Inglis Escarpment 2024 Apr

Inglis escarpment is not a name on the map, but where we went has no name, and I had to call this blog something, so I settled on Inglis Escarpment: after all, Mt Inglis was up behind us and we were on a wonderful escarpment with grandstand views, so hence I have given the area that blog name so I can refer to it.

Ramaria samuelsii. Not too many fungi, but at least we got some.
Adrian out the back of Cradle
Me. Thanks Adrian

I went with my waterfall bagging friend, Adrian. As with our last trip, we had hoped all four of our group could come, but Caedence is off playing cricket in England (congratulations) , and Leandra had other commitments, so the group was whittled down to two.

Nothofagus gunnii doing its thing.
Pretty waterfall

Our basic plan was to spend more time in the beautiful Bluff River Valley, and revisit Tomahawk Falls. That was the reason given, but really, we both just love spending time in off-track wilderness, imbibing new views and enjoying new vistas on the grand scale, and delighting in the minutiae of nature closer up.

Russula persanguinea plus a waterfall. does it get better than that?
Bit of water bashing, bit of scrub bashing … our idea of fun.

To get off track there, you have to first swallow a fair bit of the Overland Track with its necessary boards and stonework, but we dealt with that pretty efficiently. It hurts the feet, but at least you move through it fairly quickly, and the scenery is still lovely. We had our first short break at Kitchen Hut, another even shorter at the Igloo, and an early lunch somewhat near the Lake Will turnoff, before heading off in that direction to begin other wanderings.

The wise girl pitched her tent upon the rock??? And the wiser man pitched his near a protective bush. No problems: no wind was forecast and no wind came. Thanks for the lovely shot Adrian.
Taken from my tent. Talk about lazy.

As you can see from the photos, we visited pretty waterfalls, and got a marvellous sunset. I have to confess that several photos were taken from inside my tent, as it was starting to get pretty cold after the sun had set. We were so busy exploring nearer falls that we didn’t have time to get to Tomahawk on day 1.

Innes Falls
Sunset. Inglis Escarpment. Sigh. This is also taken from my tent, as it was now getting very cold.

This was intended to be a four-day trip, but when we awoke to rain on day two, and saw the latest forecast was for rain for all the rest of the trip, we decided that we didn’t want to photograph in the rain, and neither did we want to hang around in our tents doing nothing. Walking out in the wet is much nicer than sitting being inactive, so we packed up our gear and returned home, saving Tomahawk for another trip.

Time for man to go home. Lake Will.

Adrian’s stats say we walked 60,000 steps in the two days. My watch says we did 10 hours 40 mins pack-carrying walking (not including any breaks or non-pack exercise), the time pretty much divided evenly between the two days. This was a nice amount of exercise. The rain wasn’t too heavy; the world is good. We both felt perfectly content that the trip had been worth it.

Blackboy-Mathinna circuit.

Having once climbed Mt Blackboy by the easy route, I was not all that interested in a repeat, but today we took it head on and did a traverse along the high rocks, and that made it a totally different and really fun experience.

Fingal Valley

Not only did we attack the boulders from their most challenging angle, we also began way, way down at Mathinna Falls, giving us a climb of over 500 ms in the process, and not from the nearest road access as is normally done if you only have bagging in mind.

Hypholoma australe – these were near the carpark, before the real fun began.

The actual climby bit was probably only about 2kms horizontally. Do your maths: that’s STEEP. People from our small group were falling and slipping the whole time. It only counted as a fall if you landed on your bum or worse. I was relatively unscathed with only three falls. Several of my friends got into double figures. One specialised in quite spectacular landings.

Delvin Ck track to falls

Even just standing talking waiting for the rear to catch up, you kind of slid down the slope unless you grabbed a sapling to prevent the descent. I was sure I spotted a flat bit of ground somewhere down below (and John backed me up); this became a source of many jokes as we tumbled our way downwards.

Russula viridis – very pleased to find this one! You don’t see them often.

Sorry for the lack of photos of rocks and forest: when you are above your head in ferns, it’s hard to get a shot, and the rocks were reached in midday glare, which I don’t find conducive to pleasing photography. I leave the massive and alluring boulders to your imagination. Meanwhile, if you know me, you know I love fungi.

Dermocybe canaria. I have also not seen very many of these in my hunting.

I was quite proud of how clean my pants still were at the finish – ripped and muddy pants were the norm by the end of the day – until I got home and discovered a huge red patch base right, courtesy of a hitchhiking leech.

Blackboy Falls from above. We could see them, even if you can’t. This was as good as it got today. Work in progress!

We also visited the top of a waterfall en route, which, given its location and in order to be able to talk about it, I have dubbed Blackboy Falls. (It is an unnamed blue line on the map). We lacked time to visit the base, but at least we have now seen it, and have also (of course?) plotted our route for a more extensive, close-and-personal visit some other time. As it was, we didn’t get back to the cars before 5 pm, and it was more than dinner hour by the time we returned to Launceston. It’s worth being hungry to have had such a fun day. Very little beats real bushbashing, with its engagement with nature, and its total workout value. Keep Tassie Wild.

Traversing the ferns back near the bottom. Thanks for the photo Phil Andrew, who, being taller than I am, had a little less trouble taking a shot in the jumble.

Angel Falls Mt Sarah Jane

Angel Falls, near Mt Sarah Jane, are best seen after good rain. I decided last Wednesday was my day. The weather map predicted that Tuesday would be cloudy with maybe a little rain, Wednesday perfect, and Thursday and Friday back to rain.

Getting near the top the clouds started getting quite dark

Living in the north, there is no way I can drive down on the day I want to see the waterfall. And, if I am driving down the day before, then, it makes sense to lug my tent up the mountain and sleep there, all ready in position for the morning’s splendour, and enjoy sunset and sunrise from on high. Maybe I can even get in some astro photography too. That would be great.
Tuesday was, as predicted, cloudy, but it wasn’t raining. I drove my dog to Hobart, gave her a walk, had lunch and then continued on to the South West. I was carrying a tripod and three days’ worth of food and gear, just in case it was so lovely that I wanted two sunsets up there. This made my pack rather heavy, so I was thrilled to only take 3 hrs 15 to be breasting the top of the climb.

Dark clouds brought out the colours

Bam. The wind punched me in the face. Hey; this wasn’t predicted! The clouds got darker. The wind was gale force up there so I dumped my pack and spent an hour searching for the perfect spot, which had shelter from the blast and a view. It didn’t exist. In fact, I couldn’t find anything particularly tolerable, so chose a spot that had access to water and a tiny bit of shelter by being in a bit of a hollow. Anyway, as there was no view to be had, that didn’t matter any more. So much for the sunset and astro photography.

Mt Sarah Jane from “behind”

I tried to pitch the tent, but the wind kept ripping out the parts I had attempted to secure. I finally got it up, tightened the guys and crawled in to get out of the battering. It was such a relief. I wondered if I was going to get a match lit to cook with, but in between gusts I grabbed my chance. Whew. I was hungry.

A pretty tarn along the way

That night I did not get much sleep. The gusts were loud and destructive. They ripped a peg out so my tent started flapping badly. I went out to re-place it, and added my snow pegs that I’d also brought up for extra stability and anchorage. I started making plans for what I would do should the tent blow down. I know I am not capable of repairing a tent in a gale without help. Plan B was to abandon the collapsed, bucking tent and begin back down the mountain by torchlight, leaving everything else behind. I also know from experience that you can’t find anything if the wind collapses your tent, as each gust just throws everything around. So, I donned what I would need to wear if escaping down the mountain. I even wore my torch to bed so I could find it with no searching.

I love her pointy backside

The gusts became less damaging at about 2 a.m., and I was able to get in a few hours sleep before waking at first light, which had very little light to offer. I could not even see my mountain, the mist was so thick and the clouds so grey. Where was this perfect sunshine I had been offered? The wind was still uninvitingly strong. Time to doze some more. At 7 a.m., I decided I might as well eat breakfast, but I was not going out in that. It started raining. I ate. By 8 a.m, I decided I might as well get out and do what I had come to do. The day was not in any hurry to be nice to me.

More love

So, off I set into the wind and clouds. Some photo this would be. It was hard to even hold the camera steady. Lucky I had my tripod. The light did make the colours very beautiful, and I got used to the wind. Although this is my third time up there, this is the first time I have had the liberty to properly gaze at Sarah Jane. She is actually very beautiful. When I climbed her in 2015, I neither saw her nor the view. When I passed by in 2016, my focus was on our goal of Lots Wife. This time I gave her the attention she deserves.

Angel Falls where I popped out, nice and close, but I was too scared to look over the edge in case the wind gusted. I sat down to take this photo, keeping myself very low.

I had all day and was in no hurry. I just ambled along, enjoying myself now I was getting used to the wind and the gusts were not so bad. Navigation to my goal was not challenging. I popped out of the scrub just above the spout. The spot does not give a brilliant view of the whole waterfall, however, and I could see where I needed to be to get the angle I wanted. It was maybe 80 metres away.
I took over half an hour to reach this spot, as the slope is severe and the penalty for slipping over the edge, infinite. The bush was excessively thick. I couldn’t even see where the edge was and was not in a mood for experimenting. I have seen people fall many metres by taking an extra step that they thought was onto ground but it was just greenery that looked like ground and gave way beneath them. I would fall a great deal more than “many metres”.

The whole falls seen by climbing a tree.

So, what did I do? How did I get a view, especially considering my big height disadvantage? I climbed a tree, of course. The photos you see are taken by me up a tree, hanging on by one hand and attempting to hold the camera still in the continuing gale with the other.  I was many metres above the ground, so my tripod was to no avail.
Back at the tent, I had an early lunch, still waiting for the day to improve. I packed up, still waiting. There was no point in staying an extra night, and, besides, the wind meant the next night might be just as sleepless as the previous, so down I went, back to the car, real food, my dog and my Hobart family. Gussy and I had a lovely night reading together and doing wordle and square word. It was so soothing to have warmth, shelter and loving company. I seemed to eat rather a lot of ice cream.
Please note: The bucking tent I have experienced is not my Hilleberg. It was an Exped Extrem. I ordered my Hilleberg the next day, but the memory of that bucking tent will never leave me.

Hidden Falls Orford

Hidden Falls Orford

Tasmania boasts three Hidden Falls, but the Hidden Falls at Orford are the first and the real Hidden Falls, being on the map, for a start. Today I was lucky enough to visit the Hidden Falls Orford for the first time, being invited to join my Waterfall Friends. It is such fun to visit waterfalls with people who not only love being there, but who understand when you want to get out your tripod and camera because this scene looks worth that kind of effort.

Hidden Falls Orford

Of course we got out the gear for the main ones, Hidden Falls, but we also paid Drizzle Falls , seen on the way home, the courtesy of a proper shot. A different small waterfall on a tributary of Griffiths Rivulet east of the main Griffiths Rivulet that harbours the Falls of our mission, was only permitted a few handheld shots, so I guess it can consider itself the ugly duckling of the day. I was going to let you judge for yourselves, but really, this blog is about beauty, and I decided that Ugly Duckling Falls, as I am going to call them here, are just not worthy of an appearance. This is probably my fault for not getting out the tripod, but that’s just how it goes. It’s a harsh world.

Adrian and Caedence show their style skipping stones. Rob watches on. Caedence is an ace cricketer, so he is no doubt using some of that technique here.

For our directions and basic information, we consulted the blog of Denis at
and liked his advice, so used his route for our way out, parking just short of Three Thumbs Lookout, and then following an old road, made all the nicer for the fact that no vehicle could get to use it. It was, however, a road, and roads will be roads, even if no cars can come along. It was wide and stony, so I was very glad when the time came to leave it and start bushbashing. On the trip to Orford, there had been lots of beautiful frost everywhere, but it seems that this translated to a large amount of dew in this bush, as I got pretty saturated leading us down, and was very grateful when Adrian took over to lead us up the other side. I was a tiny bit miffed that his section was open and dry, but, well, such is life, and I was not so miffed that I couldn’t enjoy walking through such open forest.

Boys being boys

The saddle and ridge on top reminded me of fun orienteering days, and we followed the open ridge along to the left a bit before dropping steeply to our goal. The best views of the falls involved our crossing the creek, but I found a spot that didn’t involve my getting wet, so all was good.  I don’t like wet shoes when I still have over 6.5 kms left to go.

It was quite steep in places. Rob climbing

After the obligatory photos from a few different perspectives were taken, and lunch enjoyed, the guys got into stone skimming. Some great shots skipped right up the first level of the waterfall. I smiled to myself about bushwalking with boys: Gussy threw snow on Tuesday; these guys were throwing stones today. I joined in, but not with the same success. At least my stones bounced, but not as well or convincingly as theirs.

Rob climbing

Adrian mooted the idea of a different route back, and we all approved. A circle is much more fun than out and back, so we followed the ridge once we’d climbed it, and rejoined the Griffiths Rivulet via a tributary to the east, which kindly offered us two more waterfalls, albeit small ones. After that came a long slog up the steep hill. Either the bush had dried out a bit as the day progressed, or Adrian soaked up all the moisture ahead of me, but I didn’t seem to get wet at all on the rebound.

Drizzle Falls. They may be smaller, but I found them to be the most picturesque falls of the day. They are not on the map.

After we levelled out at the top, we expected a long flat road walk to the car. That is what we appeared to have had on the way out. To our surprise, someone had lifted the ground while we were at the falls, and we just kept having to go up … and up … and up, seemingly forever, until about 50 metres before the car, when we were given a crumb of easy downhill.

Drizzle Falls with a 5 second exposure to play around with the fun currents of water. I wonder which you prefer.

Stats: Vertical 645 ms climb; horizontal 13.18 kms, which yields 19.63 km equivalents. This involved 1 hr 43 moving for the 6.68 kms out, and 1 hr 49 moving for the steeper but shorter 6.5 kms return. When you include stops for photos, clothing changes, etc, we spent 2 hrs 10 on the outward journey, and 2 hrs 35 on the homeward one.

HIdden Falls route

Bruny weekend 2022 May

I had had a glorious day on Bruny, shooting coastal scenes and fungi hunting on Mt Mangana, and now made my way towards my accommodation. My hopes were high. When you pay $650 for one person for two nights, you expect to be really treating yourself. Well; I do. My companions agreed. I am not usually so extravagant, and regard this as a large amount of money to splash out on myself just for two nights, but decided to do it anyway. I have stayed at several places – even on Bruny – that were more in the $230/night zone, and have had very comfortable and quasi luxurious stays. I was expecting something pretty wonderful for this amount of money.

Neck Beach Bruny. My first morning. Holiday off to a great start.

Google implied it was at the end of the Cloudy Bay road, so I drove along, waiting for a sign. I found none, and arrived at the breach. Luckily some locals were there, and they told me to backtrack and I would find, tucked away, a somewhat obscured driveway. With the extra advice, I found it. Not for the first time, I was VERY glad I was not arriving after dark!

Lycoperdon perfotum Puff Ball – such an interesting texture

I found the lock marked for my accommodation, and applied the code. The thing fell apart as it collapsed onto the sand. I grabbed my key, but didn’t dare put it back into the broken lock box. There were many padlocks on this gate, none marked. I needed to try every single padlock before the key fitted something. Good old Murphy.

Lepista fuliginosa Mt Mangana

The old gate was heavy, and its own weight pulled it back to the centre the whole time. I was faced with the problem of keeping it open while I drove through. I searched around for a rock or a stick to aid me, again happy that I was arriving in the light, which I don’t always do, being a photographer who shoots the sunset and then goes to her accommodation. I found neither rock nor stick. My best aid was a fern frond. These are not very strong, so I was nervous, but made it.

Bakers Beach Bruny

On I drove on the sandy, windy road. B had said ten minutes, but I was sure I would be slower than he was, but as twenty minutes approached with still no sight of my cabin, I realised that my rendez-vous with my friends in the pub for dinner was going to be impossible. I could not do this in the dark. Besides, there were endless turnoffs and choices to be made. Maybe later, but on my first night I needed to get a bit used to this place and its driveway. That was a good decision. In the morning I got lost trying to get out, and landed up under someone else’s bedroom – a someone else who had rented a beautiful cabin made of glass, so I and my car would have been very visible as I approached their bed at 8 a.m.. We were possibly both as shocked as each other.

My view

Anyway, at last my cabin materialised. Marvelling that anyone with a mere two-wheel drive car could make that journey, I headed to look through “my” windows at the grand place I had hired. Oh. The curtains were aged and drab. The mock wood of the kitchen cupboards had been tossed out of most places in the 1960s. It looked tired as well as old.
I approached the next coded lock to get in. Hm. It, too, fell apart in my hands, and I couldn’t put it together either. Oh well; problem for later. I’d keep the house key in my pocket. In I went. The place smelled old to match its look. I examined the books near the couch: I often like to browse at such things. 2006 National Geographic. Oh; thanks. I went to examine the coffee making facilities. None. There was ONE sachet of instant coffee and a Bushels teabag in an old saucer on the bench. WHO drinks instant coffee? I haven’t done that in decades.

Sunset over Cloudy Bay

Oh well. At least the location was good. I didn’t want to waste beautiful daylight hours mourning that I had just tossed a lot of money away on not very much. I quickly grabbed my camera and set off to go to East Cloudy Head, to see what could be seen there. It was, unfortunately, 4 p.m. by this stage, but I have confidence in my speed, so packed nothing other than my photographic gear and house key. I luckily did have my phone so I could send a view pic to friends and relatives.

Bruny forest

The view from up high was wonderful; the sunset, pink and pretty. The track was sandy, so the fact that it was sunset and I was up high with a walk back did not deter me in the slightest. The white sand would reflect any ambient light – although I did know the moon would not be rising to aid my cause. No problems. Down I went easily, and along the beach, stopping to chat to some fishermen who plied me with many questions, thus delaying me so it was now totally dark with absolutely no ambient light. Along the shore I went.

Fisherman Cloudy Bay

Oh oh. Um … where was my shack? How would I find it in the dark? I had left no lights on, and the shack itself would, in the dark, no doubt be totally obscured by the dunes and shrubbery. Whoops. I wandered along for what seemed a very long time (time goes slowly when you’re not having fun – but actually; I was. This was an adventure, so long as it turned out well. If it didn’t go so well, this was a huge amount of money to spend sleeping on the sand in almost mid-winter).
To and fro. To and fro. How can you be so stupid Louise? I thought of my photographer friend Marley, trapped out once overnight. Hm. Keep trying. Then I got a bright idea: I used google maps on my phone to locate the shack, and my own position in space. Ah ha. I had not gone quite far enough. When the device said I was parallel to the hut, I searched for a gap in the bushes and found my way home. A good adventure livens life up. I phoned my friends to say dinner was impossible. I looked at the emergency provisions I’d packed. Soup for dinner. Fine. I like soup.

Sunset over Cloudy Bay

But, meanwhile, I was freezing. I had already worked out that I didn’t know how to open the fridge, which lacked a metal casing, so perhaps it didn’t work at all. Nothing was going to go off in a place this cold anyway. I really needed to light the gas fire. I tried everything and failed. In the end I phoned the number I had been given. I was coached over the phone, but that failed too. Eventually someone came to help me. The heater was broken, but he fixed it. While I had been waiting (an hour, wrapped in blankets), I tried to recharge my camera battery using the plug that had been put in especially for me, but it didn’t work. Maybe the person who was coming could fix that too. (He did). Had he not fixed it, I would have been really stuck, as I need to recharge my battery every day.
I had also tried to get hot water and failed, and, as so many things were broken or not working, I decided the gas failure had meant no hot water either. However, there was hot water, but by the time that was ascertained, I and the house were so cold that the idea of stripping off to shower was intolerable. The bathroom would have kept the beer cold, but not Louise warm. Gradually, as the heater did its work, I warmed up enough to go to bed, but without using the bathroom. I was too cold to try the astro photography that I was actually there for.

Cortinarius tasmocamphoratus Bruny

Normally for breakfast, I have porridge, followed by espresso coffee and a bun or pastry heated in the oven. The porridge bit was fine, although there were only four bowls in a place that says it sleeps eight. The nicest bowl, shape-wise, was made of plastic, so I chose a cheap, thick, crockery one. Then came the problem of second course. I had brought my own espresso coffee, so boiled water on the stove (there being no electric kettle; fine). I poured hot water on the grains and waited for the grinds to sink. Not exactly the luxury I had been anticipating. The oven didn’t work. I pointed the fire gun at every single hole available, but nothing happened. I had old cold bun with my coffee. I thought a place charging that amount might have bought a modern stove that self-ignited, but I was wrong.

Below Mavista Falls

Ah well. Off I set for more fun and adventure, today selecting Mavista Falls on the east of the island for my fungi hunt, returning shortly after lunch to then go exploring above the house again in the afternoon. I left the house at 2.30. Why would you pack a torch at 2.30?
I climbed the headland again, chatting to nice people I met along the way, photographing a few fungi and the scenery. I had made excellent time, so decided to go offtrack and explore the enticing cliffs that I had eyed up the day before. Perhaps there were some dramatic shots to be had. (There were.) It was glorious and I was afloat, unaware of almost everything in a world of beauty. The sunset was red but brief, not really worth photographing, as the bank up of clouds obscured the horizon … and made it get dark much more quickly.
I was off track, and could see no hint of a path that would take me from where I was back to the main track. It was safer to follow the treacherous cliff line than bushbash and get stuck, so backwards I went. Fine; I am bush-capable, and found the pad that led to the track and followed it in the dark, which was now proper dark and not just a hint of darkness. But I am confident in the bush. On I pressed and got to the beach without incident.

Mavista Falls Bruny

I followed the shoreline along. I heard the sound of splosh, splosh. Oh. I was in water. Hm. It must be very dark. I went up higher, onto the rocks, treading carefully now. Could I find the tell-tale sign I had left for myself, just in case it was dark again? Of course not. Anyway, I did find my shack. I didn’t have time to get changed, so went to the hotel to meet my friends in my walking gear, with boots and gaiters.
It was a fun meal. Everyone had had a great day exploring, and all had tales to tell; snaps to show. “We” on this occasion were my camera club, NTCC, and although all of us shoot with proper cameras and tripods, most of us also take phone shots for messaging family and friends, for dinner show and tells etc. But meanwhile, we are also all looking forward to seeing what everyone else managed to capture later, when we post on the club site.

Bruny Forest

As if I hadn’t had enough of an adventure by this stage, I felt what seemed to be a tick on my head during dinner. A big one! Friends doused me and Mr Tick in pure alcohol. He was reported missing, but nobody knew where. I envisaged him just changing spots in my hair, but anyway, life went on. I was so very grateful to have discovered his presence during dinner when I could get help and not later, when alone and inaccessible. I am also, of course, grateful to the army of alcohol dousers and searchers who got rid of my intruder.
As the night was cloudy and the forecast bad, the Astro shoot at the lighthouse was cancelled. Home we all went.
Now my little cabin was very warm and cosy, as the helper-guy had said not to turn the heater off. Not wanting to burden him with a two-hour journey again, I had obeyed. I read a bit and, because I was now operating from a warm base, I decided to take a night shot of the cabin in the dark. Maybe I’d get in a few stars. It didn’t seem to be as cloudy as it had been earlier.

Aurora Cloudy Bay

I went out and shot, looking east. But then I looked south. It was clear, and I could detect, not quite subliminally, beams. I almost yelled. I actually ran down to the beach through the bushes in the dark along the sand track with camera and tripod (yes, again neglecting anything else helpful, such was my sense of urgency) and shot south. BINGO. An aurora. A BEAUTIFUL aurora. Oh; I can’t tell you how happy I was. I messaged two friends from the club to alert them, and then spent until 11 pm shooting. I just couldn’t stop. Auroras do that to you.
Meanwhile, I have forgotten to mention the drive to and from the Hotel. Maybe driving along a sand track with more paddymelons on it than blowflies at a midsummer barbecue is not your idea of fun. It certainly meant I didn’t dare go more than 15 kph, but I absolutely loved it. These cute chubby bottoms hopping away and towards, across left and right while I tried to inch forward … I loved them all (especially as they are not eating my garden). I said “Goodnight” to them as I finally went to bed, leaving them nibbling the grass in front of my lodgings.

Mavista Falls Bruny

Next morning I awoke at 5.30 a.m. and looked out my bedroom window. The sun wouldn’t even think about rising for another hour and a half; it was still pitch back. The stars twinkled in the window, just like they used to at home before the gottverdammt Health and Safety maniacs who pollute the planet ruined my view by lighting up the place next door, just in case an octogenarian felt like a 3 a.m trot around her place and tripped in the dark.
But meanwhile, I realised as I gazed at the stars that I was warming to this little shack, now that it had warmed up enough to allow such a change in attitude. However, I did think the owner was greedy charging so much, but spending so little. How much would new curtains or blinds, some slightly nice crockery, a modern stove that self-ignited, and a heater that worked really cost?

Bye bye, Cloudy Bay

Such criticisms aside, I was sad as I drove that sandy track for the last time. I went to Cloudy Bay Beach to bid it farewell from that side, and drove to meet my club friend for another fungi and waterfall shoot. I had had a great holiday. Life needs adventures.