Approaching Sydney early on Monday morning, I recalled an unforgettable day in 2016 when Iris and I had just joined Fred Olsen’s ship, Black Watch. As we sailed out under the bridge and passed the Opera House, the band were playing, people danced on deck and the surrounding skyscrapers sparkled in the bright sunlight.
In contrast it was now dark and the only sound was the low rumble of the ship’s engines. But, dawn was approaching and, as the sun rose, that glorious harbour gradually reappeared. I was back in Sydney.
Later that day I journeyed out to see the sights. First stop, Bondi Beach and a pleasant beer on the seafront with fellow passenger, Torbjorn.
Then to the Opera House for a guided tour
The glazed roof tiles, which present a pristine white appearance from afar, are in fact a carefully arranged pattern of alternating white and beige tiles. We learned that, without the inclusion of the beige tiles, the pure white might have produced an overwhelming glare. Instead, this thoughtful combination achieves a softer, more appealing white iridescence.
The Blue Mountains – 5th March 2025
We remained in Sydney overnight, and the following day I was to head west, for a trip into the Blue Mountains.
The road into the mountains follows a narrow ridge, normally with pleasant views of the surroundings. But as we started our climb the cloud cover increased and then the rain started. By the time we reached our destination we were in thick fog, accompanied by heavy rain.
The morning’s schedule then had us descending into the valley in a near-vertical train, followed by ascending and crossing the gorge on two separate cable cars. All of this unfolded under torrential rain, with visibility reduced to almost zero.
So, cold, wet and down-heartened we went for lunch.
Trying to raise our spirits the guide announced that his phone app showed that it would ‘brighten up’ at 2pm. This we knew was of course a lie and was justifiably met with a groan of disbelief.
During lunch a couple of birds took an interest in our presence, or more precisely any crumbs we may have dropped.
Andy has identified the birds below are Pied Currawongs:
Feeling the need of fresh air and exercise, after lunch I took a stroll outside. The rain had stopped and peering through the mist I could see a sign to a viewpoint. I was amused by the irony, but thought I might as well head that way, as any other.
I came to a fence separating me from what I assumed to be a deep drop the other side. I could see several others either side of me peering into the mist. We were all so disappointed that the experience we had come this far to enjoy was effectively lost in a cloud.
Standing there, trying to imagine what was beyond, I suddenly noticed a darker shape in the mist. Then there were gasps from the people around me as colours started to appear on that shape. We could see that it was a large rock and quite some distance away.
The following few minutes were quite amazing. A gentle breeze started to blow up the valley and gradually level by level and bit by bit the fog cleared and the beauty of that place unfolded. It was as if the event had been stage managed to enhance the experience.
And of course, quickly glancing at my watch, I saw that it was exactly 2pm! Even the guide couldn’t believe it, admitting his earlier false prediction.
Finally, the whole spectacle was there before us.
The eucalyptus forests revealed their natural green hues, as opposed to the signature blue haze—caused by evaporating oils—that gives the mountains their name. This blue phenomenon only emerges on hot, sunny days, and while the day had been warm, sunlight had been scarce.
I photographed the cable car making it’s impressive journey across the gorge. A trip we had of course experienced earlier but, for us, without the white knuckle effect.
It was certainly a day of two halves!
The following day, as we sailed towards Melbourne, we were accompanied by a couple of Albatrosses:
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