Tag: Tasmania

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Montana Cascades 2017 Aug

Montana Cascades 27 Aug 2017
I originally published this under the title “Montana Falls”, having followed the Waterfalls of Tasmania website to get there. However, friends then emailed me and told me that what I had shown was not the falls at all, and that one did not access them via the Salmon Farm (41 degrees South). So, I have now called these lovely falling waters Montana Cascades. They are well worth a visit – but so are the falls, the real falls, upper and lower. For them, go to the blog labelled, correctly, Montana Falls. Here is my report on the Cascades.


Just look at that wretched blue sky on a day forecast to be snowing all day! Having forced my husband to read in the car while I went to Upper Liffey Falls solo (because of all the ice and his Parkinson’s Disease), I chose Montana Falls as my second falls for our little trip, as he could easily do those. As it was, however, he has only seen what you’ve seen – my photos.


I reckon it would be pretty cool to own a waterfall and be able to swim below it whenever you felt like it.
Dogs were allowed out the back, but not out the front of the property, so he decided to take Tessa for a walk in the bush rather than come and see the falls. Thus I ended up doing these by myself too – which is actually a good thing, as once the path ran out, I had to climb through prickly gorse bush to get up and around some mini-cliffs before I could continue to where I wanted to photograph. The descent to water level was also not for him. He and Tessa had a lovely walk in the forest behind the main building.
To get to these falls, go to 41degrees south salmon farm, just out of Deloraine, (on the way to Dairy Plains or Chudleigh) and pay a fee to walk along the track to where you can view the falls. I asked permission to go beyond that official part.

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Upper Liffey Falls 2017 Aug

Upper Liffey Falls in the snow. August 27 2017


Upper Liffey Falls in frozen glory – just what I wanted.
The forecast for today was snow down to 300 ms. I figured it might possibly be cold, and a bit unpleasant for a jaunt that would last too long, so I chose Upper Liffey Falls (and its nearby mate, Montana Falls – see separate blog under that heading) as my option for such a day. Upper Liffey Falls shouldn’t take too long. I told my husband to bring a good book, as I didn’t think an icy waterfall would be suitable for him. This was one to do solo. He could join in on Montana Falls.


It was kind of hard to find a good place to park the car, as off-road was very icy and covered in snow, but on road seemed asking for trouble. I eventually found a spot near to where I wanted to launch myself into the white wonderland that was a compromise between the two, and off I set, not sure what would be in store. It was a bit bushier than I expected, and the branchlets were laden with snow, so any hint of a track was not exactly clear, and I kept being bombarded with tiny snow missiles. Every now and then, I found tapes, which let me know I was going where others went. I’m sure that in conditions in which the ground is not covered in white powder, things would be clearer.


Anyway, nothing mattered. I knew exactly where I was going in the grander scheme of things – I was just being a wuss and seeking the path of least resistance so as not to get covered in snow as I went. The temperature outside the car was “only” zero, but that didn’t take into consideration the wind chill factor, which felt pretty extreme. I was glad to drop out of the blast as I descended to the falls. It was another case of “make your own way down”, which is fine, even in these icy conditions, although I did take it slowly. No one was going to come and rescue me if I was hasty and slipped and hurt myself.


This is a non-bushy section up the other side. That looks like a track , but it’s not. I don’t think there is one up there. The bushy bits are lower down.
I was a bit disappointed not to have more snow surrounding the falls, but I’m just being fussy. I was, however, downright peeved to have the wretched sun come out just as I was preparing to shoot. Lucky I had my stoppers, polarising filters and other toys to hand. The shots are 30 second exposures, which is long enough to flatten out the water and give a silky flow, but not so long as to turn the whole thing into a white blur. I hope you enjoy today’s “catch”.
I had heard of these falls quite a long time ago. I’m pleased to have seen them in real life at last.

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Cam Falls 2017 Aug

Cam Falls and Owen Brook Falls. 24 Aug 2017.
Being somewhat new to the waterfall bagging business, I was really confused about whether the Cam Falls and the Upper Cam Falls were the same thing. Many web sites depict a waterfall and name it the Cam Falls, but the picture is actually of the Upper Cam Falls, which is confusing if you’ve come in from the outside. The Waterfalls of Tasmania website does not list the Cam Falls as either a documented or an undocumented feature of our environment. Wikipedia kindly has them both, and the wiki-map cleared up for me the confusion about where each one was. See the map at the end of this article.
We had a free day on Thursday. It seemed like a nice waterfall sort of day. Off we set. I decided to tackle the easy one first (Upper Cam Falls), so that we didn’t return from the drive empty handed. Good idea. What a delightful waterfall this is! For directions, see
www.natureloverswalks.com/upper-cam-falls/


These are the Cam Falls (without an “Upper” prefix). I cannot find another web image of these falls.
To get to the Cam Falls, we travelled along the C103 until its intersection with the C101. Where they met, we turned left and went to the end of the bitumen.
We parked by a green, corrugated shack (which I knew about from a different useful post), and I went to ask permission to see the Owen Brook Falls, which are in a paddock behind the house. My web source said this person was friendly and granted permission. However, there was no person, and the shack was broken down and vandalised. I decided to see the Cam Falls first, as these were also in walking distance from the dwelling, on the other side. This took a very long time, as I was super cautious descending the excessively steep and not-necessarily stable slope, choosing trees that might take my weight, finding footholds that wouldn’t give way. What an impressively steep gorge!! There is a railing up the top to allow you to view and lean a bit without killing yourself, but I would not take children near this place unless they were on a lead. I would also not descend unless really competent and experienced in this kind of untracked steep terrain. If you do, please remember that you do so at your very own risk and don’t think it is someone else’s responsibility to keep you safe. My husband did not attempt either descent.

The Cam Falls were on the East Cam River. The Owen Brook Falls are on Owen Brook, which joins the East Cam just below both falls. The gorge area was fantastic and I would have loved to have explored for longer, but we hadn’t brought our lunch, and I was (as usual) starving by now, so we left, contented, and eagerly headed for our next treat – savoury food at ETC, and dessert at the Raspberry Farm. We love this post-walk ritual. Tessa considers herself to have bagged three more falls.

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Gads Falls 2017 (Lower)

Gads Falls 19 August 2017
Gads Falls truly intrigue me. I first read about them in a website that made them sound simple, although it said they’d been destroyed by fire, so wait a while. However, following the recent reopening of the Mersey Forest Road, I saw web shots  depicting images of what could now be seen.


Meanwhile, I heard an old-timer from LWC talking about them as we passed nearby last weekend, and he commented: “It depends what you mean by Gads Falls. There are many falls. The first few are easy. They get harder as you go along, and the final one (here he sighed), that one is very, very hard and only for the brave.” He shook his head. Hm. Now I was curious, to say the least, although, as I don’t see myself as being very brave, this wasn’t like a dare or goad. He implied it was very steep and that the scree was loose. A different old-timer pointed out the real ones to me, much higher up than any short walk would be; you could just see them peeping out very high above.


On Sunday, my husband and I happened to be passing by the base with time on our hands, so I decided to pop in and do a recce. As I had no idea what to expect – wasn’t sure how to interpret what I’d heard – and as this was therefore only a recce, I didn’t bother with a tripod. Thas quite good, for what I encountered just getting to some of the lower cascades, was very, very steep and loose, with slopes plummeting down into the various little falls (if you wanted to reach their base, and I did). River crossings needed two hands for balance. No single tumble would kill you, but it could easily break a bone or two, and I wasn’t in the mood for that on Sunday. Also, I didn’t know exactly what would happen if a landslide began, and my curiosity didn’t extend as far as wanting to test that one out. I was very cautious indeed, which meant that the short time indicated for each direction was way under what I took, especially as I did indulge in a few photos of each cascade. Meanwhile, I plotted my attack for what is called Gads Falls on the map, the ones indicated by my second old timer, and which are much higher than any web photos I have seen. A third knowledgable person told me the only photo he’s ever seen was taken with a drone. I’ll let you know if I get to the top ones. Don’t hold your breath waiting.


Re the spelling: Gads Falls seems to be favoured by Tourism Tasmania, whilst Forestry confused people by writing Gadds Falls on a signpost (not for the first time have sign posts in Tasmania confused people by having a cavalier attitude to spelling. Poor google has enough trouble trying to find our little island without that!). As ever, I let the map have the final say, and my map, having not consulted Forestry, spells it Gads Falls, so, Gads it is.
To go to the easier, lower cascades, park in the quarry to the north of Gads Creek. You can do as I did and bushbash to the creek and cross over, which is tricky in these winter high flows, or do yourself a favour, as I did on the way back, and cross the creek on the road, and proceed upstream from there. You will come across the odd marker that has survived the fire, and see bits of remnant track, but the distance is only a few hundred metres, so just work your way upwards. You can usually see where other humans have trodden. The moss has been mostly burned, but the cascades and stream are still very attractive.

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Walls of Jerusalem 2017 Aug Snow

Walls of Jerusalem in Snow. 19 August 2017


We have been to the Walls a few times in winter, in glorious snow, but never have we seen it as tantalisingly lovely as it was this time. We encountered snow well below Trappers Hut (which is normally our snowline), and were in a fairy-wonderland long before we reached that cute little rest point.


If you think that pack of his looks huge and I am a mean wife making him carry so much, please be reassured: my pack was much heavier than his, and I had the shared-type items for the two of us. I have taken huge measures to make myself stronger as he becomes weaker so we can both keep going.
My husband had indicated after last week’s successful foray into white wonder that he felt he was up to a weekend walk to the Walls, so we acted accordingly. However, Parkinson’s is a fickle disease: this week you can be fine (relatively speaking), yet next week, you’ve gone distressingly downhill. This week was not a good week, and he struggled badly. The further we penetrated into the white wilderness, the less coordinated he became. His pace slowed to a virtual halt.



I got very embarrassed, as we were holding the others up dreadfully, so, at lunchtime, I regrettably pulled the pin and took us out, waving wanly as the others headed off to Herods Gates and where I wanted to be.



We began our path downhill, the weather making my decision easier to bear, as the clouds were amassing. My husband’s spirits picked up considerably as we descended, and we had a happy afternoon, figuring we’d managed to be in the beautiful snow for the best part of the day anyway. However, as we walked before lunch, I knew I was looking at my husband climbing in snow with a proper pack on his back for the last time. We have had many sad “last times” since his illness has taken control of him, but this is one of the worst, even though it is not unexpected. At least he can still do daywalks in the snow. For now.