Messages From the Pigeon House
by Callum B. Downes
Surpassing the depths of infinite horizons, encompassing all that exists momentarily for all eternity, awe-inspiring, wondrous and sublime, the impregnable deluge of eucalypt suffocates rugged landscapes beneath its gnarled extremities. Dwarfed by the imposing cliff tops, so delicately fashioned over immeasurable episodes of climatic turbulence, attempts to comprehend the enormity of the immediate panorama remain ever fleeting. Further attempts to quantify the span of the Earth only serve to confiscate the breath from my lungs.
Meditating on such profound notions is inescapable once I perch atop the craggy outcrops of Pigeon House Mountain, a formidable beacon amongst the desolate, yet thriving wilderness of Morton National Park, located on the New South Wales south coast. My state of lucid reverie is accentuated as the scent of the endless gums greets my nostrils and the gentle rustle of their limbs soothes my soul. A just reward following the grinding accent upon this natural monument, which due to its box like summit, lends itself aptly to its title when viewed from below and afar. Limitless varieties of native Australian flora surround the unrelenting track that provides a steep challenge, capped off with a man made ladder system during the final climb to the summit.
Embracing the 360-degree views of ancient gorges immediately to the west, juxtaposed against the rolling green pastures bordering the glistening ocean far to the east, truly is an invigorating experience. Denying myself of further peaceful reflection, I’m eventually convinced to embark upon my decent and re-entrance into the hustle and bustle of everyday life once again.
Ironically, I leave the car park in a cloud of I dust and contemplate the importance of maintaining our beautiful environment, aching at the thought of how our existence only serves to destroy it.