GIRLS’ TOUR

Southland Times, Issue 25311, 14 June 1935, Page 9

GIRLS’ TOUR

BACK TO SYDNEY NO DEARTH OF NOISE This is the third article containing the impressions of two Southland girls, Miss Jean Bisset, Invercargill, and Miss Jessie McLeod, Mandeville, gamed during a tour of New South Wales and Victoria, Miss Bisset being the narrator. * r - ♦ Our first experience of the Sydney electric trains came next day. Those in Melbourne were noisy enough, but those in Sydney left us literally speechless—as well as figuratively. ' From our suburb of Ashfield there were double, tracks at least. One electric tram is rowdy—two passing with probably a third in the distance is pandemonium. Loathing noise as we did, it speaks well for our hostesses that even in this din our first dislike of this place began to lessen. Thus by train to town, through crowds in devious ways to a tram, lhe fare being 2/- we had to pay a tax of 2d. Our New Zealand blood was appalled! So to that scene of such mixed feelings, Randwick. It was, fortunately for us, a small meeting, but even so the crowds were fascinating. What a variety of faces—and frocks! We solemnly inspected the horses and discoursed learnedly (?) on their points. As one of our hostesses and I frequently reminded folk afterwards the horse which impressed us with his intelligent eyes, paid a thumping figure later—so much for being in the know! Ignorant as we were we knew that the dozens of “bookies” under their umbrellas were a sight strange to New Zealand. The multi-coloured umbrellas were faintly suggestive of the beaches. The raucous voices were definitely reminiscent of a free fight at an auction sale. The whole afternoon was a great experience. The horses, some beautiful beasts, the bookmakers, the crowds round the “tote” the varied characters all composed one of those intensely interesting aspects of modem city life. Our day at Taronga Zoological Park ran Sydney up further in our humble opinion. It is claimed that the Sydney Zoo is the finest in the world—it certainly would be hard to beat. The natural setting on the hillside above the water is most happy. The enclosures are mainly large, while in the delightful Kindergarten Zoo some of the monkeys are actually free. The monkeys are numerous and—according to one’s taste—most entertaining, or extremely repulsive. We found them entertaining excepting the chimpanzees and gorillas. The native bear reserve is open to the public, so we actually patted the soft little things and watched their ingenuous little faces stare patiently at these boring animals before returning to the infinitely more important business of eating gum tips. They eat so daintily too. We went last to the newly opened Aquarium where the largest exhibit was the man-eating shark recently captured in the harbour and the smallest probably the blue Demoiselles. These fascinating little fish, are of a most gorgeous, bright blue and vary from thumbnail size to possibly two inches. Fish were there of all imaginable colours, black and white Zebra stripes, some of one colour only, some snorting the colours of every known club, some trailing chiffon-like draperies—all amazing in some way. Patience Taxed. Time advancing as inexorably as ever we visited the shipping office. To our amazement we were handed an address and told to report to the Taxation Department for clearance. With quaking hearts we approached the Taxation Department where we were handed lengthy forms. We filled these in and turned to question the official only to be told: “I am not interviewing, madam. Sit there while you wait.” Interviews! We collapsed endeavouring valiantly to keep our mirth silent. From across the distance came a hail, “Next please.” We both started. “One at a time.” Australian courtesy suffered a severe jolt! When the interviewers, albeit politely, asked questions from idle curiosity, however, our sympathy for Australia’s financial worries evapourated rapidly. It would be most interesting to know just how much it costs New South Wales annually for her officials who ask idle questions of tourists. “State the amount of your Australian income.” Income? When we were acutely conscious of rapidly decreasing letters of credit. Income! In due course we were given certificates to the effect that the Commonwealth of Australia had no objection to our departure. We were deeply grateful to the Commonwealth of Australia. For two days we frantically “shopped” and “did” Sydney town, managing to squeeze in a play and a picture for good measure, then with the end of our trip raoidly approaching we’ left for our last “inland” visit. Warned that Bathurst was cold—cold as New Zealand! we departed with all our wraps for the famous Blue Mountains. The scenery admittedly was very beautiful for the most part, although it was on this line that we saw probably the only ugly town in Australia which was a mining town. After a long five hours ‘ravelling in one of the most uncomfortable trains it was our ill fortune to strike we arrived at “The city of the Plains.” Our sojourn in this inland city, however, more than compensated us for the ill-comfort and dirt of the journey. . Bathunit is not really on the. plains, although looking down on to it from the Blue Mountains one can readily see whv the explorers so named the site. The country of the district is «ently undulating—in parts definitely hilly—and very lovely. The tree-stud-ded downs appealed to us intensely. As it is the centre of a prosperous district Bathurst’s interests are definitely agricultural and pastoral. The town is old so boasts some buildings of unusual and interesting design, the court house and Post Office being especially quaint. In the central square stands the memorial in the form of a carillon tower. We saw many strange in Australia, but few appealed to us as did Bathurst’s carillon which unfortunately we did not hear nlaved. Here, as in Bendigo and elsewhere, the number of fine church schools struck us afresh. Some dignified in their age, others splendid in modern architecture, all impressed as offering ample opportunity to Young Australia. Short as was our stay here, we saw “Stewart’s Mount,” a wonderful old house nearby the actual mount on which the original Stewart stood and knew that all round as far as he could see was his. It paid to be a lieutenant of an early Governor there! The old man was buried on his Mount—still to watch his own.

One very happy day was spent at Katoomba. This sixty-mile drive back towards Sydney shows still other parts of the mountains than those seen from the train. The scenery we saw this day thrilled as did nothing else in Australia. The mountains, for the most part flat topped and sheer, have the peculiar blue haze which gives the n'ame Blue Mountains. They are totally unlike our New Zealand ranges and best compare, in shape anyway, with the American canyon country—the sheer precipices and narrow valleys. We had excellent views from Mitchell’s Ridge (with the statue of the aboriginal keeping guard) and Mt. Boyce. We passed the tragic white cross away on another hilltop marking the spot where a little toddler slipped his hand from his nurse’s and

vanished over the cliff—not even a garment was ever seen again. We turned off at Blackheath to Govett’s Leap. Various stories are told regarding this name, but whether Govett was a surveyor, an escaping convict or a bushranger is immaterial —suffice it that the outlook is marvellously beautiful. The nearby waterfall is a thing of great beauty even with little water. All these mountains are dotted with popular tourist resorts, Katoomba being a large town. It is useless attempting to describe the views from Echo Point, Katoomba, up the Jamieson Valley, down over the Cliff Walk and out towards the Three Sisters. The absolute beauty of these sheer wooded cliffs is breath-taking. ■ Returning tc Bathurst we were struck principally with a large plantation of pinus insignus. Pines—how they reminded us of home. In only two places did we see them, here and on the banks of the Marooondah Dam —where they had replaced gums as having a less detrimental effect on the water.

On Tuesday, May 21, we definitely turned homeward when we left Bathurst. Bathurstians ‘ had proudly told Us that their city was planned by 1 the man who planned Melbourne! 1 . We were interested immediately, for years having been under the same impression regarding Invercargill. Whethej all three cities were laid out, by the same person is still unknown, but whether or no, there is a definite similarity in the arrangement. The main streets are all wide, while square or oblong blocks make it exceedingly easy to find one’s way about. So from Bathurst by the mail car at 6.15 a.m. we departed for the Jenolan Caves. The Jenolan Caves. It was a cold, sharp morning with a frost that could have held its own with any of this fair city’s. The route lay through Oberon, a small country township fairly high in the mountains. From then on we were leaving the farming area and entering the more primitive country. There is habitation throughout, however, as was proved in a tiny spot called Edith where mails and piles of bread were left. A charming spot indeed, but it could be very lonely. The last few miles were through beautiful bush almost on the top of the range. Suddenly the driver stopped. “Look! Down there you can see part of the Caves House.” The car seemed in imminent danger of toppling over the precipice, but we peered down and saw almost under us the valley • and Caves House. The next information was to the effect that we were to drop 1800 ft, in two miles. I fancy those figures are correct —anyhow we dropped all right. The inevitable bushrangers’ hut was indicated as we twisted _ and turned. A final sweep and there in an incredibly narrow valley was the Jenolan Caves House with its surrounding buildings. The whole little settlement with its shop, and Post Office etc. seems quite in place in this strange valley. There is something quite different about everything connected with this natural phenomenon. There are three inspections of the caves daily—rooming, afternoon and evening. We were in time to do the Orient Cave in the morning. It is almost useless to attempt to describe the fantastic pictures which have resulted from the solution of limestone. There are three main chambers in this cave, Persian, Egyptian and Indian, all haying some typical feature. The “shawls are especially notable. For unknown myriads of years these graceful drapings have been forming, some red from an admixture of iron others pure white. The beauty is unique and uncanny. After lunch, determined to see everything, we scrambled over the walk to the Carlotta Arch, returning through the Devil’s Coach House to the Grand Arch. These three features are noteworthy in themselves. The Grana Arch through which the Katoomba road reaches the Caves Reserve is ‘a natural tunnel through the heart of the great limestone belt.” It is always dark enough to warrant a regulation requiring motorists to switch on their lights as they pass. The Carlotta Arch high up above the Grand Arch roadway is between the Arch and the Devil’s Coach House. It impresses more by its beauty than immensity. The Devil’s Coach House is awe-in-spiring in its size. It is stated that the Sydney G.P.O. with its clock tower would fit bodily into this cavern. Things are made by a giant hand here. Coming from this walk we arrived at the Blue Lake—coloured also by the li me —admired the tame wallabies, basking in the sun, and so to inspect the River Cave. We were especially fortunate with this cave in that the party was very small and that we had the Chief Guide. The principal attraction of this cave lies in the reflections in the Styx. The caves are well lighted by electricity, but in. this caye at least they are extinguished at various points to enable us to better appreciate the reflections to come. Standing on the edge of the Styx in pitch darkness one could understand why a strict count is kept of all who enter! Two hours in the lighted caves constitute a unique experience but alone for one hour there! A switch snapped and there across the water was a shamrock leaf—one half above the water the other half the reflection. A slight haze on the surface due to the fluff (infinitesimal though it was), from the garments of the parties passing, cut the leaf in half. After the caves had been closed for a time, as during floods this haze would disappear and the reflection would be perfect. Further lighting reflected the roof of a dull red. Several of the crevices, however, remained white edged with red. Apparently during bad floods this cavern fills up to these small indentations which are protected by the compressed air. Centuries of floods have stained the surroundings red .but these spots remain untouched. Visitors now pass over a balcony over the river and are shown the boat originally used to convey passengers, lhe water is quite deep, but no fatality occurred, though some bright youth nearly always managed to upset the boat at least once to a party. So on, up stairs and along down stairs and round about. The Orient Cave leads with 1472 steps, while the River Cave comes second with 1250. Fortunately there are rarely say, even fifty at a time. The delicacy of the traceries beggars description. _ One would swear that the fine outlines and intricacies were the result of years of patient skill with the most delicate instruments. At the other extreme are the tremendous pillars, some of a metallic hardness and ringing like iron, too. One has fallen and lies like some fallen giant immense and stately even when prostrate. Further still is Queen Esther—rather grubby abbut the head unfortunately, due, so the guide said, to sacrilegious guides supporting themselves on her head when they fixed the lights. A sufficiently dangerous task to warrant any lese-majeste one would imagine. In another spot several stalagmites clustered together—one for all the world like G.B.S. I said as much to the guide. “Madam,” he said, “we call those the Twelve Apostles. That one is St. Peter.” I felt absolutely blasphemous! The final sight and one of the masterpieces lies in a small collection of root-like “mysteries.” Scientists can explain the formation of most of the wonders of these caves, but these tiny creations baffle them and remain “mysteries.” Thus a stalactite twisted to form a B or a pair of spectacles. Just how? In the last section of the river cave they have formed bristly little roots and tiny figures, which look as though a breath would crumble them and they were probably there long before human history began. The road back to Katoomba led through miles of this canyon like counS beginning with the long climb out e fifty miles to Katoomba covered in a scant two hours, eh despite the increasing darkness enabled us to appreciate anew the over-chting-,

ing panorama. One noteworthy • relic is the Explorer’s Tree. This stump, bound’ and cemented now is treasured as being one of the trees blazed by the explorers Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth who discovered that much sought way over the mountains in 1813.

(To be Concluded.)