Category: waterfall

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Evercreech Falls REAL 2019 Feb

Evercreech Falls REAL 2019 Feb

Visitors to the Falls named “Evercreech Falls” (on the map, and in the web), must, surely, have wondered at the ‘much ado about nothing’ of what they found. The labelled tumble is a tiny trickle of a thing, moseying its way quietly and with no shape down a fault in a cliff. It has no form, no substance, and is not particularly photogenic.

But, just around the corner, and not connected by a track, and with no hype, signage or anything other than a little blue line on some maps to signify its existence, lies another waterfall, which HAS to be the REAL Evercreech Falls. How and why did that little trickle get to take on the name of the master lies hidden in the mystery of history. (A clerk’s error? A transcription folly? A deliberate ploy to keep the almighty tourist safe as the real one is too tricky? Who knows?)

But, as the Ugly Duckling is to the Real Beauty, so is that prelude of a thing called officially Evercreech Falls (which does not even lie on the Evercreech Rivulet) to the one I am calling Evercreech Falls REAL, to emphasise the false claims of the imposter. Last year, I investigated several other blue lines on the map in that area, and came up with not much for my reward. But this one … this one is a beauty. There is no track to it, and you are bound to fall in the drink as you boulder hop and slide your way upstream (many boulders are decked with slippery black moss. I felt myself sliding quietly backwards and didn’t put up a fight. To fall slowly was better than to fight and crash and break a bone).

My photos are – sorry – sub-standard. The capricious sun is entirely to blame. I was only here by accident, passing by with time on my hands, so decided to do a recce to see if I could actually reach them. I began at 9 a.m., and took an hour to arrive at the base from the car, by which time there was far too much contrast on the rocks and a greater dynamic range than my camera could handle. My shots are hints of what is to come when I return on a better day.
PS Be careful of Tigers. A resident sunning himself did NOT appreciate my visit, and rose to attack me. I crossed the river rather than sort out which of us could win that battle.

On my return, I stayed high and out of the river for as long as possible, just to see if, in winter when the water is stronger and colder, it would be possible to keep my tootsies dry. I stayed mostly out, but I would not count on dry feet if you are going to do this one.

At the end, with feet already wet, I just marched down the stream rather than pick my way. That was quicker and easier. As I approached the actual track going to the labelled falls, a group of Asian tourists saw me and thought I must be hopelessly lost, trying to find the falls they were about to reach – but, hey, they had a guide and so knew the way. Magnanimously, they all wanted to help me out of the water (which, surely, I did not want or mean to be in), and a mass of sweet, generous hands reached down to aid me. I kind of swung and hopped out, earning their surprise and laughter. We came from very different worlds, but it was a fun intersection at that moment.

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Vera Creek Falls, Frenchmans Cap

Vera Creek Falls, Frenchmans Cap 2019 Mar

Vera Creek Falls 6.

Vera Creek Falls were not initially the object of our bushwalk. It was my birthday, and my daughter had taken the day off work and tossed in the weekend to climb a mountain with me. The trouble was, the rain was howling more fiercely than the wind, and my daughter had hurt her knee two weeks before doing a race in NSW called the Six Foot Track, which is so gruelling that her runs up Mt Wellington seemed nugatory as practice. Camping on Baron Pass for night number one was pruned back to limping into Vera Hut just as darkness was beginning to require a head torch if we’d been out any longer. (In case you think she was REALLY injured, I’d better add that we didn’t get started until 3pm.) I’d watched the limp develop early on, during the very first climb, and worsen with each successive slope. One thing at a time, but things did not bode well for the morrow.

Hygrocybe roseoflavida

Now, as adumbrated, we were sopping wet by the time we descended the final drop into the hut, and had been discussing how very nice it would be if someone else just happened to be in the hut, and if they also just happened to have the fire lit. Sigh. Dream on. “Hey mum, I see a light,” Kirsten exclaimed. “Oh wow. Do you think they know how to light a fire?”

Vera Creek Falls 4

We opened the door and peeped around the corner, but we didn’t need to ask our question. The magnificent warmth of the glowing stove greeted us, as did the welcome smiles of seven or … was it nine?… happy faces. While we dumped our sodden packs and pulled out our sleeping bags and dry clothes, these guys pampered us by collecting water from the tank outside and hanging up my horrid lumps of fabric (I am too small to reach the pegs). We chatted convivially while we eventually ate our dinner, and had good fun together.


Kirsten was not in a rush next morning, and I figured we had little chance of summitting considering the state of her knee and the rather appalling weather out the door, so we took things gently, both in terms of departure time and pace. I have never wandered through this forest at such a relaxed speed, and it gave us both time to enjoy all the aborning fungi more thoroughly. There is nothing like rainforest in the rain. Every leaf glistened. The moss was spongy and thick. And as for Vera Creek, it wanted to challenge Niagara. Even the track was a waterfall worthy of photos. We sloshed and admired. I didn’t take too many photos on the way up – just enough to be happy but allow me to catch up in between shots.

Vera Creek Falls 2

It was late morning by the time we reached Baron Pass. The sky was black ahead. Thick clouds obscured all mountains. And yet, the sun shone in a tiny circle that happened to contain us. Always being a little hungry, I suggested an early lunch during the lull between downpours, and I was so glad I did. By the time we’d finished, it was deluging again, and we decided to head for base and skip the idea of a mountain. Back we went, with far more photography this time, slosh slosh, all the way to the hut, where we read and did some exercises to stay warm, ate more and then it was time for dinner. Kirsten lit the fire while I cooked, and all was cosy for the other four walkers who opened the door.


The way out was uneventful: more fungi, more water, more rain, and more good luck when it came to my need for snacking, in that the rain stopped briefly to give us a respite, and then made up for its gentillesse once our packs were back on. Luckily we both think that rainforest in the rain is a real treat.
Can you believe that on the way out, we met another mother and offspring combo celebrating a birthday by having three days in the same area? Fynn and his mum from Western Australia were there for his twentieth birthday. We gave each other a high-five before parting in our opposite directions. It’s nice to know that someone else knows abut perfect birthday presents.
Waterfall aficionados, note: there were at least six falls on this creek that were worth photographing, some of which are shown here. Others were not photographed, as they would have involved my spoiling beautiful forest to get a good line, so I just admired them and left them alone. Others had too much clutter to be photogenic. This selection will suffice.
And thanks to Terry Reid for all the interesting historical material to read that is there in the hut to help while away some time waiting for the next meal.

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Svengali Falls 2019 Mar

Svengali Falls 2019 Mar

These are “lower Svengali Falls.” The main ones are just visible behind.
“Carrie”, I screeched (yes, screeched), “I can see them up ahead; Svengali Falls.” We both did a whoopee of excitement, and, when she joined me, a high five that was very, very, both highish and fivish. We were relieved and happy. I feared we were doomed to spend the rest of our lives trying to make a way up this tangled stream. Carrie was confident that we’d reach it, but thought it could take a lot longer than it did. She also feared that one of us might get injured in the attempt.

This is in an easy section. All we had to do was continue up the slippery creek. The difficult sections demanded too much attention to go a-photgraphing. Injuries certainly seemed a highly likely item for the menu: not only was the rainforest rotted from the inside out so that logs appeared to be logs and trees, trees, until you put some weight on them, after which they’d crumble to mossy humus, but also, the creek itself, being the lowest point between two steep sides, held the debris from every storm that has ravaged the area for probably millennia. In order to move forward, we sometimes had to climb big distances up seemingly vertical cliffs; other times, we had to find a way around whopping logs whose girths were greater than our height; still others, there would be a fallen, multi-furcated tree that presented us with a jumble of branches that was daunting, and insurmountable. Up another diff we’d go. Climbing over seemed far too risky, as each branch was slippery and of unknown strength. It would be possible to fall metres if one collapsed.

I had warned Carrie that she’d get her feet wet, as a minimum. I hoped we wouldn’t be wading waist deep, but it was impossible to tell in advance. I didn’t even know if we could get through if the water was too high. I hadn’t bothered to contemplate the wetness of passing ferns and leaves and of the mossy logs we necessarily sat on to get over them. Let us just say: “We got wet.”

Behind are the upper – the real – Svengali Falls. We climbed up a steep spur to the left to get nearer the base, but the most photogenic position was here, so this is what you’re getting. She’s vain enough having been hidden for so long, to want to appear with her best side forward.
I was so excited to achieve our goal that I honestly didn’t care one iota about the quality of any photos I might take. This was a waterfall whose objective was the achievement of getting there, and the sense of adventure that moving through territory like that entails. As we retraced our steps (photo session completed), we were in more of a mood to spend the time appreciating the green wonderland we were momentary part of. It was a special feeling to have overcome the hurdles of the exercise and to be part of such primaeval forest. Another high five as we gained the track for “normal” people at the was in order. Mission complete.

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Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar

Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar


Not much water in Myrtle Forest Falls today – but that’s OK; our purpose is to give the children an adventure, not to take a champion shot of a waterfall caught with its pants down.
It was time for a big adventure. We had originally wanted to take the children up Collins Cap, but set out far too late, so adjusted our goals. Our new one was the saddle before the last climb. That was doable for two small children (3 and 7). I think it is important with young ones to make a goal that is reachable so they have the feeling of success. When the goal is badly chosen (like today), they are happy to make a different one, but they do like to know where they’re heading, and to reach that spot. “How far to go now?” needs a distinct answer. We show the children the map, and Gussy takes a great interest in the altimeter on his dad’s watch (which he is allowed to wear on walks so he can plot our upwards progress).


Inspecting some insect or other
On this day, with our late departure, we had lunch almost at the start, where there is a picnic shelter. The children had plenty of time to explore while we ate more than they did. Both of them love to inspect every insect and fungus … and anything else they can find.



They enjoyed the waterfall that followed shortly after that, but were eager not to dally. I photographed, promising to catch up as soon as possible, which happened at the roped section. If I remember correctly, Abby had declared it time for some of the promised lollies. It seems that after our Lord Howe Island adventures, Abby has decided that a walk isn’t a walk if it doesn’t have a roped section, so it was good this walk obliged. She enjoys the challenge of negotiating the obstacles with the aid of the ropes that add excitement.


Inspecting a lizard
Up we climbed through the beautiful mountain pandani forest. By the time we reached the intersection of this little track and the big wide fire trail, Gussy was temporarily running out of steam, and Abby needed a piggy back. Luckily, this was our chosen goal. They knew this was the turnaround point, so their energy picked up immediately they saw their target for the day had been reached, and suddenly they had zest for running races along the flats with their dad. We laid out the picnic afternoon tea, and some other children came past with their mum, who commented on our special bushwalking food. I knew from her voice and body language that she, too, must have prepared something special for her two girls out on their adventure. We shared a complicit smile: two families teaching the next generation to love and care for the bush.
(The track to this area is very clear. It begins at Myrtle Forest Picnic shelter, which can be googled. It took us maybe half an hour to drive north from Hobart to reach it.)

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Horsetail Falls 2019 Mar

Horsetail Falls 2019 Mar

As I drove past Horsetail Falls near dinner time on my way in to Queenstown, I noted that they were flowing properly, and made a mental note to return to them after dinner. The last time I saw them, they were a mere trickle, and not worth the effort of getting out the camera. The great guy who checked me into my Hotel confirmed that they were flowing well at present, so, dinner consumed, I set off to give them a go. Unfortunately, I wasted far too much time looking for Pearl Creek Falls first, so arrived a little later than I wished. I thought it didn’t matter, as it was raining lightly, which I hoped would add to the atmosphere.
I parked, hastily grabbed my gear and set out, planning to go across roughly on contour from the top of the track to the falls for a closer image. However, I was only about three-quarters of the way up the track when the light started to do magic things. There was no point going further: the light was happening (despite the rain) right now. I speedily set up the tripod and began to shoot as the whole mountain turned aflame, and wispy clouds floated around the summit of Mt Owen above the falls.

One of the best things about this night was that I got to share this beauty of our world with another photographer, and, wonder of wonders, this person was a female (Rebecca Brogan). I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but tripod-carrying, out-by-themselves-photographing-odd-spots females are a rare breed. Of course we hit it off, and stood there in the rain chatting until well after dark. Pelting, bucketing rain forced us to say a temporary goodbye before getting in our cars. I was scheduled to meet my friend Carrie so we could do Svengali together on the morrow, but right now, the rain was so strong I couldn’t drive. At least there’d be a good drop for us over at Rosebery. I hoped we wouldn’t get drowned or washed back downstream by the mighty current that might eventuate.