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Holwell Gorge Falls 2018 May

Holwell Gorge Falls. May 2018


Why would I choose to “attack” the Holwell Gorge Falls from the distant northern end, rather than the closer, easier, southern option? Because I am not interested in “efficiency”, but in beauty, and in “bang for my buck”, or, perhaps more nicely put, a good drive to walk ratio, which tips the scales as much as possible in the direction of walking. I love exercise and walking through magic, lush forests full of fungi beside streams of astonishing clarity. Why on earth would I go for the quick option? In addition, the one time I visited the southern end (just to above the falls), I found that the greater height meant that the forest was dry sclerophyll, and the mosses and fungi I so love down lower were not present.



I have wanted to visit the Holwell Gorge Falls for a year now, having visited their northern brother, the Holwell Falls, a year ago. I have been impatiently waiting for enough rain to engender some flow, and for the right opportunity.  At last, today, it came. Or, I thought I had a sporting chance, let us say. I knew the early section very well, so marched through it in 11 minutes. Now came a sign that told me the upper falls, the Howell Gorge Falls, were 40 minutes return. DO NOT believe this sign. If you read my blog regularly, you will know that I am not a slow walker. I took 41 mins ONE WAY to reach the upper falls. This sign is very misleading, and it meant that I got very hungry, as I wasn’t expecting to take so long, and if you read this blog, the other thing you will know about me is that I get hungry often and quickly, and get quite desperate for food once hunger hits.


All the dire warnings about needing experience should be reserved for this second section. Once you are past the Holwell Falls, you lose your manicured highway, and encounter a track that can be, at times, downright dangerous. I was climbing over logs that were fat and slippery, and that didn’t always have anything to stop me should I start sliding downwards. I’m sure if you were taller, with longer legs than mine, it might be easier, but I was uncomfortable about being solo on one or two occasions when straddling an overweight, sloping log with nothing to hold on to.  There was one section where I even feared for my continued existence, where I had to sidle along a ledge with nothing to hold. The ground under this ledge … did not exist. It was like a tooth with a gaping cavity. I hoped against hope that the unsupported earth wouldn’t collapse under my weight. Whew. I got to the other side; however, on the way back, if you look at my map, I chose to stay in the creek bed rather than trust fate twice running. The odds were too heavily stacked against me.


The sign said 40 mins return. Elementary pre-school maths says that means roughly 20 mins in each direction if you walk at “sign speed”, which translates to about 15 or so for me. 15 went by. 20, 25, 30. Had I missed something? I got out the map to check. Na. I still had at least 600 ms to go. Hm. I’d be lucky to do one way in 40, let alone there and back! Panic hunger began. Lunchtime would find me at the waterfall, not at my car. Anyway, the scenery was superb, and the gymnastics needed to make progress, somewhat diverting, so on I pressed. Hundreds of fungi and countless moss and lichen specimens later, I finally arrived. I loved the end result, and took a long time enjoying the area.


The way back was faster than the way out – a neat, round 40 minutes – as I was rushing, and I knew more what I was doing now I had a modicum of familiarity. I avoided the deadly ledge by staying in the creek, thereby, unfortunately, missing my very favourite fungi that I had saved for the return journey. Oh well. I got back to the car before I fainted from hunger, and drove home in 34 minutes. That makes this the closest waterfall to my house, I believe. I’m so glad it’s so very well worth visiting. Lillydale Falls are possibly not much further, but with only a five-minute walk, they hardly justify the drive.

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Holwell Falls 2017 May


Google tells me that Holwell Forest Reserve, in which both Holwell Falls and Holwell Gorge Falls lie, is thirty-two minutes from my house. It is therefore pretty reprehensible that I had never even heard of them before a local posted an image on Instagram that alerted me to their presence. It was too late, however, as the track had been closed in response to the flooding of two winters ago. Now it seems that part of the track is now opened – albeit with dire warnings that you need to be an experienced bushwalker to venture there. That’s fine. I’m very experienced. I wondered how bad it really was.


About two minutes into the thirty-two promised me, light rain began. Ten minutes later, it was so torrential that I couldn’t see at all to drive. The windscreen wipers flapped furiously, but to no avail. Nonetheless, I continued on my merry way, heading through Exeter and Winkleigh. There, I missed seeing the road to the left, and, hey, who can resist driving down a road called Flowery Gully Road? Not me. I followed it along, but it wasn’t doing what I thought it should, so decided to be logical and consult the maps app. Whoops. Now I was near Beaconsfield. Oh well. I found a road that linked this one to Holwell Road to the west, and attacked from the north. This ended up being a must fortuitous error. The northern end was way prettier than its southern beginnings. (But for efficiency, don’t head for Flower Gully. Turn left).


I turned in at the little blue sign, parked where I should, shouldered my pack with all my gear, and set out in what was now mere drizzle. I took an umbrella to shield the lens. You don’t often find me bushwalking with a big umbrella.


I couldn’t believe I have lived near this beautiful place for so long whilst remaining ignorant of it. The water was so very clear that even on this late autumn day, it begged me to paddle. Children must surely love playing here in summer. There were rock pools in abundance. The sign had said thirty minutes for the round trip, and I suppose that’s accurate if you don’t take too many photos. However, I was mesmerised by what I saw, and had all my gear for long-exposure shots, so way exceeded the suggested time. I think I was there about an hour and a half.


I had no idea what the state of play on the track was, of whether it had been fully or half repaired, or not touched at all. On the way to the first falls, it certainly felt repaired and in good condition. At the falls, as you can see from my photos, there were a few tree casualties lying in the water, and their leaves looked rather new. A bombed viewing platform had its skeleton remaining in place, but not much else. It didn’t look old. Maybe we have had even more damage. A huge eucalypt lay across the path; it was too big and slippery for me to get around it with a bear hug. You could, with a mild possibility of slipping backwards, get around if you went down and passed it at creek level. However, my watch now said I didn’t have enough light left for playing, so left that exploratory exercise for another day. Right now, I wanted a peep at the southern end. Round I drove.


The southern end wasn’t nearly as welcoming as the northern. The track hadn’t been cleared at all and wasn’t manifestly visible. I think they’re hoping it will grow over and disappear. Again, signs warned that experience was needed to step into this zone. There were certainly huge drop-offs to my right as I climbed the track, but nothing to worry about if you’re not being silly. After about five minutes, the track forked. At first I took the left fork and climbed up high, away from the river. I decided this wasn’t going to lead to any waterfall photos in the next few minutes, so returned and took the other fork, to arrive at the top of a waterfall. By now it was really getting dark, so I had to be content with a peep of the top for this time. It wasn’t worth photographing. I’ll be back – to see fungi, even if not the falls!