Tag Archives: Sandstone

“….DON’T TELL ME YOUR SURNAME IS SMITH!”

It was raining, not hard, but the drizzle was constant.  There’s something about being in the forest when it’s wet.  Drips on the flowers, colours highlighted in the wet, the splash of footsteps, the quiet.  It’s all there, you just have to notice it. I was north of Lawson, hoping to find St. Michaels FallsContinue reading ““….DON’T TELL ME YOUR SURNAME IS SMITH!””

IT ROCKS

There was no-one.  In fact, the previous time I’d camped overnight and left early, the golden hour in fact.  The light was exquisite, the temperature cool, the trail enticing and I was alone; but that was decades ago. The ragged rock faces, weathered over millennia, seemed not to have changed as I got into myContinue reading “IT ROCKS”