F&F Tour - Day 22 Wollomombi Falls

Wollomombi Falls

What would be the last day of the tour, started with the knowledge that we had to cut and run back to home. The decision, taken the previous evening, came at the end of a long and thoughtful discussion that we both at the start, realised would have only one outcome. All reliable reports indicated that a new Covid spike was likely and our own experience of the previous ten days was people staying around and beside us who were unwell. As these were all people with whom we were sharing amenities and camp kitchens and sometimes, without prior warning, conversation space, so we firmly believed the choice was simple. Ahead of us lay friends, some of which had immune suppressed conditions, which with even a casual encounter with anything we might unwittingly be carrying, could do great harm to.

As a result, we started the day disappointed, with a third of the itinerary now canceled but knowing we were doing the right thing.

With the coast no longer an option and the bottom half of the north coast loop lopped for now, we continued along the Waterfall Way toward Armidale. Its such a well traveled track for us, both of us having lived along its path and in Armidale and having been regular visitors to the National Parks along its route.

Our only stop on the way to Armidale was at Wollomombi Falls. How its changed since those early days of the middle to late 1970's. Sue's family had lived for a short while at Wollomombi, after they left Yamba and we had previously taken shots of the old house in the village where they lived. The Falls themselves, were a regular haunt for my teachers' college friends, when we would load into Errol Ingram's old blue Ford "hoon wagon" and seek day use. Most visits were in winter and the Falls were takin in either on the way to or way from, New England National Park. Photos show us huddled in the shelter shed at Point Lookout as the snow fell, singing songs and cooking sausages on sticks. Behind the masks of our young adult faces, drowning in new experiences, were minds in various states of turmoil about relationships with each other. A sort of innocent debauchery swirled among the group ... although, maybe that was just me. Sue was yet to become the random element in my developing story. I was yet to sing her songs in a wine bar.

The Falls picnic area seems to improve each time we visit. A new walk back around to the Wollomombi River exists since our last visit. We had lunch in the van and set off, in the other direction, to the big viewing platform which exposes the long drop where the Wollomombi and Chandler Rivers fall into the gorge. The drop of the former is one of the longest in the southern hemisphere. I've never found them spectacular, even on a day such as this when both were flowing freely, partly because you view them from so far away. We followed the track until it began its age-defying drop which ends at the Chandler River but the heat and a lack of enthusiasm for Grade 4 walks, easily deterred us. I reflected on walking the same path in 1979, on crutches and swathed in beanie and scarf and thick jumper and coat ... awash with sweat and pain and full of self pity. There's a photo of my forlorn form, propped up on my wooden sticks, hating the world.

Much better day today!

Click here for today's photos

We took our last stop where we started the tour three weeks earlier, at Uralla and had lunch at the Top Pub and swapped our best moments of the days between.

The last 100 kms to home were mostly in a contented silence.

Home is still the best campsite we have stayed in.