The silent river - Wollemi National Park, NSW

It is the strangest sensation, to stand by a fast flowing river and hear nothing of its movement - no sound of water over rocks or gravel or bank. The Colo River makes not a whisper of noise as we set up camp on a wide sand beach. A lyrebird, foraging beneath the river oaks, gives an occasional squark but the river moves swiftly and silently by. 

Cutting its way through Sydney’s sandstone basin the Colo River does have stretches where boulder and rock choke its narrow gorge and it becomes the same as any river - noisy and tumbling as water drops and weaves and crashes over small ledges. But these rapids are interspersed with long, flat sections of sandy riverbed and deep pools that smother and silence its voice. 

Much of the Colo River, in its upper, upper reaches, is quite inaccessible. The 361,000 hectare Wollemi Wilderness is, in fact, the largest wilderness in New South Wales, as well as the largest in eastern Australia between Cape York Peninsula and Tasmania. Within this wilderness zone, the Colo River, as it travels eastwards, enters an incredible 69km long gorge of towering sandstone cliffs and high valley walls. Within this gorge, there are a few unlikely access points that can be joined together to form anything from a 2-day walk to more than triple that.

As a taster of this new landscape, we chose the shortest option - 21km from Crawfords Lookout to Doolies Creek. This was a chance to experience one of Sydney folks’ favourite, rugged, weekend walks. It is a popular choice for Sydney bushwalkers because the route is also reasonably challenging, with steep access through sandstone cliffs that offer little but the drop below. Once in the gorge it is technically off-track walking, although a good footpad appears in several places, worn in by years of passing hikers. There is a long section of boulder walking through tightly packed water gums; there are tall sand banks to wade up and stumble down. The place abounds in beautiful sandy beaches, and sandstone caves for camping. There are deep, dark swimming holes. It is magic and beautiful.

The first stop on this walk, after parking at the end of Culoul Range Trail, is a small natural feature called Hollow Rock. It is worth the detour, or simply adding it on, as an out and back side trip, before or after the main walk. It is a remarkable feat of natural erosion, sandstone weathered into a pretty butter curl. For me, it raises doubts about man’s own artistic originality. Nature, it seems, always has form and shape and creative ideas first. 

There is plenty of online information about this walk. The best of these is Tom Brennan’s online track notes, which, although dated, are terrifically helpful. What they don’t describe is the pretty, pale and furry bark of the bloodwoods, the flowering wattle scent and the grey gums with their brilliant orange patches of new bark. Honeyeaters dash across the track in front of us, and the curious thrush follows along and stops to watch us pass as we follow a series of old fire trails towards Crawfords Lookout.

View from Crawfords Lookout

At Crawfords Lookout we are introduced to the mysterious Bob Buck. This man must have spent many days scouring these cliff lines for access to the silent river below. From Crawfords Lookout, we take Bob Buck’s Pass No 1. Eventually, we will walk out of the valley again, on Bob Buck’s Pass No 7. In the distance between, the passes become an intriguing and beguiling attraction. I am curious as to where the intervening numbers are amongst the cliffs that we pass.

Descending Pass No 1, the path is clear and well worn and supported by the occasional rock cairn. It drops down to Wollemi Creek, which we follow downstream for a kilometre or so to reach the Colo River. There is only one other walker down here - it is a wombat. We watch it nosing around the sandy forest. Further on, we pass someone’s camp cave. It is a perfect, dry shelter but I wonder at the need to leave it littered with personal possessions. I had hoped for more of a wilderness feel in this deep valley. There is, it seems, a natural human urge to own; to lay claim, to mark our presence. I can’t say it is one our traits I admire.

Our next sightseeing stop is an enormous, stunningly admirable Sydney Blue Gum, towering above the forest. Then, a quick photo stop at an imposing swimming hole with a wall of rock that drops straight into the deep, green water of the creek.

With the time it took to drive to the start of the walk, and our curious slow pace along Wollemi Creek, it is 3pm before we finally arrive at the creek’s junction with the Colo River. Here, the silence sets in; that strange sensation of standing by a fast flowing river but hearing nothing of its movement - no sound of water moving over rocks or gravel race. The riverbed here is a flat drift of sand.  The water is crystal clear. Looking around, the gorge walls now tower above and it feels as if I am inside the landscape. The valley is so deep and imposing.

The next day, we continue downstream through the Colo River Gorge, sticking to river right. A foot track comes and goes. Again, human presence is obvious - someone has carried with them a handsaw and cut the watergums in an effort to make a path. They have created more hazards than they have cleared - trees have new growth over their old cut stumps and branches. By lunch time I am cursing - having tripped and smashed my shins and shoulder on their hidden handiwork. The only truly interesting human traces I find are a cache of rusted, ancient tools - pick axe heads, crowbars, shovel. These are hidden under a small rock ledge, high above the river. Not far on, there is clear evidence of someone having dug into the rocks of the valley wall. I guess it is old gold diggings. It looks like hard, futile work. 

Not far from here we emerge onto a small cliff above the river. Directly opposite is a big side-gully whose force of water has eroded away the final wall of sandstone between it and the Colo River. Massive sandstone boulders have tumbled into the main river bed. Geology, water and erosion, wild nature - are the elements of powerfully, visual stories when you look. 

From here on, the route downstream winds slowly though patches of enchanting forest. We pass some big, rare Turpentine trees. A pretty Golden Whistler visits. The most brilliantly patterned Diamond Python I have ever seen, stops us in our tracks. It is coiled through low shrubs and flood debris. It is dark skinned with perfect spots of yellow on each scale then creamy dots formed into groups of four or five that made up the distinctive diamond pattern disturbing the uniformity of the other scales. 

Just before lunch, we are finally forced to cross to river left. This means it is not far from Dooli Creek and our exit ridge up Bob Buck’s Pass No 7. We cross, find pink tape marking the exit, then cross again to a campsite upstream - another lovely sandy beach. A white-breasted sea eagle visits late. There are rock warblers busy amongst the sandstone cliffs behind us. Yellow-tufted honeyeaters flash through the tree tops. 

Pass No.7 is not quite as audacious as Pass No.1, but it is steep, much longer than the walk in, and a pretty end to a stunning walk. We climb high along the sandstone exit ridge and are rewarded with wonderful, expansive views up and down the Colo River Gorge. It may be shortness of breath or the spectacular wilderness view, but I stand on the edge of one of the cliffs and watch the silent river, silently flowing far below us and I also fall silent.  

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