As I drove towards Miena at the start of our adventure, the snow began to fall. The further I drove, the heavier it got. This was an exciting start to our adventure. But my mind asked: How cold would the forest be, bushbashing through new snow? Climbing steep slopes with ice-laden leaves dropping their bounty on our backs? Time would tell.
I unloaded my gear at the bunkhouse at Derwent Bridge, and cooked dinner, waiting for my friends. When they arrived, they brandished photos indicating that the snow was now settling. Tomorrow would be interesting. We huddled by the heater, exchanging news, storing up on warmth that we wouldn’t get on the morrow.
The next morning revealed a wondrous white world. I was so tempted to skip waterfall bagging and just photograph delicate rainforest leaves in the snow. They knew I would be like that, and kind of set a schedule that prevented me squandering the day on the “wrong” activity. Past fairyland we drove, with me aching to see such beauty but knowing I would regret dipping out on new waterfalls if I did.
The waterfalls we were to bag were just below the snow line, so at least we didn’t have to bother about little ice bombs dropping from the sky. This was actually my second attempt at these falls. On the first attempt, I had a broken hand, and got not much further than the start line. I didn’t dare risk a re-break. Some forests you can do with a broken bone, but not this one. Denied excuses this time, here I was, dreading crossing the creek below the main falls at the start of a day where the car thermometer read a mere 2 degrees, but trying to put on a brave face anyway. Luckily, the guys were no more eager than I was to get wet in such conditions, so we chose to do the three easier falls first, before tackling the mightily steep ones, where the slopes dropped at 89.9 degrees straight into the river below. Even the third of the easy ones would have some “interesting” moments.
Such challenges were for later. At first we just enjoyed walking at a pace that allowed us to stay warm, passing through kangaroo ferns, Dicksonia antarctica and mossy nothofagus. There were a few fallen trees to negotiate, but not too many, and very little actual bush bashing was required. Some short steep drops added interest to the mix. We even happened upon some out-of-season fungi. But we were on a mission, so I just privately called “Hello” en passant and forged ahead on our goal of finding waterfalls.
Any reluctance to forgo spending time with snow or fungi was quickly forgotten once the first of our waterfalls was reached, about 45 mins after leaving the main Nelson track. Sometimes I forget how wonderful waterfalls can be. At last I didn’t have to worry about time or holding anybody up. Out came Caedence’s tripod (and out came mine). Adrian is faster, using just his phone, but is totally happy to wait while we two do our thing with heavier, slower equipment. I take lots of shots with different f-stops and times, so I can determine my favourites later, while seeing the outcome in more detail on the computer.
The second waterfall was even more beautiful than the first. They felt terribly special, so hidden and yet so wonderful. They are part of the whole wider pleasure of needing a semi-challenging journey to get there; of not having the falls just being served on a ready-made NPWS dish. I like to have to work for my waterfalls. Stuff that comes too easily is not valued as highly. My brain and body both enjoy working for their outcomes. Anything too easy is boring.
More photos taken, more oohs and aahs uttered, and off we set for the most challenging of the climbs to the third and final fall in the series. Here the ground was very steep indeed, and long legs were required to make one of the climbs that offered a wide range of injuries if one missed and fell. Kindly, Adrian offered me a knee to place my foot on, and moral support by standing below me. (On the way back down, I used his shoulder to cut the journey short, as it were.) I would not have liked to have done that particular climb without a safety net below me, and amongst his many assets, Adrian is an excellent safety net.
I had cut breakfast short so as not to hold the others up. It was nearing midday and this animal that needs constant feeding was wilting. Why did these guys who are twice my size not need feeding? Why and how was their breakfast so small? At last we stopped for a snack, but the others had finished and I was only half way through mine. I knew we were about to enter some seriously tricky territory. I didn’t want to foul them out by not being able to do it, and I also didn’t want to just wait in the forest in the cold for them to come back. I also didn’t want to get so deeply into difficulty that I couldn’t get out by myself. I had had a snack but was not satisfied. How many hours would this bit take? I decided to quit while I was ahead. If it was doable for me, we would come back some other time, but for now, they could be more daring without me and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about dragging them backwards. I pulled the plug and went a got myself soup, fruit buns, juice and coffee to quiet the beastie within. It began to rain. I was not unhappy to head for home and collect Tessie a day earlier than expected. As I entered the kennel, I could hear her yelping with joy at the sound of my approach.
