A boat, a bus, and a train later, and I found myself in Katoomba. To be honest, the boat and the bus, though prior to the train, were unrelated to my journey from Sydney to that old-fashioned, little town.

Upon arriving there, I realized that I really had no idea where I was going.

Well, that’s bit of a lie. I suppose I knew all along that I didn’t know where to go. Rather than remedy this in a reasonable manner, I wandered aimlessly through the intense wind and insistent bouts of rain until I found myself remarkably moist and separated from a surprisingly immense drop by a small fence. This lead to paths and puddles and perilous feats. Okay, maybe not the last one.

So there I was, in my nice shoes, making my way down muddy or flooded paths, choosing my steps carefully and daringly leaping over flooded portions of the path. The mountain trail and I were alone, for which I thank the violent rain and bitter cold.

When applicable, I chose branches at random. They teach that sort of path-finding algorithm in computer science.

A number of lookouts crossed my path, and I stopped at many – seeing dizzying vertical cliffs, trees far below, and lots and lots of fog. At one lookout, in fact, I could see little else but bluish-white all around.

It was a trek easily worth the two hour trip by train. I wish I had had more time to traverse those mountainous paths, for they led deep into the unknown.

fly report: DIDN’T SEE A SINGLE ONE.
roommate report: the German girl moved out, and in moved 3 french fellows.