Sorry it's a bit long winded but so was the run.
No pictures from this run so not sure how to explain how it went, the morning started off quite sedately, the weather was perfect the track should be clear and dry and everything should be just right for a morning in the bush. We headed away from the Waterloo Park as a small group all with different aspirations about how far and fast we were going to run and as usual everything from there went awry. My plan was to run 45 mins out then turn around and head home hopefully in somewhere the same time for a 1 ½ hour run, the Gods of running were obviously toying with us from early on and blissfully unaware of our fate we happily toddled on our merry way. The first thing that hinted that we were being used for entertainment was at the fork in the track where you can decide which way you want to run, our fearless leader George suggested that the run to Pennant Hills was the way to go, some of us thought that the track straight ahead to Thornliegh was not a bad option, a bad sign for so very early in the run, democracy ruled which, as any person skilled in arranging a group of runners will tell you, is not a good omen.
After a solid run along the Great North Walk things seemed to settle down and after a while Thornliegh Oval appeared on our horizon and from here it became evident the Gods were out for some entertainment.
After regrouping it was decided that the return via Pennant Hills Park was the way to go and discussion had it that there was a second bush track that intersected the Oval where we then stood, just a little further around the perimeter from where we entered, to confirm this we asked a local elderly couple if this was indeed the truth and while not saying “no it doesn’t” they sort of agreed that there could be another track that intersected with the track back to Pennant Hills Park. Under the guidance of our fearless leader we headed off around the outside of the perimeter fence, with, I must admit a somewhat mystified look from our local advisors. After nearly circumnavigating the Oval it was decided that “no this is not the way” and we retraced our steps back to our fonts of local knowledge who were by now wearing that smug look of “I told you so” without actually have told us so. On further advice from our locals it was decided to back track to the previous trail we had arrived on but on the return trip to “keep straight ahead at “Lorna Pass”, at that time I fully expected John Wayne to gallop from the bushes and offer further advice but no, we were on our own following instructions from our local fonts so to speak. We did as instructed, I am not sure how many of us actually saw the sign too “Lorna Pass” as it resides about 300mm above ground level inscribed into a rock, never the less on we ran totally undaunted by our slight error. From here we ran through a number of lesser intersections and as the track we were hoping would take us back to civilization gradually fizzled into nothing more that a goat track and we arrived at our first of what can only be called “escarpments”. Comments from Steve K had us believing that we could easily traverse these vertical descents, all it would take is a quick first step off the edge and then run like mad until you reached the bottom, which I may add was indiscernible in the depths of the gorge. Not getting any takers for that grand scheme we decided that backtracking was our best option of ever seeing our families and friends again we headed in the direction of our local fonts, at some point here we ran across another chap walking along with a cane (looked vaguely similar to Gandalf after his punch-up with the Balrog), “been walking here man, woman and child since before Adam” said our new found font and blithely suggested we follow another track that would take us close to the Archery field and here our fearless leader said “no worries, I know where that is, just remember to duck”. And so on we plodded, fully revitalized by this latest turn of luck and the prospect of the end of our journeying either as some sort of pin cushion or at our planned destination.
Alas after many kilometres we were still found to be wandering around on tracks that hadn’t seen man since the invention of the wheel, is it just me or does everybody who runs always take a wrong turn that goes down hill, coming back is without fail uphill and always steeper that you remember it. You would not believe how many escarpments we found, it became a game of “you go on ahead and if you don’t come back in 10 minutes we will follow”, one really promising track had us all merrily heading into the nether regions of Mordor when again our van guard called “there’s the main trail”, there was only one slight hitch, we were on another escarpment and the track vaguely recognizable as such was at the bottom of a ravine and was just that, another track. Now Steve is undoubtedly a very good runner but I am starting to question the sanity of a few of the “very good runners” who inhabit the Striders membership, comments like “look you can get down here” said Steve and in his own personal world steps off the cliff and like the Man from Snowy River crashes down the mountainside in a flurry of bush and sticks and rocks and, just to prove that he is not the only one with the odd marble rattling solitarily around, we all, like “Lemmings” followed him.
At this stage of the run I was starting to have delusions about where we would all end up, things like newspaper headings in Mondays Tele “Striders Lost in the Bush” and “President Vows to Stamp out Bush Running” after interviewing Stephen are flashing through my mind, similar thoughts about ghostly images of green and white uniformed runners scaring children in National Parks pop up with comments wafting on the breeze like “turn left here, I know where I am now” or “this is the way, turn right here …….. OHH … maybe not” and “just step off here and we’ll be home for dinner”.
However, all things must come to and end and we did finally find the main fire trail somewhere along one of the deviations we discovered, I have a feeling that there are bush walkers out there even now saying really daft things like “you can go this way, look there are lots of tracks” and they too will eventually find an elderly couple walking their dog around Thornliegh Oval offering helpful comments like “well of course you can go that way dear, a bunch of Striders ran through here recently and never came back” another urban myth in the making.
A fun morning, thanks George, we all had a great if tiring run, even if it did take us 2 ½ hours to find our way home.
