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Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar

Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar


Not much water in Myrtle Forest Falls today – but that’s OK; our purpose is to give the children an adventure, not to take a champion shot of a waterfall caught with its pants down.
It was time for a big adventure. We had originally wanted to take the children up Collins Cap, but set out far too late, so adjusted our goals. Our new one was the saddle before the last climb. That was doable for two small children (3 and 7). I think it is important with young ones to make a goal that is reachable so they have the feeling of success. When the goal is badly chosen (like today), they are happy to make a different one, but they do like to know where they’re heading, and to reach that spot. “How far to go now?” needs a distinct answer. We show the children the map, and Gussy takes a great interest in the altimeter on his dad’s watch (which he is allowed to wear on walks so he can plot our upwards progress).


Inspecting some insect or other
On this day, with our late departure, we had lunch almost at the start, where there is a picnic shelter. The children had plenty of time to explore while we ate more than they did. Both of them love to inspect every insect and fungus … and anything else they can find.



They enjoyed the waterfall that followed shortly after that, but were eager not to dally. I photographed, promising to catch up as soon as possible, which happened at the roped section. If I remember correctly, Abby had declared it time for some of the promised lollies. It seems that after our Lord Howe Island adventures, Abby has decided that a walk isn’t a walk if it doesn’t have a roped section, so it was good this walk obliged. She enjoys the challenge of negotiating the obstacles with the aid of the ropes that add excitement.


Inspecting a lizard
Up we climbed through the beautiful mountain pandani forest. By the time we reached the intersection of this little track and the big wide fire trail, Gussy was temporarily running out of steam, and Abby needed a piggy back. Luckily, this was our chosen goal. They knew this was the turnaround point, so their energy picked up immediately they saw their target for the day had been reached, and suddenly they had zest for running races along the flats with their dad. We laid out the picnic afternoon tea, and some other children came past with their mum, who commented on our special bushwalking food. I knew from her voice and body language that she, too, must have prepared something special for her two girls out on their adventure. We shared a complicit smile: two families teaching the next generation to love and care for the bush.
(The track to this area is very clear. It begins at Myrtle Forest Picnic shelter, which can be googled. It took us maybe half an hour to drive north from Hobart to reach it.)

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Collins Cap 2015 Aug

Russell Falls – not a bad alternative to playing in the snow.
With a good dumping of snow forecast for the weekend, it was hard to choose where to go to capitalise on this wonder. The best snow seemed to be for Mt Field, so we planned to go there. Luckily, I threw my Wellington Ranges map into the car, just in case. I say “luckily”, as we gave little forethought to the fact that we were going to the snow in a 2WD; that is not always a good idea. We don’t even own any chains that fit it. (Our 4WD was out of action this weekend).

Lady Barron Falls, looking very dramatic with so much water

I did actually get almost to the Lake Dobson Carpark, but there was a lot of snow, and I was nervous about hanging around. If conditions got one iota worse up there – which tends to happen in snow storms – then we were in a pickle. We retreated, admired (and photographed) two wonderful waterfalls, and then drove to Hobart, resorting to my plan B for the morrow, which was to climb Collins Cap.

I was rather excited to see that there was snow in the Myrtle Forest picnic area car park as we pulled in. This boded well. I looked forward to seeing the cascading creek with its banks decked in snow. It did not disappoint. I wondered about the creek crossings that lay ahead – how icy and slippery they might be – but left that as a problem for later.  As it turned out, they were manageable – just.

The second crossing – the easier of the two.

Just before the second crossing, we met a jolly trio of HWC members, whose footsteps in the snow we’d been following the whole time. Unfortunately they had turned around just after the creek, and were on their way back to the car. Somehow, in weather like that it’s nice to think of someone “up there” ahead of you; someone else wild enough to be on the mountain in snow with further storms forecast. Now the only footprints in the snow were those made by Paddymelons and wombats. I find it endearing that the animals of the forest choose to use the pathways created by humans for humans. They are smart enough to pick that these routes offer the least resistance to forwards movement. Once, after a snowstorm on Cradle, I was on the boardwalk following tiny footprints in the snow, and here I was doing it again. The path was not marked on the trees. I was deciding on its whereabouts by picking the clearest line through the vegetation – a method that became harder the higher we climbed, as vegetation thinned out.

There’s the best line. Straight through that puddle.

My husband got to follow my prints.

The beautiful rainforest, firstly characterised by ferns and later by small pandani plants with snowy caps on, eventually ceded to burnt out snow gums, especially once we’d crossed the fire trail. Climbing in some sections was very steep indeed. I guessed there were rocks under the snow, as otherwise I think we would have slipped downhill a bit. My foot found it easy to kick into or onto something horizontal despite the severe angle of the snow.

Clouds began encircling us; visibility lessened. Just as my husband’s “I think we should turn around” kind of noises increased, I gasped. Up ahead I could see that every single tree and bush had a glorious coating of ice. We were in fairy land. Sorry, but I was not turning around in the presence of beauty such as this. As long as it didn’t actually snow, I knew the way down would be much quicker than our ascent, not just because of not fighting gravity, but also because I was doing all the step kicking and all the route finding on the way up. As long as I could follow our own footsteps down, the task would be halved. On we marched.

 

Fagus adorned in white, sparkling jewellery.

Nearly there. B taking the lead so I could take a photo of his back as the ground levelled out for the summit.
As I suspected, the way down was almost lightning fast. Speeds in the snow on the way up had been extraordinarily slow, which is why the other group had turned back. You needed to be prepared to take twice the normal time to factor in for step kicking, general caution and deciding where the track might be once things got vague. I had fun in the snow. I would have liked to use my macro lens on some of the formations, but moving was a high priority in those conditions.