Frazer Falls, Mar 2018.
The third falls on my list for this day were Frazer Falls, which I was going to attack by following the stream uphill. However, on my way to Rawlinson Falls, I saw some tapes leading up the spur beyond, and on checking my map, I decided this would be a fine way of reaching the falls: follow the spur up and then contour in. OK. That would be my new mode of approach on the rebound. The country up to my left as I walked on was incredibly steep, so it was good to have a plan in place that seemed feasible. I felt that quite a bit of trial and error could be involved here (and I was right).
These are little falls, above the big ones. The sign saying “Frazer Falls” is here, and not below, but here is the top. To my right, right now, is a humungous drop.
On the return leg, I turned uphill at the tape. If it didn’t work, I could then try following the creek (Frazer Creek). Up and up I climbed, on a lovely pad rather than track, that surely went to the falls … or did it? Perhaps it just went to a hut I’ve heard about. However, I reasoned, the hut would be a fun thing to see, and I could catch the falls on the way back down, if that’s the way things worked out. I looked at my map again, and decided this pad should swing to my left once the contours got more gentle. Just when I was thinking things were wrong and it really should be swinging left, it swung, so all was well.
My biggest problem was the two areas of fallen timber, where regrowth had taken place so that the ground was no longer visible, and obscuring shrubs and cutting grass had grown up. It was March, just the time of year when I once got bitten by a tiger snake. I was fearful. This was just the kind of territory I was in when bitten. I held my breath and gulped and got through it as quickly as I could, hating every moment. A second problems was the lack of opportunity to comfortably swing left on contour to avoid these areas. It was steep and full of horizontal scrub – most uninviting. I therefore stayed on the pad to see where it would dump me. I found myself at a lovely little sign, cutely carved in wood, telling me I was at Frazer Falls … but I was at the top. I wanted to be at the bottom. OK, so, I’d explore the top for now.
If I tell you that those trees whose tops you can see are enormous, can you begin to get a sense of the drop in front of me? It was huge.
I climbed the short way down and took photos of the little falls above the real ones, which are here. I have been told of others who have photographed the falls from below, so am peeved that that was not my lot for this day. I felt very, very insecure in the area immediately above the falls, as the drop was huge. I opened my camera backpack and several items tumbled out. I watched with dismay, too scared to chase them. Luckily, they stopped their path to the abyss (oh the joys of friction), and I prodded them with a stick to return them to the bag, marvelling at how much money almost went down the gurgler. I could see no obvious sign that humans had gone “this way”, and had lost my experimental spirit, so decided to be content for now that I had bagged the falls from above, and saved the below bit for another time. The flow above was minimal, so I don’t think the below view would have been worth the effort on this day – well, that was what I told myself as a consoling fact.
I was hoping to be more efficient through the fallen areas on my way down, thinking I knew my way through the mess now, but got shoved somehow to the right, and found myself mildly stuck in timber that was so rotten I couldn’t just walk on it to get out, as it collapsed under my not-considerable weight. I was nervous about getting a foot wedged in such a collapse, so trod very gently indeed, and rode most logs like a horse until out of the area. I didn’t think our girls would like to lose two parents in the wilderness, possibly from the same cause. I knew I was nearly back at track level when the dulcet tones of 4WD revving reached my ears. Three cars went by as I did the final few metres to the Montezuma track.