I am the sort of person who is always in a rush, trying to squeeze as much life into every second as is possible, often multitasking and too often running late because of both the above.
Burnies Creek Falls 1
Now, because of trying to squash five lives into the space of one, I didn’t allow time for research on these falls: I had heard they were below “the” bridge over Burnies Creek, and that was the sum of my knowledge. Sounds easy enough. I parked beside such a bridge, but could find no waterfall. I thought I had to search harder.
I had received an invitation to join others on this day, and do a hike up Warners track to Adams Peak. These others had arrived, so I told them to set out without me; I would find and photograph these falls and give chase up the incline.
Burnies Creek Falls 3
That was a good idea, except that although I found areas of deep and interesting erosion, my search was devoid of waterfalls. I gave up and set out up the beautiful track, sidelined by fungi now and then, but I eventually caught the others.
Adams Peak summit
Right near the top, however, there was another bridge, and below it, both waterfalls and a cascade. I photographed three worthy falls plus the cascade.
summit views
Once past the top bridge, the track levelled right out, and the beautiful forest ceded to alpine scrub. Our goal of Adams Peak was clearly visible, and not far away. It was a fairly easy scramble up, and we were rewarded with views that were surprisingly vast. It was amazing what we could see from a climb that seemed inconsequential.
Burnies Creek Cascades
As it was winter with short days and a bit of a chill on top, we didn’t linger too long, and were soon rolling our way down the slope to the cars. It was a good length’s walk for a winter’s day; I was home in time to do a couple of outside jobs and collect wood for the fire before night descended.
Explorer Falls. I like that name. It seems an appropriate one considering that the falls are not on the map, and thus, of course, not named, but are there to be found by those who go exploring and who happen to explore in just the right place.
Explorer Cascades. First photo of the day.
I was invited to join some friends who were setting out to enjoy a lovely walk in which they planned to circumnavigate Lake Explorer. We would go in from the Lake Mackenzie carpark, wend our way to the lower reaches of Explorer Creek, cross it (with difficulty: it took us half an hour of vacillating to find the best spot, remove or change our shoes and brave the cold water), follow said creek up on its northern bank until we reached the Lake of its name, and return via the southern bank, after negotiating the outlets from Lake Pitt, Snake Lake and Johnny Lake, in that order.
Lake Pitt outlet. Bellendena montana
The first of these outlets was picturesque but more like a series of elongated tarns; the second was a jump (small but deep); and the third was a scattering of quaint, shining ribbons of tannin water. Right near the end, however, the Fisher River needs to be negotiated, and that required a bit more effort, with a double crossing – knee to waist deep (depending on where you went) with fast-moving, forceful water, and a rather slimy base, which conditions are always a bit threatening when you have several thousand dollars’ worth of electrical equipment on your back. The consequences of a slip and unintentional swim are rather large.
Lake Explorer. Bellendena montana
I thought the vegetation would be rather boring, as we were too late for scoparia and other wildflowers, but too early for autumnal hues should there be any fagus. However, the landscape was aflame with scarlet from the absolute abundance of Bellendena montana seedheads. I have also rarely seen so very many pencil pines – lots of little groves scattered throughout the way. I would love to hear an expert tell me the age of some of the oldest there, whose venerability wrested your attention.
Venerable Pencil Pine
And, we happened upon two lovely water features. On the way up, the sound of flowing water louder than just creek murmurings drew my attention: there was a lovely cascade, which I photographed. On the way back, once more cozened to have a peep by the sound of rushing water, a proper waterfall shyly popped out its head from behind a rock.
Plains beside Lake Explorer
It was a really beautiful day in the wilderness, which gave us all not just a breath of literal fresh air, but a whopping dose of “mental fresh air”, which the wilderness always brings. All the cares of corona virus and its scares and absurdities were left far behind as we soaked in the greater reality of nature (keeping required social distance, of course). It is not one scrap surprising that during the Great Depression of the 1930s, bushwalking as a recreation really took off. The bush has always calmed us down and helped us stay sane in times of trial. We need wilderness for mental health as well as for the air, as fresh here as anywhere on this planet. I also had a welcome day’s rest from hayfever. I am not allergic to the bush, but I am very allergic to the Tamar valley where I live.
Explorer Falls
Astonishingly, this expedition took us nine hours of elapsed time (which includes all food stops, photography and creek negotiations). It was “only” 16 km-equivalents; however, there was quite a bit of low scrub to negotiate, and creek crossings took quite a while. My watch says we were moving productively for 4 hrs 45; my gps says we were moving for 6. Believe whichever you will. A case can be made for either measurement.
No case can be made, however, for locking us out of this recuperative beauty and preventing us from being in the most healthy environment available to us. Luckily we did it before our stunningly smart NP decided that keeping people away from fresh air, decent exercise, beauty and the prerequisites for good mental health is the best way to keep them “healthy”. Maybe a bit like stealing children from their parents is a great way to keep them healthy. There is a lot more to being “healthy” than the presence or absence of this or that disease.
Back in yesteryear, I raced up the Empire State building in the World Stair Running Championships. As the leading world mountain runner in the field, I was favourite for the race. On the day, however, I had a fever and my resting pulse was double its normal, but I raced because they had paid a lot of money to have me there. At the end, I coughed blood into the bin, and was temporarily very ill, fainting several times in the next two days. The organiser, the famous and wonderful Fred Lebow, asked to meet me. I was ostensibly the sick one, but I looked at him and knew with horrid certainty that I was looking at a terminally ill man. In a week, I had recovered from that illness; Fred was in hospital, dying of cancer. Who was actually the healthier person on that day? Health has many facets, some of which are not readily obvious to an eye unable or unwilling to see. Having or not having a positive test result to covid-19 is one small aspect of our overall health. Let me be healthy in the wilderness.
The last time I visited Old House Creek, I approached from the base, and found the driving part to be more than nerve wracking.* So, this time, wanting a revisit to take in the extra falls I’d been alerted to by a few friends, I tried coming in from the top, via good old Maggs Spur 17. Great decision. I used it until it crossed Old House Creek, and then parked, electing not to attempt to drive down the road that descends on the southern side of the creek. Second smart move of the day. Going well so far.
Old House Creek Falls 1 and 2
I wasn’t sure how high up all these extra falls extended, so popped into the forest every now and then on my way down to check out how things were (using the road. Oh BOY was I glad I hadn’t tried to drive it!!!!). The road was ugly, but the forest was gorgeous and mossy, and nice and open; the creek on each visit was just merrily cascading – quite noisily – and although each cascade would make a lovely image if one spent time, I was there on this day for actual waterfalls, so continued purposefully at this stage.
Old House Creek Base of Falls 2. I entered danger for THIS wretched shot? ‘fraid so. This waterfall goes up and up forever!
Once I had crossed the first road perpendicular to my line, the waterfall fun began. I waymarked each one on my map, but it became ridiculous. In a very short space of time, I had ten waterfalls, so all the yellow circles were just on top of each other, and I will delete the lot. I made my way to the base, taking just a few record shots in case I needed them for reference. I was at the base 35 minutes from leaving the car, so this was not a massive time commitment thus far. Ha ha. All up, spread over 4.5 hours, I did 1.5 hours’ exercise (which included some extra exploration higher up) and 3 hours’ photography!
Old House Creek Falls 4
The forecast had been for a cloudy day, but I had noticed to my chagrin that the sun was making an increased showing as I descended. By the time I got to the base, it was really spoiling the party. I took some shots ’cause I was there, but I was not impressed with my own or the sun’s efforts. I will probably ditch the lot. (I did). Anyway, I already had some reasonable photos of the base, even though the flow was better today.
Old House Creek Falls 5 and 6
OK. Now the fun began. My first task was to try to get a decent shot of “Falls 2” or maybe you would call it “Upper Tier”. Given that there were to be ten, I thought numbering was easier. Up I climbed, and got to a spot from where I thought I could work my way across. Hm. The drop was not infinite, but it was substantial and vertical, and if I slipped and fell, a broken back or neck or a smashed head could easily result. No one knew I was there to even come and collect the pieces afterwards, and if I was only half dead, that would be inconvenient. Half would become full before they found me. I did have my plb, but if you are severely maimed or unconscious, the button is rather hard to access and press. (Btw, Falls 2 extends upwards into infinity. It looks middle sized from the base of Falls 1, but it goes out of sight, and you only get the full extent of its measure if you climb up and up to its top.)
Old House Creek Falls 7 and 8
So, under the threat of exacting penalties I tested and retested every foothold and hand hold, choosing a path that never once abandoned a secure anchor. It took 30 minutes to reach the base from the other base below! No doubt you could do it faster by being less neurotically cautious, but in doing so, you would also no doubt disturb a great deal of moss, so in the interests of the environment, even if not of your body, I plead with you to take this very gently if you are as silly as I am and want to get there. I will also add that it is really not worth it. The view from down there was not extraordinary, and there was a lot of spray from the proximity to the landing. I am not pleased with the booty I obtained, and will not be using the shots for any competitions of beautiful photos.
Old House Creek Falls 10
I had an overdose of adrenalin by the time I got back to my route after Falls 2, so just nodded a courteous “Hello” to Falls 3, which were sweet, but utterly dwarfed by the monstrous Falls 2 which seemed to go on forever. However, Falls 4 and 5 – a kind of a double – well, I couldn’t just ignore these, and thus began the very tedious business of setting up for almost every single waterfall I found. (Setting up my equipment and then packing it back at the end takes about fifteen minutes each stop: unfolding tripod, screwing on filter holder, unpacking glass etc. I don’t dare walk with exposed glass when bushbashing.)
I think these were my favourites, although competition is fierce.
Old House Creek Falls 12
Later on I was also to skip Falls 9 (photographically speaking), just because the sun really did spoil them, and because I was soooo over unpacking and repacking my gear every few meters. Similarly I saved Falls 11, higher up, for a different visit, not because they were not beautiful, but enough was enough. I was satiated by this stage. Falls 12 I suspected to be the last, so gave them what I hoped was my final photographic attention, and called it quits for the day. I was starving. Time to patronise my favourite Mole Creek cafe (Earthwater), where I can sit in their beautiful garden under a tree, far away from corona-infected people, and enjoy bird calls and filtered sunlight while waiting for my food.
I have never seen a photo of these falls before, and so needed a name so I could refer to them. I decided, whilst crouched in an astonishingly contorted position, perched on and under a log, and half in a metre of water, that I should dub them “Awkward Falls” so we can refer to them. They are one of the countless treasures held on the slopes of Mt Wellington, available to the adventurous who go searching off track.
Awkward Falls, Mt Wellington
I didn’t have my gps on this excursion, so I can’t even tell you if this creek is mapped. Does it really matter? It’s nice to have some treasures left for those of us who don’t want life so dumbed down there’s no discovery left.
I have wanted to visit Lovers Falls – on an unnamed tributary of the Pieman River, 5.3 kms downstream from Corinna – for years, but I lacked confidence in my ability to debut kayak 10.6 kms. I also lacked someone to go with and I was reluctant to do it solo.
Mossy myrtle
Why did I phone Corinna and discuss the matter? I’m not quite sure, but I did so in January, and the very nice guy who spoke to me on the phone assured me that it was not a difficult river and that all sorts of people managed to do the kayak. He told me, however, to wait a bit, as the water was not flowing enough at present to justify the effort. I appreciated both his encouragement and his honesty. Here began a saga.
Armillaria novae zelandiae
Two more phone calls followed, one to discuss the problem of my dog, who would more than probably be in the car with me. The guy solved this by saying she could be in the car while I kayaked, as long as I didn’t actually sleep in the Reserve. Brilliant. That was a HUGE load off my mind. I could easily camp near, but not in, the reserve with my faithful adventure buddy who hates me going off without her.
Although it is only March, there were a pleasing number of fungi about
The next two were to line up an actual time. This is a long story, the short of which was that I was told I was on a waiting list for the morning, and confirmed for the afternoon (which I really didn’t want). However, the night before, the guy at the desk encouraged me to try my luck at 9 a.m. prompt, as maybe someone would see my plight and magnanimously elect for a double kayak, leaving me free to have a single. My persistence paid off.
Pieman reflections. This is not my shot, but it is very much what I saw, so I wanted to include it. My camera was carefully sealed in my bag and I was too scared of damaging it to use it en route.
There was a kayak spare. The guy talked me through the safety spiel and helped launch me into the river. I was so relieved. Now I would have de facto company – at least one of the others on the water might observe if I capsized. Also, it was cloudy, which is perfect for photography. Who knows how wretchedly sunny the afternoon might be? I needed to be on the water now. Also, if I was very bad at this, I might need all day. Much better to start early!
Launched on the water, I began paddling downstream. The river had perfect reflections. The silence was palpable. It was utterly peaceful as I sat there, rhythmically going plash, plash with my oars. Surge, surge. It reminded me of the stroke, stroke of swimming in bygone days, except the view was incomparably better. Would I get tired? It seemed a long way to go.
Lovers Falls. My prize
As it turned out, I was not bad at all. I quickly left the other three kayaks behind, and after about thirty minutes, passed another two who had started fifteen minutes ahead. All up, I took forty eight minutes to do the distance, which I had been told would take one and a half hours. (Although this was my first kayak like this, and I was very worried about the boat-handling side of things, I have represented Australia at triathlon, so I guess my swimming arms haven’t forgotten how to exercise.) This was very reassuring, as it would give me oodles of time for photography, so I took fifty minutes shooting. So far, this was an excellent exercise: photography ratio.
Lovers Falls area
I had been ridiculously clumsy trying to exit my kayak on arrival at the landing stairs: I was terrified of accidentally toppling into the water with thousands of dollars’ worth of camera equipment. Now it was time to try to get back in without sinking my precious gear in the process. That ended up easier than getting out. And how would my arms be? Can you go from nothing to one hour forty and still have arms that cooperate? My forearms fatigued a little, but my hands felt the strain the most. I was pushing with one while I pulled with the other. I haven’t a clue if that’s what I was supposed to do, but that’s what came naturally. I was very glad to see Corinna pop up around the corner. I was timing it, so I knew it should be appearing soon if I was maintaining pace. It was nonetheless a relief to know I’d done it.
Myrtle, Savage River
I exited my kayak a drenched rat. Every time I lifted my limbs to stroke, water poured down the raised one, wetting my coat. Splashes meant that my legs and shoes got wet. I was soaked, but so happy to have done it that I couldn’t care at all. I am now hooked on kayaking!!
Psathyrella candolleana
Because I got a morning spot, that left me free to drive home after a forest walk in the early afternoon. Now my only question is: Will my arms function tomorrow, or will I be unbearably stiff????
And I have to say in conclusion, I am very impressed with how patient, friendly and helpful the staff members at Corinna were. I drove home with a very positive feeling.
PS. Arms had no stiffness the next day. It seems that all the offtrack bushwalking I do keeps both upper and lower body nicely fit. Bushwalking is SO much better than doing a gym session! 🙂
