Tarkine | Natureloverswalks

March 1, 2021

Tarkine: Nelson Bay R Falls, Elver Falls 2021

Tarkine: Nelson Bay Falls, Elver Falls, fungi and flowers.

Sunrise at Stanley, the start of a very long day

It seems I am a girl who drove a very long way for something that never happened, as the reason I went to the Tarkine was to kayak to the Elver Falls. However, when I got to Arthur River “township”, I couldn’t raise the people who hired out the boats (the river cruise man said they probably hadn’t put their hearing aids in yet). The shed in which the boat was hiding looked as if it needed a lot more than a hearing aid.

The images available around the shed were of very elderly canoes, not of kayaks at all, and they looked a little like tubs. The wind was up and my broken wrist is only just out of its cage. My spirit of adventure was thus not high. I was prepared to kayak but canoeing made me uncertain, and I really felt uneasy in this state about popping my expensive camera gear in such a vessel. I had been very happy at Corinna, where the kayaks had a waterproof hold, and where everything seemed in excellent condition, but Arthur River ‘town’ just wasn’t doing it for me.

First kayak substitute: The Edge of the World, Arthur River

So, instead of kayaking, I went for a walk along a beach possibly more than appropriately dubbed ‘The Edge of the World’. It was remote, windy and atmospheric. The rocks were fabulous colours, and, as I enjoy wild seas, this substitute pleased. As usual for the Tarkine, however, I needed to get moving, as I didn’t want to eat greasies at Arthur River when lunchtime came, so needed to get somewhere that sold something more nutritious and tasty by late lunch.

South I drove, lamenting the fact that one seems to do far more driving than walking in the Tarkine, until I reached the Nelson Bay River, which sports a pretty waterfall within a stone’s throw (literally) of the bridge. I got to walk at least twelve paces at this spot. Luckily Tessie and I had had a lovely long walk on the beach at Stanley after breakfast, before leaving, so the day, which didn’t seem to be shaping up too well at this stage, wasn’t entirely devoid of exercise.

I decided to return to the north coast via the Julius River Reserve, as it offers a tiny little walk, and maybe there would be some fungi. My hunch was rewarded: there were indeed some wonderful fungi, and I found a second little walk, but I was feeling very under-exercised indeed. By the time I had finished with Julius River, however, I had eaten the lasagne I had brought and some snacks, and I really needed more food, so for the third time in three visits, I found myself exiting the Tarkine sooner than I might have, as I was hungry.

Sure, when I’m bushwalking I have my own food, but I am not bushwalking here. If I have to do lots of driving, then I like to reward myself with coffee and cake, and something tasty for lunch. Dehydrated food requires the eater to have exercised all day and be extraordinarily hungry before it even begins to taste tolerable. (After a full day’s walking, you’ll be pleased to learn, it tastes absolutely delicious.)

Clavulinosis sulcata Tarkine Julius R reserve

Anyway, on we drove, heading for the shortest route home, which seemed to be via Smithton. By the time I reached the nice cafe above Boat Harbour, it was well after three o’clock and I was ravenous. That cafe fixed that, and on I drove home, arriving a couple of hours later with a whopping headache from too much driving.

It seems that if I want to see the Elver Falls, I need to find someone with a double kayak who would also like to see them, or hire a light singleton near home and take it there from here. No matter. It wasn’t to be this time, and now I have recovered from all that driving, I have happy memories of beaches and fungi and a few flowers ….. and of being hungry.

March 11, 2020

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!!

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! 🙂

March 18, 2019July 1, 2022

Netherby Creek Falls 2019 Mar

Netherby Creek Falls 2019 Mar

Both Carrie and I are in agreement about our trip to Netherby Falls on several counts:
(i) We are happy that we have seen them but we don’t feel driven (ha ha: the driving was part of the problem) to see them again.
(ii) As the drive took more than twice as long as the walk (20 mins in each direction – and even that was by deliberately extending the route), and the wait for a steak sandwich in Waratah afterwards was equally as long, we don’t feel that the outcome justified the effort.

(iii) I “only” own a Subaru Forester AWD (don’t you dare rubbish my baby: I love her, and she’s got me into many tricky locations, but she is not a 4WD monster, and acts her size). The drive in was downright scary. Worst was the puddle with no apparent bottom, and no edges to speak of. We held our combined breaths while I nose-dived in and hoped for the best. We’re both fit, so I figured we could easily run out for help if that were needed, but the extra heartbeats way outweighed any beats caused by exertion of a physical nature later. I think we may have kind of given a little scream during this process.

(iv) The falls are way down on any list of beauty stakes. I was spoiled by seeing many falls this long weekend that were truly wonderful, so this one with its clogged base of fallen timber and its lack of green forest in the immediate vicinity did not really do it for me. Lower down was a different matter: Netherby Creek was lovely, and the forest I deliberately steered us through was also a joy to be in, but the falls themselves were too open on one hand yet clogged on another to warrant a return trip. Life is short and finite. I will use my finitude to see things of greater beauty.

We were following instructions from the Tarkine book to get there. These were OK, but nothing beats real contours, and as the drive was more challenging than the walk, I am including both maps. (Also, that book has no index, which makes finding anything a bit of a lottery).

I intentionally headed for the beautiful forest rather than taking a faster straight line through open (unappealing) heathland. The forest was quite interesting, having a lot less understory than usual (until you got lower to the rather crowded creek). You could run through that forest. It was not Tassie’s lushest mossy forest, but we both enjoyed being part of it for the short while we were there.

May 7, 2018July 28, 2018

McGowans Falls 2018 May

McGowan Falls, May 2018.

I had for some reason expected McGowans Falls to be a little like Lillydale or Liffey Falls, with signs, paths, picnic tables and so on. I was thus rather surprised to discover that there was not one single direction post to the falls, no road names to give you a clue where you were, just in case you had doubts, and no “arrival status” save for a little cairn with some adorning pink tape. (Not necessarily complaining: just noting. I neither want nor like infrastructure at my falls). If you look down the track, you can see some orange tapes for variety, and even two discarded beer cans hanging in trees in the first three metres to alert you to the fact that you are there.

Russula persanguinea
The fact that these falls are not “maintained” means that the pad is an aesthetically-pleasing bush route; there are no metre-wide, levelled-out paths of fake material so you don’t slip; no handrails, and, oh joy, no bridges made out of that plastic stuff Parks now favours – and no viewing platforms to ruin the place. There was not even any rubbish. Weee. It had a magic feel to it.

Off you set down a track wide enough for cars for a couple of metres, and then you hang a left (taped) and your track becomes a narrow and appealing route through a rain-forested fairyland along to the top of the falls, and then down a steep climb to the bottom if that’s what you want. It’s not a big walk: it took Carrie and I twelve minutes to get from the car to the base of the falls. It took a LOT longer to come back up – not, as you might think, primarily because we were going upwards, but rather because we had agreed that we would go straight to the falls and then shoot fungi on the way back out. That took a VERY long time.

Cortinarius rotundisporus

Cortinarius austroviolaceus I think. If you know better, please advise.
And how do you find the magic cairn that begins this mini-adventure? Turn down the road immediately to the west of the Cam Bridge (A10. W of Burnie), and travel on it to Yolla. There, turn right heading for Takone on what is, or at least becomes, Farquhar Road (not named as such). Stay on this as it goes through “West Takone” (nothing there) and on for a few more kilometres. Ignore the (right hand), northern-pointing Pruana (unnamed / unsigned) Road, and drive until you reach an intersection that is the shape of a fairly narrow Y. Now you turn right to join Relapse Creek Road, not that there is a sign that informs you that this is the case. I marked this intersection on my gps to be doubly sure that I was where I wanted to be and turning right off Farquhar Rd at the right spot. Once you are on Relapse Creek Road, you don’t have too far to go (maybe about a kilometre) until you see the cairn and tapes on your right. The waterfall is on Relapse Creek, downhill to your right. The route from the top of the falls to the base is not for the faint of heart. There’s one “delicate and interesting” ledge section that should be avoided by people not used to negotiating such things.

Boletellus obscurecoccineus

December 3, 2017July 21, 2018

Detention Falls 2017 Dec

Detention Falls 2017 Dec

As Carrie and I were in the Tarkine area, we decided to visit the Detention Falls not too far from Sisters Creek, despite the fact that I had brought a macro lens instead of a landscape one. The rotten sun was now shining brightly; our nice threatening clouds had all but disappeared. The gods were against us, but we still wanted to have a peep. Why not?

We found the turn off to Hawleys Road alright (having headed first for Meuna out of Sisters Creek), and eventually also found a place where that Hawleys Rd ended, so we decided we should stop there. There had been no signs to the falls. What we did find was a series of signs that said: “The falls are not here”. At last, one of the handmade signs said: “Falls Track”. I followed my nose, watching the grass for signs that other humans had once trodden this way, and on we went, eventually finding a clearer track after we’d followed the farm fence straight ahead through two paddocks. There was also a sign warning us that the viewing platform had been taken away (excellent) and that it was dangerous (of course; life is a very dangerous business, full of shocking and debilitating risk in the 21st century. Luckily there were no blue forms to fill in before we were allowed to continue).

This is not the whole of Detention Falls – they were way too big to fit into a single photo with a 100mm lens 🙁
I steered us towards the top of the falls rather than where a viewing platform once was. The view from our arrival point stopped us in our tracks. There was marvellous tannin-stained water with pools and arches and mini falls debouching to the real ones that fell a mighty distance to the base below. Of course, the base called us. I said I reckoned I could find a way down if Carrie was willing to give it a try. Of course she was. Off we set. The drop looked truly formidable from where we were perched on top, but we made it to the bottom, and had great fun being there as well. There is a pleasant sense of achievement when you reach a place that looks inaccessible from afar. We delighted in being at the base, and I shot what I could with the wrong lens. This is another waterfall I need to visit on a nice (dull) day that stays misty all day – and with my landscape lens!!
The bumph says it’s a ten minute walk to the viewing platform. You will cheat yourself of a great deal of fun if you only allow ten minutes in each direction and no more at these falls. I didn’t time it, but my estimate is that we spent at least an hour here (and that doesn’t include the walking in and out part). There seemed so many things to explore, so many photographic opportunities, that the long time, whatever it was, dashed past quickly.