Tag: waterfall

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Weavers Creek Falls 2018 Nov

Weavers Creek Falls, Nov 2018

My visit to Weavers Creek Falls involved a huge discrepancy between expectation and reality. My expectation was: 30 mins to Nunamurra, an extra 10 minutes for the 11.3 kms Waterfalls of Tasmania (WoT) said from there to the falls; 10 minutes photography; 10 minutes back to Nunamurra; and 30 more home. Total time expenditure: one hour thirty minutes; a nice afternoon’s jaunt. Tessie agreed; we packed our bags accordingly, and set forth at 2.30 pm. It was 25 degrees, so there was no need for a jacket, but this is Tassie, so I tossed one in anyway. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. There was certainly no need for food. We’d be home by 4 and could have afternoon tea before doing a bit more work on mulching, shovelling, carting and sawing before dinner. Also, it sounded very easy: find the Discovery Trail, drive for 11.3 kms and, presto, there’s your waterfall beside the road.

And the reality? Well, the half hour to Nunamurra went well. When there, we saw a tiny blue sign off to the right to the Mt Barrow Discovery Trail, so took it, even though the web didn’t say to turn right here. First intersection: one half is closed, “Open only 10.30 to 12 daily”, the sign said. Oh. Is that where I was supposed to go? Who knows? I am already on roads that are not on the map and nothing is signposted. I decide to take the road that is open. Smart move. Up we go. Oh oh, another intersection. This time, I have two viable possibilities, but no help to decide which is the one. I choose the right option. My map doesn’t have Weavers Creek marked, let alone the falls. Up I drive, on and on. I choose an unnamed creek and ask it to please be Weavers. We drive across it. No falls. I stare at the map – that really was the most likely looking creek. I have a go at another. No luck. This is a silly game. More map staring. More asking google if it knows anything about this. Google tries to send me to America, but I have neither time nor inclination to oblige. I decide to go back to Nunamurra. I have now been driving an hour. Luckily my tank wasn’t low.

I ask the kind lady in the petrol station. She has never heard of Weavers Creek Falls, but suggested I try Weavers Creek Road just five minutes down the way; it might be a good lead. Well, it might indeed, but it has a no-nonsense gate, locked, with Private and Thou Shalt Not writ over the door. I didn’t go there. I explored further down the road to the Mt Barrow turnoff, for, after all, WoT said you were on the lower slopes of Barrow, and I didn’t feel at all near Barrow at Nunamurra. Back to the petrol station. A different lady was there. The first was possibly asleep by now. No, she had no information, and had never heard of the falls either (she was very nice about it, and told me to write to forestry). It was now after 4.15. “The sign says I have to be out by 5 or the gate will be locked. Is this true?” “Na,” she reassures me. I hope she’s right. “Stick to the main road”, she offers. I thought I’d already done that, but, I’m a persistent little beastie, so, back I go to try again.

This time, I choose the left fork. A bit later, I get a few signs that indicate I made a good choice. Hoorah. I am watching the odometer pretty carefully at this stage, using the 11.3 as a bit of a guide. I pass Foone Hill, elevation over 800 ms. I pass a fabulously huge rock with Maxs Lookout perched atop. Another fork, and all of a sudden, the indications stop and both forks look unpromising. The one on the left says “Mt Barrow Discovery Trail”, which is what WoT said my goal was on, so I ignore the felicitous name “Weavers Creek Road” and follow directions. Wrong. The road got very bumpy, the rocks and corrugations got bigger. 11.3 kms came and went and on and on I drove. But pictures of things that were not there in reality, like Tassie Devils and Wedge Tailed Eagles, were posted up to encourage me, so I continued in my quest.

Eventually I came to the top end of Weavers Creek. I am not on a road on the map, but I am on the creek, and I hope the road will go where I am assuming it will go, in which case it might cross Weavers Creek lower down and give me a waterfall. The temperature is now 8 degrees. It is after 5. The road does what I want, and I cross Weavers Creek again, but still there is no waterfall. I hope for a third crossing. Getting pretty desperate at this stage. And cold. And hungry.

And at last I see a little white bit of churned water, cascading over a rocklet, and disappearing thence under the bridge I am about to cross. There is a bit of a parking area. I get out and inspect this foamy droplet. Yep, it is the “falls”. They are about 2 metres high if you are generous as to where you take the measurement from. They do not fall; they cascade. However, if you are not cranky, jaded, hungry and freezing, you could admit they are a little pretty. Anyway, I need to photograph something after all this driving, so I do. I got home without further incident at 6.45. My meanderings had wasted two and three quarter hours due to lack of specific information and decent signposting. Listmaps does not acknowledge that these falls exist, and they can hardly be blamed for that. I am wondering what bureaucrat pulled what strings to get this put on the website as a waterfall. Anyway, it exists on a list, and I have bagged and photographed it, although not with very good grace. Pity, as it is rather cute. I think the problem is not the size or any other aspect of the falls, but the fact that I was led to believe this was a brief and easy frolic, but encountered a frustrating epic. By the way, the reading of 11.3 kms only works if you take a short cut and go around the circle in a direction not originally intended. Presuming there’s no traffic on the road, that’s probably OK. The problem is there are no signs anywhere to direct you on roads that are not on the map. But hey, I live to tell the tale, and so can you, so give it a try.

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Pelverata and Slippery Falls 2018 Nov

Pelverata and Slippery Falls Nov 2018


Pelverata Falls flowing uphill due to the gale
Pelverata and Slippery Falls seem to have been on my radar forever. At last, this weekend gone by, I turned the wish into reality. It was blowing a gale and snowing on the mountain I was supposed to be climbing (Ossa South), so I elected something lower instead, namely, these two waterfalls.

I got an early start from Launceston, picked up coffee, cakes and something mildly healthy as I passed through Hobart, and arrived at the carpark (directions below) eager to get going. I was rather disappointed that the bush seemed rather dry (I have been spoiled by the lush rainforest of most northern waterfalls), and that I could see cleared land and private property through the thin strip of trees, but marched along happily enough nonetheless. The day was grey and my mood felt a little to match. Perhaps the very early start wasn’t good for joie de vivre.
I strode out purposefully, although with great confusion, as the signs gave two completely contradictory and equally nonsensical estimates of how long all this would take (discussed later).  I got from the car to the Pelverata platform, the terminus for most visitors, in 44 minutes, if you want to know a different estimate from the signs. I was carrying about 7-8kgs (5kgs camera gear, lunch, wet weather gear etc), but was walking quickly, as the track was wide and easy.

Well, that was the fast part. Photography didn’t take long, either, as the falls were boring today. I was tempted not to bother with Slippery, as I had already seen them, and the water was not flowing, but it seemed a shame to have packed my bag for so little, so I decided to go down and cross the river, and then climb a little, contour a bit, and climb some more to the base of Slippery. 45 minutes of that got me not very far. It was slow, slow work indeed, and I knew the prize at the end was minimal. I thus made the radical decision to climb the towering cliffs above to get a view from there and then turn around. Up I climbed, which was much more fun than contouring through thick scrub. Lots of the cliffs were hard to get around, and I had to backtrack quite often, but eventually I got up. From my eerie I got a good view of the falls (which were barely falling), and then climbed a bit higher, knowing I must eventually intersect with the taped pad up the top. I did.


Tessie surveys our progress in a rare break in the scrub. When your dog is the most attractive thing to photograph, perhaps this is s sign of trouble.
I followed them in the direction of Pelverata, being quite finished with Slippery. It was nice to be on a pad after all that bashing, and the wildflowers up there were wonderful. The smells were even better. Pelverata Falls from the top were amazing today. The gales were not restricted to Mt Ossa South. It was wild up the top, and Pelverata was actually flowing upwards, high into the sky. In order to cross the creek, Tessa and I had to wait quite some time, even at about 20 metres behind the falls, as the spray was high and long and enormous.

This was only a mild upwards splash. When the really drenching blasts came, we ducked for cover.
The route down the other side was very steep in quite loose rock, but well cairned, and then at last I was back on the main track. It was nice to be on the easy, smooth path. Now, in all this time, we had been alone without a hint of another person. I thought: “These falls are under-used and unappreciated.” However, on the rebound between the platform and the car, we encountered fifteen other people, and four other dogs. I was glad to be wrong. Ten cars were in the carpark. Tess and I chatted to most of the people we met, so it turned into a nice sociable outing. Tessa had fun with the other dogs, sniffing and playing. Dogs love waterfall bagging too.


My solace and company in the bush, darling Tessa.
Just a word on the signs before I sign out:  the official signs to these falls gave me a great deal of confusion, and I remained uncertain about what was happening and what to expect the whole way there.  How long would this expedition last? At least I had enough food for the long haul,  should it be necessary. The confusion begins in the carpark. The sign says “Pelverata Falls 3 hours”. One way or two? Top or bottom? Blank. Oh well, I guessed I’d find out. I didn’t actually. After nineteen minutes, I came to a sign that said “Pelverata Falls 3 hours return”. Now, this was worse. If the first sign meant “3 hrs return”, then I had just taken nineteen minutes to do absolutely nothing, which is abominably slow and very sad. If, however, the first one meant 3 hrs one way. i.e. 6 hrs return, then I had taken 19 minutes to do 1 hr 30’s walking, which is ludicrous. Obviously, one of these signs is absurd. My advice to local council is to allow the first sign a kind of worst case scenario status, put in the word “return” so people have a clue what you’re talking about, and remove the second sign. The problem with signs like that is that people can be put off doing the walk, as they form false expectations of the time needed for the task, and that is a shame. Even on a horrid, blustery day like today, the falls make an excellent outing and a different destination for people who want a walk in nature. Everyone we met was very happy to be there.


This is my (anti-clockwise) circuit – but, given the amount of rather serious bushbashing involved, I would not recommend it as a fun way to pass the time of day – but at least it’s a circuit, which I find more fun than an out and back route.
Directions from Hobart: I headed for Huonville, having taken the southern outlet. At about 10kms past that big Kingston roundabout (still heading for Huonville), I came to a hamlet called Sandfly. Here, one turns left on the C622 for Margate, and immediately right (well, after 150 ms) on the road to Pelverata. There, turn left at Crosswells Rd to the falls. There is even a blue sign here that says you are going there, and another sign that alerts you to the presence of the carpark, such as it is. Welcome. Have fun.

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Frazer Falls 2018 Oct

Frazer Falls 2018 Oct

I had always wanted to return one day to visit the base of Frazer Falls, having climbed already to the top, and now, this weekend, my chance came, as Carrie and I planned to be over in the western half of the state bagging something or other. I chose Frazer Falls as that something. The day before, I had had a big waterfall bagging spree before seeing Carrie for lunch at Guide Falls (see the blog titled Upper Preston” URL below), and then the two of us had been to the base of Stitt, a huge fun adventure, before setting up our tents at lake Rosebery, ready for the onslaught of Frazer Falls on the Sunday.

It is quite a long walk in, along a wide, flat path with lush greenery to the sides, and enormous drops to the right, and massive, almost cliffs to the left, so we strode happily along, not even stopping at Montezuma as we passed it by – although we couldn’t help noticing it was flowing very nicely today thanks very much. We’d pop in on our way back. Tessie found the swing bridge very challenging. I was walking behind her, and I could see she was shaking all over with terror. She’s too heavy to carry. I feared this was it, but no. We changed positions so that I was in front, and this brave little girl followed behind me. Carrie waited until she was across so as not to swing the bridge more than was necessary, and soon enough we were a trio on the other side. Other dog owners could not even carry their dogs across, as they whimpered too much, they told us later. It is a truly whopping drop for anyone with depth perception.

My memory said it was a bit over twenty minutes to our turn off up the spur beyond Frazer Creek, so there was still some more striding to do, which was a bit unfortunate, as I had wet socks from the day before, and striding was giving me a bit of a blister. Things would greatly improve once we started climbing.

The climb is a very in-your-face affair, with all four limbs being necessary to haul yourself up the slope. The forest, however, is quite open, the scenery beautiful, and, well, I love a good climb, and this was no exception. The part I didn’t like was where felling has been done that lets the light in, and there, scrub has grown up and the pad is very indistinct. There are two short sections of this ilk, but they’re pretty quickly dispensed with if you keep your line. We finished the climb in thirty minutes flat (having taken fifty four minutes to Montezuma, and twenty three to the start of the climb where we left the track).

Now, this next bit was, for me, the challenging part, as I had been here once before, and not found a pad down. But then, I had been in a hurry. I have made several attempts since to find out if one crosses over Frazer Creek in order to descend, but nobody would tell me. I asked, do we descend west or east of the creek, and no one would answer me. So, I tell YOU, lucky people, you do not cross the creek. Look for a pad on that western side of the creek. There is a stake, and when I was there before, I found nothing more. This time, more stakes have been put out, and if you climb under a log, you see the next one, and after that, everything is very clear … and very, very steep. Carrie thought it was the scariest of all our descents so far, and we’ve done a few pretty hairy ones. Tessie thought it was OK, having struggled more when ropes are necessary to get up sheer rock. The drop was monstrous, but it only took us nine minutes both down and up to do this section.

And, what joy lay in store for us at the base. We had  no other plans for this day, so took our time photographing from this or that position, while Tessa stood guard over us, perched like a sentinel on a rock. She knows not to interfere with photography. I am a bit insulted that she always seems to guard Carrie more than she does me. Such is life.

On the way back, we stopped off at Montezuma Falls for lunch. The first time I visited these falls, I got my lens splattered in droplets and threw every photo out. The second time, it was a silly trickle. This time, I was happy. And then it was time to finish off the walk, pour some caffein down my gullet, and begin the long drive home. I struggled, so had Les Miserables up at almost full volume, and sang full blast to try to conquer sleep once I had dropped Carrie off at Ridgley . Got there
For Saturday’s walks, see http://www.natureloverswalks.com/upper-preston-falls/. For the cyan line of our route, see my first blog on Frazer Falls:
 http://www.natureloverswalks.com/frazer-falls/

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Creekton Falls Track 2018

Creekton Falls Track 2018 Bushwalking with children


When we bushwalk with children, we see tracks – and matters in general – through new eyes. Not only do the children open our hearts afresh to the glories of nature as they look with wonder at the beautiful world around them, but we also see how high steps actually are, or how difficult some obstacles are. This does NOT mean we want them removed, oh bureaucrats sitting in your offices with even surfaces and life reduced to three easy manoeuvres: it just means we become more newly aware of the challenges (good ones) they pose, and we learn patience as we watch the children struggle through something we find easy. Such efforts teach them resilience, stamina, and determination. They help make them fit and stimulate the brain.


Children who go bushwalking are not going to grow up into passive, nanny-reliant blobs. Gussy rose to the challenges posed by obstacles too high to go over, low to go under and enormous to go around all by himself, and was thrilled with the affirmation that conquering them gave him. His dad, being 6′ 2”, possibly had more difficulty, actually, and Abby went her required “number of kilometres to match her age” rule, and then hitched a ride on mum’s back. Her mother’s feat in dodging dangers whilst carrying a rather heavy, mobile sack was extraordinary.

Normally when I bushwalk, I do not take all that many action shots. I have crashed my sternum against my camera enough times to make me cautious with regard to my former methods of camera attachment. However, today I made an exception, and photographed the expedition rather than the goal. If you want to see the actual falls, please turn to
www.natureloverswalks.com/creekton-falls/

These photos are here to give people an idea of what the actual track (past Duckhole Lake) is like, and to give parents encouragement to get the kids out there in nature. It is so much better for them than staring at screens. Nature provides for them the very best playground. It is not sterile and smooth like the risk-free government ones: it is far, far better. I am so glad the government is too busy and too impoverished to interfere with tracks like this and dumb them down to the lowest common denominator, as they do with so many of the more popular tracks.

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Willies Falls 2018 Oct

Willies Falls 2018 Oct

The sign at the start of Jeffries Track, leading (kind of) to somewhere near Willies Falls, did say you needed a quality 4WD and warned of ditches and bogs, but the way ahead seemed innocuous enough, and surely that was a notice for wet winters and not this dry October. We would drive as far as I could, and then stop. That seemed a good plan. Ha. The first few ruts were sort of bearable and well, by the time we realised we were in trouble over our waists, we were actually in over our necks. I just had to keep going forward and hope against hope to get as far as the intersection on the map where turning was possible. I was a bundle of shaking nerves by the time I parked. Meanwhile, my daughter was eyeing up the thick scrub and hating all that she saw. I assured her the bit nearest the light was always thickest, and that it would be much better once we got into the forest proper. I forced my way through the dead branches and cutting grass with merry bravado to encourage her.

The forest really was lovely once you got properly inside, but my daughter’s concerns turned from her lovely tights that were endangered by this scrub to  the fact that the cliffs were so steep and the grip on her shoes so minimal that falling and not being able to play the next game of touch football was a danger. “You didn’t mention bushbashing”, she accused gently. “Well, plan A didn’t have any, but we took so long to get here that I had to change to plan B …. which does have just a little.” I tried to wriggle out of this as we lowered ourselves precariously through amassed contours. Her face told me all I needed to know about the level of enjoyment she was experiencing.

At last we got to the base, except, because my map didn’t actually have the falls marked, I had to “aim left” (downstream here) and then work my way up to where the falls were, so as to be sure, which meant the bashing lasted longer. She was reconciled when she saw the lovely falls, and took it all in with good grace, even agreeing that it was beautiful down there – although not volunteering to ever return. She felt much better about the way back up, knowing what lay ahead, and so was more secure about things. It will be a long time before she goes “bush bashing” again … if she ever does.


I’ve put this route in dark magenta for a change as there seemed to be too much cyan on this map. The breaks in the line are just the gps turning itself off by mistake. The route is still clear if you join the lines in your head. The first line stops at the base of the falls. The second begins near the top and then has a random break in it on the way back up the spur that we followed.
(These falls are on the southern part of the Mt Wellington Reserve.)