Well, much of the country is on fire again, but up here in Brisbane it’s been pretty damned nice. I think I’m getting used to the heat, the worst of which was visited upon this, the third-largest city, just before I got back from Korea.
My ongoing project continues and its conclusion and some exciting news are in sight. I’ve done a lot of catch-ups with old friends, have been into the apparently hip city a couple of times (first impressions: beer is expensive, people are much larger here, there’s almost as much cigarette smoke as in downtown Gimhae, and there are too many street musicians) and have managed a short bike ride and lots of photography every day between bursts of work on my project.
My friend Chris (he tells me we’ve known each other 10 years) and I had been talking about a trip to Moreton Island and my third circumambulation of the world’s third-biggest sand island, but I decided I couldn’t spare the time and that three days’ worth of mid-Summer-hot white sand, dodging holiday-period hordes of 4-wheel drives, was a suicide mission.
Instead we decided on a day trip up the highway to the Glass House Mountains and Tibrogargan, which long-term readers might recall from this trip, and this one. There’s some historical and geographical detail there. I’ll let the pictures tell the story this time — I think they’re a bit better than on those earlier trips, and I have beer to drink…
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Chris had use of his mother’s car. It’s tiny and not the most rugged-looking vehicle, but after two years of walking or using public transport to get anywhere it was a treat to be chauffeured to a day-hike. Barely an hour from Brisbane and we were among the pine plantations and pineapple farms surrounding the hulking simian mass of Tibrogargan:
It was cloudy, hot but not too hot, early but not quite early enough. We got started. This sign was new — it was a revelation to us both that throwing rocks from a mountain could be harmful. Honestly, the bureaucrats are ruining the fun for all of us:
The Tibro hiker walks/climbs a fine line between walking and climbing. People below often ask how bad/steep/scary it is up top. I only ask how crowded it is. A dozen or so were descending, so there were frequent stops to let them pass and enjoy the views of Tibro’s sister mountains:
Jam cleared, we resumed climbing, slowly, in my case, as I was juggling two cameras…
..and half an hour or so of scrambling brought us to the 364m summit, which is lushly appointed with slow-growing grass trees and banskias:
The path is up the inland, western face — a quick traverse and you climb down a short way onto the top of the east- and coastal-facing face — the forehead of the venerable volcanic ape:
We rested there a bit, talking, eating, watching other walkers…
..before a descent, an hour later, by the same path:
Going down is slower — gravity is not always your friend. I enjoy this climb but there have been several rescues and accidents over the years; the time- and boot-smoothed stone must be treacherous in wet weather.
Some adrenalin when a yelled “ROCK!” from higher up had us ducking as a lethally accelerating pebble bounded down the face, missing two guys below us by inches. Plainly those above hadn’t read the sign.
The day was still young, so we made the journey north and inland to historic Maleny for coffee and carrot cake of monumental — almost prehistoric — western-sized proportions and one of the iconic views of South-East Queensland:
God, it was great to be home.
~ And that’s all the Goat wrote