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October 10, 2019October 10, 2019

Gibson Creek Falls

Gibson Creek Falls were definitely the pièce de résistance of our waterfall bagging spree on this day, when we had spent the morning seeing nearby Dip (Upper and Lower) and Little Dip Falls, picnicking adjacent to the drop with our backs to the tourist infrastructure, choosing for our seats natural, slightly-wet earth rather than picnic tables. (My choice, but my friend went along with it. He possibly doesn’t dare contravene).
Gibson Creek is a very long way from my home in Launceston (Google says 3 hrs 13 mins one way), so I was glad to combine these falls with the Dip trio, and very glad to have the offer of a co-pilot: someone to keep me awake for the bulk of the long drive, someone to save me stopping and checking my map all the time in between Dip and Gibsons – both kind of near Mawbanna – and someone to take over the wheel for a part of the return journey so I could recharge my batteries for the final hour of solo driving. I sure struggled to stay awake and alert during that final hour.

It was a big drive, but Gibson Creek Falls are worth the effort, and that is despite the context in which they occur: one of the ugliest clear felling you could imagine! The stench of the burnoff afterwards filled my nostrils and lungs. They have totally trashed the forest. You wade through huge piles of debris, but not for too long (even though it is vast in the other direction), and then you are in pleasant moist green forest.
I had seen photos, but they hadn’t quite alerted me to the splendour of these falls. I was entranced. It didn’t even take ten minutes to reach them. I waded through the piles of former forest, but that didn’t last even three minutes, and, once in the bush, consulted my gps to get direction, and headed straight for the falls, just a couple of minutes away, aiming off just a tad so I’d know to head upstream once the water was reached. I rudely left my friend behind a bit, as I knew he’d reach them in his own way. He was busy trying to relate where he was in the trash to where he’d been last time, when it didn’t look quite this disastrous. The original road had disappeared under rubble. I didn’t care about that relationship; I knew where I was in relation to the falls and was all impatience to get there. Ahh the colour of that tannin-filled water. How I love it, and how I revel in the lines of flow at the base of such a waterfall: the tiny white streaks of whirl as the water indicates to you the course it is taking by the circulating lines of bubbles it leaves.

We spent quite a while enjoying the beauty. S redirected a plank of tree that had fallen to make a kind of bridge, which we crossed for the heck of it, just to play as playing is fun, and then we returned to the car. S could now see the old track, so wanted us to follow it to see where it emerged from the forest. It had tape and was muddy underfoot, so I much preferred my very direct approach route. I am a stickler for wanting to “do it myself”, without tapes and certainly without tourist highways. The joy of the find is that much greater. I laugh when I see tiny Abby, insisting on dressing herself, not caring one scrap if the clothes are on inside out, back to front, upside down or all three, as long as she has done it herself. Her daycare centre has a school uniform, but she has never once worn just the regular uniform, insisting on her own choice of clothes, with the uniform then inappropriately crammed over the top to reluctantly comply with the rules. Ach, genetics.
I’ll add a map after the weekend, especially if someone reminds me. No chance before next week. Sorry.

October 10, 2019

Dip and Little Dip Falls

I know that Dip Falls (Upper and Lower) are the famous ones, but I’m afraid they just didn’t do it for me. Yes, they were attractive; yes, their dimensions were ginormous; yes, they were in many aspects impressive, but I could not divorce them from the equally enormous, arresting and dominating human infrastructure with which they are now overshadowed, so that all the dear tourists can get to the base without having any real contact with nature in which they might hurt their tootsies or fingers. The first thing you notice is not the whopping sense of space that these falls occupy, but the humungous stairwell present.
The whole way down, it is not the marvellous green and rich brown of the lush forest that demands your attention, but the shining steel railings. 1 min 23 down; 2 mins 00 up. Duty done. A few photos taken at the base and then at the top. I prefer my Tassie Wild thanks.

Little Dip Falls (section). We arrived too late in the day to be able to get a good angle on these falls.

There was not even enough exercise to justify the trip. It is exceptionally difficult to take a photo that does not include unnatural objects. I photoshopped mine out, as I hate looking at them. I go into the bush to escape the ugliness of human invasion and incursion, not to have more of it for the sake of tourists. My waterfalls need to be in the context of surrounding beauty.

Luckily, the friend who was with me this day had heard of Little Dip Falls from Brendan Costello’s blog, so off we went in search of it. Now, HERE was a waterfall worth visiting. No smashing stairwells and steel, but rather, pure mossy forest, masses of startling fungi (although it is October), and a delicate, dainty waterfall of subtle beauty.

There were not even any horrid pink tapes, so we were free to choose our own route. We spent a much longer amount of time at these falls than at the others, as they were so much more appealing. The big dips are sacrificial pawns to the tourist industry, which is ever taking over the beautiful natural features Tasmania has to offer, and locking Tasmanians out of their own land.

October 7, 2019

Deception Falls kunanyi

Our visit to Deception Falls on the Hobart Rivulet had not endured a long planning period. It was school holidays, and I offered 8-year-old Gussy an open choice of activities: whatever he wanted to do that day, we would do together. He chose to go waterfall bagging. This is also what he chose the previous day, on which we’d had a lovely time visiting O’Gradys and Betts Vale Falls, with a steep off-track descent to the top of Strickland Falls for a snack before finishing.

Towards the end of our time the day before, we saw, out of the corner of our combined eyes, the hint of a waterfall. We gazed at it from above, but I couldn’t see a ready way down, especially not with an eight year old in tow (and one merely wearing sneakers at that). The slopes leading into the Hobart Rivulet can be extraordinarily steep, and our angle of view was not promising. I told him I’d find a way of getting down to that waterfall, and then take him once I’d worked out a doable route.

On this day, however, he said he wanted to do the exploratory work with me. I explained we might fail to get there, but he wanted to be part of the trying. On this day, he did the waterfall the courtesy of wearing proper boots. I think he’d been a little jealous the day before, when I stomped around the creek without problems, while he had to pick his way so as not to get his sneakers wet.
We parked below where the falls would be, and dropped steeply to the water level, Gussy leading the way for most of it. He selected good routes. Once in the creek bed, he was very happy with his choice of boots, and proudly walked up the creek itself. We didn’t have exactly the same path, even though, of course, we stuck together. That’s part of the fun of real bushwalking: freedom of choice. You are not a puppet fulfilling some role designed by someone else. This was a real adventure, and he was loving it. We still had no idea at this stage whether we would reach the waterfall we’d had our glimpse of the day before. There was still plenty of time for nature to win this game’s episode. That uncertainty is part of the fun, and makes success so much more enjoyable than just marching on a track, knowing you’d reach the goal even if you were a blind, lame nonagenarian walking backwards. You don’t need to be a million miles from home to have an adventure, but you do need “wild” bush.

On we forged along our obstacle course, climbing over, under and around what came on our path. At one stage, we arrived in a huge kind of tree cave: a truly gigantic tree had fallen across the creek, and being under it felt as if we were in a cave, such were its dimensions.
Once we reached our goal, we could see that it could have been a lot faster and easier if we had chosen a different starting point, but I had chosen the one I did so as to create a proper adventure. The aim is to enjoy, not to break some speed record reaching the falls. The long way was the fun way. We enjoyed being there, and found some shell fossils and a marvellous specimen of Oudemansiella gigaspora (which I mistakenly thought was an Entoloma panniculum, not noticing the white stipe at first. Thanks to Herman Anderson from the Tasmanian Fungi group for the identification). There were also some wizened tiny fungi, perhaps mycena sp. As the pool at the falls’ base is chest deep, we agreed it would be a great swimming hole in summer.

The road was now visible, but Gussy did not want the easy way of going there. Instead, we turned our back on the road, and chose the hardest way out: the approach route that we had rejected the day before, only this time, we were climbing up not down, which is safer. I stayed directly underneath him, watching his choices, which greatly pleased me. If he slipped, I could catch him and arrest his fall. This did mean that the odd rock came my way, but I knew the dangers. He is more important than I am. Meanwhile, he was learning great lessons about what you can and can’t rely on in the bush: what might give way, and what is sure to be stable. I watched with satisfaction while he chose living branches or roots and tested them before committing to them.

We called this waterfall Deception Falls, as we felt it was somewhat deceitful, hiding itself away from view of its many passers by. We had never even noticed its existence before.

We hadn’t finished having fun, so I said I’d take him to Secret Falls. Off we set, walking and talking. Once we were there, I pointed out to him the beautiful moss, but also the fact that much of this wonderful lushness had been replaced by mud due to other people’s carelessness, selfishness and disregard for nature. He trod very carefully, and avoided all moss. Wearing the right shoes really helps in this regard. If you’re wearing boots, you can walk on the stones in the water a lot more easily. In the little canyon, we talked in hushed voices, as we could hear other people walking along the track above, and didn’t want to attract attention to this secret place. I think he found it very special to have been somewhere “not on general display”, even if it did bear, all too noticeably, the marks of the carelessness of others. Experiences like this help reinforce his growing respect for nature, and for its fragility if not protected against stupidity. That sentence read to me as contradictory in a sense, as nature is, in other ways, tough, very tough, and will outlive us stupid homo non-spapiens; however, in the face of the forces of destruction from the average tourist or greedy bureaucrat, desecrated features of nature’s beauty can take longer than a human lifetime to regenerate, and some beauty can be lost forever. How much of this glorious world that I am showing Gussy will still be here at the end of his life?
“The vision of a dying world is vast before our eyes;
We feel the heartbeat of its need, we hear its feeble cries …” (Hymn. 1966).

October 5, 2019October 5, 2019

Dora Falls Eldon Falls circuit 2019

There I stood at the top of Dora Falls, gazing down to an abyss below. How on earth would I get down there? The drop seemed as infinite as it was vertical, and any spot where verticality gave way to a degree or two of slope, the trees were a mess of impenetrable tangle. I was, yet again, solo, and was totally unwilling to lower myself down something I might not be able to climb back out of later. I basically gave up. “Oh well,” I said to myself, “at least you’ve bagged Dora Falls. This is probably it for the day. It was a nice little excursion.” I took a shot for the records, the one shown below.

However, being the sort of person who does not give up easily, I decided to take one more look at the map to see if it gave me any hints, and indeed it did. I noticed that on the other side of the creek, the contours were more spaced than on this side. Perhaps that was a clue that would open the key to the treasure. I would not give up yet, but would cross the creek and give that a go.
It had taken me 17 minutes to reach Dora Creek from the car, and I had just wasted a further 23 trying to crack the code to the base. Perhaps if I had gone further on that western side I would have found something doable, but here I was back where I’d arrived, crossing over. I had already determined I would use the point of the spur rather than the creek’s edge, and carried out my plan. Presto. 8 minutes later I was at the base of my holy grail. The little “den” was mossy and had a special silence that would have had me whispering had someone been there with me. I was captivated, and so very glad that I’d persevered.

Now I felt confident that I could use the same spur to reach Eldon Falls. Up I climbed. It was not hard at all, and it was mossy and wonderful. I went up the spur for 14 minutes from Dora’s base until I was on contour with where I had waymarked my best guess at Eldon Falls, and then just sidled around the spur keeping height for another 13 minutes. Tra la. There I stood at the base of my next goal.

This one wasn’t as beautiful as Dora, but was still well worth the visit. Photography finished, I decided to go straight up and over the spur above rather than retracing my steps. It meant possibly more contours, but I have always been rather careless when it comes to contours, so up I went, thinking this would be more interesting than a retrace.

And so it was. After 21 minutes, I had crested the spur and then dropped into a higher region of Dora Creek, and what should I find but an area of delightful cascades. The bank next to them was very steep and cluttered, and I didn’t feel like foraging for a possible route to visit all of what I had found. I reached a place that looked like I could get across, and photographed that particular cascade, which was possibly the best anyway. At least that one looked “climb-upable” on the opposite side. These cascades seemed quite well fortified by small cliffs.

From there I continued west until I hit the edge of the public-private boundary, and followed that back to the car. (There is a pad that weaves along through the forest up the top there, following the boundary. There is also, at some points, a “road” [maybe at all points], but I didn’t use it, always preferring the green and shade of forest, even to the ease of a road, especially when it is a glary machine-made one with clear felling on one side of it.) The circuit thus took a shade under 1 hr 30’s walking IF you don’t count photography and the 23 minutes I spent stuffing around on the western side of Dora trying to find a way down.
Not only did I find great beauty, but I also had a fun adventure, and the pleasure of “doing it myself”: the joy of discovery and overcoming obstacles. That was, I fear, because this is a southern waterfall, and Hobartians do not feel the need to stick pink tape through every section of forest to spoil the fun of others who want to do it themselves. Pink tape is ugly, totally unnatural, and destructive. I thought we were trying to rid our planet – and especially our wild and beautiful places – of plastic, but in the north, every waterfall, it seems, is festooned with plastic, even ones with a very obvious path leading to them. Someone estimates the general IQ of fellows living in the north to be somewhere around 60.
Time for lunch at my favourite red cafe in Huonville. Well, I bought lunch and picnicked by the river there, it was such magnificent day.

September 29, 2019September 29, 2019

Betts Falls Rocky Cape National Park

Betts Falls are not exactly inside Rocky Cape National Park, although one of the (very scrubby and unpleasant) approaches to this named waterfall on the ListMaps of Tasmania is from the early part of the track to Doone Falls. I included Rocky Cape (Tangdimmaa) in the title of this blog to make sure people understood I was not talking about Betts Vale Falls on Mt Wellington.

I’m afraid THIS Betts Falls is a bit of a non-event, as you can see from the pictures. However, I actually (unbelievably?) had more fun going to this waterfall than I did to the more attractive Doone Falls. I guess I am sick of the way National Parks are becoming over-regulated Tourist Parks that have little to offer proper bushwalkers. All the mystery is removed and signed highways lead to every feature so that a blind, crippled octogenarian with an IQ of 60 can reach every point desired. I like to have to use a bit of ingenuity, read my map and overcome a hurdle or two to enjoy my goal. I do NOT want to be carted there in a cable car so my legs and brain can both atrophy. Going to Doone, I was little more than a puppet carrying out my prescribed role. I did not have to think, or wonder whether I would find my treasure. I was, quite frankly, bored.

Betts Falls were unsigned, had no paths created for the purpose of getting you there, or pink tape every metre to festoon the forest with plastic, and were thus a treasure to be sought by effort. And as a result, I enjoyed the whole process of getting there, and was permitted to feel a faint sense of achievement when I found the falls at the end of my map reading. Small as they might be, they are not entirely without their own quiet charm. I passed some fabulous banksias along the way, with massive bearded cones lying all over the ground. However, if you like your waterfalls huge and dramatic, or want pink tape and paths to get you there, then this one is not worth your consideration.

My map is old, and so I had no idea if I strayed onto private property along the way. In case I did, I won’t publish my route here, but if you ask me nicely, and establish your interests as being of noble intent, then I can send you a copy of how I chose to get there.
(For Betts Vale Falls, on the Hobart Rivulet, see
http://www.natureloverswalks.com/hobart-rivulet/ ).