“All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking” – Friedrich Nietzsche
Wise old Fred wasn’t far wrong when he coined this – there ain’t nought better than taking to the mountains with your mates, clearing the cobwebs, and having a right old piss up when you get to the top.
We picked up a basic map at the visitor centre in Glenbrook (at the foot of the Blue Mountains), parked up at the start of the trail and marched off in a joyful gait not dissimilar to a gaggle of smurfs.
The two days were vagabonding at its absolute core. We barely saw anyone else on either of the 6 hour treks, only the sweaty arse cracks of our compadres up ahead. The climbs were at times hard going, especially as we had enough kit and caboodle to form a self-sustaining eco-community at the top. Every so often we were halted in our tracks by spectacular look-outs, streams and wildlife, and we greeted by a free campspot at the top that would have Dick Whittington salivating onto his cat.
After much alpha male grunting, we finally got the fire going, and after a barrel of whisky and a cold night in the hammocks we ventured forth bright and early to begin the steep descent to a beautiful little lunch spot by the river. Having competed in the unofficial world championships for stone skimming, we walked through the valley and back up to the car park on the other side, where we did a series of lifts to retrieve our other motors from the starting point a few km’s away, and bolted back to Sydney.
Mount Solitary? Done.
- Take enough water with you, or better still a water purifier.
- Watch out for a pervert wearing nothing more than a trench coat. He goes by the name of Warwick and he prowls Mt Solitary in search of unsuspecting victims to flash his dishevelled meat and two veg.