Tag: waterfall

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Arve Falls 2017 Oct

Arve Falls 13 Oct 2017


We parked in the designated Arve Falls carpark, but, despite the fact that it was mid-October, and thus halfway through Spring, it was snowing lightly. Being a wussy duo, we sat in the car and read, gazing out between page turns at the swirling flakes and listening to the howling wind. Eventually the precipitation eased, although the wind continued. This was not going to be a pleasant jaunt.
“Do you want to come Brou?”
He gazed out at the grey mist and listened to the angry howls and said he thought he’d read instead, but as soon as he saw I really was heading off into that stuff, he bounced out of the car to join me. If you know what happened to us the next day, that Bruce would accidentally wander off the track and die from a complication of his Parkinson’s disease, you will agree with me that this was an incredibly important decision, but at the time, I was unaware of its poignancy. I was about to do my last ever bushwalk with the man who has been by my side for 10/13 of my life – a smidgeon more than 3/4s. I was a tiny, insecure teenager when he met me. I grew up with him beside me, sharing and shaping, but Life was about to take him away.


Not knowing the future, we did not walk arm in arm. Instead, we buried ourselves in our Anoraks, shoulders closed in on our chests, but this strategy provided little defence from the blast that was so noisy we couldn’t hear each other. We scurried along the track, eager to get to where the land dropped, figuring we might gain better sanctuary there. I did have time within this scuttling to notice the glistening moisture on the rocks with their blotched lichen.
The falls are not far along the track. Soon enough, I was photographing in a relatively protected spot (although I have noticed the bushes are not in nice focus due to the wind; I was reluctant in those conditions to be fancy and do a short and long exposure for later combination – sorry). As ever, Bruce gazed out at nature and the falls, meditating while I shot.


When we got to the lookout, I of course did a bit of fancy work to get a better angle while my mother-hen husband clucked in angst as he watched his wife climb barriers and perch on ledges. He didn’t find my antics to be a relaxing or pleasurable spectator sport. He was very fearful of heights himself, and didn’t like me being in danger. From the safety of the viewing platform, he enjoyed the deep drop of the falls to a base that couldn’t be seen, way below. (I want to return and get to that place).
Photos finished, we returned to the car, and headed for Dover, Bruce’s choice amongst the possible options for that night. A helpful lady at the Geeveston Tourist Centre booked us into Driftwood Cottages, a bit further south, into a little bungalow on the waterfront. The incredibly kind lady who greeted us at Driftwood was to later take us under her wing and offer us a place where we could “relax” – well, none of that got done – after dark and before 7 a.m. as we continued day after day in our fruitless search for a wandered Bruce, but that is another story. (See www.natureloverswalks.com/creekton-falls/ ).

 

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Philosopher Falls 2017 Oct

Philosopher Falls 2017 Oct


Can you feel the magic?
You would think that my trip to the base of Philosopher Falls would be totally marred by the fact that tripod number two (that is, the second tripod in two successive days) broke in my hands as I lined up for my first photo; however, Carrie and I had had such fun getting there, and the place was so magical, that it almost seemed as if photos didn’t matter. I felt as if I were in a holy spot, that I should use hushed whispers in a place that aroused such a spiritual feeling. It is a stunningly beautiful place, with its dramatic drop and white lines of flow, its mossy trees dripping with lichen and its shining rocks; this beauty is then further enhanced by the knowledge that not too many people manage to come that way; it is a kind of secret spot. Waterfalls of Tasmania says where we were standing is “inaccessible”. I like defying challenges like that.


The reason not too many people come that way is that it’s actually quite difficult getting there. The navigation, even if you own, and are competent at using, a gps is quite tricky, as the dense canopy interferes with the satellite signals. My gps, for example, said that we climbed half way up the side opposite the falls, which we did not. Because the ground is so dense, it is hard to see exactly what the contours are doing; your vision is obstructed by piles of giant fallen trees (which you have to clamber over, or under, or try somehow to get around). And then, there is the problem that this is an ancient and decaying forest, so it is possible (Carrie tried it a few times) for you to tread on a log that disintegrates under your weight, however diminutive that might be, so you can easily fall. I’ve seen a guy break his leg that way. This is not country to be in alone. One early explorer noted that if he trod on a log and it collapsed and he broke his leg, he would probably die, as no one would find him. One treats this land with respect.


And so, it took us far longer than we thought it would to reach a point where I excitedly announced to Carrie that we had done it, and we only had to climb up and over this spur in front of us and drop down the steep other side and we would be there. We were jubilant at the bottom. I didn’t look at my watch, as I didn’t want to feel guilty about my husband waiting wherever it was that he was waiting. I wanted to enjoy the moment. I only snuck a peak when we’d finished enjoying ourselves with our cameras and were ready to set out on our return journey.
Things were much faster on the way back, and we were at the car in time for lunch. I settled into a nook in the forest and devoured my salad roll with gusto. I had worked up quite an appetite. Even in the carpark, the forest has a wonderful feel to it. Viva Tarkanya.

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Parsons Falls 2017 Oct

Parsons Falls October 2017


Parsons Falls have been calling to me for quite some time, and at last, today, I found the opportunity to answer that call, armed with family members, including a rather hirsute daughter who is getting rather keen on this bagging business.


The drive there took me a lot longer than I’d reckoned on, but that was fine. We started after an early lunch and were not at all time pressured. As it was, we stayed there for quite a while, as my ballhead got knocked off my beautiful sirui tripod on the way in, and I lost a lot of time going to and fro, up and down the cliff and back and forth along our inward route, but with no results.


When trying to photograph, I had to use CPL + GND filters to cut the extreme glare, but that meant I was taking exposures between one and five seconds long, hand held … breath held. I didn’t have a clue if anything would turn out. But hey, it did.
Normally, I publish routes. However, there are signs all over the place telling one not to go along the logical route. In the interests of discretion, I will thus not publish my route, but you can contact me via a comment here, or instagram ( @natureloverswalks ) or through bushwalk.com (my name there is just ‘naturelover’) and give me your email address and I can send it to you.

PLEASE, if you find my BALLHEAD contact me. My tripod is useless without it.

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Montana Cascades 2017 Aug

Montana Cascades 27 Aug 2017
I originally published this under the title “Montana Falls”, having followed the Waterfalls of Tasmania website to get there. However, friends then emailed me and told me that what I had shown was not the falls at all, and that one did not access them via the Salmon Farm (41 degrees South). So, I have now called these lovely falling waters Montana Cascades. They are well worth a visit – but so are the falls, the real falls, upper and lower. For them, go to the blog labelled, correctly, Montana Falls. Here is my report on the Cascades.


Just look at that wretched blue sky on a day forecast to be snowing all day! Having forced my husband to read in the car while I went to Upper Liffey Falls solo (because of all the ice and his Parkinson’s Disease), I chose Montana Falls as my second falls for our little trip, as he could easily do those. As it was, however, he has only seen what you’ve seen – my photos.


I reckon it would be pretty cool to own a waterfall and be able to swim below it whenever you felt like it.
Dogs were allowed out the back, but not out the front of the property, so he decided to take Tessa for a walk in the bush rather than come and see the falls. Thus I ended up doing these by myself too – which is actually a good thing, as once the path ran out, I had to climb through prickly gorse bush to get up and around some mini-cliffs before I could continue to where I wanted to photograph. The descent to water level was also not for him. He and Tessa had a lovely walk in the forest behind the main building.
To get to these falls, go to 41degrees south salmon farm, just out of Deloraine, (on the way to Dairy Plains or Chudleigh) and pay a fee to walk along the track to where you can view the falls. I asked permission to go beyond that official part.

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Upper Liffey Falls 2017 Aug

Upper Liffey Falls in the snow. August 27 2017


Upper Liffey Falls in frozen glory – just what I wanted.
The forecast for today was snow down to 300 ms. I figured it might possibly be cold, and a bit unpleasant for a jaunt that would last too long, so I chose Upper Liffey Falls (and its nearby mate, Montana Falls – see separate blog under that heading) as my option for such a day. Upper Liffey Falls shouldn’t take too long. I told my husband to bring a good book, as I didn’t think an icy waterfall would be suitable for him. This was one to do solo. He could join in on Montana Falls.


It was kind of hard to find a good place to park the car, as off-road was very icy and covered in snow, but on road seemed asking for trouble. I eventually found a spot near to where I wanted to launch myself into the white wonderland that was a compromise between the two, and off I set, not sure what would be in store. It was a bit bushier than I expected, and the branchlets were laden with snow, so any hint of a track was not exactly clear, and I kept being bombarded with tiny snow missiles. Every now and then, I found tapes, which let me know I was going where others went. I’m sure that in conditions in which the ground is not covered in white powder, things would be clearer.


Anyway, nothing mattered. I knew exactly where I was going in the grander scheme of things – I was just being a wuss and seeking the path of least resistance so as not to get covered in snow as I went. The temperature outside the car was “only” zero, but that didn’t take into consideration the wind chill factor, which felt pretty extreme. I was glad to drop out of the blast as I descended to the falls. It was another case of “make your own way down”, which is fine, even in these icy conditions, although I did take it slowly. No one was going to come and rescue me if I was hasty and slipped and hurt myself.


This is a non-bushy section up the other side. That looks like a track , but it’s not. I don’t think there is one up there. The bushy bits are lower down.
I was a bit disappointed not to have more snow surrounding the falls, but I’m just being fussy. I was, however, downright peeved to have the wretched sun come out just as I was preparing to shoot. Lucky I had my stoppers, polarising filters and other toys to hand. The shots are 30 second exposures, which is long enough to flatten out the water and give a silky flow, but not so long as to turn the whole thing into a white blur. I hope you enjoy today’s “catch”.
I had heard of these falls quite a long time ago. I’m pleased to have seen them in real life at last.