I had an amazing day out with the UQ boat (rowing) club! Caught an amazing sunrise with some excellent athletes. Click the link to see the album on my FB page.
Tag Archives: Queensland
Waterfalls, Cliff jumping, and the GoPro “Hero”
Down on the Gold Coast, away from the high-rises of Surfers paridise and off the path of public transportation, is Killarney Glen. The area is winding roads and farmland, and we would have probably missed the trail head if not for the line of cars parked hundreds of meters on either side of the local attraction. A swimming hole, known as the Killarney Glen waterfall, is a heart-shaped pool fed by a 6 meter waterfall, lined with spectators on a warm summer Saturday afternoon.
Spectators gathered as timid individuals gathered courage for their leap, while those who frequent the pools tried their hand at flips, all aiming for the deep water. Just off of the “jumping area” is a small grotto, which accumulated jumpers to spectate from a view they achieved from their jump. Families, twenty-somethings, teens on easter break, lined the top of the cliff faces either to watch, or when waved forward from the other side of the canyon, to jump.
I’m afraid of heights. I’ve never been graceful, and feel that standing on something tall makes me ‘kinetic energy’. In high school I would jump with my friends in Colorado into the Arkansas river. Not high, still terrifying. I would swing from our boat into the water in the Bahamas. It took me about 5 minutes of looking out 2 meters below me before I could make the jump. And to this day, as silly as it feels, I hold my nose.
Fastforward, I am standing in a dried up wash-out that juts out over the ‘deep water’, 4-5 meters below me. GoPro strapped to my wrist, though my hands were flat on the rock on either side of me for stability. The girl behind me, no more than 10 years old, comments on my shaking. Her older sister, about 12, wants to help me out by giving me a count down. At first I didn’t notice, since all I could think was ‘S#!t, this is high.’ I try to get in the zone during the second countdown, but psych myself out somewhere between “…3…” and “…2…”. Seconds later I pull myself together, ask her for one last count, and at “…1”, step off the cliff.
(Taken with a Nikon and Sigma Wide-angle lens, uploaded with eye-fi.)
I felt the rush of wind then cold water, then the feel of the strap of my GoPro slide over my small wrist. I surface and accept that the camera may have been claimed by the river gods, and briefly remember a youtube video of a GoPro that fell in a river and was found a couple years later. Oh, well.
I swim to the mermaid grotto, and attempt to slide onto the surrounding rocks, helped by a new friend, and mentioned that the camera went the way of the waterfall. The next jumper, a young blond guy was about to swim past when we asked “is there any chance of finding a GoPro over there where I jumped?” “GoPro?” The kid smiled, turned around, and dove. He surfaced seconds later to applause, with my camera in hand.
I tried to find him after to thank him, and couldn’t. He had one green eye, and one blue eye, and was kind enough to fetch a strangers camera. To you sir, if you are reading, THANK YOU!
(Screenshot from the GoPro of the good samaritan)
Update: added video March 27. Keep an eye out at ~2:30.
A Jillaroo Life
After staying with my friends family for a couple weeks, I found a position for a horse breeder, as a nanny. I’m one of those ‘once bitten twice shy’ types, and went out to visit the family before I started.
In addition to being lovely people, the lifestyle would allow for my own cottage that was shared condo-style with another, the 16 year old farm hand that had been there for a few months.
My cottage was being renovated, but had all of the initial comforts, and until my TV was hooked up and kitchen finished, I was welcome to use the ones in the main house.
Looking out my bedroom window, I would see part of the small garden in the gated front area, (gated so horses and cows wouldn’t wonder in,) adjacent to my window was a paddock that house friendly horses (that I have dubbed ‘neighbors’), and straight from my window I look across the property at the gently rolling hills spotted with gumtrees. The sun rises over these hills in the morning, waking me just before my alarm, which I prefer. The only motors heard are the 4 wheel bikes (ATVs) and the farm truck used to feed the horses. The quiet is broken by the parrots, magpies and kookaburra with the occasional horse whinny.
(My neighbors)
Life here is in a constant buzz in the day-to-day. Nearly everyday vets, breeders, buyers, trainers and riding students visit. The mornings are usually busier, with the heat of the day being near crippling. But once the day is done, and its time to relax, the sun sets, and as the temperature drops to a pleasant degree.
The setting sun turns the hills aglow in an orange that gives the illusion they are engulfed in flame. As the sun inches behind the hills, the red spreads to the few clouds spelling the bright blue sky, turning from orange, to pink, to crimson, to purple to show off the moon and a bright Venus, before giving way to the dark blue of the night sky doused with stars.
The sunset made for a beautiful backdrop to horses, the hills, and an abandoned farm house in the next town. The house has been taken over by vines, and what little that is left showing shows the chipped paint and the porch warped by heat and weather. The hay left in the barn has morphed out of the neat bales, carpeting the ground.
(Sunset behind an abandoned farm house and barn)
(Sunset behind abandoned house)
Why did the goanna cross the road? So that I would see it!
Besides the birds, the wildlife will make an occasional appearance. (While I was told that a Koala came through a few weeks ago, I still haven’t seen any in this area.) The real excitement was in seeing my first red-bellied black snake, (the first thing I’ve seen in Australia that could kill me,) which i was told to look around the garden areas before i let the toddler play. The snake had decided to hide in the carport/garage adjacent to the toddlers sandbox. We (the toddler and I) were just about to step out the door when I hear the farmhand yell for me to stop. 15 meters from the house is the farmhand, 8 meters is the snake, and we hadn’t made it out of the front door. I see the family dog start to run toward it and call for him to go inside. He and the toddler watch, noses pressed to the glass as I watch the snake while the farmhand runs to the barn.
Startled, it slithers into the sandbox as the farm hand runs around the gate, throwing the shovel he had in his hand spear style, killing the snake. (I now now not to get on his bad side.)
I got about 2 meters from the meter long snake, and that was too close to what I would want to be.
(Pretty flowers, to counter the snake story.)
TravelGypsea 