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Styx Falls 2021 Jun

I fear the drive to Styx Falls took longer than the walk – but that is not to say that the walk was not enjoyable or worth the effort: it was wonderful, with all the lushness and mossy beauty that one might expect of anything carrying the name “Styx” in Tasmania, and with a mass of colourful fungi to add to the joy.
To get to our (walking) start, we had to drive along the Styx Road from its eastern end, over the river bearing its name, and then up a spur until we curled back on ourselves, but now at a greater height. Once driving became dodgy, I parked and we began our walking part along a former road, but on a path that is now pretty overgrown (for vehicles; fine for walking).

Cortinarius austrovenetus

That easy part completed, we then plunged like deep sea divers into the green mass of steep forrested matter until the roar of the falls announced that the line we had taken was absolutely correct.
The bush was so thick, and the falls looked so lovely from a distance that I was tempted to try to shoot them from higher up and slightly further away, but found myself being pushed down to where Adrian and Caedence were, at the base. The wind and spray off the falls of the morning had been so bad (and any fallen trees in the basal area so very slippery) that this was not really where I wanted to be,  but the view of the falls was definitely superior to anything I could grab higher, so there I was. I would just have to try to get a spray-free shot. I even got out my umbrella to help, which made me pretty clumsy, and Adrian came to my aid. Part of the problem with falls like this is finding a base that is firm enough to hold the tripod still: not always achievable.

Styx Falls

While Caedence and I played with tripods and long exposures, Adrian explored a bit downstream, returning to announce that there was one small but pretty drop a bit further down, and something that could be a good fall beyond that.
Once our shooting was completed, we followed, to find what was actually my favourite waterfall of the day. It’s good the way that what pleases one person doesn’t over-excite another, and vice versa. For me, size of drop or quantity of water are not as important as finding a picturesque scene, and a fall with a beautiful shape and flow lines; here I had my desire. And it was not so big that it created a monstrous spray.  Hoorah.

Styx Falls Lower

The promising drop below turned out to be nothing but a log jam, so it was time to turn around. This did not disappoint me, as I was by now soaking wet and rather cold. My body yelled that it was hungry.

Aleura aurantia

As with this morning, the drop down had been so steep that I had a few misgivings about getting back up, but, also as with this morning, there was no problem at all, and the climb out was easier than the descent.  It had been  a great day of adventure and beautiful scenery, and I now had a mass of photos to edit. Sigh.
The falls of the morning can be seen at the site:
http://www.natureloverswalks.com/ice-falls-bowl-falls/ 

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Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar

Myrtle Forest Falls 2019 Mar


Not much water in Myrtle Forest Falls today – but that’s OK; our purpose is to give the children an adventure, not to take a champion shot of a waterfall caught with its pants down.
It was time for a big adventure. We had originally wanted to take the children up Collins Cap, but set out far too late, so adjusted our goals. Our new one was the saddle before the last climb. That was doable for two small children (3 and 7). I think it is important with young ones to make a goal that is reachable so they have the feeling of success. When the goal is badly chosen (like today), they are happy to make a different one, but they do like to know where they’re heading, and to reach that spot. “How far to go now?” needs a distinct answer. We show the children the map, and Gussy takes a great interest in the altimeter on his dad’s watch (which he is allowed to wear on walks so he can plot our upwards progress).


Inspecting some insect or other
On this day, with our late departure, we had lunch almost at the start, where there is a picnic shelter. The children had plenty of time to explore while we ate more than they did. Both of them love to inspect every insect and fungus … and anything else they can find.



They enjoyed the waterfall that followed shortly after that, but were eager not to dally. I photographed, promising to catch up as soon as possible, which happened at the roped section. If I remember correctly, Abby had declared it time for some of the promised lollies. It seems that after our Lord Howe Island adventures, Abby has decided that a walk isn’t a walk if it doesn’t have a roped section, so it was good this walk obliged. She enjoys the challenge of negotiating the obstacles with the aid of the ropes that add excitement.


Inspecting a lizard
Up we climbed through the beautiful mountain pandani forest. By the time we reached the intersection of this little track and the big wide fire trail, Gussy was temporarily running out of steam, and Abby needed a piggy back. Luckily, this was our chosen goal. They knew this was the turnaround point, so their energy picked up immediately they saw their target for the day had been reached, and suddenly they had zest for running races along the flats with their dad. We laid out the picnic afternoon tea, and some other children came past with their mum, who commented on our special bushwalking food. I knew from her voice and body language that she, too, must have prepared something special for her two girls out on their adventure. We shared a complicit smile: two families teaching the next generation to love and care for the bush.
(The track to this area is very clear. It begins at Myrtle Forest Picnic shelter, which can be googled. It took us maybe half an hour to drive north from Hobart to reach it.)

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Growling Swallet 2018 Apr

Growling Swallet, Apr 2018


That’s the Growling Swallet right there, swallowing this helpless river rushing to its gaping mouth.
Growling Swallet: don’t you just find that the most wonderfully descriptive name – a mountain growling as it swallows a river? This guzzler of a mountain swallows this beautiful watercourse, as if in some magic fairytale (which is fitting if you could just see the forest!) and spends thirty kilometres digesting it in its large intestine before excreting it at the Junee Caves in Maydena. After being thus digested, it is called the Junee River. I only first heard this name less than a month ago, but was smitten with curiosity. I had a chance to see it on Sunday when returning from a climb in the South West, so grabbed the opportunity (along with a visit to kind of nearby Tolkien and Regnans Falls, which each have their separate blogs).


I have only recently finished reading Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant, and am now reading a story set in Iceland, so I was in the mood for magic and fairytales. And it’s fungi season. I was expecting a lot of this place, and I got it.


To reach this area, turn right if coming from Maydena onto the dirt road that goes under the main road after you’ve turned and after it sub-divides into Styx and Florentine Roads. You want the Florentine Road, which you’ll follow for quite a while as it rises ever so gently to a saddle with Tim Shea, and begins a descent just as gradual over the other side. The drive will take 25-30 mins, depending on how comfortable you are with dirt road driving. Ultimately you will arrive at a road on the right called F8 EAST. This is yours. It has a locked gate. You can pay $300 for a key (refundable if you’re not swallowed), or you can try your luck at driving in, or you can do what I did, and just park and walk the lot. This involves walking an extra four kilometres.. Big deal. At the minute, there’s a fallen tree right at the start of the road, so if you love your car, walking is the go.



The road bit is quickly dispensed with, and then you’re into the gorgeous rainforest, which is totally distracting with its many and varied fungi. Depending on your level of concentration in the presence of such tantalising beauty, you will, after a short walk, hear the sound of rushing water. You have arrived. Some, fearing the monster’s appetite, are content to stay high. Others like me, opining that we’re too bony to be an enjoyable dinner, venture down into the water. Play it safe and keep in your comfort zone. The small-track walking part took me eleven minutes, but with the extra photography of fungi, perhaps an hour.


The track to the area is clear, but once there, if you go around in a lot of circles chasing fungi and mossy giants, the part at the end seems to have tapes everywhere, but not in a way that helps. I had to get out my gps and compass to see which general direction I needed, as I had become so immersed in fungi and moss that I lost my sense of direction, and I seemed surrounded by pink tapes. I could have spent another hour here, easily, but I noticed that the sun had lost its warmth, and the sky was getting rather dark. Whoops. I’d stayed here far, far longer than anticipated. I now had a big drive back to Launceston, and all the nearby food outlets were shut for the night. I just made the cut for Zeps at Campbelltown (closes 8 pm) for a cappuccino to keep me awake for the last leg home.