Valedictory Giants and Falls

23/02/09

Today I leave Tasmania; I have enjoyed being here as it’s been fun and Tasmania near Hobart is gorgeous and green. But my flight doesn’t leave until after 8pm so Trina amd I head off out exploring again!We are aiming for Mount Field National Park, which contains various waterfalls: Russell Falls, Horseshoe Falls and Lady Barron Falls. I know it is summer and therefore probably not as spectacular as, say, a spring waterfall, but nevertheless I am hoping for a watery treat…It is a fair drive so we start off relatively early as I also need to go to the Post Office (the trouble with souvenirs and things when you only have limited luggage… You gotta get them home somehow! At least I’ve arrived in time for the end-of-summer sales everywhere Down Under, so I’ll have a few nice but cheap things I can wear again in England in a few months… Hang on… England? Who am I kidding? Okay, a few nice things I can store up for when I go to maybe Greece!). We finish at the post office; Trina eventually has to post my parcel for me as they won’t let you post anything without verifying your ID and it never would have occurred to me to bring my passport to post something! Back into the car then, for an hour or so’s drive.

While leaving Hobart I admire the view over the bay again; it really is a lovely little city. I also spot a gum tree in full flower, orange blooms pompomming the tree like drunk hedgehogs who have had a riotous party and spray painted their hair before forgetting how to get down again. Black swans sail elegantly along the estuary, red and white beaks dipping the water in search of food. Trina introduces me to a band called River Tribe and their album ‘re:journey’, which is a peculiar fusion of synthesisers, funky rhythms, Indian sitars, bird and animal forest sounds and Aboriginal traditional melodies on the didgeridoo. It sounds rather a jumble on paper, but in reality it is very nicely done, each sound compliments the others and it would be equally at home played in funky Cyberdog, ethnic Siesta, or just as a relaxing background music at home. I am addicted. ;)

We listen to them all the way there, pausing on the way in New Norfolk. The Aussies have snaffled the name Norfolk and bent it. They don’t call it ‘Nor-f’k’, as we do in England, but the majority of the Tassies call it ‘Norr-foke’, which just sounds wrong. The few people who get it almost right are technically the ‘bogans’, calling it ‘Nor-fick’, which still isn’t quite right! I reminds me of the Aussie chaps who arrived in an airport in the Midlands and totally bemused a local taxi driver when they asked to be taken to Looburroo. It took the taxi driver a while to work out where it was that these backpackers wanted to go… It turned out to be Loughborough… We English don’t enjoy our words enough; they’re over far too quickly! Anyway, whilst in New Norfolk, we get some pies for lunch and lots of snacks for walking. I get my fix of Solo (Mmmm… such tasty lemon…) and we zoom off again, heading deeper into the countryside.

[pondering alert!]

I want to squeeze every possible taste out of life; this trip is a concentrated, powerful part, to be savoured and digested at a later date… Like the taste of a rich fruit cordial when water becomes a dull necessity. I have every intention of making it last for ages… seasoning the rest in little doses when the taste of reality becomes a little bland. And I hope my writing is sufficiently good that I am able to share a little of that exciting, rich, Aussie flavour with you too…I have decided I like Tasmania, it is so unlike the rest of Aus, and the climate is more like what I always hope the Lake District will be! However, I am also looking forward to Sydney, New Zealand and the USA. Which reminds me, I must check import and customs regulations… No doubt they will be of sufficient paranoia to justify another parcel of bits home! Though, one of the things I am also looking forward to, is having done my epic journey (well, it’s epic for me – I still can’t quite believe I’m out here!), enjoyed it to the full, said yes to all the things I can, and returned home to my roots to share and remember it all… I am lucky right now, in that I have a network of roots around the world, which I am strengthening all the time I’m here, but the tap roots are in England… I shall enjoy being back near them all again, remembering my memories. And taking the things I have learnt about myself and the world around me confidently and wrapping them into my life to build it strong under English skies, blue or cloudy, rain or shine. It is so easy to be confident and hopeful under the sun…

We spot a very English view, with a meadow, trees, cows; idyllic… Then see the great blue shape of the mountain looming out of the distance over it all in a very un-English way! There are many of these mock-English views, of various kinds; we pass through the brewery district and there are miles upon miles of hop-poles. This area supplies a lot of Tasmania and some of the mainland too apparently, though I wouldn’t like to live here; there is nothing to do except farming, and relatively few neighbours. A lot of Tasmania seems to consist of small hamlets where the people just sell food to each other. Some of these towns are a little creepy, empty and dead, but nevertheless trying to tempt you in off the road; one café has an 80s-dressed mannequin lounging seductively at a table outside... Though I have to say the alluring sign ‘Wattle grubs 4 sale’ doesn’t have quite the effect on me and Trina as the writer may have hoped... We ‘yuk’ in unison and drive on. My notes seem to say it was a place called Busly Spank… But on reading it again I am disappointed to remember it was actually called Bushy Park. We also pass Uxbridge.
We are closer to Mount Field now, there are signposts here and there for it. We cross a tiny narrow-gauge railway, which winds (rather stupidly, we both think) across the road several times before ducking back into the woods again. It is snot for people, but for logging – there are no people-carrying railways in Tasmania, everything is done by car or bus. Even in Tassie, everything is so far apart! Well, despite its diminutive size next to the mainland, it still technically occupies about the same area as Ireland!
We head into Mount Field Park and park up in the little car park. Collecting our rations we head off towards Russell Falls, the first of our three hoped-for waterfalls. We meander through vast green tracts of delicate rainforest and tall gum trees. Some of them have fallen, and the forest is cannibalising them swiftly back into the system. We pause at the mouth of a gigantic fallen gum tree for a photo, careful not to step too far in just in case we disturb something irate and venomous. I find another humungous yellow and black ladybird pottering determinedly along the bench we want to sit on. We are careful with our bags… We pass by stumpy fern trees and over a fish-dimpled rivulet on a little wooden bridge. Everywhere is the sound of water and breezes in the bright trees. Here and there a shaft of sun peeks through and makes it as far as the forest floor, lighting up dust motes, and delicate, pale green, woven fronds as it goes. The small group of Chinese girls far in front of us is silent, and one of them turns to us quietly and happily and points out a little Pademelon, nibbling delicately on a large frond like a biscuit. We stop to say hello, and he stares at us briefly and curiously with his little boot-button eyes, but soon goes back to his tasty leaf.

We round a corner and reach Russell Falls. They are not swollen with spring rain but nevertheless the delicate flow of water over the rocks has it own charm as it tumbles the not inconsiderable distance to the river below. It is very photogenic, with the tumbling water, and the soaring gum trees above. It lends itself nicely to a slow shutter speed, earning some lovely, ethereal, silken water shots. It is peaceful here. We decide to see what the top of the falls look like, hauling ourselves up a large wooden staircase. It is liberally scattered with strange, winged seeds – little black pips with an orange sail around the outside. I wonder what they are and Trina helpfully says they’re from ‘a plant’… *sigh*;) We peer at the waterfall; there isn’t much to see this side, though it is quite impressive to see the section where the water just disappears and leaves you with a view that doesn’t quite seem to fit where it ought. We have discovered by this point that the walk we were hoping to do, around all three waterfalls, is closed off for maintenance and that Horseshoe Falls is closed too. This is a pity, but we are still able to walk around to Lady Barron Falls via the Tall Tree Walk if we park somewhere else.

So we do. The rainforest and bush is very pretty, ferny and green. Though Tall Tree Walk is most imposing. It is exactly what it says. In an English wood, you might crane your neck a little to look at the top of a tall silver birch. Here, the gum trees are so tall they make you dizzy just looking up at them. The sun hits their bright trunks high up and you can see how the competition here has made them so tall and their mossy, lichened trunks so vast. They fight for their right to light; the weakest fail and are consumed by their brethren, as are the old giants who can no longer hold their own weight. This forest is a prime example of nature being red in tooth and claw – it’s just bloodless and very, very slow…It is also apparently hazardous to people; as one might expect from somewhere natural and uncontrolled. The wording of the warning sign apprising visitors of this fact makes me giggle though: ‘Trees and limbs may fall at any time…’. Depends how knackered we get on the way! I am impressed by the other signs here though – someone has taken a lot of time thinking about how to make mere trees more interesting. I’d have enjoyed it anyway, but the addition of a few subtle boards makes it better, particularly as one just suggests that you take time to slow down and enjoy the trees, relax, listen, watch the clouds passing high above you through the leaves… and to “imagine yourself as part of the forest…”

We wander on along the path, through giant tree trunks, bisected to allow passage through where they have fallen, in the dappled shade, past trampoline cobwebs and, as we approach the sound of running water, interesting ferns – staghorn I think. The first time our ears catch water, we wearily hope that this will be the falls. Turning a corner reveals more path and the knowledge that it was wind in the trees. The next dip, however, reveals the definite sound of falling water. We press on and are rewarded by a boardwalk leading to the falls. Lady Barron Falls are different from Russell falls, and are clearly not as much visited as the latter. They are bright in the sunshine, and imposing against the blue skies, little clouds and tall trees that loom behind. They are not huge, and still more shrunk with summer, but they are peaceful and pleasant all the same. We stand and watch them for a while. A butterfly passes on an errand of its own, gliding on black and lime-green wings, flapping lazily occasionally to stay afloat in the limpid air under the spreading gum trees and above the tumbling, white-edged falls. I think it might have been some kind of Tasmanian swallowtail. There aren’t many Tassie butterflies that aren’t brown and umber, so he should be fairly easy to spot! We turn, reluctantly, and wend our way back along the verdant, undulating path, tired but happy at what we have seen.

When we are back, I try to hold these images of Tassie in my head as I pack up the remainder of my things ready to catch the flight. Trina is determined to send me off with a decent meal inside me, so kindly fetches a Pratie’s spud for each of us… Damn, they’re good! ;) I’d never have thought of putting a Hawaiian topping on a spud but it really works… There’s an idea for home! ;) We head airportwards when I’m done, and Trina furnishes me with a farewell bottle of Sarsparilla… I still haven’t decided whether I like it or not, but it’s somehow compelling and I want to try it again… Hmm… We try to avoid the tearful farewells, which is mostly successful, up to a point, and then I’m gone. The plane is a dinky one, with stubby little wings. I have an aisle seat, which is a pity, though as the plane fills up, a large lady and her snoozy husband appear next to me and merely suggest I move down to the window, which is nice of her. They have been to Tasmania from Sydney for a long weekend, and are laden with bags which hold a promise of tastiness for a few weeks… Anyone with significant links to Hobart is going to be happily fat! ;) I am cheerful in my snaffled window seat, and as dusk falls, I stare out at the deep blue sky, streaked with grey, and the purple clouds glowering in the distance. I am nervous, as these little planes feel rickety at the best of times, and the clouds suggest turbulence to come. However, I am privileged to have a farewell from Tasmania too. Just as I am leaving, an electrical storm breaks out over the triple mountains beyond Hobart. Out of my window I see an angry, jagged streak of bright orange forked lightning, searing down from purple clouds to purple mountain in a blazing triple trail of light. I grin to myself, pleased that I have seen it, and awed by its obvious power, especially as I’m about to be flying into some of it! We take off, these planes really do rattle on takeoff, as if the effort is too much and they will shake themselves apart… The luggage compartments wobble under the strain and the lights flicker in the cabin. But soon we are off in the air and circling around over Hobart, which twinkles in the hazy blue dusk. It seems very far away as we climb higher, one wing soaring high in the air like a dolphin’s flipper. We pass into cloud. Next stop Sydney!Sydney is very easy, to my surprise. Off plane, collect bags, hop in taxi, all in a matter of minutes… There’s something to remember – bet it won’t happen again!
;)