The photographer and I went for a walk along a branch of Sullivans creek. There’s a lot of beautifull photography, and a lot of very sordid graffitti to be seen along the way. More importantly Carey (my parent’s Jack Russell) got a good walk. In any event this is a tale of life in the drains.
This picture was taken under Northbourne Avenue. I was wearing a heavy coat and yes, a redneck hat.
The headwaters of the Blue Sullivan
All the way along there are morlock holes contributing their flow to the Blue Sullivan.
The upper reaches of the Blue Sullivan are criss crossed with these delicate bridges.
What was once the Downer Club is now a gleaming planetarium
But the trees from there offer up a view.
The Putt Putt Golf Course interrupts the landscape.
And then, this being Canberra, there are tennis courts and graffitti
Someone appears to have kicked down these saplings.
At the same point someone seems to have put to the test the idea that crossing power lines can have spectacular effect. Myth Busted!
The warning signs seem to give us the all clear. We’re not children and it wasn’t raining so hey, OK to play!
The landscaping was done in a rush so all the trees are in slightly eery lines. But the snowgums are striking.
Here’s a nice row of oaks
Pine trees round out the sets of rows.
We liked the turned leaves along the drain.
We’re a bit worried about Ben, somone doesn’t seem to like him.
The back of the Tradies is about as salubrious as either the front, or interior.
It becomes obvious that we’re behind Daramalan College.
Carey inspects another row of trees at the back of “the barracks”.
Carey takes in a lonely tree along the upper Blue Sullivan.
The old dominos building in Dickson has a rather distinctive piece of work on it.
The mancatcher has been working overtime, in the recent rains it appears to have caught two trolleys, someone’s gate, and a few dead animals if Carey’s interest is anything to go by.
Tradies, meets bike path, meets Narnia.
Our primitive cave painters appear to have tapped their inner neanderthal.
Wishfull thinking defines our neanderthals.
Crossing under Northbourne
Let’s face it. Dislike of anyone called “Sarah H” is a universal message. And I really like how someone has felt the need to mark out a “4” message.
Dislike of Ben is common under all the bridges near Daramalan.
Someone called Peanuts has a high opinion of himself.
Here we found more anti-Ben material. Apparently by someone called Marcus.
The quest for love amongst drain dwellers is well away. Carly loves someone, but even she isn’t sure.
Magpie, trolley, rusty wire…
Here’s a well maintained Housing ACT property.
Two streams join as we work our way down.
The photographer thought this was a chunk of petrified wood. I thought it was just a chunk of wood. Finding this weird thing growing on it’s underside proved me right but offered no insight as to what this bizarre thing is. Note the photographer’s thumb cunningly provided perspective.
Silver Birches in winter have a beauty all their own.
This looks like a partiularly determined (not to say foolhardy) set of tractor tracks to me.
Note the reflection of the bridge in the backwater. Also the silt built up under there.
We liked the effect of the underside of the bridge.
Someone is angry and having trouble expressing themselves.
In the silt the comings and goings of the lesser drain dwellers become clear.
The oaks arc nicely along our drain.
The view of the autumn leaves from the drain is well worthwhile.
TelstraYama presented itself
The White Sullivans joins our Blue Sullivans a bit further on. But the Sullivans Creek wetlands project has created a backwater here. I suspect they pump from it as the pseudo wetlands are a good couple of metres higher than any other waterflows.
The signs at the wetlands project have an interesting spelling of tributary.
And here are the startlingly elevated wetlands.
Diverting ourselves to take in a pint at All Bar Nun we noted that the O’Connor barber’s shop has it’s own piece of Street Art with which to advertise its wares. We were uncertain if the dog was a planned part of the work.
Praise God Almighty all this working has made me thirsty and All Bar Nun is a very short walk off the path.
The public art at O’Connor shops sets irresponsible precedents of which I heartily approve.
Someone wanted to make sure the other drain dwellers knows that Alex Csomor is gay. This legend appeared all over the bridge, in one case it includes Alex’s phone number. The photographer felt Alex had suffered enough without putting his phone number on the internet.
A Matrix fan is taking it all a little too seriously.
The wonder of stormwater sand is overseen by a symbol beloved of teenage boys.
We find the face from the old Dominos in an earlier form.
A particularly advanced form of stencil spray painting. We couldn’t help but wondering if Aidan Bruford had moved on.
Just underneath is a surprisingly effective work.
The bikepath runs through the trees next to the drain in a particularly pleasing way along
Carey; nature versus nurture, an otherwise sensible dog wrestles her instinct to dive down holes and kill a fox.
A home entertainment system appears to have met a large amount of chinese fireworks down here in the drain.
To surprisingly beautiful effect.
Carey takes in the reflection of the leaves in a minor backwater created by irregularities in the concrete blocks.
Cold fingers make their homage to winter
The photographer takes a look up the trunk of a poplar
Craig Collins on the other hand has left his mark on the cold fingers.
Carey observes the wonderful reflections that the backwaters in the displaced concrete blocks can create.
We thought this tree looked a lot like a bonsai, only it wasn’t small. So not much like a bonsai really.
The morlock holes give way to hatches as you get closer to the center.
It looks like a Calvin and Hobbs fan has been quick off the mark in getting to the wet concrete.
Now here’s a sentiment to gain bipartisan support.
And the mesage “Go John” is worthy of more respect. Allthough “I do not have any money is obviously the work of scum.
Carey takes in a piece of gross defamation with admirable equinamity.
Carey in an action pose as she leaps into the drain to provide perspective on what must surely be the world’s tiniest emergency ladder. This was a few metres back upstream from the main tributary
Whoever drew this has an amazing talent. Personally I think CMAG should be digging this up and putting it on display.
You might not like street art, but it certainly is colourful
We discovered concrete crop-circles of uncertain provenance or purpose.
The force of the recent rainfall is clearly evident here.
And now we find the brutalism of the Sullivans Creek Settlement pond. Complete with Canberra’s greatest concentration of street art. Much more to follow.
And the spray boys and girls certainly lack environmental awareness.
Ever wonder where all those tennis balls down the drain ended up?
Here they are.
Foul though it is there is no shortage of ducks in the pond.
Skirting the settling pond we came across a thouroughly painted building.
The reverse side of the building has had a similar treatment.
So how does all this graffitti turn up despite the fences? I’m glad you asked.
Down in the settlement pond Kang chows down on the blue letters.
We were particularly impressed with the Dark Man. Although the photographer foolishly thought it was a pirate.
You have to wonder if the old guy in trench coat, surrounded by tentacles, isn’t a person of some intimate experience to the author of the work.
Seen this before? It’s from between, and underneath, Barrry Drive.
And then the garish bar at ANU hove into view.
University Avenue, from The Sullivans
And then we have the willows which endure in the University despite the animosity of the ACT Government to the breed.
I’m pretty sure this bench was the one where I got to third base with a girl for the very first time. I was a late starter and was 18 at the time. The photographer was extremely unhappy about taking this one.
Hope you enjoyed the walk as much as we did!