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--- 198507 [2014/05/22 21:47] – [ON THE HIGH TOPS AT KOSCIUSKO.] simon
+++ 198507 [2014/05/22 22:22] – [THE MAGIC OF ETTREMA.] simon
@@ Line 231: / Line 231: @@
 I have heard this expression a number of times but, not surprisingly, the "magic" is not always there. At least not for me. Of course I always like the place but there is a difference between liking and loving. In times of drought, or when the weather is cold and overcast, vital elements are missing.
-But on Sunday, January 27, the middle day of Fred George's classic walk (Rock Slabs Creek - Ettrema Tullyangela Creek), the magic of Ettrema was turned on at full volume. For starters the water was flowing (not always so). Not a big flow, mind you, nothing like it was in the spring, but enough to bring the small cascades alive with fluid movement. The famous pools were full, as clear as crystal and at just the right temperature. The sunshine bursting from a cloudless sky combined with gently moving she-oaks to fill the gorge with a sparkling, dancing light.
+But on Sunday, January 27, the middle day of Fred George's classic walk (Rock Slabs Creek - Ettrema - Tullyangela Creek), the magic of Ettrema was turned on at full volume. For starters the water was flowing (not always so). Not a big flow, mind you, nothing like it was in the spring, but enough to bring the small cascades alive with fluid movement. The famous pools were full, as clear as crystal and at just the right temperature. The sunshine bursting from a cloudless sky combined with gently moving she-oaks to fill the gorge with a sparkling, dancing light.
 Fred, an expert on Ettrema, had planned the walk so that the entire day would be spent in the main gorge of Middle Ettrema, from Myall Creek down to Tullyangela Creek. At a total distance of about twelve kilometres it was nothing more than a pleasant stroll, just the way this place should be enjoyed. With the promise of heat to come, a suitable response to those inviting pools surely could not long be delayed.
-And neither it was! Within a kilometre or so the sounds of splashing and joyous shouts could be heard ahead. An advance group of the twelve- strong party was already at it - diving, bombing, swimming or just lolling in the clear cool shallows. That first pool of the day proved irrestible to one and all.
+And neither it was! Within a kilometre or so the sounds of splashing and joyous shouts could be heard ahead. An advance group of the twelve strong party was already at it - diving, bombing, swimming or just lolling in the clear cool shallows. That first pool of the day proved irresistible to one and all.
-I do not know how many beautiful swimming pools grace Middle Ettrema. I do know there were many more than the party could use in that day's walking. They came in all shapes, sizes, depths and surroundings - one
+I do not know how many beautiful swimming pools grace Middle Ettrema. I do know there were many more than the party could use in that day's walking. They came in all shapes, sizes, depths and surroundings - one had infinite variety along the way. The water had such clarity that, ten feet down, every pebble on the bottom was clearly defined in shape and colour. The lunchtime pool was a particular gem; who could face a suburban swimming pool after that?
-had infinite variety along the way. The water had such clarity that, ten feet down, every pebble on the bottom was clearly defined in shape and colour. The lunchtime pool was a particular gem; who could face a suburban swimming pool after that?
-The popular mode of dress for "tween the pools" was now shirt or top only. Throwing off the pack and garment, before plunging, was simplicity itself, leading to routine. In the usual individual ways of bushwalkers not everyone swam together, for a "five star" pool to one might be "only mediocre" to another, such were we spoilt. Sometimes I would emerge and stagger for three minutes around the corner, there to find something even better than the beauty I had just left behind. Much discipline was then
+The popular mode of dress for "tween the pools" was now shirt or top only. Throwing off the pack and garment, before plunging, was simplicity itself, leading to routine. In the usual individual ways of bushwalkers not everyone swam together, for a "five star" pool to one might be "only mediocre" to another, such were we spoilt. Sometimes I would emerge and stagger for three minutes around the corner, there to find something even better than the beauty I had just left behind. Much discipline was then required to keep moving. As the afternoon advanced, a wind so hot that it must have been blowing straight off the Hobs of Hell generated ever more frequent dipping. I remember that I now plunged in shirt and all for the cooling effect of wet clothes. Without the pools I'm sure that day could have proved "a real stinker", as they say.
-required to keep moving. As the afternoon advanced, a wind so hot that it must have been blowing straight off the Hobs of Hell generated ever more frequent dipping. I remember that I now plunged in shirt and all for the cooling effect of wet clothes. Without the pools I'm sure that day could
-have proved "a real stinker", as they say.
 And so, in the fullness of that memorable day we came to Tullyangela junction in leisurely fashion, there to have a final plunge. But no, it was not, for after making camp some were so hot that it was back to the water yet again. In my time I have enjoyed countless walks in all sorts of places but the Ettrema of that day will stand proudly with the best.