Coffee on the Kingston Foreshore

The Kingston foreshore is rapidly setting itself up as one of Canberra’s dining destinations. Eateries from the increasingly well known Morks Thai restaurant to a Mex Brenner shopfront are opening their doors, not to mention the local institution of Brodburger just across the street. Of course, restaurants and chocolate shops aren’t the only ones popping up; Canberra’s love of coffee is showing through as cafés make their presence known.

38 Espresso

A family-run café, 38 Espresso is so named for the family’s lucky. With their blackboard menus adorned with coffee-themed jokes and sketches of the daily specials, their walls decorated with the works of local artists and maze-like drawings on street signs, and their coffees accompanied by mismatched collectable teaspoons, they have created a friendly and quirky vibe for their café. While they aren’t among the numerous Canberra cafés that have taken to roasting their own coffee, they do have their own blend that is prepared especially to their tastes. The results are impressive, and easily pour the best flat white you’ll find in the area. Unusually for a blend, their coffee also presents well as a long black. Even more unusually, they offer Vietnamese style iced coffee for anyone wanting a reminder of their last trip to Southeast Asia. But their standout coffee is their cold brew. Although I’m not generally (or ever, actually) in favour of adding syrup to coffee, I can’t deny that the hint of vanilla they add to their cold brew complements the rich, almost chocolaty, drink perfectly. Food at 38 Espresso is reasonably good and varied, but coffee really is their standout specialty.

Mrs Sackville

Mrs Sackville is a cute café whose mismatched chairs, small antique stall and quiet ambiance might seem at odds with the trendy image of the foreshore. It is scarcely tucked away but, facing onto the glassworks rather than the boat harbour, it seems almost unnoticed by most passersby. Rather than making it feel uncomfortably different, it instead feels comfortingly like visiting a friend’s house for a chat and a cuppa.
While their organic coffee has a pleasantly delicate complexity to it, tea is the beverage of choice here. Handwritten menus at each table—each of which tries to be tucked into a corner, even when sitting in the open—lay out the range of loose leaf teas on offer. The food is prepared fresh in front of you, and has a pleasantly homely feel to it. Free range and organic are the catchwords on the menu. Trying an open chicken, avocado and bacon roll off the specials blackboard, I was struck by the intensity of the flavours, the ingredients perfectly cooked and presented to highlight each one. Like the café itself, the unassuming descriptions on the menu belie the quality of the food on offer. For a hearty café meal in Kingston, this is the stop of choice.

Paleo Perfection

The most recent café to arrive on the Kingston foreshore, only having opened its doors at the start of March, Paleo Perfection’s first few weeks have already built a good reputation and strong following. The owner previously sold her paleo-friendly chocolates at the Bus Depot Markets, where their popularity convinced her to set up a permanent shopfront. The café aims to provide food that is both healthy and delicious, and succeeds well at both goals. Whatever your dietary requirement, the odds are high that there are a few options on offer to suit. The gluten and dairy free muffins are a taste sensation, exploding with flavour. Lines are already forming for the tomato and bacon fritters in the morning. Their drinks follow the same ethos as the food, using some of Australia’s best milk to accompany their organic coffee beans. They have no bottles of “chai” syrup or powder on the counter, instead offering brewed chai sweetened with a dash of honey. Paleo Perfection has succeeded in making its healthy alternatives taste as good, or even better, than the originals. 

Remedy

Remedy is the latest of Lonsdale Street Roasters’ shopfronts, set beside the canal-mouth between the lake and harbour. Here, the usual Lonsdale displays of wall-mounted bicycles have been adapted to the local vibe, an old timber boat hanging from the ceiling instead, but Remedy is as welcoming toward cyclists as are its city cousins. They provide one of the only bike racks in the Kingston Foreshore area, conveniently close to their large, sunny outdoor eating area. Flute Bakery pastries sit tantalisingly on display, their backdrop a menu of different paninis. While the pastries are as excellent as ever, the paninis here don’t yet live up to their Braddon counterparts. Lonsdale’s single origin coffee beans continue to be their strength, pouring better than their blends as both black and milk coffees, although they are best enjoyed as long blacks.

Bowens Creek Canyoning

Day 2 of the 2014 Blue Mountains Extravaganza brought with it further predictions for rain, thunderstorms and possibly the apocalypse itself. The forecast had lost some credibility with us after the previous day's adventure had been relocated for fear of a storm that never came, but the terrible consequences of a flash flood while canyoning meant we still couldn't take the risk. Fortunately, we were intending to make our way down a canyon more forgiving than Claustral, and our plans could go ahead.

There are several canyoning sections in Bowens Creek (some of them with overlapping names) but it was on Upper Bowens Creek South that we set our sights. It was a new canyon for all of us, but its trip description had caught the eye of our intrepid leader. Starting with a car shuffle (to save us a 3km walk along the non-existent verge of a highway at day's end), we packed and set out along a ridgetop pad toward the start of the canyon. I've had difficulty looking for entry points to some canyons (most notably when spending half a day bush-bashing while trying to find Heart Attack canyon) but the pad took us most of the way without drama, and a steep scramble soon took us the rest. These muddy stretches of rock proved the most treacherous footing of the trip, quickly clogging the tread on our volleys* as we grasped at tenuous handholds.

A short jaunt alongside the creek brought us to the start of the wet sections, and a convenient campsite carefully cut into the hillside where we could don wetsuits. Most of the abseils on the section could be scrambled around, but they were more than spectacular enough to be worthwhile. The first abseil was also the least impressive, a two-tiered waterfall before we reached the canyon proper. Jess used our second line to set up herself and her camera up between the two tiers, although the drops constantly spattering the filter over her lens soon drove her away.

From there, we worked our way down to the first constricted section, accessed from an abseil that plunged into a deep pool alongside a waterfall. The banded sandstone walls of the narrow canyon arched in graceful curves up to the distant slit of sky. It was a short section before we emerged onto an open sunlit platform that marked the start of the next abseil. This one dropping through a waterfall into an even grander chamber of vaulted sandstone, its soft greens and bands of vivid orange revealed by lances of sunlight that slipped between the trees and rocks above.

We left our packs and wandered a short distance up the less grand but equally beautiful Corkscrew canyon. It was relatively easy to go back up the canyon, and we would have explored further had time allowed it. Another time perhaps.

Beyond the junction, the canyon opened wide once more to reveal forest bordered by sheer sandstone cliffs. A snack break in the dappled shade of a stand of Coachwoods, and we ventured onwards once more. Another canyon joined ours unnoticed in the forest, until we realised the water was suddenly flowing the wrong way. A quick backtrack found the right path again, and brought us to the next abseil. We avoided this one, not because we didn't want to do the abseil, but because our leader spotted what looked like a cave opening that might offer an alternative route. Some scrambling with handlines followed as we edged through his mysterious path and did indeed emerge near the base of the abseil.

A log slide descended into the next pool, an intruding sandstone buttress halfway down navigated with mixed success. While hanging sideways off the log, most ended up dropping into the pool below. Wading onwards, we soon found Hobnail canyon cutting into our path. We dropped packs again and went for an explore. It was similarly promising, but our time still didn't allow us to complete an entire extra canyon in reverse. Working back down to our packs, I managed to trip myself up. An outstretched hand saved me from the indignity of falling into the water, but the sudden shooting suggested what might have been a worse outcome. A few cautious prods and pulls at my right thumb produced some quite unfortunately familiar sensations. I'd partially torn my UCL a few years previously while skiing in New Zealand, and did not relish the prospect of going through the same recovery process again. Still, there was nothing to be done for it then but to keep my right hand out of the way and use my left for the steep scramble and climb out of the canyon. Fortunately, I've long been in the habit of practicing doing activities one handed so it wasn't too major a hindrance, which was kind of the point of all that practice. I'm not sure that I'm glad that it paid off, but at least it stopped my thumb putting a dampener on the end of what had been a superb, storm-free day of canyoning.

* I wrote at some minor length last year about my disgust with the new line of volleys, and have since been searching for my ideal replacement canyoning and watersports footwear. Although the matter remains unresolved for now, the deadline was recently extended when I managed to find a new pair of genuine Dunlop Volleys. They were tested on Malaita Walls and Bowens Canyon, proving their mettle by surviving with tread unscathed.

Related posts:
Prelude: Blue Mountains Extravaganza 2014
Day 1: Claustral Canyon

Check out Jessica Rose's blog for more amazing photos.

Claustral Canyon: A mission thwarted

Claustral Canyon, coveted and revered for its reputation as both a challenging and spectacular canyon. It’s a long day, particularly since a change to the access route added a few hours on to the walk-in. It’s also been the site of numerous rescues and the tragic loss of a group of canyoners. Why? After two abseils down waterfalls, the third abseil starts by plunging through a small opening in the rocks, known as the keyhole. In the slot canyon, any rainfall can raise the water level to block the keyhole, trapping canyoners with waterfalls behind as the water rises.

Claustral canyon is dangerous with even the prospect of rain, and we had to know just what odds we faced before attempting it. Rising long before dawn on Saturday morning, we gathered around smartphones that struggled for reception in the depths of Megalong Valley. When a brief signal broke through, it illuminated the stark reality of our situation. Possible thunderstorms were predicted throughout the mountains.

Thunderstorms are the great enemy of canyoning, causing flash floods to roar unexpectedly through the narrow slots cut into the sandstone mountains. Even short canyons can be deadly if a storm crosses through their catchment. A long day in a slot canyon with no escape routes and a compulsory abseil that could be easily flooded was out of the question. There were a few bad weather alternatives available. We chose one that I had used before when storms swept across the mountains.

Malaita Walls is a popular abseiling destination near Katoomba. A multi-pitch abseil down the cliffs rather than a canyon, it has zero chance of flash-flooding, some spectacular views, and is utterly exposed in both senses of the word.

We donned harnesses, piled ropes into our packs and set off down the short access track. It brought us to the mass of chains that make up the first anchor, some leading to bolts, others wrapped around rock formations. It’s one of the most substantial anchors I’ve used, reassuring when swinging over the edge of a 70m cliff, with unobstructed views of the valley below. Leaning out and looking down, you can see a rock outcrop 45m below you, the end of the first pitch. At least, you can usually see an outcrop.

Although the skies were clear overhead, fog filled the valley below us. Stepping off the edge to start the abseil, my destination was hidden by the swirling vapours below. Although I knew it was there, and that four people had reached it safely ahead of me, I was struck by a sudden spike of fear when confronting that wall of white. 

My old fear of heights has largely been scared away since I started abseiling. It could only withstand so many instances of me stepping off cliffs and throwing myself past overhangs to dangle in the open air. Occasionally though, its remnants rear their head. Descending, knowing I had to swing to the side but unable to see my destination, I had the mixed sensations of serenely descending through the tranquillity of a beautiful setting and the internal screaming from part of me that was convinced I was going to fall into that unknown at any moment. That juxtaposition is quite possibly what I love most about abseiling.

It was an uneventful descent, the mists punctured by the constant calls of an army group on the neighbouring route of Malaita Point. Their shouted communications echoing down the valley gave an impression of a well organised and professional group... although this impression was somewhat dampened by a call of "You're on pitch four, numbnuts!" and the distinctly audible argument that followed.

Our own abseils went smoothly, including the usual dry-canyoning balancing act of not moving too painfully slowly, but also not going so fast that out ATCs would heat up and melt the dry rope.

Photo courtesy of
Jessica Rose.

Emerging onto the tourist trail at the end of the route, we started making our way back up the seemingly endless staircase that snakes its tortuous way up cliffs that are far easier to abseil down. A lookout at the base of a waterfall provided a break for lunch, and led us to contemplate abseiling the falls.

Photo courtesy of Jessica Rose.

Distractions and temptation to go straight back down the cliff aside, we did reach the clifftop tourist centre eventually and made for another tourist destination. A quick check of a Norwegian weather forecast showed we were in the clear for a brief dabble in a wet canyon, and we were soon donning wetsuits for a trip down Empress Canyon. The canyon is packed with tourists during the late morning and early afternoon, but was quiet by the time we entered the water. Starting higher on this trip than on my last trip, we got in an extra couple of jumps before reaching the main trail head.

Empress Canyon has a nice mix of jumping, scrambling and sliding, all within its beautifully sculpted, narrow confines. My white water instincts kicked in partway down, screaming that it was not appropriate to scramble through a boulder sieve just because the water made it look easy, but it was otherwise uneventful. The canyon ends with an abseil down a waterfall, dropping straight into a waterhole that's a popular destination on a hot summer's day. I had missed the abseil on my previous trip, and did so again on this one. Worried about being caught behind a traffic jam at the top of the abseil, we'd left harnesses and rope in the cars. By the time we reached the anchors, there was no chance of having to queue up; the area was deserted. But, without any gear, we had to turn around and scramble back up the canyon to the access track. It was no great chore, since canyons are as much fun to go up as down, but the abseil will continue to taunt me until the next storm is forecast on a canyoning weekend.

Related Posts:

Prelude: Blue Mountains Extravaganza 2014

Day 2: Bowens Creek

For another take on the days events, not to mention some excellent photos, check out the trip report on Words and Wilds.