The fierce white sunlight heralded another Australian mid-summer day. You didn't need to hear the incessant droning whir of the cicadas to know that the day would be another scorcher.
You regret the late night on the balcony where the chatter and the wine flowed just that bit too freely. That is always a hazard when staying with my old forestry mate, Adam, and his family. You hope whatever that special thing I had planned for today involved somewhere cool and peaceful, the museum would be nice.
You groan loudly when I bound in and announce that we're going for a bushwalk (a bushwalk!) and suggest that you dress suitably.
I have arranged for our eleven-year-old daughter to stay with Adam and Sue and their twin teenage sons; she is very impressed. Although friends from infancy, we chuckled last night about the first obvious signs of romance. We wondered how the boys would compete for Leslie's affections and how they'd resolve the usual impasse; usually by biff and bash.
You find me in the garage with Adam packing some strange items in the rucksack. You puzzle over the car inner tube, a huge plastic bag and rope. As its' to be a picnic lunch, you pack some fruit, cheeses and crackers. We also pack some towels and a key.
Grateful again for our car with its air-conditioning I drive through the Saturday morning traffic out towards the foothills with their lightly forested slopes and stunning gorges. You sigh as you realise the beach and the water theme parks are in the opposite direction.
Eventually I park on a reserve next to the single-lane bridge spanning one of the more spectacular gorges. Downstream, where the gorge opens out to floodplains, there is already a stream of cars leading to the popular swimming holes. Upstream was the beginning of the rugged state forest reserve, access barred by a locked gate.
Now the key makes sense to you, as you realise I used my old forestry contact through Adam to obtain it. Opening the gate, I explain we're going for a swim. You retort that you weren't told to pack a costume. Your breath catches as I explain where we're going no costume will be necessary. You thrill at the skillful way I have connected with a long-held fantasy and wonder how many other fantasies I have planned to exploit today.
Wow, the path is even more overgrown than when Adam And I used to come this way to perform faunal surveys! Coming once again to the lip of the gorge, I motion for you to proceed quietly to peer over the precipice. Movement in the river catches your eye as I explain that you could always rely on seeing the duck-billed platypus frolicking there. Today we are spoiled to see a pair playing in the back eddies of the stream.
The bush is strangely silent under the sizzling February sun. The river below looks so inviting but so far away and apparently impossible to reach. In places huge over -hangs in the gorge just about obscure all view and shade the river below.
Eventually we reach a place where the gorge appears to widen and the walls aren't quite as steep. Here the casuarina trees appear to grow more closely and have a straighter form. I explain that this is where we break away from the trail to head down to the water.
The descent is still very steep and we sidestep and slide from one gnarly trunk to another. Suddenly we reach a sharp precipice. You turn to me accusing that I had forgotten the way until you see me uncoiling the rope.
I explain the only way down to the river is to abseil the last twenty feet! I recount how the first time Adam and I found this place we had no rope so just ran and leaped as far as possible towards the centre of the dark pool. You shudder at my crazy risk-taking in those days.
Gingerly you abseil over the overhang and I lower you the last part onto the sandy beach. Next I lower the rucksack, before finally abseiling to stand beside you. You start to ask if I expect you to scale the overhang going back when shocked you see me retrieve the rope. I explain that we will inflate the inner tube, put the rucksack and all our gear in the plastic bag to float behind us downstream.
I explain that upstream there is a 40-foot cascade and no other way down to the water than the way we had come. Also downstream lie a series of plunges and pools so that access from downstream is well nigh impossible. Hence I explain there is no need for a swimming costume.
Looking about under the overhang, we marvel at torrents that piled up the great wall of debris. Dapples of reflected sunlight dance crazily around the ceiling. A short distance upstream we can see large flat dark boulders laying in the sun; a perfect spot for lunch!
We scrabble over to the rock platform and lay out our lunch. You go to sit down when the shock of the sizzling rock surface on your bare thigh causes you to shriek and jump. Carefully we lay out and sit on the towels. We suspect we'd fry like pancakes on the griddle on those rocks in no time flat!
After our trek, the food and wine are more than welcome and we sit and discuss the proceedings for the rest of our outing. I tell you of a rapid not far upstream which is perfectly formed to be the world's best all-natural spa. Intrigued, you insist I show you.
Reassured once again by me of our remoteness, you Finally shrug off your clothes to join me in being naked. My eyes feast on your naked loveliness. They drink in all those wondrous curves resting on the best curve of all; the little round belly above your fluffy mound, the one that never quite regained its girlish flatness after the birth of our princess.
