When a waterfall has three used names – here, Garners Creek Falls, Preolenna Falls and Coal Mine Falls – there is bound to be confusion. The whole purpose of language is to enable us to talk about the same thing, but with this waterfall, we can have enormous misunderstanding – a veritable Tower of Babel. We think we haven’t been there, when we have, or we think we have three to go to, but only, in fact, have one. Or worse, if you told your friends you’d meet them for a picnic at Coalmine Falls, they could be waiting for you in a different part of the state.
Garners Creek Falls, Preolenna Falls, Coal Mine Falls
So, three names, but you only get credit for one waterfall. But which name should you use? The road you attack the falls from is Coal Mine Road. But there are also Coalmine Falls at Liffey, next to Bob Brown’s Oura Oura, so we don’t want two. Preolenna is such a pretty name, I love it, (it refers to the nearest hamlet, which is not far away) but I have the feeling that most people nowadays call it Garners Creek Falls, which is highly unimaginative, but does tell everyone exactly which creek it is located on. The real problem, of course, is that the map doesn’t acknowledge that this beautiful tumble of water exists, so you won’t find a helpful little blue strip across the creek. Hopefully, my map below will help out.
Garners Creek Falls, Preolenna Falls, Coal Mine Falls
The immediate area of the falls is delightful. However, the drive in is not so, as you pass a large amount of plantation forest, some of which has been felled, some not, but it is hardly enticing, and you begin to believe that nothing pretty could lie in a place like this. (It is also pretty crammed with blackberry bushes leaping out to catch you). However, as I said last blog, I would much prefer to look at new growth forest, with skinny trees serried closely in neat rows than at factories belching smoke, so it is certainly the lesser of two evils. And, there is some lovely pastoral land before you hit the forest.
Garners Creek Falls, Preolenna Falls, Coal Mine Falls
Also, be warned: the slide to the base from above is very steep and slippery. I wouldn’t dream of doing it in anything other than bushwalking boots. Even my boots slid. However, as the photos indicate, the rewards at the base are wonderful, and a surprise gem awaits you if you hack the drive.
My friend Craig called to discuss my route to Orites Falls in 2016, and mentioned in the process that I was welcome to join the small group that was about to go. Would I like to join them? Do children like chocolate? How wonderful to have an excuse to revisit an area that I loved the first time around. The territory at the back of Mt Hugel is wild and somewhat unfriendly to those who would like to pop in for a chat, but it is wonderful once you’ve got past the bristly facade.
Orites Falls trip
It is so lovely to be walking with a handful of likeminded people: fellow bushwalkers and nature lovers, bonded more by that than a passion for waterfalls, but all willing to embrace the beauty of Orites Falls nonetheless. I loved these falls so much that the first time I was there, I couldn’t wait to come back with my tripod and a few filters to slow the water down.
Orites Falls trip. Tentsite.
Of course, the section to Shadow Lake from Lake St Clair Lodge was easy and spent in pleasant chatting through wonderful lush rainforest with heaps of fungi beginning to colour the landscape. Fagus also added colour (nothofagus gunii). We had a snack at a small beach by a giant pencil pine and continued on our way, along past Forgotten Lake and to the rock slide providing the approach up to Little Hugel. Once you’ve gained the ridge, you’re on your own, with occasional pads to help you, but not often, and only while your route intersects with that taken by people climbing “big” Mt Hugel. There are some little tarns under the Hugel ridge (at about 1245 ms asl), and the shelter from the quite strong wind afforded by a little copse of Pencil Pines provided the ideal spot for our lunch. The ground was soggy, so I squatted instead of sat to keep drier.
Orites Falls trip. Lake Hermione dawn
After lunch, we climbed up to 1330 ms to a knob that is unnamed on the map, but which was christened on day 3 “Craigs Curse”. On day 1, however, it was no curse, and offered us lovely cloudy views to Lake Hermione, our destination for the night, about 385 ms below. That is 385 vertical metres. The horizontal measurement is not all that great either, but it took us two and a half hours’ walking to negotiate the protective palisade of bush between us and the water. Eagles have it easy.
The others agreed to my vote for the ridge running NW from the knob, as I had used it before and found it better than a more direct route, especially on the way up, but the others thought it would be good to use it on the way down as well. The clouds rolled in and down we dropped, hopping across boulders with scoparia traps underneath, and down into general scrub and some exceptionally steep rocky bits. But it was a devil I knew, and I knew it would work, so on we pushed. What a glorious moment it was when we burst into the band of rainforest with its relatively easy passage and rich greens, and swung more in the direction of our goal.
Orites Falls trip. Eucalyptus pauciflora.
The final button grass drag was tiresome, as it felt like time to arrive, but arrive we eventually did, and chose our glorious real estate for the night. Dinner at the marvellous al fresco restaurant was a wide choice of dehydrated-now-rehydrated fare with different names on our packets, but not a huge difference au fond. We compared notes on flavours, as one always does bushwalking. By the time we erected our tents, photographed the beautiful lake, collected water and had a general explore, it was getting dark and cold, as is the norm for this time of year.
Day 2.
Orites Falls trip. Underway day 2.
This was the day for the goal of most in the group – those who had a finite, concrete goal rather than the more abstract one of enjoying being in a beautiful wilderness area. We did have a focus, and that was Orites Falls. As I had been there before, I was given the helm again, and led us up to the rainforest band on the other side of the river to follow it along until it was time to drop to the falls. Even though we were camped not far from the general source of the Franklin River (a tiny bit to the NW of our spot), it was still quite tricky to cross, but I knew it was possible near the lake, so we went to where it issues from the wider area in a magic bunch of pencil pines – how old? a thousand years? Who knows?
Orites Falls trip. Lake Hermione
The photos say all that needs to be said about the falls. We loved being there, and stayed a nice long time, only returning in time for lunch. It was about an hour and a half each way and the rest was taken up in photography.
Orites Falls
In the afternoon, we each did our own thing, with the three waterfall-fanatics visiting what I decided to christen the Franklin Tarn Falls (they not having a name on the map, and needing one so we can refer to them). I had also already been to these ones, but they were dry last time. This time, I left my camera accidentally in the tent. HOW does a lover of photography do THAT???
Orites Falls
Craig and Caedence have both promised me a photo to commemorate our visit. On the approach, I took the route I had used last time. While there, I spotted a lead in the forest on the other side of the stream and the others agreed to test it out. This northerly route was a heap more pleasant, even if a bit longer, and three minutes faster: 23 minutes there from our tents; 20 minutes back. Meanwhile, Adrian explored the Franklin source area to the north, and Leandra intended some quiet reading in the tent, but she did mention some quiet involuntary snoozing instead.
Day 3.
Dermocybe canaria
I always think it’s good when you have bad nightmares about something, as the reality can never be as bad, and then you have a pleasant surprise. My worst-case scenario for this day was not a pleasant dream. All night, the wind howled like a demented monster, and the rain lashed at the tent. Some of us didn’t have the right clothes for such weather. Should I really lead them up to the exposed rocks on top? Craig was all for going further around, and I thought the protection that route offered could come in handy. We’d set out and decide later. Meanwhile, I’d done the lion’s share of leading on the past two days and was mentally tired, and was also physically weary as my monstrously heavy camera was now in my pack to protect it from rain, instead of around my neck where the weight wasn’t all placed on my poor shoulders. I needed pain killers to cope. Luckily, Adrian took over the job of leading through the scrub, steered by Craig who had plotted our route from day 1. It was nice and relaxing not to have to make decisions for a while.
Orites Falls trip. Leandra looks happy
At one particularly difficult spot on the way up, which challenged one of our group with the exposure involved, I thought we weren’t going to make it, but my worst fears were faced, defanged, and then not realised anyway. At lunch by the same tarn we’d dined at on our way up, I was, apparently, grinning like the proverbial cheshire cat. Now we were in the land of easy walking, and there was no way we wouldn’t make it out. We were a happy group. I even allowed myself time for a little fungi photography on the final leg of the journey.
I first heard about Liena Falls on Thursday evening from a fellow waterfall-aficionado. Oh dear. Another waterfall on my ever increasing list, despite the fact that I theoretically reduce said list by regularly finding falls. Anyway, almost each waterfall is a new encounter with beauty, so this expansion in the face of reduction is not a great burden. The only time I am not filled with joy is if the falls are in, or right next to, an area of clear felling.
Liena Falls
On Friday, after I had had a run and taken Tessie for a walk, I had free time, so decided I would satisfy my curiosity and visit the falls. They’re not too far from Launceston. I’m glad we’d already had our exercise, as the fitness-value of our excursion was rather limited. I probably spent more time drinking coffee in Sheffield that I did walking to the falls. That said, I found myself in a little ferny haven. But I am scared. This idyll was far too close to the road for its own good, and the beautiful ferns could so easily become the victim of a single person’s selfish destruction, as with Upper Cam Falls, so I am not going to give exact details. It is a very steep drop to the base, so maybe that will protect them.
Liena Falls
Hm. Let us return to my earlier comment about clear felling. On my homeward journey, I discovered that these lovely falls are only maybe two hundred metres from a formerly clear-felled area. Light has now encouraged vast expanses of blackberries and the barren view is only slightly attenuated by the presence of some colonising silver wattles near the gullies. I didn’t know that on the way in, as I approached from the north, via Sheffield and over the Claude saddle with its fabulous views. My exit was via Liena and Mole Creek, and using that route, I got to witness all the destruction. Still, I would much prefer to look at ugly clear felling than even uglier factories, and I kept reminding myself of this as I drove home. And my knowledge of what lay ahead did not interfere with my enjoyment of the falls one scrap, as I didn’t know yet, and could not have guessed from the falls, that they were at the edge of beauty rather than at its centre.
As I set out for home heading west, the Hellyer Tributary Falls were only one of several options in my mind, but somewhere along my journey, I decided it was the one for the day. I had researched these falls a short while ago, and thought I had the information in my phone.
Hellyer River Tributary
Alas, when I parked and went to retrieve the exact location of these falls, I discovered the area has no mobile coverage, and that I thus couldn’t open the message that contained their whereabouts. I was faced with three little tributaries, any one of which could contain the object of my quest.
Hellyer Tributary Lower Cascades (Falls F)
I thought I remembered them being on the right hand one, but was not at all confident. Off I set through magically lush forest. At first there was a pad, and some pink ribbons, but I got dumped by both, and forged my own way along the creek. After 14 minutes, I came to a nice little cascade, which I photographed (now called retrospectively, Falls F in the group, just for those counting), and another few minutes beyond that, reached the double waterfall (that I have now labelled “falls D and E”), depicted below. I loved the second of this duo-drop.
Hellyer Tributary Falls D and E
Were they the falls I was actually seeking? They didn’t really quite fit my memory, so I was unsure and pushed on. The river became very choked at this stage. I went to where I had a bit of a view ahead, which contained no falls, so decided that either what I had photographed was my goal, or that the falls lay on the right fork of the other offshoot. I took a higher route through the forest to go a bit further, and explored for a bit, but that creek was very cluttered with fallen rubbish, so turned around at that point.
mycena interrupta having a family Easter gathering
I had seen lots of fungi, so decided I would prefer to photograph fungi in my remaining time than flounder around searching for something when I had insufficient information. The fungi were fabulous: my favourites: mycena interrupta. But oh, they are so winzy small that they are very challenging to shoot. Ini the mud I rolled, providing excellent fodder for investigative leeches.
mycena epipterygiamycena interrupta
After I finished and had set out for home, I once more entered mobile land, and was able to see my original hunch was correct, but that I hadn’t, in fact, gone far enough, and that the falls I really wanted were higher up: hence my label of the ones I did find as “D, E and F”. At that stage I felt satisfied with my catch for the day and continued the drive home. I have saved other treats for a later occasion. (Obviously, from the lettering, you can see that I found  lot more later.)
It was raining and misty outside, which seemed like a perfect day for going to Western Creek Falls. What I didn’t realise until said falls and I bumped into each other, was that these conditions would make it just about impossible to get a shot that did not have droplets splattered all over my lens (and image). I have never had such a juggling act. I would wipe the lens, but keep the cloth over the glass. I would guess at the settings, as checking properly in live view meant I would expose glass to the environment. I worked out that using the delay timer just gave water more time to attack, as did long exposure. So, I pressed the trigger whilst simultaneously dashing away the cloth, with an exposure of less than a second. How was it? Na. More droplets. Try again.
It was a little frustrating, and meanwhile, I was getting soaked … and cold. Ah, meanwhile, have I mentioned that I was perched on a slippery rock with not only a waterfall above me, but one dropping away below my feet? This is a two-tiered fall, and I was between tiers … and possibly between tears. It was unnerving being where I was when the water was so powerful and when a single wrong step would see me tumble to my presumed death. There was a strand of wire spanning the gap across the water, which I clung to for safety, but holding so many things made me feel rather clumsy.
Western Creek Falls were pumping. Upper Tier here.
Meanwhile, you ask, how was the track Louise? I decided to do the loop on this, my first visit, just to see if I like it. The outward, easterly route was very steep indeed – so much so that my foot slipped backwards a few times, and I was wearing my good boots. But the water was completely missing. I could neither see nor hear it, and if you look at the map below, you’ll see why. The creek is not near this route. It took 32 minutes before I could see it far below me. In 42 minutes, I had reached the point between upper and lower falls. It was mossy enough, although not exuberantly so; there were no fungi, although it is April; and I had to cross two rock-laden landslides, which are hardly attractive. At least they were small.
Western Creek Falls Lower tier.
The way back, however, was sheer delight. It stuck nice and close to the water for far more of its length, was attractively small and quaint, and was mossy and lush. Down below me, I could see heaps of tempting smaller waterfalls, some of which I photographed, having more luck in the forest with keeping my glass dry. Next time, I will go both directions using this path, but you have to try things out so you know.
Western Creek Falls (minor ones)
The start of this track, called the Western Creek Track, is just a bit on from Higgs Track. You can approach it from Dairy Plains (turnoff at Needles), or from Chudleigh. You head for Western Creek township, but diverge before you get there onto Westrope Road, heading south. There is a blue sign, but only visible if you are coming from the SE. I overshot and ended up nearly in Western Creek, so got to see the sign coming from that direction. Westrope Road continues all the way. Higgs Track diverges off this with a sign. The road then crosses Western Creek before climbing a bit to the start. Even that first crossing was pretty today with so much water.
I love visiting waterfalls for their beauty, for the opportunity they provide for my photography, and for their exercise value: I enjoy it when they give me a good workout. This track was very short – only 1.77 kms one way, but nice and steep: 300 ms climb in that short distance. I took 42 minutes from the car to the spot between tiers, and 44 minutes back down again. That’s a nice-lengthed workout. I was out in time for lunch in a nearby cafe, and home early afternoon to do some home tasks. Half-day jaunts are good if you’re pressed for time. That said, if I strike nicer weather next time, I’d like to go all the way up to the top and onto the Mt Ironstone massif. Today was a recce.
