Having shown you the civilised side of The Old Brush reserve, we now walk just beyond the mown edges and into the forest, where owner Robert maintains and marks kilometres of narrow paths.
They tempt you to walk into the wild side, but with safety, and to experience the greatly varied vegetation of the surrounding bush.
Robert has chosen the paths to take you through hillside forests and gully jungles, past luminous blue gums and thriving cabbage tree palms, the oldest, wartiest paperbark tree I have ever seen…
…and battle-scarred eucalypts so tall I can hardly see their tops.
They show the mighty but they also pass near such richness of detail that I keep stopping to marvel — like this tree trunk parcel, its bark so trussed in its vine that it can’t escape.
Or the coachwood (I think) whose roots resemble the claws of a strange bird, feathered at the ankle with moss and protectively clutching its green egg.
When the narrow tracks reach the valley again, give way to the broader mown and mossy expanses, and the statuary begins to reappear, I know I am leaving the wild behind.
It’s been an easy walk, even for my knees, and my rustic cabin by the billabong is just across the creek.
A glass of red awaits me, to aid my reflections on what a wonderful juxtaposition of worlds this place offers.