Rather than a list of quantifiable resolutions I'll inevitably fail to tick off, I've set myself the broader goal this year of improving my work-life balance, which in this case means aggressively rolling myself off the bed and out the front door for reasons other than work or grocery shopping. The region I live in is flush with natural spaces, human history, and a decent array of local city sites, and outside of the occasional pandemic restriction it's really only been my own slothful nature that's prevented me from seeing much of it despite living here for over a year and a half now. It's time to emerge from the shell.
So far I have managed:
- A walk to see what's along the river in the other direction. (Not much! It's a flat, shady stroll though, with a few parks dotted along the way and a little bird-life to keep it interesting.)
- A visit to the main street Sunday morning markets and the independent bookstore there, where I finally purchased a local wildlife guide as well as a book on octopus intelligence ('Other Minds' by Peter Godfrey-Smith - a bit of a slog, but interesting enough).
- A drive up to the lookout on top of the mountain near my apartment; yes, the one that likes to catch on fire now and then. The view was nice, but the urge to linger was crushed by the discovery young couples rather like this spot. Ugh. Canoodling.
- A trip to one of the biggest waterfalls in Australia!
The last was yesterday, and was by far my most ambitious outing yet: a five hour round trip, though to be fair I was driving very slowly at points because I wanted to enjoy the rainforest scenery and increase my chances of seeing a cassowary. Alas, despite the many signs cautioning drivers (watch out! stay in your car! do not feed!!), there was neither hide nor hairy feather to be found. I would probably have more luck with a passenger in the car to play spotter; it's hard to gaze into the bush while also needing to keep a close eye on the road.
The waterfall itself was magnificent, though at first all I arrived to was... a massive bank of cloud and a distant thundering sound, a turn of luck over which I had to chuckle. I wandered away to the gorge lookout instead, and warily ventured a little way down the trail that would lead to the waterfall's base. The sign warned the full track can be fatally difficult, and it was no joke; though I would have only gone about 300m at most, the trek back was a
battle, simply because of the steep incline and oppressive humidity. If I ever want to do this trail for real, it's going to require some serious #fitnessgoals preparation, and perhaps use of the nearby campsite to make a full day of it. Still, it served its purpose as a diversion, and by the time I staggered back to the top the cloud had cleared and bared the cascading water sheeting endlessly down from the ridge. As I watched, a pair of sulphur-crested cockatoos parachuted down to a tree sticking out from the gorge, steering only with gentle adjustments of their cupped wings.
I don't see myself re-visiting often. It's a long drive just to stare admiringly at water + gravity for half an hour, especially when there are other (smaller) falls and waterholes much nearer to me, one of which I've already flagged for my next out-of-town jaunt. Worth at least one trip for sure, though, and despite the lack of cassowaries there was other wildlife for the spotting: wallabies, pheasant coucals, a flock of crimson finches, the striped spider politely munching its lunch in the bathroom, a horde of tiny froglets crossing the roads between the canefields during the wet (that in retrospect might have been cane toads... eek). Also a herd of very fat and enormously docile brahman cattle; I had to delicately wind myself between a nursery that had camped itself on the road, and even the littlest calf didn't so much as twitch to have my car come within a metre of it.
Outside of weekend adventures, I bit the bullet late last year and signed up for wing chun classes at the primary local martial arts academy. While it's been an adjustment to go back to it, I am already remembering why I enjoyed the practice so much. It's confronting sometimes, it hasn't taken long to start collecting bruises, and there are some things I preferred about my old studio compared to this one, but 2 hours a week goes a long way to improving both my physical and mental health. Last class I learned a new method for breaking arms :)
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