Taking a break from the bustle at Jenolan Caves
Night tour of ancient reef, gallery for nature’s artistry, places you in explorers’ shoes
JENOLAN CAVES, AUSTRALIA— Prawn crackers, strips of streaky bacon and a swirly ice cream cone.
I’m not having the world’s strangest dinner, I’m looking at the curious shapes of limestone rocks in the Jenolan Caves, the world’s oldest discovered caves.
Give water a chance, and a few millennia, and the sculptures it creates rival any modern art for creativity, and any children’s hand-drawn imaginary animals for wackiness.
I’ve driven close to three hours from Sydney to the Greater Blue Mountains Area to take the night tour of the River Cave, one of 10 “show” caves at Jenolan. By dusk, my car dodges kangaroos, a wallaby, two hedgehogs and a mid-size crawling critter I can’t identify.
Arriving, I’m greeted by affable guide Stuart Adams. He’s a caricature of a jolly, older Aussie gentleman. His comedy is dad-jokey and endearing, more goofy Steve Irwin than slick Mick “Crocodile” Dundee.
“The deeper we get, the better everything looks,” he says as we enter the cave. “Even I start to look good.”
We pass pockets of water dubbed the River Styx and the gleaming, light blue “Pool of Reflections.”
Glittering marshmallow-white stalagmites jut from the floor. No, stalactites. No, stalag — wait, what’s the difference? I should’ve listened in high school geography. Sorry, Mr. McDougall.
“Stalactites have to hold on tight because they descend from the roof,” Adams helps. “That’s a stalagmite.”
We detour into another cave, the Temple of Baal. It’s as magical as it sounds. Baal hosts the caves’ biggest shawl, a thin formation like a curtain of rippling streaky bacon.
The caves are like a darker-hued, conservative version of the Great Barrier Reef. In fact, millions of years ago, this was reef. There are seashell fossils embedded in the cave walls.
“Think of those early explorers,” Adams says. He turns the lights out, bids iPhones be darkened, and asks us to imagine exploring by the faint flicker of candlelight.
“They haven’t got Star Wars. They don’t have movies. To come into chambers like this, it would have hit your head.”
He means metaphorically. Although, standing six-foot-four, I’m literally moving my head like boxer Joe Frazier, bobbing and weaving between rocks as sharp as a razor.
Adams manages to involve everyone, but I can’t help but feel that nature is not a mass group activity. A gaggle of teenagers, especially one called George, do their best to disturb the peace. George thinks he’s a raffish, lovable rogue. James Dean with Snapchat. He’s not. He is, in his parlance, the worst.
We’re warned not to touch the walls. George touches the walls. I’m already bobbing and weaving like a boxer. Maybe I could clip George in the short rib? Our guide’s approach is better. Adams encourages and entertains the younger kids. He changes tack for mouthy teenagers. George receives a lesson in “sledging,” a barrage of friendly but acerbic criticism. It’s cricketing trash talk and Australians are the masters.
When George gets a little too un- ruly, Adams returns him to earth.
“Not everyone should have kids,” he says. “Sometimes the line should just end. You keep that in mind, George.”
George aside, the Jenolan Caves are a welcome break from the Sydney bustle and the burning sun. Especially if, like me, the sun feels you have personally insulted its mother.
The caves are also a reminder the world existed long before the British First Fleet arrived in Sydney, an event marked by a national holiday, Australia Day, which Aboriginal groups continue to protest, branding it “Invasion Day” and arguing it’s really a celebration of the end of Aboriginal life.
I arrive in Jenolan on Jan. 27, the day after Australia Day. As the tour begins, Adams recognizes this is Indigenous land, a customary greeting at Australian tourist locations.
Barely 50 steps later, just as we’re going underground, one of our party says, “if you get lost inside, we’ll get the Abos to draw straws to come and get you.“It’s one day after Australia Day, we’ve just been reminded this is Aboriginal land, and someone uses the slur “Abo,” which is historically derogatory.
I’m no politically correct liberal snowflake, but in Australia, I’ve heard too many seemingly reasonable people speak about Aboriginal people like they’re another species.
It’s not a reason to avoid this country any more than it’s a reason to avoid the U.S. or China. But it’s there, waiting under the surface to steal your breath, like the limestone formations that look more like prawn crackers, strips of streaky bacon and swirly ice cream cones than rock. David Bateman was hosted by New South Wales tourism, which did not review or approved this story.