Red Hands Cave — Ancient Hands and an Unexpected Downpour

Our journey began in Glenbrook, where Karen and I stopped at a bakery for bánh mì before heading into Blue Mountains National Park. With lunch enjoyed and the afternoon ahead, we set off toward Red Hands Cave, continuing my exploration of the landscapes, histories, and spiritual connections of Dharug Country. At the park entrance we paid the $8 vehicle entry fee, with roughly 13 kilometres of scenic driving remaining before we reached the cave’s car park.

The road took us on a slow meander through the national park before we turned onto an unsealed stretch. What I estimated to be about five kilometres of dirt road felt considerably more like fifteen as we carefully negotiated potholes and puddles. There was plenty of scenery to enjoy, although keeping an eye on the road became an equally absorbing activity. Eventually, we arrived at the beginning of the walking track, ready to discover what had brought us all this way.

About ten minutes down the track, the sandstone shelter came into view. Beneath its overhang, a remarkable collection of hand stencils spread across the rock, their earthy pigments giving the wall a warm red glow. Some overlapped, drawing my attention from one outline to another. These were traces of people who had stood before this same wall, placing their hands against the stone and leaving something of their presence behind. NSW National Parks describes the artwork as including red, yellow and white pigments, with stencils made by blowing a mixture of ochre and water over a hand resting against the rock.

As I looked at the hands, I thought about the spiritual meanings associated with this place. A book called Blue Mountains Dreaming

recounts an account connecting the cave with ancestral spirits and children left there by the Great Spirit. It also records the site’s ceremonial significance for Dharug and other local Aboriginal people. These accounts added another dimension to my visit, although I recognise that a historical description offers only a partial understanding of a place whose cultural knowledge belongs to its custodians.

For me, the hands prompted questions about ancestry, belonging and the relationship between generations. Who had made them, and what had this shelter meant to those people? I could appreciate the beauty of the artwork without assuming I understood every story it held. Standing there was an opportunity to look, reflect and recognise the depth of human connection carried within a seemingly quiet sandstone overhang.

Just as we left the cave, the heavens opened. Our gentle bushwalk quickly became a very wet adventure as rain poured down and water ran along the track. We found ourselves navigating sodden paths and dodging increasingly large puddles, although avoiding a drenching soon became a lost cause. It was hardly the weather we had hoped for, but there was something wonderfully entertaining about the whole experience. We had come to see ancient hand stencils and ended up with an unexpected encounter with the mountain’s flowing water as well.

Making our way back through the national park, we decided to explore Jellybean Pool before heading home. Here we discovered a delightful pool surrounded by sandstone, cave-like recesses and extraordinary scenery. Despite the significance of Red Hands Cave, this was perhaps the highlight of the day for me. There was something about the combination of water and rock that made me want to linger and take it all in.

Eventually, we began the drive home. The day had brought together good food, ancient artwork, spiritual questions, potholes, a thorough soaking and the unexpected beauty of Jellybean Pool. Sharing it with Karen made the journey all the more enjoyable. Another chapter of my exploration had unfolded, leaving me with photographs, memories and plenty more to think about.