Fraser family farmed the land for generations."

I kept an eye out for celebrity chef Mark Olive, who was not to be found, as I passed the crowds of picnickers and started now in the other directions towards Mystics Beach. I stopped for a little at 'The Surfers Track' even walking down a part of the way to take some photos of the beach (which, as part of the lies of editing, is actually the photo I used as the opening image rather than the one I took from the hill, because it looks nicer).

Back in 2017 the surfing movie 'Rip Tide' was filmed here, and in 2019 proposals for development were made public starting at 'Save Killalea' campaign, which included a 'Paddle Out' protest in 2021 against the development, (and an alleged world record for largest numbers, though a Google search shows wildly varied numbers from 511, 682 and over 700!)
With vast community support 'the farm' was saved and declared a 'Regional Park' with the National Parks and Wildlife Service taking over caring for it.

I trudged back up the stairs to continue along, as I wondered where I was on the day, as going to a protest to protect this pristine area seemed like something I would probably do.

'I was probably working.' I thought, bemoaning the capitalistic need for money just to do the things we love. I continued on past the carpark as I followed a trail down what I dubbed the 'plant hallway', rather than walking alongside the road.

I couldn't stop noticing weed after weed. It was like my brain was tuned in to notice them in this area more so than when I would be on an ordinary walk. As I spotted numerous Moth Vine growing in the trees, thinking about how they can sometimes be known as 'false Choko' due to the similarity with 'Chayote', more commonly just known as Choko's. 

Not a Choko

I thought about the time my Dad grew Choko in his yard and kept delivering bags and bags of them to me, so much so that I couldn't end up using them all and they went mouldy in the fridge.

As I was caught up in my thoughts a tiny little lizard scuttled in front of me, running off into the bush before I could get a photo or even a clear look at it.
'It was either a baby water dragon, bearded dragon, or jacky lizard' I thought to myself. Though in looking up pictures later I think it was most likely the jacky lizard.

As I exited out the other side of the plant hallway, I was treated with a view of Rangoon Island (also known as Stack Island), just out from the entry to the Minnamurra River (and near the beginning of the Kiama Coastal Walk, assuming you started heading south).

The sight of this reminded me of the Kiama Coastal, but also watching the show 'Great Australian Walks' on SBS, which featured the walk, but weirdly in that show, Julia Zemiro had headed north, but continued on, past Minnamurra, ending at Killalea. "That's not the Kiama Coastal Walk!" I yelled at my TV while watching it.

I crossed the road, (which looped down and led to the farm), while remembering my time working along it, shovelling gravel in to fill potholes.

I headed towards Mystics, crossing the road to the righthand side to that I would be facing oncoming traffic (which is considered safer as if a car swerves towards you you can make some attempt to move, rather than being struck from behind). There was also a larger area of grass on this side, keeping me farther from the side of the road.

As cars flew past me, going obviously much faster than the recommended speed limit, I thought back on my time with Green Army, when aerial spraying has occurred. We had to leave the park for a set time and then deemed it 'safe' to go back in. We returned to the section we were in, to continue clearing lantana, but the air was thick. Like it was filled with sweet candy, like cooking sugar. You could smell it and feel it. At the time I had felt really uncomfortable working in those conditions (always paranoid a weary about chemicals, when we had worked in pairs to drill and fill the African Olive I had always requested to drill). I wondered if my exposure to these chemicals has any impact on my later cancer diagnosis. Whether it did or not I thought the whole ideal of aerial spraying was such a waste as I had never seen it work successfully.

A short way down the road I noticed a gate, which I thought would lead into a path that would take me down to a whale watching platform that they were working on during my time working here. They had asked our team to come down to help build the path that would lead to it, as we cleared rocks and weeds. I remembered digging a large stone out to find a small Scorpion underneath, the only time I have even seen a scorpion in the while.

I crossed to the gate that was chained shut but not locked.

I opened it up, closing it behind and walking through to find there was a trail, which I assumed would lead down to the whale watching platform, and hoped would continue on past it so I did not have to backtrack.

I got my first look at the whale watching platform and wondered to myself if I had even actually seen it complete. 

I stood on the platform looking out at the ocean and getting a cool and lovely ocean breeze.

Then a thought occurred to me. I knew there was a spot somewhere around Killalea and Mystics where people would jump off a rock into the waters below, similar to an area named for it 'Jump Rock', I knew of a similar thing at the Coolendel campground, Jamberoo Action Park, and new of one along the Shoalhaven River that I hadn't been to. I had seen a video of an old boss jumping off it and once asked him about it, one day thinking that I should also do it.

Just as I had this thought I noticed young teens, on the cliff edge on my left. So I waited and watched to see whether this was the spot where people jumped.

I waited, and thought about how I didn't like the idea of jumping into the ocean, just because of my random fear of Sharks. They fiddled about and disappeared down behind a rock, maybe to a lower platform to jump from. Figuring that I probably wouldn't see anything from where I was, and that I could go back another day, I continued on with my walk, figuring I would need to con a daring friend to come along with me. (Perhaps not Tristan as I took him to Jump Rock, and he promised he'd jump if I did or he'd buy me 10 Battered Savs. I jumped... and he had to buy me those battered savs).

Continuing along the track I noticed a small vine growing off a branch extending out, this vine had a beautiful flower growing on it.

I didn't know if it was a weed or not, but either way the flower was still beautiful, as many weed can be, I also thought, thinking about the beautiful flower on lantana, even though environmentally it is the devil.

Which was a convenient thought for me to have, as lantana and its flowers grew alongside the trail

The trail continued up a small slope, until I got another view of Rangoon Island.

'I'll have to go over to it and explore one day.' I thought, before psychoanalysing myself, and why I liked islands so much. I figured that it might be that disconnect from regular land. That lack of ease to get to them, the fact that they were more isolated made them feel almost more wild and unexplored, and that thought gave me a unique and giddy excitement.

The trail continued along, giving me my first view of Mystics Beach from a place called 'Westringia Point'

I noticed a little trail through the scrub in front of me, that might lead down to a cliff edge or better view over Mystics, but as it was snake season I decided to forego a little wander down that trail, continuing along the trail which now took me back up alongside the main road, just across the the road down to the campgrounds, which I had also wanted to walk down to. But as I was blocked of by a fence alongside the road, I decided I would do that upon my return.

Following the road along, the trail came to a carpark next to a little picnic area. I could cut though the fence here and back onto the road, however the trail kept on going past the little picnic area through the bush once more and I decided to follow along that way.

When I got to the corner of where the trail led back into the bushes, I noticed the sheer amount of rubbish here, obviously from people picnicking and littering, causing me rage at people's lack of respect. I looked down on my right and noticed a white bra also in the bush, probably left by people out here dogging.
What is dogging you ask?
Well, dogging usually the act of having sex in outdoor public places. However, it can also be used to refer to people who watch others engaging in these acts, and people who do it to be watched, as well as people who meet up in these public spots to have sex with strangers. So it covers a whole range of activities. There, some fetish education in a bushwalking blog!

Once more the trail opened up, this time to a grassy field that enclosed the road and mystics beach carpark.

I followed the tree line around towards the trail down towards the beach, noticing an old overgrown, now illegible sign behind a bunch of wild tobacco plants.

'Beach is closed' I read it as, which doesn't work because the L is after the O

"Not this time!" I muttered, moving out of the way of a maclura thorn, as we have already recapped the tragic story of my hat.

Approaching the trail down to Mystics I noticed the sign referred to it as Minnamurra Beach.

'I guess two names for the one place.' I thought, wondering about the reasons behind the term 'Mystics'. Obviously, nothing on my walk informed me on the history of this naming, but some Google research informed me it was named: "after the otherworldly conditions that sometimes occur there. Local surfers named the beach after witnessing these conditions."

Surfers smoking too much weed perhaps? I passed a group picnicking on the grass just a few metres form the track down to the beach and began my decent downwards.

I walked down onto the sand. One lone man was walking off on to my right heading south towards the Minnamurra River (as well as a young kid or what looked like an electric bike or scooter, riding across the sands the same way), and one lone female who headed left, disappearing around the corner heading north which led to a dead end, while I walked down across the sands towards the water looking in both directions.

Looking South

Looking North

My curiosity wanted me to head north, around the little corner, and I walked that way a little enough to see that it was a dead end, however, the woman walking had disappeared from view, and I could only assume she was laying down, potentially around a corner sunbathing, 'probably naked or doing an Onlyfans' I considered, having encounters while out exploring previously. For this reason, I decided to not walk the full way around, just to save myself any awkward encounters. I headed back across the sand to begin my walk back up, when I encountered a small little site, some ground had used for a fire. It was absolutely littered with cigarettes and once more I felt my rage, and it didn't help that the date I was out on this walk was 'Clean Up Australia Day'.

I trudged back up the trail while a group of four came towards me, two men, and trailing behind them, two girls who were walking down, arms interlocked, in the middle of the trail and didn't even move over for me, making me walk to the far left of the path to avoid walking right into them.
'Fucking people' I thought to myself, wondering where any sense of etiquette had gone.

When I reached the top the group of picnickers had gone and so had any sense of breeze as I sweat profusely in the hot, humid and still weather. I continued to follow the grass field enclosing the carpark around to the opposite side, inspecting down some grass trails that looked like they were going to be paths into the bush, however, all came to an abrupt end, and I had the thought they were probably only there because of bush regeneration teams clearing through the lantana.

Reaching the end of the gras field, I climbed a small stone barrier that separated the field from the road and began my way back along the road. However, I didn't make it far before I found a trail on my left, heading back into the bush, a new path to explore.

Wandering in, I remembered the time my Green Army team had went to help out another on their weed project (I couldn't remember if we went to help or just witness what they were doing in their project). They were working down, right along the Minnamurra River, clearing out the invasive weed known as Asparagus Fern. 'I wonder if this trail will lead down there.' I thought to myself continuing along.

The trail soon wove away from the road, heading down and soon my path was blocked by an erected gate, as I saw the trail opened up into the campgrounds.

I debated whether or not to head back, but I was curious as to why it was closed off, so simply slipped through the bush around it to the other side to read why it was closed.

'Plovers nesting?' I thought, as I had seen any, but had earlier in the day right near the kiosk. 'Maybe they should have blocked off the path from the way I came.' I thought, as I now wandered into the campgrounds.

The place was completely empty, which seemed oddly eerie and strange. I could recollect coming to this area twice. Once, just after High School with some friends as we were looking to have a camping trip that never eventuated, and the other time, with, you guessed it 'Green Army'. We had come down here as part of the project with 'Gumaraa'. We were shown some edible indigenous bush foods and shown the functions of a Boomerang. I remembered it fondly as a cool cultural and learning experience, and a nice break from the backbreaking work of clearing weeds.

I kept looking around the empty campground and got a vague feeling like I was somewhere I shouldn't be. It wasn't only the fact I had crossed past the fence (which was made to stop people from going the way I came), but the sheer emptiness. The quietness. It was like the campground was abandoned.

I walked around past the empty bunkhouse, and where some other previous structure was being demolished. 'Maybe we cut somewhere through the bush here to get to the place where the other Asparagus Fern team had worked', I thought, but didn't bother trying to find it as I headed out past the boom gates, with no signs mentioning any closures, but I was happy to leave (a google search revealed the campground was closed for maintenance between the 27th of January and the 30th of June, hence the emptiness).

Following this road back to the main road, I reached the entry sign that I had seen before, I noticed amid a tangle of wiry stems and heart-shaped leaves, the pink papery flowers of the weed, Turkey Rhubarb.

'So many weeds.' I thought, as I made my way back along the until I reached the road that now headed down to 'the farm' or Killalea beach.

I had been to Killalea many times, both before Green Army, and after. I could recall coming when I was younger with my Father. Which made me recall another thing. How have you been reading Killalea? How do you say it? I was raised calling it 'Killa-lee' but have heard others calling it 'Kill-a-lee-a'. 
Of course, I've had this discussion before, and know I could get defensive as do other as we all want our way to be 'the right way'
I decided to look it up. Knowing it was named for Edward Killalea the Irish convict. I could find two options for this pronunciation. My way. 'Killa-lee' or another alternate way 'Kil-lay-uh' (which I have never heard anyway pronounce it in that way!). Take from that what you will and feel free to debate it in the comments.

Just before the road wound around back towards the beach, I noticed a gate across the other side of the road, and along this section of the road, a group of cars with their P Plates on. I made a leap in logic that if I headed through that gate, I would follow it along to where I had seen the boys from the whale watching platform, at (what I assume is) the jumping area.

Approaching the very busy carpark I noticed lots of young couples pulled up in vans with mattresses in the back, doors wide open, cuddling as they watched over the surf. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. I continued past the numerous people, averting my eyes from the man standing watching the surf in his fluoro-pink speedos. 

Another memory came back to me. It involved coming here years ago, before Green Army even. I couldn't remember if I was still in school or had just finished (between 2007-2011 it would have occurred). I came to the beach with some friends., I was in jeans and a shirt but no swimwear but decided to go into the water for a swim fully clothed (the things you do when you're young!)

As I entered onto the beach, I read a sign warming about a seal that was resting in the area. I didn't know the area had a seal that did that; however, I was aware of the seal that sometimes visited around the nearby Windang Bridge.

It made me happy to think of having some more wildlife around and assumed that there was probably once a seal population in the area that got decimated by sealers during colonisation.

I made my way across the beach, to the bottom of 'The Surfer's Track', and began the walk back up towards the kiosk.

A short way up the Surfer's Track connected on with the Federation Walking Track which would have led me to the point I had previous turned around. Instead, I continued up the stairs, with apparently just 250m left until I reached the kiosk.

I huffed and puffed my way up, taking a drinking break near a seat shaped like a surfboard with had a memory dedication on it.

"In memory of Graham Harding (1949-2014)
Thinker - Surfer
44 years dedicated service to Crown Lands
Connected to this place through the waves"

All these many memorials over the place. It made me think of the surfing community. 'No memorials for me if I died.' I thought sadly, though knew I was far too antisocial to ever do anything to make anyone actually miss me.

Not long after that thought, I had reached the top of the stairs and was making my way towards the kiosk when I encountered yet another memorial.

"In Loving Memory Of Our Dad
Peter Smith
1960-2013
We know you would be here today, if heaven weren't so far away.
His nature was loving and giving.
His heart was made of pure gold.
And to us who truly love him.
His memory will never grow old."

As I wandered past the now closed kiosk towards my car, two old men sat at one of this picnic tables, drinking bottles of beer and engaging in vigorous discussion. I noticed a large pile of empty beer bottles strewn across the grass around the base of their table.
'I hope they're going to clean that shit up.' I thought to myself, as I soon arrived at my car. Ending my walk. I had enjoyed the fresh air, and the nice break from what I would dub a 'chore', and the walk down memory lane. But nostalgia can be a dangerous thing, and sometimes rather than looking back on good times, you should look ahead and try to make more. 
Hopefully I will do that, hopefully there are more adventures and fun stories ahead for me.

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Thanks for reading! - Steven

RIP Slate Bourbon Hats