Part 2 of our Melaleuca 11-day adventure bore the scars of the wild part 1, sporting casualties of equipment and of the equipment’s users (namely, us). Nonetheless, we set out very happily: much as I adore mountains, I also love beaches, and I was really looking forward to seeing the wild Tassie SW coast for the first time since 2013. It has a very special feel to it, knowing you are at the extreme end of our remote and wonderful island. The beaches have a raw quality, and their isolation creates a distinctive feeling when on their sands, listening to the roar of the waves.
As we headed south for the Y-intersection that separates those bound for the South Coast Trail from those heading further west, I heard what felt like large numbers of the elusive Ground parrots calling to each other. As our approach flushed them out, several would pop up from the low scrub and move to a new position.
While we lunched at the Y, we were greeted by our friends, the OBP official monitors who were having a walk to Cox Bight in between their morning and late afternoon observation sessions. No Ground parrots were seen between there and our first goal, New Harbour Beach. This beach is very lovely, but everybody in the huts at Melaleuca had preferred Hidden Bay, so we rested briefly and then moved on another couple of hours to Hidden, where we set up our tents overlooking a creek that ran into the ocean.
It was only a few steps from the tent that was in rainforest to a white-sanded sub-beach with fresh river water, with its distinctive and appealing tannin colour, nicely contrasted with the pure white, rounded boulders. The evening was very mild, and we enjoyed sitting on the beach to cook our meal, and to then have a walk along the sea front before turning in to our tents.
I had a good sleep, lullabied by the sound of waves on the main beach, but Adrian and Leandra did not fare as well. Rain was due on the morrow, and Leandra was not happy with the water-tightness of the patch on her tent. Adrian meanwhile, had a hole in his sleeping mat, so was very uncomfortable on the hard ground once it had deflated.
And so, next morning Leandra decided to return to base and fly home early. Adrain went to his much-wanted waterfall, Georges Falls, Tasmania’s most SW waterfall. I had seen it from further afield, and its colour looked almost yellow, so I didn’t find the idea of going to it in the rain to be at all appealing – and I didn’t want to get my camera wet. I moved camp to NHB, while Adrian bagged the waterfall alone.
I got my tent set up before the rain began, so my belongings were safe, but I did do six laps of the 1 km long beach just to keep myself occupied. I had a warm base to return to. Whilst walking, I saw Pied and Sooty oystercatchers, Hooded plovers, a White-necked heron and more … and then a pretty soaked Adrian. When he later showed me the beautiful images he had taken of the falls, I deeply regretted my decision not to go with him. They were really wonderful. Adrian being the amazing person he is offered to go back with me the next morning before moving on.
I am so very glad he did that for me. I would only have been brave enough to view the falls from high above had he not been with me. The drop to the falls was highly confronting – almost equal to climbing Feder – as if you slipped on the near vertical slope, you only had button grass to hold (ie, nothing) and you would drop a large distance (70ms?) to the rocks below, where, if that hadn’t killed you, you would be rushed away by the eager water over another edge where you would drown or be further dashed to pieces. This didn’t thrill me.
Somehow I overcame my fear, due to Adrian’s encouragement, and lowered myself down to the water’s edge, ignoring for a while the fact that I also had to get back up that slope. By this stage the wretched sun had come out to ruin my shots with glare on the water, but I was happy just to be there. The rain of the day before had made the flow impossibly huge and not particularly attractive, and most of the best positions for photography were now under fast-flowing water. Adrian’s shots the previous day were far nicer than any I took, but at least I got there. I also went to the base of the lower falls, which was a much less scary undertaking than the base of the Upper ones.
After lunch, we set out in different directions, for Adrian sought the comfort of a mattress in a hut, but my gear was still left standing, so I decided to spend my final ‘free’ night on Cox Bight, so we parted at the Y. I had loved the fun of the company of the other two, but I also enjoyed the solitude of having that huge wild beach to myself.
I still have happy memories of being there with Bruce and our first-born daughter in 2002, at the start of a repeat trip along the more popular eastern beaches of the South Coast Trail. Sunset was pleasant without being sensational, but I really loved sunrise. Yet again, I took a ridiculous number of photos which then set me a daunting task once back home, as I had to process all those images. Sometimes my enthusiasm for the beauty of this world can be very annoying.