Dr Worm (north Tarkine Rainforest, Tasmania)

After a fitful sleep, it was breakfast at 7:30am. A sleep in by trekking standards, although we were up earlier to pack down the interior of the tent. Breakfast was, unsurprisingly, porridge. I understand the reasons why this is the choice of trekkers, but I am not a fan. Nor is Dave. Despite that, we both had some to supply the energy required for the day ahead. Another 7km walk today. Allegedly.

Lani offered me a coffee. I replied that, a s coffee snob, I couldn’t recall the last time I had instant coffee. Slightly offended, she explained it was ‘camp’ coffee. Not camp as in flamboyant. I’d had it previously, years ago, it is ground coffee boiled up in a big pot and, while it delivers a substantial caffeine hit, I declined and had a cup of black tea.

Our spacious home.

Packing the tent down was quick and easy, but the need to reorganise your pack everyday wore thin quickly. This was essential because every time we reached a new camp site, we had to deliver our share of the group’s food to the kitchen. The required, sensible, weight distribution through the backpack meant the food bag sat in the middle of the pack. It also meant that all of the food was redistributed across the bags to ensure equity of the weight carried. While this was not a problem in the, so far, dry weather, it could become one if/when the predicted rain arrived.

So many mushrooms.

We spent the entire day in the rainforest, walking up hill and down dale. The variety of fungi is amazing. Every colour under the rainbow and a multitude of shapes. The forest is dominated by massive myrtle and leatherwood trees. We saw numerous bee hives on the drive and walk yesterday, specifically to collect pollen from the Leatherwood trees to make honey. It has a very distinctive taste apparently and is much sought after.

Somewhere in the Tarkine.

The Leatherwood trees were at the end of their flowering and there were petals strewn throughout the forest. It looked like the aftermath of a MAFS wedding ceremony (do not judge me). The white-petalled flowers were quite rare, individual petals were everywhere.

A Leatherwood flower.

On the way to camp, we crossed paths with numerous green rosellas, a cheeky grey fantail, a surprised ring-tailed possum and two tiger snakes. Tassie is home to three snake varieties, all poisonous. Happily, not aggressive like mainland snakes. They slithered away when we came into sight.

No idea. There were so many fungi.

The forest is not home to a lot of animals or birds, for that matter. As a survivor of Gondwana, it existed before animals and birds. While birds like Rosellas and Black Cockatoos have moved into the tree tops, ground level is home to mosses, lichens, fungi and weird canary worms. There are no heath plants to house, feed and protect smaller birds. Of course the yellow canary worm is the link to today's title Dr Worm by They Might Be Giants from 1998.

A yellow canary worm.

We made camp by 4pm to find the permanent tarps blown down. Not so permanent. The guides produced a replacement tarp from one of their backpacks and it was secured across a rope line between the trees. Shelter for cooking and eating if required.

Dave and I in the wilderness.

Food bags delivered and tents up, we removed our boots to check for blisters. Unfortunately, Dave and I both had a blister. Not a large one, but given what was ahead … Our guides carried the magic tape to inhibit blisters, Fixomull. It was used frequently by many of us and it worked. I shall be buying a roll to keep in my bushwalking kit for future use.

Dave preparing to attack his blister.

Water, as it was for the entire trip, came unfiltered from the creeks and rivers we crossed. Pure bliss. The water in Launnie is very heavily chlorinated. The creek was about 100m or so downhill to refill bottles. Dave and I calculated we had sufficient to get through the afternoon and evening and since we were crossing the creek in the morning, we would refill then. So we settled in on a log under the tarp … until it suddenly collapsed without warning. The log, not the tarp. Dave’s end, not mine. We both ended up flat on our backs, much to the amusement of the others – once they realised we were uninjured.

Our tent in the distance.

Dinner, sunset, bed.

Our guides Lish and Lani checking the map.

We had both purchased new light weight sleeping bags and mats, specifically for this trip to reduce weight. They both packed down much smaller than our old gear, another bonus. The sleep mats were very comfortable despite the tree roots we slept on. The bags proved to be warm, although we hadn’t experienced any cold weather. My pump also proved its worth. Tiny and weighing only 8 grams, it plugged into my power bank and inflated our mattresses quickly.

Slime fungus can move in search of food.

Weather: humid, cloudy, no rain.

Distance covered: 9km, not the projected 7km.

Total distance: 22.2km

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.