trees

Huon heights

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Whilst I am a wuss regarding heights, I decided I would gather up my courage and do the Tahune Airwalk, in an ‘eco-tourist’ complex which is a slow 60kmh 30 minute drive through plantations from Geeveston.

But it promised a rare mix of rainforest, giant eucalypts and Huon pines.

I was about to start when the rain came in; by the time lunch was over, it had stopped.

The bridge over the Huon leads to the two walks I would do. 

A trio of horse riders surprised me by appearing from a side track; and no, they were not here for the Airwalk.

Despite what their brochures say, the Airwalk does mainly pass over forests that were burnt in the huge 2019 fires, as most of this area was. It is still an interesting walk – and not really scary. I am giving the swinging bridge a miss…

Even enormous and ancient Eucalypts (obligua especially) were killed in those fires.

From the Airwalk, beyond the Huon River, you can see forests that were not burnt. 

There is plenty of information provided here regarding the post-fire regeneration of different species.

From the Huon Walk, you can gauge the power of this river at times from the large logs piled up along its banks.

The first actual Huon Pine we are pointed to is small, old and damaged. We know that Huon Pines were cut wholesale in the early settler days, floated down the rivers and used for all sorts of unworthy purposes.

We now acknowledge that Huon Pine is an ancient, very slow-growing tree, endemic to Tasmania, and it is now never cut down. Only the stockpiled remnants are allowed to be used, valued for the fine grained durable wood.

Huons need water, so favour river sides like this.

But we do see plenty of other sorts of trees that are old and grand… and still alive.

Trees like these put our puny lives in perspective.

However, the best thing about the Tahune was that outside the Visitors Centre I saw this young Eastern Quoll gambolling about, just as I’d always imagined them in the wild.

They are a cousin of the Spotted-tailed Quolls I had at my Mountain, but so much daintier.

I thought my day was made.

Then, coming back into Geeveston, I saw this fantastic owner builder creation-in-progress: Castle Phoenix.

Wild creatures and weird creations: what more could I wish from a day? 

From falls to hops

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Mount Field is the oldest Tasmanian national park, close to Hobart, and very popular. I was there very early to beat the crowds.

Being so old, it was unusual in that the tree ferns were bigger, as were the gum trees higher up.

The easily reached Russell Falls is deemed the state’s favourite waterfall.

I liked the suspense of the creek at the top, just before it plunged over as a fall.

Horseshoe Falls were higher up, and I did think twice about taking on more steps, as I’d forgotten to bring my stick. I found a branch that did the job of keeping me safely stable.

The towering eucalypts were worth it, with large amounts of bark strips hanging from their levels.

On the way back this little pademelon was out late… but I was early.

In some areas the moss was different: a paler green, and in thicker clumps.

Any lichen was in papery leaves, on fallen timber. 

I regret that I was here too early in Autumn for much of the fungi for which Tasmania is famous, and that I didn’t get to the eastern part of Mt Field, as the Tarn Lakes would be a sight in later Autumn.

Leaving there, I lucked on a raspberry farm with tempting products from all sorts of berries, and delicious fresh ones like boysenberries.

I passed lots of Hydro Tasmania pipes and power stations; a huge and rather overwhelming enterprise over hill and dale.

And then I was in farm country, with vast hop fields and signs warning of hop harvesting vehicles.

Negotiating Hobart’s outskirts was the next challenge, but signage is plentiful here, amd I made it.

Lake St Clair

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At around 170 metres deep, Lake St Clair is the deepest freshwater lake in Australia.  The local indigenous people call it Leeawuleena, or ‘Sleeping Water’. 

Formed by ice over glaciations two million years ago, it is the head of the Derwent River.

It is also the end of the Overland Track from Cradle Mountain, as I could see at the glitzy Visitors Centre, which was more like a ski lodge. There were many young people there doffing enormous packs and relievedly taking off walking shoes and wriggling freed toes. 

The campground is expensive (even hot showers were extra), having more cabins than camping spots, and only a tiny section was allotted to non-powered sites like mine.

There are several short walks here, and it is often through eucalypt forest for a change.

The new red leaves of these plentiful blue-green gum leaves were eye-catching.

So too were the Pink Mountain Berry shrubs, which here get an information marker of their own; this says it is Cyathodes parvifolium.

This is called Watersmeet, for obvious reasons.

Right beside the bridge there was a white-flowering small tree; I have seen several of these and keep wanting it to be Leatherwood, but I am told that shouldn’t be in bloom now.

So if anyone can tell me what these shrubs/trees are, I’d be grateful.

For me the beauties on this walk were close at hand, like this spectacular coral fungus, which I think is Ramaria anziana. I had bought a FungiFlip, a stunning pictorial guide to Tassie fungi, by the University of Tasmania, so that may be right.

I assume these wonderful pale blue/green balls are lichens… new to me… and wow!

The embracing habit of these lichens was so decorative that I saw them as braceleting the tree trunk, as jewellery.

For pattern and colour this little grove won the day; I don’t know what the trees are, but it made me feel as if I was definitely in another land. Or another world.

As I am…

The Tarkine Drive

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The Tarkine Drive didn’t take me through any country that matched my image of the Tarkine Wilderrness. Turns out the Tarkine is a big and varied area and I was ignorant. It was taking me back towards Burnie…!

But near the end of it I did do some pleasant short walks, where tree ferns were so plentiful and well-spaced that they formed a sort of tree fern park, like at Julius River and Trowutta Arch.

And I kept being fascinated by the mossed tentative toe roots of big old myrtle trees.

Easy walking, gorgeous tree ferns – my kind of bushwalking.

Not to mention trees dotted with substantial fungi.

I think I am getting the hang of these cool temperate rainforests. Unlike the warm temperate ones I am used to, there are no vines, and there is always lots of moss.

But then I climbed up to the lookout at Milkshake Hills (don’t know why the great name), thanking my stars it wasn’t summer, as it was a hot, exposed and quite steep walk.

Totally different country, with totally different plants, all low. Mainly she-oaks and tea-trees, I think.

Across the button grass slopes below, the eucalypt forest showed how badly it had been burnt.

I saw button grass stretches, mainly on plains, everywhere; apparently they had been kept from returning to forest by indigenous fire management over centuries. And I’d say it is called button grass because its flowers/seed heads are like small buttons on the end of the long stalks.

Too tired of driving to care, I camped that night at Waratah; not recommended!

Dove Lake splendour

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The shuttle bus lets us all off at the Dove Lake Visitor Centre, as modern and spacious as the main one. This is our first view of the lake around which we will walk for the next few hours.

There are many, many strangely shaped and often tall shrubs of what I am told is a Leptospermum, a tea-tree.

The sunlight is fitful, lighting patches on the opposite shore’s rocky mountain faces. I try to imagine them under snow cover.

The clear — and surprisingly not so cold — water laps at several sandy/gritty ‘beaches’.

On this side of the lake the path is easy, of boards overlaid with netting. It is narrow, skirting cliffs at times. I wonder why some people are ignoring the suggested clockwise direction for the walk; there is little space to pass.

I keep an eye on the clouds as they lift their skirts to show peaks, and then hide them again. Just as well I have a walking stick, since I am not always watching where I put my feet…

I suspect Dr Seuss designed quite a few of the trees here. The Pandani (Richea pandanifolius) are sort of ridiculous, with their tussocky heads and shaggy trunks covered in persistent dead leaves. They grow quite tall, and I can spot their stout pale trunks, like asparagus stalks, on the near mountain. There were quite a few at Waldheim.

Walking along the opposite shore, I pass several pebbly beaches below the steep slopes, where the tea-brown water is clear.

The vegetation is different on this second leg of the walk, not counting this pine which couldn’t decide which way to grow, so chose both.

I think these spectacularly coloured trunks belong to the Alpine Yellow Gum (Eucalyptus subcrenulata).

It’s a welcome distraction, as this side of the walk has too many steep and rocky step sections… uphill.

Looking back over the Boatshed (for kayaks) as I near the end of the circuit, I am so glad I did it, and that the weather stayed clear and the sky became blue. In fact, folk were stripping off to shirts as they walked.

Tomorrow I plan to get up early and do the Crater Lake Walk. Weather permitting, as I have been warned to keep in mind for here.

Waldheim pioneers

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This is the view that Gustav and Kate Weindorfer would have had when they chose to build a chalet here at Waldheim (Forest home) near Cradle Mountain.

They are credited with inspiring the formation of this world famous national park. Gustav used to say he wanted ‘a national park for all people for all time’.

I encourage you to read this brief summary of their extraordinary story. 

The original Austrian-style chalet burnt down and a reproduction now exists, with interactive information. Kate facilitated his spending a lot of time up here building it… and there were no roads then. I found the relics of their efforts quite saddening.

Gustav liked to use the King Billy Pines common in the area, due to the straight grain of the timber. Shingles and boards for walls and floors were all from this timber.

On the Weindorfer Forest walk just behind their home there are some very large and old King Billy Pines.

Overall, it was a fantasy forest of twisted shapes and moss creations.

It looked like the moss had engulfed everything that had halted or lain down; I’m not sure I would call the inhabitants of this forest ‘trees’.

In fact, I think I disturbed some of its creatures in mid- action. Tolkein kept coming to my mind.

Sometimes the moss made a less fantastical shape, yet this perfect ball didn’t seem natural either…

The local wombats, appropriately furrier than our NSW ones, seem to have adopted the visitors’ amenities block as their home.

I was told that the local echidnas, smaller than ours, are also furrier… and with less spines.

Whinge alert:

My stay at Waldheim was less than idyllic, not the atmosphere for which I was hoping, as roadworks on the guest cabins’ carparks happened to have been postponed until the very two days I was there. Weather is paramount here.

So not only could I not partk next to my cabin but the roadworking machines outside the window and the smell of tar made it hard to rest after the next day’s walk around Dove Lake.

That walk was stunning, as you’ll see next post, but I needed that rest!

Green world plus

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Arriving at Cradle Mountain Visitors Centre was like being plunged into Touristville. So many vehicles and so many people! Most would leave their vehicles here and get a shuttle bus, which runs every 15 minutes or so, up into the Park.

I was not able to check into the Waldheim Cabins until 2pm, so I did a few short walks down here. The Rainforest Walk and the Enchanted Forest Walks took me into a green world of mostly unfamiliar plants and trees.

In the open there was a field of Buttongrass, a sedge plant that grows in mounds up to 1m diameter, edged by Alpine Coral Fern. I liked the clever signs asking walkers not to leave the path: ‘Plants grow by inches but die by feet’.

The forest was mostly of Myrtles (Nothofagus cunninghamii), ragged of bark and mossed on their buttressed feet. It is not deciduous, but the new leaves will be reddish.

Some lichen (I think) was such a bright green that it put the moss to shame.

The green was relieved by the many fallen Myrtle leaves, dotting the moss like confetti, or caught in spiderwebs on the bark.

Grotesque shapes were united by the green moss, somehow ratified…. or preserved. They had become more sculptures than trees.

On several occasions the green was shockingly broken by a flash of reddish orange, a fungus growing in the cleft of a tree. It seems to be Strawberry Bracket (Aurantiporus pulcherrimus) but mostly was more of a ball, not open enough to form a bracket.

But there were other similar colour notes, as in the berries of this prickly shrub, which I think is Native Currant (Coprosma quadrifida) but it could be Mountain Currant Bush (Coprosma nitida). I don’t have a Tasmanian Facebook group of boffins as I do in NSW and Queensland, so I’m guessing, depending on books…  so don’t quote me!

I am sure of these prolific small plants, called Mountain Rocket for their hanging bunches of flat red papery fruits (Bellendena montana).

Dainty and simple white cup blossoms of this small shrub (unidentified) proliferated in more open parts of the walks.

Also white, but not exactly blossoms, were my favourites, and they were lichen that seemed to have opened up… again, I think!! Wish I knew more about lichens. They were scattered over the ground as if they were indeed blossoms, fallen from a tree.

Next post I’ll take you to Waldheim and the amazing world of Kate and Gustav Weindorfer.

En route

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Leaving the Warrumbungles led me through a really interesting  landscape, shaped by agriculture. On both sides of the road were seeming landscaped paddocks, where a mad topiarist had shaped hundreds of Kurrajong trees.

They were often lopped to feed to stock in times of drought, I knew, but I had never seen so many, so blatantly shaped, dotted through otherwise bare wheat or sheep paddocks.

I was glad to be in country foreign to me, heading to Nangar National Park. It’s near Eugowra, which turned out to be a charming small town. 

This national park is an ex-sheep station, and its once-cleared valley follows a small creek which still flows, through steep rocky treed hills. Apart from Mt Nangar, it is famed for its Dripping Rock.

It reminded me of ‘The Drip’ north of Mudgee; vastly different, as huge and overhanging, and under constant threat from longwall mining.

It was barely dripping when I was there, but audibly and visibly. The Chinese had a market garden on the creek flats near here; the water of this creek must have been so precious.

But it is also precious for animals; there were many kangaroos grazing, but flocks of feral goats were too, as well as along the treed slopes. It was indeed perfect goat country!

Black, white and every combination in between, the goats munched their way and the kids bleated. I decided this felt more like a goat farm than a bush retreat.

I found their numbers depressing, seeing evidence of well-pruned small cypress trees on the low slopes. 

This place depended on regeneration, but the goats could only hinder that.

On the way out, I was cheered to see one swamp wallaby dash across the track, and a stand of gums with  plentiful red-flowering mistletoes… well beyond goat reach.

Miners’ mini walk

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At the southern end of Shelly Beach at Port Macquarie, the Coast Walk continues to wind its way towards Tacking Point. But today I am only checking out the very short (600m) part that leads from Shelly to Miners Beach.  

The track rises at once, and looking back along Shellys I can see Port’s ubiquitous pine trees.

But very soon the native coastal vegetation asserts itself, wind-combed and shaped.

This walk passes through several delightful greenery ‘tunnels’, a favourite brief fairytale fancy of mine.

It also passes an accessible small rocky cove and beach, where the subtropical vegetation thrives despite the salty position.

The very odd-looking Pandanus tectorius or Screw Pines are a major feature here, although they‘re not pines or palms; their distinctive aerial roots prop them against the sea winds. They are so called as their saw-tooth-edged leaves grow in a spiral or screw-like fashion.

Those leaves are used in weaving for a multitude of purposes in many cultures, including our Indigenous one.

On one tree I spy a single large pineapple-looking fruit. Hard and fibrous, they do not invite a bite, but can be edible with the right treatment, or at least their seeds can.

More easily eaten, beloved by many birds, albeit not so tasty for humans, are the fruits of the small Port Jackson Figs (Ficus rubiginosa) growing beside the track. 

So are the berries of the Common Lilly Pilly (Acmena smithii) growing near the Figs.

This being summer, the time of fruits rather than flowers, I see few plants in bloom. This late Swamp Lilly (Crinum pedunculatum) is large and showy, demanding attention. Its neighbour sports the fruit, which is definitely not edible, as it is toxic to humans.

I am almost at Miners Beach, but I have to stop to watch sky and sea combining to create spectacular ephemeral pictures.

Once known as the nudist beach, Miners is hardly secluded anymore, and if clothes are optional, it is not so officially!

But well worth walking to nevertheless…

Carabeen walk

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If you like tree ferns as I do, there were so many on the drive into Cobcroft picnic area in Werrikimbe National Park that it was a treat.

At the car parking area, this yellow flowering small tree/shrub was new to me; I’d assumed it would be a yellow version of the white Ozothmanus that was plentiful in the area. But the boffins tell me it’s actually Cassinia telfordii.

The short Carabeen Walk takes me through a lush forest of eucalypts like Blue Gums, and tree ferns.

There are two sorts of tree ferns, the rough (Cyathea australis) and the soft (Dicksonia antarctica), both present in this forest. This spectacular old trunk is so decorated with mosses that I can only assume it is a rough trunked one underneath. I love the little rabbit’s foot pads on its trunk.

The walk is named for the Yellow Carabeen trees that dominate the wetter areas of its scope.

The sinuous buttresses of this species can extend from two to five metres up its trunks.

Vines and clinging ferns climbing up the trees are common.

The track has become narrow, and is not always easily distinguishable, with many fallen branches that I climb over or skirt around.

Hoary-footed old trees are a reminder that these slow-growing Carabeens have been making this forest for a very long time.

The young ones seem slender in comparison.

And it wouldn’t be a typical rainforest post for me without at least one sprinkling of fungi.

For the first time I also collected some leeches on this walk; as they were mainly on my hands, perhaps they got aboard when I hung on to fallen branches as I clambered over them. I react badly to them – physically – so the bites refreshed my memories of that walk for a week afterwards!

But the walk was worth it.

Mooraback Spring

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The Mooraback campground in Werrikimbe National Park is surrounded by blossom-laden Tea Trees (Leptospermum polygalifolium) at present.

They make as pretty a show as any introduced plant like May Bush (Spirea).

On the shortest walk near the camp, the mown grass track leads past many other white flowering bushes, which I was calling Rice Flowers, but which the experts tell me is Ozothamnus diosmilfolius.

Some were as tall as small trees.

Edging the path in some places, like guards of honour, were multitudes of these pink Grass Trigger-plants (Stylidium graminifolium).

The path led me through mysterious groves of low and spreading trees like these…

…to come out on to such grandeur as here, with a view across the damp Tree Fern gully to Messmate (E. obliqua, Snow Gum (E. pauciflora), Wattle-leaved Peppermint (E. acaciformis) and Manna Gums (E.nobilis).

A large Manna Gum rose in front of me, estimated to be about 150 years old.

This was a delightfully varied and easy stroll, looping back to the equally delightful grassy campground.

Mooraback is a long drive off the Oxley Highway, but worth it!

Gentle Boorganna

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If you’ve never been up to the Comboyne Plateau, you have a treat in store. It’s high and green and often wet; I have never forgotten being told as a child that it got six feet of rain a year. At the time I lived on the Central Coast and I knew we got four feet of rain a year, so that was a vivid comparison for me.

I have now been there many times, noting the sign to Boorganna Nature Reserve, but never stopping to investigate it.

Now I have.

Boorganna is a gentle, special place, long ago put aside for us to wander down through its rainforest, along its leafy, rock-edged paths. There are plenty of informative signs on the way, about the forest, its buttressed and giant trees, and its inhabitants.

Most life goes on above us, green and lush and multi-storied, with twisting vines and clinging creepers and giant bird’s nest ferns all competing for the light.

When this forest giant fell, the path was sensibly cut into its girth. reinforcing its size in the minds of us small humans.

Not all the giants have fallen; this Brush Box is estimated to be as much as a thousand years old.

From the foot-stand slits in some of the big stumps, other giants were not so lucky to survive.

I reach the Rawson Falls Lookout, but decide not to continue to the base of the Falls, mindful that while it has all been a gentle wander downhill, the way back uphill will not feel so gentle on my knees.

As always, my eye is taken by details: I love that the fence at the Lookout is as spotted and bearded with lichen as the nearby trees.

I can look down more safely going uphill, and see delights I missed, like this absolute cornucopia of pale fungi.

Or these few strange papery cup fungi … and is that tiny stem in front a baby one?

There are many logs bedecked with fungi imitating fallen leaves … or potato crisps? I love that Nature does not restrict their artistic licence in design.

But of course, being a rainforest, green and ground matters dominate.

Boorganna offers the lot.