We leave the busy, seemingly properous town of Mudgee. I usually judge a town’s prosperity by its numbers of coffee shops, and this town has lots. Maybe this isn’t scientifically acceptable, so I’ll listen to a long term country friend of mine who says it’s to do with Mudgee’s growing wine industry and its proximity to Sydney Today, walking around town I see evidence of this with many motels and hardly a space free for another car.
Then it was over some mountains, along cliff edges with inadequate safety barriers through gorgeous valleys and through Hargraves, a tiny humble town on a corner as a mountain joins a valley to our main destination – Hill End. And what a contrast. There was a handful of people at the town’s one coffee shop; one drinker at its one pub, no-one at its only store during our two hour stay, and two of us walking the six kilometre walk to a lookout over some foothills from our mountain lookout. Once again my research study is very limited and the one coffee shop was full!
We were not to be disappointed at our ‘river of the day lunch spot’ on the small quick flowing Turon, as it caressed the stream’s coloured stones close to its surface. A little island looked on as the sun offered tiny glints. This small performance was just below the seemingly desolate town of an old mining town called Sofala. With its score or two of houses, Sofala seemed more like a city when compared to Hill End, except there were about a dozen folk in the only place open in town. There was no apparent coffee shop…..but I won’t go there.
On our way out of Sofala, destination – Wentworth Falls, we headed up another mountain listening to a song I like – “Stairway to Heaven”. In anticipation of reaching heaven in just a short time, I was excited. It was only on post reflection but what we did see at the top was what I would call – a small plateau. I can’t remember seeing my definition of a plateau anywhere on this trip.
Then it was through the famed Wollemi that we didn’t have time to give it its due respect, so next time. A walk through the quiet but peopled streets of Lithgow, brushing the outdoor museum which is Little Hartley, up to Mount Victoria that cops the first western bushfires through other mountain villages, and on to a ridge on the eastern side of Wentworth Falls.
My poem tonight does not tie in with anything but I wrote this poem about a short movie called The Last Leaf. I found it memorable and it gave hope to me and hopefully other late starters that it is never too late to achieve your dream.

The last leaf was the reason she was living
Its beauty it could equal any art,
The vine was tired from all its years of giving
It also needed reasons to restart.
She said she’d live until the last leaf fell
So much, her youth, it still had lots to give
He wished for legacy so he’d die well
With both still searching for rea-sons to live.
They found the old man lying in the street
His paints and brushes scattered all around,
A fallen ladder resting – task complete
Victorious, his masterpiece he’d found.
His life now full of meaning he could die,
She’ll never know, but what a lovely lie.