Ben Lomond - Natureloverswalks

June 22, 2023

Markham Heights Ben Lomond

We didn’t choose Markham Heights on Ben Lomond for our Wednesday walk specifically because it was the shortest day of the year, and we also didn’t quite choose it because it was possibly the coldest day of the year so far (it was minus 8 as we passed through Blessington), but because the minus 5 we were expecting on top would be a lot nicer and safer with 30 cms snow on the rocks than where we had been going, which would probably just be a dangerous expanse of ice rime.

Meanwhile, I was, at the time of the decision, disappointed, as I had been looking forward to the original destination. Through the dark I drove, heading for the Ben Lomond National Park. My spirits picked up considerably as the sun began to rise and I saw the scenes of some of the photos here. I also nearly skittled a deer which ran across directly in front of me, and also nearly had a collision with a black shadow on the road which turned out to be a cow. Needless to say, with temperatures so low, the road was very icy and I was not familiar with its dangerous points, so drove pretty slowly after those two scares.

Off we set. Markham Heights leering down at us

I have always wanted to camp under Ben Lomond to photograph the rocks at sunrise. Even though the sun had already risen, the rocks were still delightfully red on my arrival, so while the others did practical things like putting on boots and more coats and beanies, I dashed out and photographed rock. Hey; who needs to go to Central Australia for red rock? We have it a-plenty right here in Tasmania if we get up early enough (or hang around in rocks until sunset). Dolerite, the predominant rock in most of the state, colours up beautifully at the extreme ends of the day.

The rest of the day was a visual treat, seeing magnificent scenes of snow on bushes or rocks or windswept mini ridges. We had morning tea on an unnamed knob, and lunch on Markham Heights, and assorted snacks here and there to spin out the day. My coils came off and another friend lost one of his mini spikes, so three of us got extra exercise retracing our steps, which also added nicely to the exercise value of the day, and the time spent moving in the white wonderland. I didn’t enjoy the stationary snack times as much as, well, minus 5 is minus 5, and even with 5 layers of warm clothing on, that is still cold. When I’m moving, I’m fine. Here is a small collection of scenes from the day. I hope you enjoy them.

December 31, 2020

Legges Tor 2020 “Summer”

Perhaps you imagine Tasmania to be a nice gentle place to be in summer, with balmy temperatures. Perhaps you fancy swimming most days with a few gentle walks up friendly mountains. If this is what you want, well, I need to disappoint you. We are a bit far south for all that, although, of course, you can strike lucky.

But if you fancy something wild and rough and rugged; if you’re prepared for snow, gales and a drenching in summer; if you delight in the tempestuous side of weather and find it stimulating and thrilling, then Tassie has plenty to offer you.

The Swedes have a saying that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. My family agrees, and with that in mind, we donned our puffer jackets, beanies, mittens and anoraks (all of which were needed) and headed up for everybody else’s first ascent of Legges Tor in the famous Ben Lomond National Park, to stand upon Tasmania’s second highest point, which was a grand adventure for the children.

Gussy makes the impressive summit cairn. Another Abel for him.

Rapid descent. Practising his orienteering skills. Gussy is in third class.

I think the photos tell their own story. You will see the hair blowing about the children’s faces, the warm jackets and ski gloves to fend off the cold. I hope the body language also suggests to you that they are enjoying themselves, which they are. It was bracing and enlivening. You will also see that the scoparia was nicely in flower, making the high area a mass of colour.

I really love it up there … more so in winter when icy rime covers the rocks in a tracery of delicately laced patterns, or when snow like icing sugar decorates the bushes, but summer also has its own grandeur.

After lunch in a sheltered spot, we walk back through swathes of colourful scoparia.

Orites revolutus. One of the many colourful and fragrant wildflowers up here.

September 12, 2020October 20, 2020

Ben Lomond: Snowy Legges Tor 2020

If you had told me even two years ago that I would be brave enough to climb Legges Tor from the back entrance in the middle of winter, solo, I would not have believed you. It would have seemed far too brave a task, especially with the risk of sub-zero temperatures and an icy wind to drop the thermometer even lower (both of which I got. The maximum temperature for the day was 3 degrees down in the valley, so I’m not sure what it was on the summit – something negative – and then subtract a bit more for the windchill factor).

One slip in those sub-zero temperatures and it could be fatal. Of course I had my PLB with me, but, well, people can slip in ice and snow or accidentally fall down an unexpected hole and break a bone, and have a long, long wait for rescue to come (if weather permits). Anyway, I wanted to give it a go, and now I’ve done it, I have no idea what all my fear was about. I watched the snow clouds rolling in with total equanimity, sure that I could run out – even clad in my boots, as I was – faster than it could roll in. I was totally calm on the summit with the wind howling around me while I fiddled with my camera.

It was a magic and delightfully silent world up there. There is something terribly special about snow coating rocks and bushes. Three wedgies circled above at intervals. There were quoll footprints making cute lines in the snow, but mostly, just huge expanses of white.

I did try to time my journey, but I stopped so often for photographs that I gave up. It was nice to be alone and be able to stop for everything beautiful that snatched my attention and not have to feel guilty about inconveniencing someone else. Presumably I sang while I walked: I usually do.

I met a guy who was finishing just as I was setting out; he had had two close family deaths in the last very short space of time, and wanted to be in the wilderness to help ground himself and connect with the greater universe; to find peace in nature. “This is my church”, he said, throwing his arms out wide.

Governments and local councils who are grabbing our precious wilderness to squeeze every dollar they can out of it for the blessed god of tourism fail to consider that they are doing unfathomable spiritual damage to those of us who need the wilderness to connect ourselves to the eternal and the important spiritual aspects of being human. The story of worshipping the golden calf dates back several millennia, but is still happening.

Those bureaucrats who are grounded in material gain and solely guided by market forces will, I guess, never understand humans who have a spiritual dimension, and value that over money. I wonder how many of the aboriginal suicides in incarceration have been caused because these people have been robbed of their necessary connection to nature and their tribe.

Ben Lomond, Legges Tor – beautiful end to the day

Such are the thoughts I am free to have while wandering along through the snow, following my icy markers to the summit, being distracted by beauty as I go.

February 24, 2020

Storys Falls Feb 2020

Rumour (the web) has it that Storys Falls are visible from the road (presumably, the bridge). It is true that Storys Creek, with its multitude of cascades merrily tumbling down the slope, is visible from the road, but the actual falls, according to the map, and also according to what I saw, are another few hundred metres upstream, and need to be walked to – and definitely NOT by a person with a disability. Such a person can delight in the scene from the bridge, indeed, but that is not the actual waterfall.

However, hold your breath if you are wishing for a huge waterfall. This one is even smaller than Chasm Falls or Cephissus Falls, but it does FALL rather than cascade when you are at the exact spot on the map where it says “Storys Falls”. Note also, in accordance with the dictates of authorities that have acknowledged that Australians are no longer educated in their own language, the apostrophe which would otherwise be there is omitted.
As for your choices of reaching the falls: if conditions are suitable, it would be possible to do most of the short hike along the river bed, boulder hopping. I chose to stay in the bush a couple of metres away to keep my shoes dry. It was fine to negotiate. It took me 6 minutes in each direction to reach the falls, although I then went on further for a few minutes, just to make sure I hadn’t missed something exciting, and, well, maps aren’t always accurate, so I thought I’d check for something bigger and better higher up.\

Storys Creek hamlet is not quite a ghost town, but almost, and feels interesting to visit. It is fabulous to look up to Stacks Bluff, which is rather imposing, high above where you are standing. In the late afternoon, when I was there, it forms a grand silhouette.
Photographic note: this is the fourth time I have accidentally managed to go photographing landscape with my macro lens for fungi attached to my camera rather than my wide-angle landscape lens. I thought I had both on board, but I was wrong. Hence the photos are of a different style to the norm.

August 7, 2019

Joy Falls 2019

Having seen my own, and a few other people’s, photos of Joy Falls, I have to wonder if it is actually possible to begin to do this waterfall photographic justice. A huge part of the problem, of course, is that wherever you stand, trees seem to obscure the view. Another part of the problem is that the drop-offs are so massive, and the potential for your gear (or your person) to tumble over, so apparently likely, that you are both on the edge and on edge as you soak in what you are seeing. Adrenalin levels are high. This set of falls pleases yet teases – reveals yet conceals – simultaneously. Your eyes can join the dots and yield a really pleasing whole – a long, medium width strip of fine, misty white veil with several tiers – but the camera just cannot – or not one attached to a human attached to terra firma.

I shot with my tripodded camera also around my neck for safety, and with my arm looped right around a young, healthy tree, leaning into it, so I couldn’t get bumped or just somehow accidentally start sliding. If I had brought the rope that was in the boot of my car, I would have anchored myself with it. Steve dropped something he was carrying and it did exactly as I was expecting: it just rolled a metre down the incline before dropping irrevocably over the edge into space, never to be seen again. Each of us announced any movements we intended making in advance so we didn’t accidentally even hint at bumping the other one. Any loss of balance or position could have been disastrous.

Apart from this danger of trying to get a view and shoot from it, the trip itself was not at all dangerous. We parked where “Joy 3” (pink) track met Joy Road (red). Sure, you couldn’t drive along Joy 3 (an old logging road), but it was easy and delightful walking. At the end of Joy 3, there were tapes to guide you in through pleasant forest. We took our shots at about where the “l”s are in the word Falls. But don’t think that tapes mean it’s easy. Tapes help if you know what you’re doing and are already doing it. This is yet another waterfall that is for experienced bushwalkers. If you want to learn to navigate so you can enjoy areas like this, I suggest you join an orienteering club. That will also increase your confidence in the bush.