Mountain Springs Resort and Conference Centre
How has this resort rated in the past?
- Shuttle bus service
- Swimming pool
- Wheelchair accessibility
- Business Services
TripAdvisor Reviews Mountain Springs Resort and Conference Centre The Blue Mountains
Travel Blogs from The Blue Mountains
... the eerie music was leaking from the streetlights again, making it seem as though the apocalypse had happened and the entire outside world had been obliterated.Time seemed to dissolve as I waited, folding back on itself and spinning into circles so I forgot almost whether it was the beginning or the end. Or perhaps it was that time was revealing the truth of itself to me as something wholly interminable, like a labyrinth, something that ...
... marker, signing people's keepsake flags. It was immensely fun, but also tiring in the end. A great big explosion of energy that insisted on resolving itself in the most painful way possible (I was covered in inexplicable bruises when I woke up). Finally at some point between 2 and 3 am, I went to bed by necessity as I was due back on the desk by 6:45 am. I woke up once more at 4:45 am to people yelling outside my door and, going to investigate, ...
... a dark stage that stretches without end, with the softening curtains ripped away, with bright, harsh lights that reveal nothing. And so the first of the international workers will be leaving over the upcoming days. We will depart as we first arrived, a grinning, disparate line of backpacks and suitcases, catcalling and whistling, drunk with excitement, over-bright with fatigue. I want to fix everyone in my head just before they go. How did it look when ...
... something I wrote about once. So it is with the winter that is finishing. The old snow is now melting. Puddles expand into gritty lakes by the sides of the highways. Everything was frozen and then it wasn't, it was moving, it continues to transform. Everything is changing around me. The huge sheets of ice that have lain on the ground beneath my feet are rupturing, pulling apart and so I cannot trust my step anymore. And just as the ...
... moustache that looked fake and the heavy lumberjack shirt, told me of a girl he had met last year in that very hostel (he'd been living in the hostel a while, it seemed). Anyway, the girl was from Scotland, no less. She was a girl who had a grand plan to travel throughout Eastern Canada before heading to a ski resort and working her way through the harsh, painful Canadian winter. Hauntingly reminiscent of my own story, yes, but the overriding emotions awakened within me were ...