After the English fields I've crossed, this is a cinch

Hey! We're bushwalking! Doesn't that word conjure up some image. I bet you are filled with expectation that we're strapping forty litres of water to our backs, donning hats with corks and setting off thataway, walkabout style, temperatures 40C in the shade. We may live off grubs for the next seventy days, and if I don't come back alive, you can bet I had fun going.

Bushwalking round these parts also seems to mean stroll a few hundred yards uphill on concreted paths to a summit. Here you'll find a wide and sturdy platform to take your photo opportunity. Tomaree Head Summit Platform to be exact. 160 metres above sea level, commanding panoramic views of Port Stephens.



This walk up the park is a regular weekend thing to be doing for some exercise and there's troops of folks trudging up and down. The kid in front of our party is springing up barefooted.

But this doesn't detract one bit from my pioneering exploratory soul and I take full advantage of my knowledge that I am actually bushwalking, so can freely imagine myself gutting skinks and digging out Wittchety grubs. Yup, I do.

I do, also, take advantage of the splendid photo opportunities afforded by the excellent and sturdy summit platform which can easily accommodate twenty-plus overweight tourists wielding heavy duty camera equipment.



A satisfying day. Next I may try the Sturt Desert if it has a boardwalk.