Blue Mountains

Replace the sample text below with your article...

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi. Nam liber tempor cum soluta nobis eleifend option congue nihil imperdiet doming id quod mazim placerat facer possim assum. Typi non habent claritatem insitam; est usus legentis in iis qui facit eorum claritatem.

Investigationes demonstraverunt lectores legere me lius quod ii legunt saepius. Claritas est etiam processus dynamicus, qui sequitur mutationem consuetudium lectorum. Mirum est notare quam littera gothica, quam nunc putamus parum claram, anteposuerit litterarum formas humanitatis per seacula quarta decima et quinta decima. Eodem modo typi, qui nunc nobis videntur parum clari, fiant sollemnes in futurum.

Wild blue yonder: Australia's Blue Mountains
New South Wales's Blue Mountains offer peace and quiet – not to mention awe-inspiring landscape and magical places to stay, says Anita Sethi

Anita Sethi
The Guardian, Saturday 12 March 2011

I'm sitting on the pea-green seats of the train, gazing out into a world fast vanishing beneath a gauzy, shimmery mist. As we climb two hours west from Central Station, Sydney, the mist cloaks the vast plateaus, it snakes through the dark forests and curls around the clifftops and canyons that comprise the Blue Mountains. I'm in search of the peace and quiet that attracts Sydneysiders year round to the one million hectares of New South Wales that are named after the blue haze of the eucalyptus oils. As the angry sky darkens and rain thunders down, I confess to feeling slightly fearful, as well as excited, at the prospect of staying alone in a secret eco cottage with acres between myself and the nearest human being.

I step out into Katoomba, the tourist hub of the Blue Mountains (with soggy tourists aplenty today), and it's as if I've stepped into some wonderland at the top of the Magic Faraway Tree. Even the facades of the dinky buildings are shrouded in mist. I shelter in a quaint little cake shop, and even it – and the chocolate fondant I scoff – are like something from a fairytale land.

"You read out the directions and I'll follow them," says the taxi driver I hail. "'Please Note: There are no signs for the Woolshed Cabins until you actually arrive,'" I bellow.

"DO NOT TURN OFF INTO MEGALONG VALLEY!" scream the instructions. Whoops. Too late. But I'd advise anyone to do their best to get lost in the Blue Mountains. The mist clears to reveal the awesome landscape: vast, rugged cliffs, ferns, tall gum trees. Soon we get back on the muddy track. "Pass the Logan Brae Apple Orchard," I read out. Squelch, squelch, down the dirt track into the Kanimbla Valley ... bump, bump, bump over the cattle grid tar road … and then we see it.

The cottage stands beside a wooden shearing shed isolated amidst acres of countryside. Marion the owner and I sip hot sweet tea on the verandah and she tells me about the mountains, before showing me round the property. In the lounge, the huge windows let in views of the afternoon light leaking over the chalky cliffs. In the loft bedroom, the triangular windows show distant forests.

"Don't go near the fences – they're electric. And don't walk in the fields over there," says Marion, pointing to the grass, which reaches taller than both of us, "as you might not come out again. Snakes!" Indeed, this area has some of the most lethal snakes in Oz. The information booklet in the cottage provides further warnings: "Not all horses are approachable and cattle are definitely NOT 'pattable'." As she leaves me, I almost run after her and beg her to stay, or to take me with her. But soon, I relax and discover what solitude in nature is all about.

Horses whinny and chomp in the fields. Peewees sing. Great yellow butterflies flutter past. I walk west from the cottage with the long wet grass tickling my legs, past tall gum trees and along the creek paddock, keeping an eye out for wallabies and kangaroos and wombat holes – and snakes! As I walk towards the blue hills of Oberon and the Jenolan Caves, I feel quite tiny. The sun begins to set, silhouetting the trees, night-time encroaches over the cliffs until the sky is on fire, although I spin round and it's still broad daylight behind me. It's little wonder that the Blue Mountains are a favourite haunt of artists.

Back in the cottage I stick on one of the cottage's CDs, the multi-volume Complete Classics, and delve into the basket of goodies left for me. The kitchen has a slab timber bench and Australian hardwoods, and soon I have sausages sizzling on the stove.

In the airy loft bedroom, I fall asleep to the rain pattering against the windows, the horses whinnying outside.

The Blue Mountains area is full of little villages and I move on next to Leura, a scenic 15-minute drive away. It's hard to believe that the Old Leura Dairy Old Leura Dairy (+61 2 4782 0700, oldleuradairy.com) was once a dilapidated ruin, for now its six lodgings – Moo Manor, Buttercup Barn, the Studio, the 1920s Worker's Cottage, the Milking Shed, and cavernous Straw Bale House, where I am staying – are gloriously restored in line with the philosophy to be "as gentle on our world as possible". The houses are still luxurious, despite being built from recycled materials and hand-painted tiles, with decor reminiscent of a giant doll's house, full of treasures procured from auctions: a wooden rocking horse, old typewriters, a beautiful statue of mother and child. The owner is an art collector, which has made its mark in the paintings adorning the walls. I relax on the rocking chair, then bathe in the claw-foot bath.

A peek inside the guestbook offers clues as to who would stay in such a magical place: mothers escaping from husbands and children; couples seeking a romantic retreat; and the odd solitary soul desirous of time, space and beauty.

But after a few days of relaxation in my private retreats, I want to explore the nooks and crannies of the Blue Mountains. An obvious place to start is Katoomba, the crowded gateway town to the area, and the region's most visited destination, which has cafes and bars, and adventure operators offering to arrange trips into the bush. Nature spotting bush walks, horse-riding adventures, walking along the famous Six Foot Track footpath to caves and Megalong Valley, a ride on the steep scenic railway and the Skyway cable car can all be arranged here.

Over a bite to eat, though, in the art deco Cafe Zuppa, I flick through a brochure and I spot a picture of Blackheath, a smaller village 20 minutes' drive away, so named because of its wild, open-heath scenery, often charred by bushfires, but blooming with rhododendrons in spring.

It's peace and quiet I yearn for, after all, so I set off in search of it. En route the driver points out some lovely places to stay: the Possums Hideaway nestled within gardens, Redleaf Resort, and Bower Cottage, with a blue bird on its sign. I ask him to stop so I can take a peek, and crunch up the gravelly path to a yellow facade. It's love at first sight. I have found it – the cottage of my dreams!

  Bower Cottage
Its location, on Evans Lookout Road, was perfect too: not far from one of the most stunning viewpoints of the Mountains, Evans Lookout, and after apple juice in the Bush Rock Cafe, I gave my new trainers a run for their money, jogging along the narrow, deserted pathways to the viewpoint.

Even in this place of solitude, I eventually run into a group of tourists, peering through binoculars at the trio of Aborigine maidens turned to stone by a sorcerer, as myth has it. These Three Sisters, viewed from Echo Point near Katoomba, are one of the most popular attractions of the mountains. When I must leave the cottage, I return to Katoomba, but find my own peaceful corner among the tall colonnades, library, drawing room, piano bar with a piano tinkling away as if just for me, of the heritage building, the Carrington Hotel. There, I am tempted into the Yindi Day Spa, and opt for the cheapest thing on offer – a half-hour head massage.

Then I am back on the pea-green seats of the train chugging down through the beautiful mists and into the bright hot heart of Sydney. I take with me a little more space in my head – and that's the secret of why you would stay alone in a cottage in the wilderness of Australia.