Wollondilly River - Cicada Bonanza

From Mittagong, as soon as we leave the paved road and hit the unsealed Wombeyan Cave Road, the single track follows steep forested switchbacks leading ever further into magic valleys. Signs ask drivers to 'sound horn on the bends'. For km after km, we hug the mountainsides to wind deeper down the Wollondilly valley.

Driving into the station in the early evening, the  first sight is a graveyard of vehicles. To the left, is a ramshackle wooden verandah and outside on the right, is a man hunched in a clapped out vehicle. He is eyeing us fixedly, not least because he has one eye, the other side of his face has been stoved in.

This is Brian, the owner, reputed for giving short shrift to those who haven't booked in advance. As he hobbles out of the car in a wave of dogs and greasy overalls, he is not best pleased because today he is recovering from a hernia. In front of the car stands a table with a fixed phone and a tattered book - this is the open air office. The phone suddenly rings and the lady at the other end gets an earful for not making sense, before he abruptly puts the phone down. "Your vehicle over there four wheel drive?", asks Brian, then adds " where the fuck am I going to put you?" as a sidenote. He scribbles a mud map on the back of the book, then happy to leave the slightly spooky scene, we find our own way to the riverside campsite.

Our site has a stone fireplace which is nobly topped by a water dragon absorbing the last of the day's heat from the stones.

We settle down for the night and are woken a few hours later by two people searching with torches up trees. Next morning when we look at the outside of our campervan, we see what they were looking for.

Clinging to the sides of the tyres are several skin cases from hatched cicadas, plus a delicate motionless cicada not yet spotted by the birds. Friarbirds, treecreepers and more birds are feasting on a bonanza of cicadas. Gen spends the day on her knees capturing macro pictures of insects; I take my lead from the water dragon and laze in camp or walk up the trails where I spot a 1.5 metre lace monitor and ground-hopping white-winged choughs.The evening is barbie time, so I displace the water dragon from the fireplace and grill double-whopper burgers followed by baked banana in chocolate.

 
Next morning, we discover more cicadas on the tyres. As Gen crouches down to take macro shots, we have competition: a small bird dives in for the kill and hovers inches from our heads, but we defend our cicada who lives to chirrup a couple of hours until he is picked off by a white-winged chough.