The World in the Forest

Sydney is a beautiful city, with endless miles of harbor and rolling hills. You don't have to go far to be immersed in wilderness, even as small boats bob in the water nearby. 

A few days ago I took a bus or two to Spit Bridge, about 30 minutes outside of the city center. It was a bit of an impulse--I had read about the walk from Spit Bridge to Manly on Tripadvisor, and suddenly decided I would do it. At 10 kilometers, it is the most I have walked in a long time, but I convinced myself it would be fine. I packed my sunscreen, a bottle of water, and 3 pounds of unnecessary art supplies and headed off.

I had a hard time finding the start of the path--google maps had me get off the bus a full mile before the actual start--but once there my frustration drained away as I stepped into the forest.

It was an incredible walk, and took me much longer than it said on paper because I kept stopping to look at things.

The walk went up and down the cliffs around the water's edge. After two days of rain, the sun was shining bright, and waterfalls trickled between mossy stones.

I've had this poem stuck in my head the last few weeks, because of the way the sun looks on the trees. It is by Gerard Manley, called "Pied Beauty," and goes:

Glory be to God for dappled things--

 For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

 For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

 Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

 Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough

It ran through my head the entire walk, as I took in the dappled world around me. The path was ever changing, over streams, along the cliffs, through scrubland and forest. Stone steps cut into the rock made it feel like I was walking in ancient ruins left from some forgotten civilization. Every now and then some absurdly fit individual would run by me on the path, decked out in Lycra and tiny water bottles, but for the most part I was alone. I walked leisurely, decadently slow, soaking up the landscape. I imagined I could feel a thylacine, the extinct Tasmanian tiger, watching me through the trees. Lizards were everywhere, the large speckled Australian water dragon, a creature which in the US would only be seen as an exotic pet, if at all.  They were well-camouflaged along the path, sunning themselves on rocks and tree limbs. Look for them in the beams of light. Ever now and then the view suddenly opened up, revealing the cliffs and the ocean.  When I finally made it to the beach town of Manly, I was sad to leave the cool cover of the trees and re-enter civilization.  I took the ferry back across the harbor, bumping and splashing over the waves, back into the heart of the city. Back among the trees, though, a leaf flutters from the canopy to rest on the forest floor, a wave breaks over iron-speckled stones smoothed over a thousand years, a scaly golden eye opens to watch a spinning spider. I know that this other world is waiting just around the corner all in stipple, skies of couple-color, landscapes plotted and pieced.