Tag: waterfall

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Honor Falls 2017 May

Honor Falls bagged at last. May 29 2017.
We were actually on our way to Liffey Falls to photograph fungi, but the lure of trying to actually bag Honor Falls acted as a siren pulling me in that direction once I recognised the scenery.
“I’ll just be max thirty minutes, and then we’ll be on our way to Liffey”, I assured my husband. I mean, the falls are only about two hundred meters from the bridge where I’d just parked. I failed the first time as I couldn’t balance having just been running a fever for four days. This time I was in good health, and was ready for the bush bash. I chose gumboots so I could wade once there. Optimistic choice.


Knowing how cluttered the forest was from last time, I walked along the road for about twenty metres with Bruce and Tessa before sending them on a fifteen-out-fifteen-back walk while I dashed in, photographed, and came out to meet them. I eyed up the forest. Bruce looked askance. I caught his gaze and nodded agreement. That’s @#&%.
“Let’s stay together another twenty metres or so.” (We are, all this time, on the left of the river as it goes downstream.)
The forest thinned out a bit, so I dived in, leaving the other two to their more purposeful walk. I made good time in the bush … until I hit a cliff edge that prevented me proceeding any further. Hm. I tried various options left and right of this point, but all ended in slippery, mossy drops that even with a rope would have had me dangling in mid air rather than achieving anything. Must need to be nearer to the falls themselves. I bashed my way to there, but again, met with impassable cliffs. By this time, I am wondering about these other Honor Falls baggers. What sort of heroes are these that can get through this stuff for their photo? Now I tried back even further, but met with the same problems.


So, sigh, back out to the road and try “coming in the back door”, by going further downstream and coming back at the falls. I found a spot where I could get in the bush and make some progress, painfully aware that my time was probably running out by now. The bush was thick and steep, but eventually I forged my way down to the riverbed. But this was very, very cluttered and the ferns were thick on the ground, offering zero visibility. I decided it would take at least ten more minutes to get to the base from here – IF I could. I didn’t have time for that. I also didn’t like the way that many trunks broke when I trod on them, always dangerous when solo, as you can fall when that happens. Oh well. At least I had now been to the base, kind of, and would come with more time next occasion. Up I climbed and headed for the car. There was still plenty of time to shoot fungi at Liffey.
Bruce and Tessa were not in sight (having decided to go out-forty-back-forty instead), and I had become curious about the other side of the river. I had seen no signs at all of humans having forged a way through the forest in which I’d been. I was continually making the bash, and there were no broken branches, slip marks, or signs of wear and tear that one uses for tracking. Maybe people go on the other bank. I’ll just do a quick recce, I thought, seeing’s Bruce and Tessie were still missing.


Over the bridge, down the private road, into the bush when I decided it was a good moment to go in, follow the stream along from above. Hey, there’s an orange tape. And another, and another. Human feet have definitely trodden here. Down I went. In no time at all I was on the bottom, taking two of the most hurried photos of my life before scrambling back up to greet the duo who were now, of course, waiting at the car. Had I been privy to the information I am now giving you, I could have saved myself a great deal of time – but I would have missed out on the adventure, and the sense of victory that I now have.

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Stitt Falls 2017 May

Stitt Falls. May 2017


Silly google hasn’t heard of Stitt Falls, but then, it seems to know very little about the secret treasures of Tasmania. It changed Stitt to State, just as it tried to change Wandle Falls to Handle Falls, and many mountains to some American name that better suits it. Perhaps in the case of Stitt Falls there could be some small justification, however, as I, a Taswegian, had never heard of them either until a couple of weeks ago, and yet I have visited Rosebery and nearby Tullah on numerous occasions, if for no better reason than to buy hamburgers or hot chocolate before or after a climb of one of the many fabulous mountains in the region.


Recently, we passed through Rosebery for a “nature stop” and saw outside the noble toilet block, a picture of the local Stitt Falls. We were in a rush to meet friends to climb Mt Zeehan at the time, so couldn’t stop, but I stored the information for another day: namely, last weekend, when an opportunity came our way to check the falls out. The information seemed to indicate they would be reached by using a park called Stitt Park as the starting point, so we went there to find another toilet block (maybe the hamburgers in Rosebery are not as good as they might be), but no falls. At least we could ascertain from the map there that we needed to go in the direction of the camping area.


This was not what I would call a bushwalk. Once we’d found where to park the car, we had to walk all of twenty seconds to see the falls. I loved them. I enjoyed the rich colour and texture of the rocks that the water had to weave around before it dropped, and I really enjoyed the huge drop to waters way down below me. I desperately wanted to go down there, but not without seeing if there was a tried and successful way. The bottom just begged me to come and explore. I have no idea at all why Rosebery doesn’t do more to attract people to these lovely falls. How much trouble would it be to have a taped route to the bottom? That said, I would much prefer the nothing that is there to a wretched tourist 1.5 meter-wide path, sealed and smoothed out with huge railings so we can’t see over that seems to be the norm these days. Sigh. Maybe next time I can go to the base. It looked so appealing down there. Off we set for Waratah and the Wandle Falls instead.
For them, see www.natureloverswalks.com/wandle-falls/

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Wandle Falls 2017 May

Wandle Falls. May 2017.

Wandle Falls
I had always wondered how it was that we could have visited Waratah several times, but never seen the Wandle Falls. That’s because they’re a secret treasure, and require a little hunting out. We tried to follow the instructions in the web, but the one I chose said they were a “short distance from Waratah”, and the writer and I have different definitions of “short”. I envisaged a few hundred metres, a kilometre or two at most. In fact, if you are in Waratah and wanting the falls, you need to drive east for 7kms until you reach the A10, and then drive north along this A10 until it crosses the Wandle River, which it does after 9.3 kms, giving a total of 16.3 road kilometres from Waratah. Fortunately, there was a little bevy of lovely ladies in the museum who helped put us right about the new definition of “short”. The ladies assured us we would be traveling to fairy land, and they were not wrong. We loved our stay. Not only were the falls beautiful, but we had a grand time trying not to step on all the darling fungi, and rolling in moss later, photographing them. Here are a few photos of the expedition – not a huge bushwalk by any means, but DO wear your boots if you go there. There is no track, although there are pink tapes every now and then.
Park your car at the bridge, and walk downstream (on the southern bank).

Mycena epipterygia 


Mycena roseoflava

mycena interrupta

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Holwell Falls 2017 May


Google tells me that Holwell Forest Reserve, in which both Holwell Falls and Holwell Gorge Falls lie, is thirty-two minutes from my house. It is therefore pretty reprehensible that I had never even heard of them before a local posted an image on Instagram that alerted me to their presence. It was too late, however, as the track had been closed in response to the flooding of two winters ago. Now it seems that part of the track is now opened – albeit with dire warnings that you need to be an experienced bushwalker to venture there. That’s fine. I’m very experienced. I wondered how bad it really was.


About two minutes into the thirty-two promised me, light rain began. Ten minutes later, it was so torrential that I couldn’t see at all to drive. The windscreen wipers flapped furiously, but to no avail. Nonetheless, I continued on my merry way, heading through Exeter and Winkleigh. There, I missed seeing the road to the left, and, hey, who can resist driving down a road called Flowery Gully Road? Not me. I followed it along, but it wasn’t doing what I thought it should, so decided to be logical and consult the maps app. Whoops. Now I was near Beaconsfield. Oh well. I found a road that linked this one to Holwell Road to the west, and attacked from the north. This ended up being a must fortuitous error. The northern end was way prettier than its southern beginnings. (But for efficiency, don’t head for Flower Gully. Turn left).


I turned in at the little blue sign, parked where I should, shouldered my pack with all my gear, and set out in what was now mere drizzle. I took an umbrella to shield the lens. You don’t often find me bushwalking with a big umbrella.


I couldn’t believe I have lived near this beautiful place for so long whilst remaining ignorant of it. The water was so very clear that even on this late autumn day, it begged me to paddle. Children must surely love playing here in summer. There were rock pools in abundance. The sign had said thirty minutes for the round trip, and I suppose that’s accurate if you don’t take too many photos. However, I was mesmerised by what I saw, and had all my gear for long-exposure shots, so way exceeded the suggested time. I think I was there about an hour and a half.


I had no idea what the state of play on the track was, of whether it had been fully or half repaired, or not touched at all. On the way to the first falls, it certainly felt repaired and in good condition. At the falls, as you can see from my photos, there were a few tree casualties lying in the water, and their leaves looked rather new. A bombed viewing platform had its skeleton remaining in place, but not much else. It didn’t look old. Maybe we have had even more damage. A huge eucalypt lay across the path; it was too big and slippery for me to get around it with a bear hug. You could, with a mild possibility of slipping backwards, get around if you went down and passed it at creek level. However, my watch now said I didn’t have enough light left for playing, so left that exploratory exercise for another day. Right now, I wanted a peep at the southern end. Round I drove.


The southern end wasn’t nearly as welcoming as the northern. The track hadn’t been cleared at all and wasn’t manifestly visible. I think they’re hoping it will grow over and disappear. Again, signs warned that experience was needed to step into this zone. There were certainly huge drop-offs to my right as I climbed the track, but nothing to worry about if you’re not being silly. After about five minutes, the track forked. At first I took the left fork and climbed up high, away from the river. I decided this wasn’t going to lead to any waterfall photos in the next few minutes, so returned and took the other fork, to arrive at the top of a waterfall. By now it was really getting dark, so I had to be content with a peep of the top for this time. It wasn’t worth photographing. I’ll be back – to see fungi, even if not the falls!

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Crater Falls 2017 Apr

Crater Falls 2017 Apr


I needed some breathing space, some time out from being stuck at home as a carer., some solitude to regain some sanity. Only the wilderness could do that for me. off I set. I had never photographed Crater Falls before. I had just rushed past, giving it a nod in acknowledgement of its beauty, but always being obliged by the others I was with not to linger long enough to do it photographic justice, which takes rather a long while, actually. I had a lovely day rectifying that, and searching for fungi, which were playing hard to get, despite its being autumn. Groups of fagus hunters went merrily by. There was a great mood in the forest that day.