Waterfall Gully
After leaving Parramatta our way still lay through orchards and vineyards, until we reached Seven Hills Grove, commanding a beautiful view. Thence we went on to Blacktown, which takes its name from the large number of aboriginals who formerly lived in the neighbourhood; but they are now almost extinct. At intervals we either crossed or ran alongside of the old bullock-track, now a good high road, to Bathurst. Bathurst can now be reached in a few hours from Sydney. In the old times it took four days to get there by coach, and much longer, of course, by bullock team! We crossed a large river, the Nepean, passing through some charming fern-gullies, and soon afterwards reached the zigzags of the railway. They are so abrupt, that instead of the train turning round, it is alternately pulled and pushed up the steep incline. This seems to me a dangerous plan, and it certainly does not economise labour or steam force. It was interesting to find at one of the stations that the engine-driver who was taking the train up had worked for Mr. Brassey for many years in France and elsewhere, had married Tom's nurse, and had danced with me at the ball given in the engine-sheds at Shrewsbury at the great fête on the occasion of our marriage. At another place where we stopped the station-master for many years occupied a similar position at Aylesford, near my brother-in-law's place. They were both anxious to come and see the yacht, and I was rather amused to hear at lunch that while we were going up the mountain they had immediately returned to Sydney and had gone on board.
The view from Springwood is beautiful, and close by lies Sassafras, or 'Flying Fox' Gully, so called from the number of flying foxes found there. We next passed Falconberg, Sir Henry Parkes's place, and went on to Lawoon, where we stopped a short time, and where a man brought us some curious little black snakes—great pets at present. Not far from here are the beautiful Wentworth Falls, and the views became superb; I had not expected anything half so lovely. Distant glimpses of undulating forests were interrupted by abrupt sandstone cliffs, so steep that it was impossible not to believe a large stream ran beneath them. There is no river here, however, although the many small creeks and rivulets make beautiful falls, tumbling over the sandstone cliffs through luxuriant creepers and tropical ferns. It is impossible to exaggerate the beauty of the scene. The charm of the landscape was the really Indian blue of the distant hills, from which they derive their name of Blue Mountains. It is not a blue haze, but a vivid blue, with tints varying from darkest indigo to palest cerulean blue; but the colour is everywhere intense, and there are no half-tones. Perhaps one of the most attractive views is that just before reaching Katoomba, nearly 3,500 feet above the sea-level. The train was stopped before reaching the station to let us admire the distant landscape. I should have liked to stay for hours.
