What’s a springbrook?

Having just finished a trekking tour of the Shaky Isles, my urge to get wild locally was accommodated beautifully yesterday after a visit to Springbrook.  Waterfalls, check.  Spectacular views, check.  Sweat induced, muscle spasming nausea… not quite.  This one is for the everyday walker.

Most days in a week I cross south over the Tallebudgera bridge destined for my cosy apartment.  I look due east and am consistently awed by the beautiful setting sun beyond Tally Valley.  I make a promise to myself to get the boots on and get back to my ancient jungle roots.  Where Jesus came from.

Luckily enough, not keeping promises with myself is easy to live with.  I figure the hinterland is always going to be there and it’s only a matter of time before the promise is lived.  Next promise to self which I hope to fulfil is putting my keys somewhere I can find them.  Just kidding, there is no way I am ever going to be mature or thoughtful enough to celebrate that milestone.

Back to the bush! What a dam fine day for it.  Funnily enough, it was raining in the rainforest when we arrived.  This caused one in our party much distress.  Luckily an umbrella was at hand.  Bear Grylls would have been both ashamed and impressed for such city-girl preparedness.

On the edge of the carpark, the sign suggests a 4km, approximately 2hr return walk to the waterfall pools.  Another option includes a wander deeper down the ravine but our accessory-clad hiker is already exhausted.  She claims to be a fair-dinkom Cairns girl.  Reared in the oldest rainforests on the planet.  But the Douchi Bag, or Gucci Bag, whatever it is, slung over her left shoulder suggests differently.

The walk is pleasant.  The path is a cinch.  Even our Cairns girl quit complaining after the first minutes.  Before you can say, well this has all been rather easy, you’re there.  The rock pool is inviting but the decision is made to leave swimming for a next time.

Our group partakes in a bizzare phenomenon which takes place consistently on such outings.  The reflective chat is at a level of intimacy which you rarely ever get at the local café.  There is something about the space and the peace which steers the vocal ponderings well beyond the box.  It’s grand.  It’s like the sort of chat which takes a six pack and a few shots to flow.  I feel privileged and honoured in such company.  I am reminded of the promise I have been making to myself to go and “do the hinterland thing”.  This moment is why.

You’re feeling suffocated by the grind and declaring to friends that you need a break?  Why bother looking any further than the glorious backyard wilderness of the Gold Coast.  It’s quick, it’s breathtaking and it’s always worth it.  Drag some friends along and prepare yourself for the pats on the back. “This was such a good idea, thanks mate”, shall be your praise.  If not, your friends are shit and it’s time to get shopping.  Peace.

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