pointless drifting
We were going to go to the beach yesterday, but when I got to Jesse's house a bit of urgent firefighting came up. Jesse decided that he could not afford to spend the afternoon at the beach and had to leave. Edwin and I were left to our own devices, and we were initially thinking of spending the afternoon in Jesse's apartment, watching DVDs and what-not. Jesse must have heard my suggestion that we secretly place thumb tacks on his toilet seat, because he soon suggested that it might be an idea if we left his place to find some lunch.
After lunch, we were facing an empty afternoon. As Edwin didn't actually bring any board shorts and was going to borrow a pair off Jesse, the beach was now out of the question (unless we wanted to test out the enforcement of public nudity laws, which we did not). Edwin suggested that we look up odd street names in the street directory, drive to the street and take a photo under the street sign. In the street directory we found a Batman Lane and a Butt Street in Surrey Hills, which were tempting. We also found several Bogan Streets, but the closest was in Summer Hill. We grew tired of thinking of places to go, and I drove off pointlessly, in a random direction.
We soon found ourselves at Coogee beach, so drove around several small lanes that one wouldn't normally drive down. We then decided to follow a blue truck for a short time to see where that would lead us, and ended up in Malabar. In the distance, up on a hill, there was a line of white spots. They looked mysterious, so we decided to find out what they were. We now had some semblance of a purpose to our driving, and headed in the general direction of the white spots. This is what we stumbled upon:
It was fun deluding ourselves into thinking that we'd found a top secret military base, but after leaving the site, there were numerous signs directing the traffic to the "firing range". Before long, we got a nice close up view of the white spots, which could now more accurately be described as targets in a firing range. That was the end of that adventure.
The driving once again became pointless, so we set ourselves the goal of following Anzac Parade until it would go no further. After what may have been several minutes, we were in some sort of lookout type place in La Perouse. It was a pleasant area, and I'm glad I now know what can be found at the end of Anzac Parade. At La Perouse, we spotted some sort of big green water tank next to some sort of big white tower on the top of an uninhabited looking headland way off in the distance. Our driving once again had a purpose, as we set off towards the water tank and white tower.
As I drove off towards the water tower, I saw a street sign that pointed towards a crematorium/scenic drive. Intrigued, I decided to take a slight detour. It was a weird place. After passing by a graveyard, there was a region of unbearably ugly looking industrial buildings and towers on one side of the road, and on the other side, there was a bizarre man-made landscape of massive concrete blocks by the sea. The blocks seemed very unnatural and unhealthy, but strangely fascinating to look at.
We climbed over the blocks towards the water, and passed a small stray cat on the way. My camera's batteries ran out of steam whilst I was sitting on the blocks by the sea; there would be no more photos for the day. After having had enough of the unusual atmosphere, we struggled up the concrete blocks and headed back towards the car.
It was a long drive to the headland. I just followed my nose, assuming that we'd get there sooner or later. I didn't really care about the possibility of getting lost. If that happened, we'd probably end up seeing something or other that would provide a brief period of fascination.
As it happened, we didn't get lost. On the way there, I saw things that I knew existed, but never expected or particularly wanted to see. The Cronulla Sharks football stadium, for instance. It also became abundantly clear that the things people make may often be fascinating to look at, but generally, they're pretty darn hideous. We eventually ended up in the Botany Bay Reservoir National Park. It's funny how in order to appreciate the natural beauty of the area, we had to build a big, fat asphalt road through the place. However, there was one particularly nice feature that I noticed when driving down the road into the park. The machine selling the tickets to get into the park was broken, so we didn't have to pay seven bucks to get in.
When flying out of Sydney, I often see beautiful looking white cliff faces by the sea, a roaring surf crashing into their feet, the deep blue of the ocean contrasting vividly against the stark, white rocks. From the air, the headlands seemed like a wonderful place, and for a long time I had thought that I'd like to walk along those headlands. I was pleasantly surprised to find these white rocks standing majestically at the end of the road into the national park. We had a brief glimpse of the water tank and white tower whilst driving along the road, but decided that our expedition to those landmarks could wait for a little while. Edwin and I set foot upon the white rocks, not knowing where they would take us.
After a period of trekking along the headlands and trying to comprehend the vast expanse of deep blue sitting next to us, we decided that we weren't really going anywhere. There were no landmarks that we were heading towards. Once again, we either needed to find an excuse for our wandering, or we had to head back. I saw a sign around a bend into the bushes up ahead, and suggested that we could make that our end point.
The sign said "Welcome to Botany Bay Reservoir National Park", or something of the sort, and may have listed some of the things that we were not supposed to do, along with the potential fines that we could be hit with if we were caught breaking the rules. In front of the sign, down a gap in the cliff faces, was the rusted carcass of a car. It looked as though it had been stolen, dumped, and burnt in the gap, which was no doubt against several park regulations. Edwin and I went down the gap to take a closer look, and along with the car, found numerous little bits of flotsam and jetsam. Old sandals, driftwood, the plastic drink bottles that stopped being made in the early 90s. I claimed a baby's half-mangled sandal as a souvinir. At the bottom of the gap by the sea, waves rolled into the rocks and sprayed white water into the air. There was an emergency life saving device within a bright red container at the bottom of the gap, which you were meant to throw into the water if someone was out there drowning. I wondered how effective that would be. The waves were big, rolling masses of churning energy, and it seemed wrong to imagine someone somehow ending up finding themselves amongst those waves. The emergency life saving device seemed very petty.
Satisfied that our walk along the headlands found a point of closure, we returned to the car and drove towards the edge of a track which seemed to lead to the water tank and white tower. The car was left by the side of the road, and down the track we went. By the looks of things, the track did not appear to be heavily used. Perhaps every now and then, a car would drive down the track if something at the water tank needed taking care of. There was a large, iron pipeline by the track. It wasn't made for people to look at, it was simply a practical piece of giant, weather-beaten tubing that would only draw attention to itself if it stopped functioning properly. Something felt odd about walking along next to it, as though I was invading its territory for no real reason. We could see the big green water tank quite clearly as we walked along the track, but there was a fairly large stretch of thick bush cutting us off from the tank which never seemed to get any more penetrable. When we were about to question whether or not we would eventually get to the tank following this track, there was a barely detectable turnoff into the bush. We followed it.
As I was in board shorts and sandals, the walk through the bush felt a little spiky. Our reward for beating through the bush was an unwelcoming looking fence closing off a road towards the water tank and white tower. "Non Ionising Radiation Hazard", it proclaimed on a big, yellow, angry looking sign. "Trespassers Face a Maximum Penalty of $250,000 or 7 Years Imprisonment", another sign warned. Though one of the signs claimed that the radiation was only a threat if we somehow found ourselves 4.5 metres above the giant water tower, we thought that we'd better not enter the site anyway. Only mildly disappointed, we trudged further along the track, and back towards the direction of the road. Along the way, there was a beaten down region in the bush, as though a large vehicle had driven through the area. We followed the crushed trees, and found ourselves behind the threatening looking fence, behind all of the warning signs. Oops. Oh well, we'd come this far. The water tank and white tower looked pretty big up close. No sirens were set off when we touched the water tank, and no guard dogs or half-asleep Sydney Water staff set upon us. The most amazing thing about the place was that we'd seen these landmarks about 45 minutes drive away as little spots way off in distant bushland, and to us, they were simply meaningless, distant goals. Yet here we were, oddly satisfied.
I'm flying away north of here Wednesday night. It should be pretty darn warm and humid where I'm going. I'm imagining that it rains quite a bit during the wet season, which will make things interesting. I don't know where I'll find myself a day or two after landing in Darwin, but we'll find something in the guidebook to head towards. Whatever I see, I'll no doubt experience a heightened sense of unfamiliarity, which always makes appreciating what I have in front of me a little bit easier.
After lunch, we were facing an empty afternoon. As Edwin didn't actually bring any board shorts and was going to borrow a pair off Jesse, the beach was now out of the question (unless we wanted to test out the enforcement of public nudity laws, which we did not). Edwin suggested that we look up odd street names in the street directory, drive to the street and take a photo under the street sign. In the street directory we found a Batman Lane and a Butt Street in Surrey Hills, which were tempting. We also found several Bogan Streets, but the closest was in Summer Hill. We grew tired of thinking of places to go, and I drove off pointlessly, in a random direction.
We soon found ourselves at Coogee beach, so drove around several small lanes that one wouldn't normally drive down. We then decided to follow a blue truck for a short time to see where that would lead us, and ended up in Malabar. In the distance, up on a hill, there was a line of white spots. They looked mysterious, so we decided to find out what they were. We now had some semblance of a purpose to our driving, and headed in the general direction of the white spots. This is what we stumbled upon:
It was fun deluding ourselves into thinking that we'd found a top secret military base, but after leaving the site, there were numerous signs directing the traffic to the "firing range". Before long, we got a nice close up view of the white spots, which could now more accurately be described as targets in a firing range. That was the end of that adventure.
The driving once again became pointless, so we set ourselves the goal of following Anzac Parade until it would go no further. After what may have been several minutes, we were in some sort of lookout type place in La Perouse. It was a pleasant area, and I'm glad I now know what can be found at the end of Anzac Parade. At La Perouse, we spotted some sort of big green water tank next to some sort of big white tower on the top of an uninhabited looking headland way off in the distance. Our driving once again had a purpose, as we set off towards the water tank and white tower.
As I drove off towards the water tower, I saw a street sign that pointed towards a crematorium/scenic drive. Intrigued, I decided to take a slight detour. It was a weird place. After passing by a graveyard, there was a region of unbearably ugly looking industrial buildings and towers on one side of the road, and on the other side, there was a bizarre man-made landscape of massive concrete blocks by the sea. The blocks seemed very unnatural and unhealthy, but strangely fascinating to look at.We climbed over the blocks towards the water, and passed a small stray cat on the way. My camera's batteries ran out of steam whilst I was sitting on the blocks by the sea; there would be no more photos for the day. After having had enough of the unusual atmosphere, we struggled up the concrete blocks and headed back towards the car.
It was a long drive to the headland. I just followed my nose, assuming that we'd get there sooner or later. I didn't really care about the possibility of getting lost. If that happened, we'd probably end up seeing something or other that would provide a brief period of fascination.
As it happened, we didn't get lost. On the way there, I saw things that I knew existed, but never expected or particularly wanted to see. The Cronulla Sharks football stadium, for instance. It also became abundantly clear that the things people make may often be fascinating to look at, but generally, they're pretty darn hideous. We eventually ended up in the Botany Bay Reservoir National Park. It's funny how in order to appreciate the natural beauty of the area, we had to build a big, fat asphalt road through the place. However, there was one particularly nice feature that I noticed when driving down the road into the park. The machine selling the tickets to get into the park was broken, so we didn't have to pay seven bucks to get in.
When flying out of Sydney, I often see beautiful looking white cliff faces by the sea, a roaring surf crashing into their feet, the deep blue of the ocean contrasting vividly against the stark, white rocks. From the air, the headlands seemed like a wonderful place, and for a long time I had thought that I'd like to walk along those headlands. I was pleasantly surprised to find these white rocks standing majestically at the end of the road into the national park. We had a brief glimpse of the water tank and white tower whilst driving along the road, but decided that our expedition to those landmarks could wait for a little while. Edwin and I set foot upon the white rocks, not knowing where they would take us.
After a period of trekking along the headlands and trying to comprehend the vast expanse of deep blue sitting next to us, we decided that we weren't really going anywhere. There were no landmarks that we were heading towards. Once again, we either needed to find an excuse for our wandering, or we had to head back. I saw a sign around a bend into the bushes up ahead, and suggested that we could make that our end point.
The sign said "Welcome to Botany Bay Reservoir National Park", or something of the sort, and may have listed some of the things that we were not supposed to do, along with the potential fines that we could be hit with if we were caught breaking the rules. In front of the sign, down a gap in the cliff faces, was the rusted carcass of a car. It looked as though it had been stolen, dumped, and burnt in the gap, which was no doubt against several park regulations. Edwin and I went down the gap to take a closer look, and along with the car, found numerous little bits of flotsam and jetsam. Old sandals, driftwood, the plastic drink bottles that stopped being made in the early 90s. I claimed a baby's half-mangled sandal as a souvinir. At the bottom of the gap by the sea, waves rolled into the rocks and sprayed white water into the air. There was an emergency life saving device within a bright red container at the bottom of the gap, which you were meant to throw into the water if someone was out there drowning. I wondered how effective that would be. The waves were big, rolling masses of churning energy, and it seemed wrong to imagine someone somehow ending up finding themselves amongst those waves. The emergency life saving device seemed very petty.
Satisfied that our walk along the headlands found a point of closure, we returned to the car and drove towards the edge of a track which seemed to lead to the water tank and white tower. The car was left by the side of the road, and down the track we went. By the looks of things, the track did not appear to be heavily used. Perhaps every now and then, a car would drive down the track if something at the water tank needed taking care of. There was a large, iron pipeline by the track. It wasn't made for people to look at, it was simply a practical piece of giant, weather-beaten tubing that would only draw attention to itself if it stopped functioning properly. Something felt odd about walking along next to it, as though I was invading its territory for no real reason. We could see the big green water tank quite clearly as we walked along the track, but there was a fairly large stretch of thick bush cutting us off from the tank which never seemed to get any more penetrable. When we were about to question whether or not we would eventually get to the tank following this track, there was a barely detectable turnoff into the bush. We followed it.
As I was in board shorts and sandals, the walk through the bush felt a little spiky. Our reward for beating through the bush was an unwelcoming looking fence closing off a road towards the water tank and white tower. "Non Ionising Radiation Hazard", it proclaimed on a big, yellow, angry looking sign. "Trespassers Face a Maximum Penalty of $250,000 or 7 Years Imprisonment", another sign warned. Though one of the signs claimed that the radiation was only a threat if we somehow found ourselves 4.5 metres above the giant water tower, we thought that we'd better not enter the site anyway. Only mildly disappointed, we trudged further along the track, and back towards the direction of the road. Along the way, there was a beaten down region in the bush, as though a large vehicle had driven through the area. We followed the crushed trees, and found ourselves behind the threatening looking fence, behind all of the warning signs. Oops. Oh well, we'd come this far. The water tank and white tower looked pretty big up close. No sirens were set off when we touched the water tank, and no guard dogs or half-asleep Sydney Water staff set upon us. The most amazing thing about the place was that we'd seen these landmarks about 45 minutes drive away as little spots way off in distant bushland, and to us, they were simply meaningless, distant goals. Yet here we were, oddly satisfied.
I'm flying away north of here Wednesday night. It should be pretty darn warm and humid where I'm going. I'm imagining that it rains quite a bit during the wet season, which will make things interesting. I don't know where I'll find myself a day or two after landing in Darwin, but we'll find something in the guidebook to head towards. Whatever I see, I'll no doubt experience a heightened sense of unfamiliarity, which always makes appreciating what I have in front of me a little bit easier.
posted by Gene at 3:39 pm
Your "pointless drifting" turned out to be quite an interesting adventure ;)
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