Selina Mt, Arnold Peak

What is it that is so very alluring about having to kayak to the base of a mountain? I guess it makes the mountain that bit more inaccessible, more mysterious. There is more of a challenge, and therefore more enjoyment, as we have put more effort into the excursion. I am told that a veiled woman is more desirable than one who is stark naked, displaying all there is in a single hit. In that sense, a mountain that hides a part of itself behind a body of water adds to its own mystique and desirability.

Kayaking on Lake Plimsoll

Our brains do actually enjoy a little exercise (filling in the dots, as it were). Perhaps someone could tell that to the authorities who constantly try to dumb down our beautiful “wilderness”.  Sure, tourists need some sacrificial pawns, but please, please leave the rest of us a little actual wilderness to explore and experience wildness and freedom.

Selina forest – rich and mossy

I had received an invitation to kayak to the base of Mt Selina, on Tassie’s west coast, somewhat near Tullah. For me, that is a long drive, and necessitated putting my dog in a kennel, so I decided to turn the snack into a feast, and stay two nights in Tullah surrounding the expedition. I was hoping to luck in on an aurora, photograph the Milky Way, capture a couple of beautiful sunrises and climb a few extra peaks. I might even see some nice fungi.

Entoloma sp, possibly panniculus, but this is a much nicer blue than normally sported by that species. (I did NOT pick this specimen. Someone with big boots trod on it. I capitalised on the decapitation.)
Cortinarius metallicus en masse
Cortinarius metallicus. I could have stayed here all day photographing this crowd of beautiful specimens.

Full of anticipation, I arrived in location somewhat after 4pm, and sussed out my eventual sleeping spot before I did anything else. There was still an hour before legitimate dinner time, so I did a quick trip up Mt Farrell to catch a good view, but, alas, the sunset was a fizzer. There were too many clouds. The same fate awaited my astro aspirations later in the evening.

Lake Plimsoll, scene of our adventure, taken just before the others turned up.

Next morning I had much more luck, to the extent that I nearly ran late for our meeting time … but the others were running even later, so that is not a bad thing. Eventually we met, got the kayaks ready, and were out on the water, the sun still low enough in the sky to provide beautiful lighting for our short paddle. The sight of colourful boats traversing early-morning waters is such a wonderful thing, comprising a fabulous combination of beauty and adventure. I had fun photographing the group as it made its way to our designated landing beach.

Mt Farrell on Lake Mackintosh, sunrise next day

The distance to be covered to the first of the Mt Selinas was less than a kilometre, but it was very steep, and there were patches of Bauera, Cutting grass and other obstacles to hold us up. We were not in a hurry. As with the previous evening, I was disappointed in the sparsity of fungi (= none). This was to be more than atoned for in the gully between Selinas 1 and 2.

Astro to cap off a good day. I got in two shots or so before the clouds rolled in.

In case you are wondering about all these Mt Selinas, there are several knobs which have legitimate claim to be “the real one”.  One of them is Mt Selina on the 1:25,000 map, while a different one is that which is named on the 1:100,000 version. A third knob needs visiting just in case it is higher. Listmaps is rather funny, as the position of the name “Mt Selina” changes as you zoom in and out, matching the discrepancy named above.

Mt Farrell Lake Mackintosh – predawn glow day 2

Anyway, it was a gorgeous place to be, so who cares if we had to stay in the area longer, climbing this and that, skirting around this and that sheer cliff, admiring this and that King Billy pine, a humungous old myrtle, or giant rocks clothed in a thick cloak of moss. We invented excuses to linger – morning tea 1, 2 and 3; lunch 1 and 2. And then … and THEN came the fungi!!!!!!!! Based on the lack thereof on Mt Farrell, I didn’t bother to include the macro lens that was in the car, so any images you see have been taken with my wide-angle 27mm lens. Given what it is actually designed for, I think it did a pretty sterling job. I didn’t even have a tripod. I thought I was just mountain climbing in the middle of a too-sunny day. Ha.

Arnold Peak to Mt Victoria, next day

Three Mt Selinas climbed, five thousand fungi photographed and we were on our way back down, having run out of excuses to linger. One gps says we took 8 hours to cover less than five kilometres. That will make an interesting entry in my training diary.

Arnold Peak view to Lake Plimsoll, and Mt Selina (inter alia).

Next morning, there was a pleasant if undramatic sunrise, but fun to shoot anyway, and especially enjoyable as I found myself camped next to two other keen photographers (Jamie and Camilla), so we had fun chatting while we shot.

Arnold Peak view to Lake Plimsoll, Walford Peak and the Tyndalls

In order to have some exercise  before I drove home, I climbed Arnold Peak (760 ms in height) after breakfast. I had been told it would be 30 minutes in each direction, so that would give me my desired hour’s exercise for the day. Unfortunately, it only took 13 up, 17 to photograph and about the same to get down, so I went under-exercised yesterday. Worse things can happen. It was a gorgeous little peak, and that will certainly not be the only time I climb it!

Reflections on Lake Rosebery for “dessert” before the long drive home. I floated on beauty the whole way and barely noticed the distance.

Lovers Falls Corinna 2020

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!   🙂