The Reinitz (Reinits) Pass
A DAY OF FUNGI
I had the script; there were warnings about lack of signage but explicit instructions as to where the walk went and how this area was a favourite haunt of rock climbers.
The lady at the National Parks office had recommended it which is why I was here. She told me to head down the Little Zig-Zag Track after Pulpit Rock. Like Bridal Veil Falls, there are two Pulpit Rocks in the Blue Mountains, hardly anyone has heard of this one.
At the early hour I started the mist had yet to rise and was spread across Kanimbla Valley, filling in the deepest holes. The pulpit at this rock is far more modest and you could almost envisage a prophet of some kind taking the high ground here in the 19th century as people gazed to the majesty beyond.
But I had other things to do and scrambled down the rocky road until I reached the sign indicating Reinits Pass, my chosen path for the day. Thereís a Bushrangerís Cave here as well and, though I took the short diversion, Iím not sure I actually found it; have to leave that for another time.
As I trudged on I started to notice fungus occasionally; then, when the trail deteriorated, becoming overgrown and difficult to follow at times, I saw even more fungi; yet none of them were the same species. They came in all shapes and sizes, from pinhead to fist size and came in a range of colours.
I was more focused on moving along though and when I reached Wilsonís Gully the gurgle of a stream distracted me and, on high, plunging over the cliff top, was a waterfall, one of two I was to encounter without names, for they are not of a permanent nature and this one could only be glimpsed through the trees.
Around here the trail defied its rating of ďeasyĒ. Frankly, it was steep, hard, at times washed away and, at other times, blocked by fallen trees. I can only imagine that a Mount Everest climber had given it that rating.
Along further I came to the base of the cliff and the second waterfall, tucked away 300 metres down a side track in a semi-circular section that it had eroded where plants clung tenuously to the vertical cliffs but a dead tree bespoke of harsher times in the mountains.
Here the trail was at times precipitous and the footing unsure; views over steep drops were not reassuring and the rain had used the track as a watercourse in places so it was far from easy and I had to stop on several occasions to gather my breath.
I moved into Wilsonís Glen (above Wilsonís Gully) and then started walking past impressive caves which I thought must be Ross Cave but no, it was even larger and closer to the houses which were about 400 metres further on. Soon I was out and walked back down the bitumen to my motorhome where all I could think about was having a sleep.