Escaping the twitching city madness

ESCAPING THE TWITCHING CITY MADNESS

By Danny Cameron

I

f you sit awfully quiet, with all the patience of a Zen monk, and silently creep ever closer through the bush... “There, can you see them, a pair of Twitchers sitting on their camping chairs by the riverbank, the male of the species raising binoculars to eyes from chest, to eyes from chest, pointing, pointing with fingers outstretched, a mating ritual dance to impress the female sitting beside, who, impressed, starts to mimic the moves of the male herself, raising her binoculars to eyes from chest, to eyes from chest.”

I’d never seen Twitchers before.

I mean, I had heard that they exist, and even knew that US musician Sufjan Stevens is known for a bit of twitching himself, but these city-scarified concrete-cured eyes of mine were not known for noticing the birds in the treetops, let alone the people watching the birds. So seeing a pair of Twitchers by the river within a minute of arriving

and scouting around my destination was quite a sight. I smiled in the fancy that I found myself unknowingly landing in a location whose reputation preceded it.

I had found myself in the Gold Coast that very morning and in need of a quick escape away from the world of human development.

Half an hour to the southwest of the crazed frantic growth of the Gold Coast you find yourself a world away. Murwillumbah is a northern NSW town on the edge of the Mount Warning National Park. The streets pervade an aura of underemployment from an age the Gold Coast hasn’t seen in twenty years. It is hard to believe that all you need to do is cross a state border and drive for 50km to see such a marked difference.

Just out of Murwillumbah you enter a rainforest national park based in the caldera of an ancient volcano. Mount Warning is the remnant of the centre plug of a vol-

cano that erupted 22 million years ago and is the highest point in the area. After witnessing human development beyond belief, I needed grounding and thought of no better way than a good two hour walk up to the summit that is renowned for being the first place in Australia to see the sunrise.

To the local Budjalung people its name is Wollumbin, so called for its ability to catch clouds and in the summer months create such a stir in the atmospheric conditions that it is thought to be instrumental in forming fantastic electrical storms that then descend upon the Byron coastline. If you wish to respect Aboriginal customs then the advice is not to climb the summit, but I thought that I needed the spiritual help that climbing Mount Warning provides and so respected the land and its original custodians by leaving as small a footprint as possible on my trek.

From the top, at a height of

1156m you realise the image of the summit being the central core as the land falls away from your feet in every direction. The valley parabolises as the outer rim rises to other significant aboriginal mountaintop sites around the caldera, like Mount Nardi (just north of Nimbin and on the southern rim of Mount Warning caldera) which is believed to be a point of ascension into the spirit garden. The view from the summit is green, from the near fluorescent vibrancy of fertile farmland, to the olive blue hue of national park forests. The extent of national park in the vista is a sight to behold for the way we have minimised our impact and kept true to the beautiful natural magic of the area.

At sunrise and sunset, I imagine the summit is a magical, meditative and tranquil location to soak in the beauty of the view. However, in the heat of the middle of the day a moment’s peace is hard to find as

A dissonant symphony of the bird, frog, cricket and cicada call from the vibrant green garden. one thousand March Fly’s and four Brush Turkeys fill the role of spiritual guards of the mountaintop, constantly pestering you into submission till you soon find yourself scrambling down from the pinnacle to find a less petulant spot a short way down track to have a rejuvenating banana and sup of water.

After the walk, the heat had simplified my brain function and desires to two types of watering holes. I drive to Uki – 10km down the road, to grab a couple of takeaway beers and the obligatory travellers souvenir stubby holder from Mount Warning Hotel (02 6679 5111) to relax into the afternoon.

On the way back to my accommodation on Mount Warning Road, I stop off at a local swimming hole on a river bend and cool off in the mountain fresh waters.

I found myself a spot to lodge at Mount Warning Bed and Breakfast Retreat (info@mtwarningretreat. com or 02 6679 52259), a rambling homestead that is nearly 100 years old and features a great surrounding balcony. Current owners Paul Taylor and Renate Kraus bought the lodge and five surrounding acres in November 2003.

With the help of Landcare and local friends, the previous owners had regenerated land that had been completely logged into a wonderful rainforest garden haven that lives in harmony with the adjoining 300 acre wildlife sanctuary.

Hanging in the hammock that straddled across the corner of the wide balcony of the retreat, I read the afternoon away with my beer and a good book, supremely relaxed after such a satisfying and revitalis-

Birds of Paradise greet guests on the balcony of the Mount Warning Bed and Breakfast Retreat.

A spectaclar variance of green presents itself along the walk to the summit of Mount Warning.

If you leave early enough in the morning, you could be the first in Australia to see the sunrise from this spectacular spot on the summit.

A magnificent balcony wraps around the Bed and Breakfast, providing a relaxing haven for a moment’s respite.

had taken out one of the handful of a buzz, full to overflowing with ing long walk.

In the city, the constant hum of canoes that were lying upside down young families and couples enjoying a healthy feast on a Saturday on the bank. arterial roads transporting the livAs darkness descended, my tum- night. ing pulse around the electric light The mixed plate was a delicious my grumbled, and while the B&B suburbia is the soundtrack to your tasting dish of all their favourites, does offer a camping kitchen in life. Yet, hung in a hammock on a balcony on Mount Warning Road I the backyard for those who wish to including a sensational cauliflower provide their own fare, there is also dish. I happily dined and refreshed find bliss in the quiet of the valley. a choice on offer in the neighbour- with a freshly squeezed fruit juice, The one road that connects Murhood. This includes Mavis’s Kitchen and wrote to candle light while willumbah to Uki, 1km down the great tunes played in the backglen, becomes the background sore restaurant, featuring an impresground, mixing effortlessly into sive wine list and a fresh, organic to the soundscape against the disthe joyful noise of young families’ sonant symphony of the bird, frog, a la carte menu (bookings recommended www.maviseskitchen.com. excitability with a night out at a cricket and cicada calling from the restaurant. The restaurant hosts live au), or the more informal but just vibrant green garden. A lone car music most nights of the weektravelling on the black tar bitumen as wholesome Buddha Belly. end and is a little creative hotspot The Buddha Belly (http://murin the distance is like a Velcro zipnirvana. willumbahonline.com/buddhaper ripping apart the beauty of the The food was served with great belly/) is a vegetarian restaurant a aural moment. smiles and eyes alive to One of the unexthe highest order – somepected surprises of the thing that only living in B&B was to read the such an exotic location welcoming folder of could provide. The loinformation and with cal geology is said to be excitement learn that by infused with the mineral the banks of the river rock Obsidian, known to down in the backyard of natural therapists for its the B&B a local platypus energy giving potential. does dwell. I have a New If there is Obsidian to Year’s resolution that rolls be found in the valley, over year after failed-resthere must be a rich seam olution year. It is to see a directly under the Budplatypus in the wild, and dha Belly. while I still have yet to The view of the garden while hanging from the hammock.

Back at the homeachieve my goal, havstead I fall asleep on ing it in my continual couple of hundred metres down the the king sized bed with the fan sightline has me regularly visiting circling cool air down from above new and amazing places where they country road from the homestead. and the flyscreened French doors Walking down the road in pitch can be found. open to the night breeze. The city black darkness (don’t forget your As the sun descended behind camping head-torch) – the volume has industrialised the mind so the mountain, I went to spend the waning hour patiently sitting in the of the frogs was immense, and con- much that come dawn it feels like overgrown and weed infested scrub tinued to get louder with each step the mind needs a good oiling with further into dusk and darkness. The WD40 as it starts into gear with near the remains of an old bridge. the sound of a squeak and creak. song of the frogs was a cacophony Unfortunately, another platypus Slowly one squeak, becomes two, symphony epiphany. hunting mission failed me, but the On arrival at the Buddha Belly it becomes three. The squeaks become glass-off of the river in the still of more harmonious as the gears in the afternoon sure is a pleasant way was amazing to see a small restauthe brain wind up. Then there is to spend some time. My B&B host, rant, down a country road in the the morning’s revelation that they Renate, suggested I would have had middle of wilderness – with the closest town 10km away, absolutely are not internal sounds of a mind a better chance if I gone slightly thriving. They managed to squeeze creaking into gear at all, but are the further upstream to where the sound of one thousand birds in the me in though and the place was banks were being regenerated and

trees outside. I think the “cockle doodle doo” of the rooster was the real defining moment that gave it away.

The song of one thousand birds raises me from my slumber, and I become infected with the Twitchers urge to identify every different species in the song. It is like when you go to see a friend perform in a choir, and you try to pick out their individual voice in the chorus. At breakfast I read that the previous owner of the property was a proud Twitcher with a bird count of 232 species over his time twitching on the property, including a phenomenal 43 in one half hour sitting.

At the breakfast table, those same Twitchers I spotted the day prior emerged from the room next door and join me on the balcony for the light breakfast of fresh fruit, cereal, toast and juice. Together we pondered if there were more than 43 species in song this morning.

I certainly continued to lose count whenever a new song would start.

Not that I could really identify any of the different species. The best I could do was to list the “eek A beautifully appointed room with French doors onto the balcony.

An Underlay Production

Breakfast is served upon the balcony.

eek eek” of some type of lorikeet and the “warble woo” of some type of owl.

From the UK, my co-guests had stumbled upon this little Twitchers paradise with its own comfortable and affordable B&B by accident some weeks ago on their trip south.

They were impressed with the place so much that this was them returning for a second time, and this time

for a week long stay, before flying themselves back to Ol’ Blimey.

“It is just amazing how much bird life there is here, you don’t realise how lucky you are to be living in Australia,” Joan said.

“Yesterday I got a number of lifers,” husband John added proudly, referring to a first-ever sighting of a bird species to add to his list.

They offered their advice to go directly to a bookstore and purchase a copy Field Guide to the Birds of Australia by Simpson and Day (published by Penguin Books ISBN-10: 0670041807).

I nervously started to twitch.

Like the Incredible Hulk bursting out of his shirt, I felt the twitching stretch beneath my skin, until uncontrollably, my hands were making the motion of picking binoculars from my chest, raising them to my eyes, gasping in surprise and pointing, pointing with arms outstretched. It was the ritualistic dance of a Twitcher.

On the way home, I resolved to add to my New Year’s resolution list – under Platypus is now the Orange Bellied Parrot.

cheshunderlay@yahoo.com.au