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.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough (Stanley to Corinna, Tasmania)

The alarm vibrated quietly on my wrist at 5:45am dear reader. Sunrise was to be viewed from the top of the Nut, dear reader, the volcanic plug that Stanley is built around. Breakfast was to follow at one of the other cottages which meant we needed to pack before we left for the morning climb. Surprisingly we both felt ok after yesterday’s 9km loop walk to the beach.

Look closely, you can see the path on the right side of the Nut.

Although we were only a 10 minute walk from the other cottages Nick offered to pick us up and who are we to refuse hospitality? By 6:30, seven of us and Hayden, the other guide, were walking up the road toward the Nut. There is a chair lift to the top which, sadly, was not in operation. Pademelons bounded in all directions as we walked toward the path and I heard one lonely Tasmanian Devil growling in the bush. 

Clouds on the horizon.

The concrete path to the top was steep. So steep. It would not meet disability guidelines. By the time we had reached the first cut-back of the path we had started to remove clothes to avoid overheating. Did I mention the path was steep? The benefit of such a path was that we soon made the top. Provided you slowed the pace and did not pause. At the summit I was definitely sure that Jimmy Barnes was wrong when he sang, Ain't No Mountain High Enough in 1992. The Nut was plenty high enough, 143m in fact.

There was a 500m walk to the lookout point. Either side of the path was thickly grassed and home to shearwater nests. Ankle breaking country should you disobey the the warnings and stray from the right path. Hmmm, almost a religious experience.

Stanley was still sleeping.

We arrived before the sun had crested the horizon but after the colours had seeped into the sky. It was a great view back over Stanley and up and down the coast, but as a sunrise walk it was average. I doubt anything will ever top the Mt Sonder walk from the Larapinta. The walk down was significantly easier; however, the steep gradient required some concentration as one misstep could result in a quick trip to the car park. And then a further trip to the hospital... wherever that might be.

Dave and I detoured en route to breakfast and re-visited the penguin walk. There was not a penguin in sight, they had all gone fishing. There were, however,  a few pademelons wandering around the area. Back at the cottage, Nick had breakfast prepared. Post breakfast, we walked back to our cottage and repacked before we returned to the road. It was going to be a transit day and there was much distance to cover before we reached our final destination, Corinna.

Hanging out in the penguin zone.

Our first stop was on the road to Highfields House to get a better view of the Nut. It certainly provided the best vantage point for a photo opportunity. Then we walked the short distance to the grand old house itself, past the remnant barracks where the convicts who built said house were locked up at night. An 1836 colonial construction by the original Van Diemen’s Land Company. After being captured by a Ranger, we were embarrassed into paying for entry and were then obliged to wander through the house. As a tourist attraction, it is in dire need of some love and desperate for some inspiration. It does, however, have an excellent view of the Nut and lords itself over the Stanley township. The colonists knew how to intimidate their own as well as the indigenous inhabitants. 

The remnant of the convict quarters.

Highfields House.

Today’s schedule had been altered due to the recent bushfires that have devastated various parts of the north-west. Most were started by dry lightning strikes and spread easily due to the extremely dry summer. Climate change is real, I'm looking at you, Tony Abbott. As a result of the devastation some areas are closed to visitors and the visit to Mt Donaldson and Montezuma Falls has been canned.

Trowutta Arch and sinkhole.

Our next stop was Trowutta Arch. The arch is actually the entrance to a sinkhole where the limestone has eroded and the subsequent deep hole has filled with water. While not a spectacular sight, the walk through the rainforest is peaceful and soul restoring. The sinkhole is about a 10 minute stroll on a well-defined path through a forest of tree ferns, some reaching over 3m in height, with the upper canopy of the forest being beech myrtle, sassafras and leatherwood. Away from the rainforest the eucalypts dominated the scrub and we could hear black cockatoos and spotted a couple of green rosellas as we walked back to the bus.

The pathway to the Arch.

Our lunch spot was Chisholm Lake, another sinkhole. It was another stroll, around 2km return on a well-defined, leafy path. The only difficulty was the numerous roots criss-crossing the track. They provided little grip and boots slipped too readily on them. As it was Sunday, there were a few people about and a couple of impatient Queenslanders who pushed passed our group. I’m not sure what they gained by doing that - the vista was still beautifully intact when we arrived. Maybe they intended to use the two minutes they saved doing something else; like annoying other people on another trail.

A reflective moment (see what I did there?)

Lunch magically appeared from Hayden’s pack and we enjoyed our wraps by the serene waters of the lake. Only a mother grebe and her chicks broke the surface of the water.

A blurry Grebe, I think.

After lunch and the amble back to the bus, our transit day continued as we entered deeper into the Tarkine. Nick had broken up the trip as much as possible but we still had a lot distance to cover. As I discovered years ago, it takes longer to get anywhere in Tassie and that is driving a regular sedan. A mini-bus pulling a trailer full of gear takes even longer.

After a brief stop at Wynyard for supplies, no trains here, we were strapped in for the 2 hour drive to Corinna. The first section wound up and down and alongside mountains. It was corkscrew country. When the road flattened out, the tar was replaced by white quartzite. The Quartz Highway looked prettier than a corrugated gravel road but the effect was the same, particularly sitting in the back of the bus. Think trampoline; although not as bad as the Gibb River Road.

We rolled into Corrina and the Tarkine Hotel just after 7pm. Slightly late for dinner. The bonus was dinner was at the pub, so we were able to imbibe while enjoying our meal. Our accommodation for the next three nights was in cabins. They are rustically photogenic with a delightful verandah from which to survey the world below. Once again we have all the mod cons, gas fire, comfortable bed, hot water, shower and space to sit and relax. Sadly, there is no campfire option.

Home sweet home.

Prior to retiring for the evening, the clouds disappeared and presented us with a crystal clear view of the night sky. It was the perfect time to use my new tripod and test out my knowledge of night photography. Dave set up behind our cabin and experimented with different settings. I think we did well, but you can be the judge. The difference in the photos is the ISO setting.

Until tomorrow.

I've done all the dumb things (Sydney, Launceston, Penguin, Rocky Cape and Stanley)

It's that time of year again, you know, when just lying in bed thinking about the day ahead makes you break into a sweat, dear reader. Ah, Sydney humidity, you are not my friend. What to do? Head for Tasmania and another trek with Trek Tours Australia. We, Dave and I, loved the Larapinta experience so much last year, we decided to join them on an exploration of the the Tarkine in north-west Tassie. A much cooler option.

A security guard at the airport asked me a question I'd never been asked previously, as I dropped my bag to go through the x-ray machine ... "Do you have metal hips or knees?" "Sorry?" I replied. Question repeated. Ah, no. He directed me to the body scanner. Ageist!

Just to mess with my brain, Qantas surprised us by having the plane leave on schedule and arrive on time in Launceston, just after the Virgin flight touched down, which made for a very crowded luggage collection area. Interestingly the airport people thought having all the luggage from both flights being unloaded on to the same carousel would provide some Friday afternoon amusement. They tired of that quickly enough and moved all the Qantas people to a different (the other) carousel. 30 minutes later we were in a taxi and heading for the city.

The 'fixed' price fee proved not so fixed and there was a surcharge that wasn't listed on the information at the airport. So, $39 magically became $49. We will be using Uber for the return journey.

The Grand Chancellor Hotel is, well, grand. It is just a place to sleep before our 7:30am pick up tomorrow. A quick search of places to eat for dinner, and cafés that would allow us to purchase food prior to 7am and we were off to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. Dinner at the Schnitty Bar was more than passable and then it was back to the hotel.

Banjos Bakery was one of the few places open, where we could get breakfast. A mere five minute walk from the hotel. A brekky pie and "traditional sausage roll" for breakfast. Worth the walk and popular with the locals even at 6:30am.

Back at the hotel, we waited for the Trek guides and met a couple of fellow travellers. On the bus we did the rounds of a couple of other hotels to pick up the remainder of our group. We are 9 in total plus 2 guides. As we wended our way up the hill out of Launceston, I realised I had left my phone (with all my cards) in the foyer of the hotel. Hence today's title, Paul Kelly from 1987. Dave made a quick phone call and my phone was soon secured and living in the hotel safe.

Dr Who visits Penguin.

First stop was Penguin for supplies and coffee. A beautiful little town on the coast, the locals are obviously proud of its name - there were penguins everywhere. Not the live variety, paintings and statues. They even had a tardis. The coffee at the Post Office or Letterbox, whatever it was named, was excellent.

A penguin with a cause.

From Penguin we drove to Rocky Cape National Park for lunch. Sort of. Lunch was the reward for walking down to a remote beach. As National Parks go, it is not particularly popular with locals or tourists and Nick, our lead guide, was surprised that we came across more than one person on the track in (we saw no one on the way out). It is quite a delightful walk through the varying vegetation.

We're heading down there somewhere.

The track to the beach was well worn but narrow due to the lack of foot traffic. The heath gave way to some magnificent views of the coast. Then tide was low and the rocks were visible, the crystal clear water was spectacular shades of blue. It all looked very inviting, except for the temperature.

Wandering to the lunch spot.

On reaching the beach we turned to the west and scrambled across the seaweed, shells, sand and hundreds of cuttlebones that littered the shore. They were everywhere and of all sizes. Some of us went for a wander across the rocks to the water’s edge. The tide here is around 2 metres and where we had lunch would be covered by water later in the afternoon. I managed to snap a yellow-tailed black cockatoo sitting in a banksia.

My totem.

A dust covered frog.

The alternative to following the track back to the bus was to take the Loop walk which added a further 3kms to the walk and ensured different views back to the coast but also out over the hinterland. The down side was that we had to climb the mountain rather than cutting across the side. It was steep and it was hot and we were out in the open and at times the air was still. Was it worth it? A straw poll of our group suggested the jury was still out. I loved it.

As usual, the difficulties would be forgotten as soon as we were back on board the bus and heading for Stanley. The weather had been reasonably benign so far. We’d had cloud, sunshine and a few very quick, very light showers of rain. Mostly we had sunshine.

Pretty, but very cold.

Our accommodation at Stanley was in cottages owned by the local (read only) hotel in town. There were three cottages, two next to each other and one a 10 minute walk away. We were dropped at our accommodation and agreed to meet at the pub around 6:30pm for dinner. Nick kindly offered to pick us up.

Our cottage had three bedrooms, the single bathroom with clawfoot bath and a large eat-in kitchen. It also had three separate lounge/sunroom areas. It was furnished with a number of different period pieces and was adorned with museum pieces. Antique books graced the bookshelves, golf clubs with original wooden shafts, a collection of tennis racquets, and much more.

Our cottage, a living museum.

The pub was pumping when we arrived. It appears if you wish to eat out in Stanley, it is the only option. That said, the menu was a good mix of dishes, all locally sourced. As expected in the country, the serves were quite large and negated my interest in dessert.

Following dinner, we went to the viewing platform to check out the Little Penguins returning from a day’s fishing. We saw many and heard even more. One penguin ended up at the gated entrance to the walk and some clown who was not paying attention to where his feet were stepped on the penguin as he walked through the gate. The penguin squealed and shot down the walkway; he shouted and fell over.

Upon entering, we discovered the penguin trapped on the walkway with its head under the kick plate along the edge of the path. Nick swiftly removed him and dropped him onto the sand below. It scarpered away quickly, hopefully unharmed.

Back at the cottage, we repacked ready for tomorrow’s departure and happily stretched out in bed.

The reason we are exploring the Tarkine is on the recommendation of one of our guides from the Larapinta Trek last year. The posts covering our Tarkine experience are dedicated to that guide, Jonny Cunningham, a passionate advocate for the environment and an inspiration to those who had the privilege to walk with him. He is gone too soon. We will remember him every time we strap on our boots and head into the bush.

Jonny

Until tomorrow.