I Can See for Miles (Tullah, Mt Farrell, Launceston, Sydney)

And that is almost a wrap dear reader. Today is our last day with Trek and tonight we're at the Sebel and then we fly home with Qantas tomorrow. Back to work and reality for some.

Breakfast was early again and it wasn't quite light when we strolled to the breakfast room where Nick and Hayden had our food ready for the last time. The cloud cover was light and Mt Murchison was shrouded in mist. I assumed the summit of Mt Farrell, our destination today, was the same. Hopefully the cloud would burn off as the sun rose higher.

Mt Murchison, late afternoon.

We lugged our bags to the trailer after breakfast and Hayden soon had everything stowed away. There was one noticeable car in the carpark among all the 4WDs. It was an old Nissan Patrol complete with a massive kangaroo bar across the front of it. Inside the bar, resting on the bumper against the grill, were 9 empty stubbies. Sorry, no picture. A fascinating sight nonetheless.

Mt Farrell. The last climb.

It was a brief drive to the Mt Farrell Reserve carpark. The walk to the summit of 711m had three distinct stages. The first was a steep climb through eucalypt forest, the second across a heath covered saddle and then the climb to the summit. Although there were a couple of false summits before the trig station.

The cuts are for the loggers to place their stands.

Stage one was steep in sections but the path was quite wide and well defined. Off the the track were numerous abandoned mine shafts so it was best not to wander. The canopy of the forest protected us from what little sun there was. The pace was relaxed.

The view ...

After a brief time we emerged onto the saddle. Mt Farrell was still holding onto some light mist but it was lifting. The weather was once again with us and the sun was smiling. The path through the heath proved to be more challenging, not because of the gradient, but because of the hidden roots and branches that grabbed at boots and shins. My 30 year canvas gaiters may have provided some amusement and jokes about a museum exhibit, but they protected my legs.

The valley was still mist covered as we climbed to the tail.

The heath also held plenty of moisture and at waist high, the scrub was soon ensuring wet pants. The sun came out as we traversed the ridge and our group strung out along the trail with Nick acting as 'tail-end Charlie'.

Our destination.

Out of the heath we walked up the tail of Mt Farrell to the first false summit and a break to admire the view. Unlike the rainforest walks we had enjoyed throughout the week, the view here was uninterrupted. As the Who sang in 1967 I Can See for Miles. All the way to Cradle Mountain.

Cradle Mountain in the distance.

At this point our assault on the actual summit was in doubt. The relaxed pace had impacted on what time we had left to reach the top. Nick still hadn't arrived and a quick chat on the walkie-talkie revealed he was stopping with a group member before the climb to the tail. A couple more of our group decided not to press on and to return to Nick. Hayden suggested the remainder of us could climb to the next false summit. Not the top, but better than nothing.

False summit number 1. Excellent view.

Upon reaching our next rest stop Hayden decided we had made such good time that we could walk the remaining distance to the actual summit. Happy days. One more member bailed and decided to wait for us at the second rest stop. 

The remaining five us adjusted packs and pushed forward. It wasn't a difficult walk. The trail was evident although the scrub tore at clothes and uncovered parts of our body as we progressed. Of course something, somewhere pierced my skin and by the time we reached the trig station I had blood all over my right forearm. A fact of which I was unaware until it was pointed out to me. David was disappointed that he supplied a bandaid for my arm but didn't get a photo of the blood. A picture that would have mirrored dad and I from about 30 years ago on Mt Gower, Lord Howe Island.

The summit.

The view was spectacular. The cloud had gone, the sun was out, Lake Henry called to us from below as did Cradle Mountain off in the distance. Dave and I were already making plans to return and complete some parts of the walk we were not able to access this time - as well as adding other side trips, like the walk to Lake Henry.

Lake Henry.

The walk down was uneventful and seemed to take no time at all. Those that had commenced the descent before us had adjourned to a nearby café. We met them at the bus and turned for Waratah, an old tin mining town where we stopped at the local pub for lunch. The pub contains a plethora of historic photos showing Waratah at the peak of the mining boom. The desecration of the land is difficult to imagine as you look around the town today.

Mt Farrell trig station.

We spent a little while checking out the local museum. It was an interesting mix of photos and artefacts from years gone by. Then it was back on the road with a final stop at Van Diemen's Land Creamery for an ice cream.

Back in Launceston the bus did the rounds dropping everyone off at their accommodation. First stop the Hotel Grand Chancellor where I was reunited with my phone. It was completely dead but happily still contained all my cards and cash.

The Sebel is an excellent place to stay after a Tasmanian trek because the suites have a washer/dryer. Should your time in the bush have been impacted by adverse weather and mud you can wash and dry your clothes prior to flying home.

The less said about dinner the better, but next time I'm in Launceston I definitely will not be returning to the Italian Pizza House.

I had pre-booked an Uber to transfer to the airport. It was $15 cheaper than the taxi fare. Ridiculous. We arrived at the airport and finally gained access to the Qantas Regional Lounge - there was a combination lock on the door. The combination could be found underneath your boarding pass. A pity the Qantas staff didn't volunteer this information.

Qantas did everything right on the way to Launceston. Therefore, they did everything wrong on the way home. I was tempted to use a line from Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher as the title of this post, "disappointment is my closest friend". Our 11:35am flight was delayed for an hour and then eventually left at 4:30pm. The problem? It was a brand new plane and someone found an unrecorded dent in the baggage hold. An engineer had to sign off the paperwork before we could fly. Was there an engineer in Launceston? Nope. They had to drive the 2 hours from Hobart.

Back in the Qantas Lounge the alcohol fridge was still locked despite it being after 12pm. A couple of travellers decided they needed a drink and manoeuvered the perspex barrier protecting the alcohol and commenced handing out drinks to the waiting masses. David told them they were "doing the Lord's work". Meanwhile the Qantas staff downstairs began handing out $20 lunch vouchers. A nice gesture, but after a week away I just wanted to get home.

While we waited three Virgin flights arrived and left for Melbourne or Sydney. I've always been loyal to Qantas despite their poor record of recent times, but I'm not sure they are worth the extra money any more. We finally departed. The flight arrived in Sydney just after 5pm and I was home at 6pm.

There will be one last post, all pictures.

Until tomorrow.

Eye of the Tiger (Corinna, Tiger Ridge, Tullah, Tasmania)

Finally, dear reader, a sleep-in of sorts and a comparatively short read for you. Breakfast wasn't until 7:30am although we were supposed to be packed and standing beside the barge at 8:30am. A curious request because the 'fatman barge' didn't commence ferrying traffic until 9:00am. The hours and instructions were clearly posted. Having spent some time watching the coming and goings across the water, you may be surprised to know that some people used the sign below as a checklist.

Barge instructions.

Regardless, we were riverside at the appointed time which meant we had time to wander the Huon Pine walk and try to sight a platypus. The water was still but not a sound was to be heard, not a monotreme espied. Back to the car park to wait for the barge operator. He's a Kiwi and goes by the name Moondog. No, really. Today he turned up early so we could get away on time. By 8:45am we were on the other side of the Pieman and heading for the Reece Dam.

The Pieman River.

Tasmania has always had an interesting relationship with dams and hydro power and this dam is named after the former Premier Eric Reece, known as 'Electric Eric' because he wanted to dam everything to create more hydro power than the whole state required. The initial site of the dam was much closer to the heads and would have seen the flooding of Corinna. Happily, the site proved geologically too challenging and they moved it upstream and Corinna, with its lovely pub and welcoming people, survived.

Our first stop today was at the dam. The Pieman doesn't look like a river that has been dammed. It appeared quite full in our time there and was under tidal influence. Obviously there had been no water released from the dam. We walked across the wall to the other side where there was some serious construction work happening. Thankfully it did not impact on our journey.

The dam wall. Or is damn wall?

Today was another day of innovation. The scheduled excursion to Montezuma Falls had been cancelled due to landslides. A pity, because when I was last down this way I opted not to walk to the falls because I didn't think Jayne would enjoy it. Mt Donaldson and the falls will have to wait for the next time Dave and I venture into the Tarkine. And there will be a next time, dear reader. It is very special country.

The side trip today was to climb Tiger Ridge, hence today's title, Eye of the Tiger by Survivor from 1982. Our lunch destination was the base camp Trek Tours use for the Tarkine Rainforest Experience. To say we fell in love with the base camp is not an exaggeration. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We drove some time into the 'wilderness' and found a spot to drop the trailer. That should provide some indication of the road to be traversed. Yes, it was bumpy and dusty and probably best navigated in a 4WD, but Nick and Hayden did an excellent job negotiating the track. I mean road.

The bus stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We adjusted our attire and pulled on our packs and stepped into the bush. If there were any roadside signs of the track we were about to follow, I missed them. Just off the road, a wooden bridge became visible as did the track we would follow to base camp.

No trolls under this bridge.

The track rose steeply through the rainforest to a junction marked 'loop'. Both paths led to the camp. One would take 15 minutes the other a couple of hours. All but one of us chose the longer route. Again, there were no views to experience but the soft ground of the rainforest and the multitude of shades of green of the ferns, mosses and lichens.

It was a steep as it looks.

The loop followed an undulating ridge line that was at times quite benign and at others relatively sharp, although nothing beats the vertical climb up the Nut at Stanley. The rainforest canopy kept us shaded from the sun and the leaf litter muffled the sound of our tread. You could be forgiven for thinking we were the only people on earth.

Unexpected accommodation.

To spoil the illusion - a flash of blue in the distance. It turned out to be a Macpac tent, one of many that were scattered around the long house. This was our lunch spot and Hayden, having arrived via the short loop had already set out the lunch provisions on the table. The long house was complete with kitchen area, running water, an octagonal fireplace, a long table and a view into the surrounding rainforest. Just magic.

The long house.

Lunch was followed by a welcome cup of tea and a few minutes to relax. Nick showed us one of the tents. You were able to stand up in them and each contained two timber bed frames. No sleeping on the ground here. And like the Larapinta camp site last year, it gets packed down after the season is over. All except for the long house.

A short walk away was a stringy bark tree that ten of us linked arms to encircle. We estimated its girth at around 17m and was possibly 600 years old. Words can't describe the beauty and majesty of these old trees, the parents of the eucalypt forest around us ... and yet, Tasmania continues to log old growth forest. It should be a crime.

If this tree could talk.

Re-energised and spiritually restored, we walked the short distance back to the loop junction and retraced our steps down the mountain to the bus. Tonight we were headed for Tullah, another old mining community, and the Lakeside Lodge. It is a pub with accommodation in a series of converted dongas with a beautiful view over Lake Rosebery.

Mushrooms. Magic! Like, wow, man.

Having stayed in a donga in the Northern Territory, I wasn't expecting much and was pleasantly surprised. Our bathroom was larger than the NT accommodation. Although strangely, they only had shampoo and conditioner dispensers in the shower. The soap dispenser was across the bathroom, next to the sink. It made showering a logistical challenge.

Dinner was in the dining room at the Lodge, the site of a famous bar fight when a group of miners turned up and Bob Brown was holding a Green's meeting. Tonight it was all quiet and we enjoyed dinner with wine and reflected on the beauty and solitude of Tiger Ridge.

Until tomorrow.

River Deep, Mountain High (Pieman River, Savage River walk, Corinna, Tasmania)

That's right, dear reader, we commence today's post with another Jimmy Barnes cover, this time River Deep Mountain High. It is an appropriate title as we began the day on the river and finished it crossing a mountain.

Another reasonably early morning and alarms were necessary again. Have I mentioned the best thing about retirement, aside from the travel, is no alarms? It was still quite dark as we dressed and headed for breakfast. The morning was spent kayaking on the Whyte, Pieman and Savage Rivers. Now I don’t want to be pedantic, dear reader. OK I do, but in Year 7 (waaaay back last century in 1972) I was taught that a kayak is a one person canoe, used by the Inuit people. A multi-person vessel was a umiak. Technically today we were umiaking. Doesn’t quite trip so lightly from the tongue, so I'll settle for canoeing.

The picture perfect Pieman.

We were riverside at 8:30am for our safety briefing and to discuss who got to sit in the front of the canoe. Apparently the front person is the engine room and the back seat controls direction. There was a rubber mat that ran the centre of the boat ramp and we clambered into the canoe there and Nick and Hayden launched us into the river. After a cursory paddle around to check out styles and ensure the paddles were right way up we went against the current to the Whyte River.

A reflective moment captured by Nick.

A river, early morning, before the breeze gets up, is one of the most serene, peaceful places. The mist was still rising from the surface of the water and was thicker over the mountains. Our paddles were the only disturbance on the glass-like surface. That and voices. The purpose in making our way to the Whyte River was to see platypus. Sensibly for them and disappointingly for us, they stayed out of sight.

Heading to the Whyte River.

After that brief side trip, we turned our canoes and headed upriver with the current. It was a peaceful way to travel and allowed us time to appreciate the beauty of scenery around us, especially since so much of the landscape not so far away had been burnt to cinder and ash.

Hayden with our morning tea in the pack.

Our next stop was for morning tea at a pontoon on the Savage River; a pontoon we would see again that afternoon on foot. Disembarking from the canoes was definitely a spectator sport. For some. Well, us. It was a dance with death. One slip meant a watery grave. Or a boot full of water as one of our number discovered. 

The bow of the Croydon.

While the dissembling of limbs from the canoes continued, we paddled up to the wreck of the Croydon, a steamship that went down in the river and is still there, albeit most of it is under 30m of water. The Croydon seemed too large for the narrow, log filled confines of the Savage and so it proved. Parts of the wreck were still visible above and below the water. Salvage proved too expensive for this remote part of the state and the court-ordered insurance company payment would not cover a refloat. Who'd have thought an insurance company wouldn't pay out on a disaster?

The stairway to the falls. Disembarking was a snap.

Our next port of call was Lovers Falls. There was no explanation as to why it was so named. Disembarking here was potentially more complex than the spacious deck area of the pontoon and only the brave or foolhardy would try it. Yes, of course we did, dear reader. David is not one to miss out on an experience. We found scrambling out of the canoe no more problematic than at the pontoon and off along the timber walkway we went to the head of the falls.

Lovers Falls.

Given the dry summer, we weren’t expecting much of the falls and they complied with little more than a trickle. That said, I've walked further to see drier falls, but there wasn’t a lot happening here, much like an Angus Taylor press conference. The most spectacular part was an upended blue gum, with its crown in the pool at the bottom of the falls and its roots being splashed by the trickle of water coming over the edge of the cliff. It was clinging onto life and had a couple of sprouts on the trunk.

Tree ferns bend themselves into strange shapes.

Back along the boards, through the usual rainforest vegetation and back into the canoes we turned and headed down river against the current and breeze. Those that had chosen not to view the Lovers Falls were far in front. We were unconcerned and had plenty of time to paddle back to Corinna. It was, however, much tougher going than the trip out.

At one stage Dave suggested we move closer to the riverbank where the water was undisturbed. An excellent idea. We were sheltered from the wind and the current was not as strong. Suddenly we seemed to surge forward and close the gap on those ahead of us, even though our stroke rate hadn’t changed.

As we closed in on Corinna, we paddled to the other side of the Pieman. The reeds, although not thick, were a continuous barrier along the bank. Nick had previously told us about the wallabies and pademelons that wade into the water to eat the root stems of the reeds. Paddling back to home base, Hayden spotted a pademelon doing just that. Credit to Dave for the photos.

What are you looking at?

Mmmm. Yum.

The lack of break, breeze and current took its toll and while my shoulders were fine, my arms were certainly feeling the burn. It would be interesting to see how they were tomorrow.

Back at Corinna, there was time to freshen up before lunch. For the afternoon activity, there was the option of checking out the fireground by bus and then having a relaxing afternoon or completing the Savage River Walk. Muscles sore after the river expedition, there was only one option for us. Walk.

The Savage River to Corinna walk was just under 6km and we completed the walk in a little over 2 hours. To be fair, we would have completed it much more quickly if it was just the two of us – and that would have been with breaks, time to take photos and absorb what was around us. But, the first rule of bushwalking is that the group walks as fast as the slowest person, and it provides more time to be one with nature.

The Savage River.

The walk commenced as a stroll through the rainforest along the Savage River. It was flat and followed the meanders of the river. To get back to Corinna we needed to climb up and over a mountain. The gentle walk in the forest was not to last and ended at the pontoon where earlier we had had morning tea. At this point, a set of timber stairs were set in the side of the mountain. It was not a stairway to heaven, but it was the way home.

There are many fungi of all colours and shapes.

The stairs gave way to the usual track and the proliferation of burrowing crayfish mud spires became much more noticeable. The further from the river and the higher we climbed, the more I expected the mud mounds to disappear. They didn’t. These industrious little crayfish had scaled the mountain to its top and also inhabited the other side down to water level.

The benefit of trudging up a mountain is generally the view at the top. Not here in rainforest country. Any view was obscured by the dense foliage. The reward for this climb was the satisfaction of knowing you had done it and making it home in one piece. Down the other side we walked to where the trail met the Pieman River. Hayden stopped us then and invited us to sit and spend time in contemplation with nature. A very welcome request. We sat and listened to the bush. The only sounds were a Forest Raven and some splashing in the river, possibly a platypus.

More bracket fungus.

The Savage River trail ended at the conclusion of the Huon Pine walk at the Corinna car park. It is all boardwalk, 250m long, dotted with information markers about the rainforest trees. The noticeboard tagged the Savage River walk as moderate/hard. Yeah, nah, but it was good to stretch the muscles and have a pack on my back after sitting in a canoe all morning.

Dinner was, once again, at the tables out front of the pub. Chicken curry and rice followed by fruit salad. That was after cheese, chorizo, olives and other nibbles. You never go hungry on a Trek tour, nor do you lose weight. Unfortunately.

Until tomorrow.

Smoke on the Water (Corinna, Pieman River, Four Mile Beach, Tasmania)

Welcome to day three in the Tarkine, dear reader. Tasmania and the rain forest have not escaped the bushfires that have ravaged other states in recent years. The bushfires have singed our published itinerary as well as the landscape and today we are not kayaking but travelling down the Pieman River by boat. Leaving at first light meant breakfast was served at 5:45am. Another early start for us and an earlier one for Nick and Hayden who prepare our breakfast. 

Heading for the coast on the Pieman River

By 7:30am the boat was motoring quietly down the misty Pieman River. Unlike the freezing trip Jayne and I experienced in Katherine a while back, the cabin was enclosed and reasonably warm. The fog was supplemented by smoke from areas still smouldering along the river. Hence today's title as chosen by Dave, that classic Deep Purple anthem from 1972, many years before he was born. As the sun climbed over the mountains the impact of the fires became clearer. The eucalypt forested areas were severely burnt, often to the waterline. The rainforest generally faired better in most areas, acting as a barrier to the flames.

The damage was worse closer to the coast.

I have sequence of these ... maybe flying swan wall art?

We disembarked at the head of the river and donned our packs to walk through a small fishing settlement of ‘summer shacks’ down to the beach. Dave and I were the first ones onto the pristine sand of the river where the tide had receded and therefore we had the opportunity to scout for tracks. The prints of a paddy melon and wombat told us we were not the first that morning. We followed the river down to its mouth and then turned south and walked along Four Mile Beach to Conical Rocks. Had the fires not devastated the area we would have been turning to the north and walking to Point Rupert. Maybe another time.

Wombat and Bennett's Wallaby tracks.

Looking back at where we should have been walking.

The roundtrip was around 10km, commencing on the beach and then heading slightly inland to avoid rock scrambling and deep channels carved from the ocean. The wallabies and pademelons soon materialised and were bounding away in every direction. We had an hour to explore the conical rocks area, get in touch with nature, forget we live in the city and restore our spirit. 

A wallaby on the move.

The area was a mass of granite boulders sheltering us from the Southern Ocean and the swell that propelled the waves onto the rocks. There were rock pools protected from the surge of the sea at low tide that contained starfish and other marine life. 

A Hooded Plover.

A non-cooperative starfish moving into the shadows.

The conical rocks.

More of the rocks.

Atop one of the massive granite outcrops, we discovered two plunge pools. The sizeable rock in the pool responsible for its existence acted as a seat. I could imagine sitting there on a hot summer’s day, cooling in the water, watching the endless succession of waves rolling from the open ocean, sipping on a glass of wine.

A great place to cool off and watch the ocean.

We regathered to enjoy a cup of tea and a snack before commencing the walk back to the heads. Happily we could walk at our own pace. The group came together at the intersection of beach and track and then walked another km or so to a where a creek entered the sea. There was a small rock platform that served as our lunch table. Magically from Nick and Hayden’s huge packs, lunch requisites appeared. Fresh ciabatta rolls, ham, cheese, salad, and condiments. It was all there.

Lunch is served.

There were more tracks to be observed in the undisturbed sand. We found wallaby and finally evidence of a Tasmanian Devil. Some other people appeared on the beach, indicating the boat had arrived from Corinna. One lone walker with a full pack approached us. She was a worker from Corinna who had a couple of days off and was heading for a campsite towards the end of the beach for some solitude. It is a magic place but extremely difficult to get to for the average walker. 

Tassie Devil tracks.

Boots off and packs on, we walked in the shore wash back to the waiting ferry. The skipper motored across to the other side of the river to show us a white-bellied sea eagle sitting on a branch just above the water line. Most unusual to see one down so low. Then it was back to Corinna with a slight pause at the nest of the sea eagle. There were patches where smouldering embers had been whipped up into smoke, otherwise it was a crowded if uneventful trip. We shared the boat, Arcadia II, with the day trippers.

White-bellied Sea Eagle.

We had some time to spare in the afternoon so Dave and I opted to do the Whyte River walk, a loop around Corinna. Much of the walk was along the banks of the Whyte River. The first part of the walk was through rain forest where the mud spires of the burrowing crayfish littered the side of the path. There were numerous fungi as well, particularly bracket fungus growing to quite a size on many trees.

A bracket fungi map of Australia.

Burrowing crayfish spire.

The walk beside the river was supposed to be a great place to spot platypus. It may well be, but not while we were there. It certainly is platypus country with muddy tree strewn banks and nesting place aplenty, but they remained home and didn’t come out to see us.

Corinna is an old gold mining settlement.

After a luxurious hot shower, it was down to the pub for pre-dinner drinks. Hayden appeared carrying trays of nibbles and announced that dinner would be served at the tables on the pub lawn. It was another amazing meal: Italian sausage, wallaby, potato salad, snow peas, broccoli and more. The cloud increased as the night deepened. No photography tonight.

The end of day 3 brought about two firsts, one for me and one for Dave. He had no blisters! And I wore my pyjama pants to the pub. One of us is on trend with the younger generation.

Until tomorrow.