Trekking Thursday–Franklin-Gordon River Cruise

[Last week, Hubby and I were talking to someone who had recently visited Tasmania. They went to Strahan, but for some reason didn’t do the Franklin-Gordon river cruise. We recommended that next time they go to Tassie, they revisit Strahan and do the cruise. Hence, to encourage prospective travellers to Tasmania, a re-visit in my blogs to Strahan on the West Coast of Tasmania. Ah, memories of travels with my husband, his brother (P1), and cousin from Switzerland (P2), to Tasmania; a brilliant and beautiful destination.]

K-Team Adventures—Strahan and Gordon River Cruises

An early start, just what the K-Team love. We were to board the Wilderness Cruise Boat by 8.45am. Not as early as the last time I took the cruise. Then, in 2011, I journeyed with my mother (Mrs T), for whatever reason, the ship departed much earlier than 8.45am. Fearing we’d miss the boat, Mum and I rose at the crack of dawn and ate our breakfast at a hotel opposite the wharf while watching the sun rise on the calm waters of Macquarie Harbour; an oil painting in hues of gold and pink with ducks on the jetty. Mum’s breakfast of Eggs Benedict was less than perfect; uncooked, runny and the “whites” not white. She’s never had Eggs Benedict again. I guess there had to be some compensation for the ideal weather we had that August day in 2011.

[Photo 1: Calm on Macquarie Harbour before Eggs Benedict © L.M. Kling 2011]

Not so for the K-Team in 2016. A perfect mix of personalities, no conflicts—apart from some initial altercation between my husband’s phone GPS navigator and the Kluger’s Pandora navigational system. Now that was something out of the box, so we packed away any semblance of pairing our phones with the car’s computer system and relied on the navigational system God had given us—our brains…and some forward planning with Google Maps. So, instead we had the weather as our thorn-in-the-side member of the K-Team. At least someone up there, I mean God, had been looking after us.

[Photo 2: Sign of weather come. A hiking trail in Hogarth Falls near Strahan © L.M. Kling 2016]

When we booked our cruise, the lady asked us, ‘Do you want to go on the ABT Railway up to Queenstown?’

‘How much?’ I asked.

The lady showed the prices.

‘What time does it get back?’

‘Oh, 5pm.’

‘Nah, we’re meeting my cousin at 4.30pm. So, we’ll take the cruise.’

A narrow escape. We heard that night while dining with my cousin, Kiah who at the time ran the Strahan Visitors Centre, that fallen trees on the railway track had stranded the tourists on the train for several hours. They arrived back in Strahan at 8.30pm. The next day, on the cruise, Kiah overheard some girls who had been on the train trip say they were going to write a reality TV show about bored kids.

[Photo 3: Thankfully, not stranded at Queenstown; ABT Railway Station with K-Team, the younger way back when…Looks like my kids can get bored at Railway Stations too. © L.M. Kling 2001]

The cruise, definitely not boring. First a ride out through the narrow heads and into the full force of the roaring 40’s and rough seas; P2’s highlight of the Tassie Trip. Hubby was surprised I didn’t get seasick. I’d remembered to take my ginger tablets.

[Photo 4: High seas past the heads, but the birds hang on. © L.M. Kling 2016]
[Photo 5: The safety of the lighthouse © L.M. Kling 2016]
[Photo 6: The lighthouse keepers’ cottage? © L.M. Kling 2016]

Then, after returning back into the safety of the harbour, a tour of the salmon farms; big, netted rings full of fish.

[Photo 7: Salmon Farms © L.M. Kling 2016]

Kiah and her team would be our guides on Sarah Island, the worst penal colony in the whole British Empire in the early nineteenth century. We spent an hour or so on the island touring around the various sites, the tour guides giving lively and entertaining accounts of Sarah Island’s history.

[Photo 8: Sarah Island approach © L.M. Kling 2016]

Walking up the gangway, I studied the wilderness mountains jutting above the forest lining the harbour and detected the vague outline of Frenchman’s Cap, clouds shrouding it from a clear view.

[Photo 9: So different with Mrs T; Frenchman’s Cap perfect through swamped trees of Sarah Island. © M.E. Trudinger 2011]

As we raced up the river, the Captain rabbited on about Sarah Island’s convict history and then he said, ‘While we travel up the river, think about what it would’ve been like living in those times on Sarah Island as a convict.’

[Photo 9: The Lookout © L.M. Kling 2011]
[Photo 10: Mrs T contemplates while crowd listens to tour guide © L.M. Kling 2011]

I recalled the play we’d seen the night before, The Ship that Never Was; the political climate and social conditions of nineteenth century Britain that created the huge gap between the rich and the poor, unemployment and homelessness, and the solution to send shiploads of social rejects (the convicts) to Australia—the worst offenders to the most remote place on earth, Sarah Island. Yet, in all of that condemnation and hopelessness, redemption. Some of these convicts, when they received their ticket of leave (freedom), became leaders in the colony; their skills not going to waste. Treat people like they matter, give them a chance. This is how I understood David Hoy, Master Shipwright treated the convicts. I could go on, but best if you ever go to Tasmania, go to Strahan, do the cruise and see the play.

[Photo 11: Scene from the Ship that Never Was © L.M. Kling 2001]

And while we were there, clutching the mini hot water bottles loaned to us for the duration of the performance, and waiting for the play to start, the tour group we encountered the previous day, joined the audience. Some of them ended up participating in the play. So did P2 helping the ship (just a pile of wood, really) sail to close to the coast of Chile…before it…well, you’ll have to see the play to find out what happened.

[Photo 12: Perfect reflections on a perfect day up the Gordon River © L.M. Kling 2011]

After a tasty buffet lunch of smoked salmon, cheese, bread and salad, we had a half-hour walk in the rainforest. Amazed at the variety and abundance of plant-life and how plants grow out of tree trunks and stumps. The old Huon pine stump that had been struck down by lightning a decade or so ago, was now a garden of seedlings, native laurel, moss, lichen, and ferns.

[Photo 13: New Life springs from That old Huon Pine © L.M. Kling 2016]
[Photo 14: A taste of a temperate rainforest © L.M. Kling 2011]

Then the race back to Strahan. In all we had travelled 140km on tour of the Macquarie Harbour, some way up the Gordon River and then back to Strahan.

P1 disappointed with the cloudy weather said, ‘How can I get good photos when there’s no sun?’

[Photo 15: And so, the sun sets on Strahan © L.M. Kling 2011]

‘They’re mood photos,’ I replied. Cheeky, I know, since in 2011, the sun shone on Mum and me, and I had dozens of chocolate-box photos of the Gordon River like glass reflecting perfectly vivid green forest trees. Oh, well. We were blessed that day in 2011. The western wilderness of Tasmania gets on average around 4000mm of rain a year. So more likely to get cloudy rainy days on a cruise than sunny, I guess.

Besides, did P1 have an Eggs Benedict like my mum had eaten that morning in 2011?

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016; updated 2019; 2021; 2024

Feature Photo: Chocolate Box Reflections on the Gordon-Franklin River © L.M. Kling 2011

***

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Trekking Thursday–Hike Around Dove Lake

[An unexpected shower while walking along the beach the other day reminded me of our Tasmanian adventure back in 2001, when our boys were young (about 11 and 8). That time Hubby was most concerned about keeping his charges dry. However, he went to great lengths to make sure all was done as frugally as possible.]

K-Team, the Younger: Tasmania 2001

Dove Lake Hike in Garbage Bags–Cradle Mountain National Park

Hubby paced the floor of the mountain cabin. ‘Yes, that’ll work. Garbage bags’ll work.’ He was in his frugal element and raced around the small room as if he’d won the lottery. ‘Oh, and so cheap!’

He spent the rest of the evening cutting and taping two garbage bags and fashioning them into ponchos for our young sons.

Sons 1 and 2, unaware of the fate that awaited them, marvelled at the possum perched on the balcony.

***

Next morning, a shroud of mist covered the valley.

‘Hmm, the weather doesn’t look good,’ my husband said. ‘Don’t know if we’ll see much of Cradle Mountain. Boys’ll definitely need the ponchos I made when we hike around Dove Lake.’

Hubby grinned as he pushed the garbage bags into our packs.

*[Photo 1: Possum © A. Kling 2001]

I slung my camera’s bulky telescopic lens in its case over my shoulder and tucked it under my parka. I remembered the words of a professional photographer friend who had visited Cradle Mountain before me. ‘Even on cloudy days, you never know when the peak will appear. So, be prepared.’ Besides, I thought, mist and fog give the scenery character.

In our hire car Ford sedan, we crawled in the tourist-congo to Dove Lake.  Signs warned us of an unsealed section of road suitable only for four-wheel drive vehicles. But did that stop Hubby? No, we bumped along the track behind a bus with him plopping in remarks. ‘Brachina Gorge was worse.’ Or, ‘What are they talking about, this is nothing.’

After parking, Hubby leapt from the car. ‘Oh, looks like rain.’ He pulled out the “raincoats” and waved them in the air. ‘Come on boys, you need to be waterproof.’

Son 1 recoiled. ‘I’m not wearing that.’

‘No!’ Son 2 screamed and hid behind me.

‘Oh, yes, you will!’ their father said. ‘You’ll get wet and a chill and then catch a death of cold, if you don’t.’

‘No!’ both boys squealed and then scampered up the path.

A battle ensued; Hubby with garbage bag-ponchos verses sons refusing to wear the garbage bags.

Dad won, and with the g-b-ponchos draped over two unhappy boys, the young K-Team trooped along the Dove Lake track.

A blanket of cloud covered the mountain, and drizzle blurred the view of the lake. The shifting mist mesmerised me. I slowly pulled out my camera and then attached the telescopic lens.

‘Get this off me!’ Son 2 cried. He fought with his garbage bag in the wind, and then tore it off.

‘No! You must keep it on!’ his dad grabbed the bag-poncho and struggled to put it back over him. Then, with success, clasping his son’s hand, Dad marched ahead, dragging Son 2 behind him.

*[Photo 2: All waterproof © L.M. Kling 2001]

‘I hate this walk!’ Son 1 cried. ‘Why do I have to wear this sack!’

‘So you don’t get wet!’ Dad said as they disappeared around a bend of pine trees, branches like arms all twisted and gnarled; monsters in the fog.

As I progressed around that same bend, I spied No. 2 son sitting on a stump by the path. The sun peeped through the clouds. ‘I’m not wearing this,’ Son 2 said. ‘It’s too hot.’

I glanced around. No Hubby. ‘Okay.’ I took the garbage bag cloak off Son 2, then peeled off my parka.

The lake shimmered as rays of sun filtered through the mist and gaps in the cloud. A photographer’s paradise. I aimed my camera and snapped several shots of Dove Lake.

*[Photo 3: Waterfall over Dove Lake © L.M. Kling 2001] 

                                                             

*[Photo 4: Dove Lake through pines © L.M. Kling 2001] 

                                               

‘Mum! Come on!’ Son 2 yelled.

‘Hurry up!’ Hubby beckoned. ‘We’ve hardly started! And what are you doing without your rain cover?’

More protests as Hubby wrestled with Son 2 to get garbage bag-poncho again over his head.

Just in time. Dark clouds loomed, followed by rain pelting down on us. Hubby knew what he was doing; he was making sure the boys stayed dry.

As we plodded along the path, once again wrapped and water-proofed, the rain turned to sleet. Icy drops cut into my face.

‘I’m tired,’ Son 2 whined. ‘How much longer?’

‘It’s an hour’s walk, I replied.

The sun appeared, and so did the peaks of Cradle Mountain—fleeting, peeping from the curtain of clouds.

*[Photo 5: Cradle Mountain in Mist © L.M. Kling 2001]

‘Wow!’ I halted, shed my rain-jacket, shrugged off the tangle of bags and camera equipment, then caught the image of the mountain before it disappeared.

Son 2 shed his garbage bag-cloak too.  He sighed, ‘How embarrassing!’

I packed the embarrassing cover into my bag and we continued the trek around Dove Lake. Every few metres I paused to take another photo.

‘Are we there yet?’ Son 2 asked as we crossed a stream.

Hubby stood before us. ‘What’s taking you so long?’

‘There’s so many beautiful scenes to capture,’ I said. ‘The clouds are always shifting and changing. How can I resist?’

‘Should only take an hour. It’s been two hours and we’re only half-way.’ Hubby said.

‘But, the photos…’

A pair of hikers passed us from the other direction.

‘How far to go?’ they asked.

‘A couple of hours,’ I said. ‘How long have you been hiking?’

‘From the boathouse, about half-an-hour.’

‘Not long to go then.’

‘Right, I’m off,’ Hubby said. ‘See you at the boathouse.’

Hubby and Son 1 marched off while Son 2 and I shuffled behind. We tried to keep up.

*[Photo 6: Dove Lake Through trees © L.M. Kling 2001]
*[Photo 7: Cradle Mountain Revealed© L.M. Kling 2001]

Emerging through the twisted branches of snow-gums, the lake beckoned, then hints of Cradle Mountain begged me to photograph. Father and Son 1 drifted further…and further ahead, while I remained suspended in the fairyland of Dove Lake, Cradle Mountain and fast-shifting mist and cloud. Even Son 2 deserted me to catch up with his dad and brother.

I arrived at the boathouse.

‘Four hours!’ Hubby greeted me. ‘That must be a record.’

Our sons, minus garbage bags, skipped stones on the smooth surface of the lake while mist descended over the mountain. I extracted my camera and aimed, taking care to focus.

‘Hurry up!’ Hubby snapped, ‘It’s way past lunch.’

During lunch Hubby scrunched up the green plastic of garbage bags and dumped them into a nearby bin.

*[Photo 8: After 4 Hours… © L.M. Kling 2001]
*[Photo 9: K-Boys skipping stones © L.M. Kling 2001]
*[Photo 10: Cradle Mountain on a better, no, the best day 8 years later © L.M. Kling 2009]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2017; updated 2019; 2023

Feature Photo: Cradle Mountain Revealed © L.M. Kling 2001

[Stay tune for next fortnight and see what a difference a few years make. And how the K-Team the younger, just a little bit older, tackle the hike around Dove Lake on a perfect sunny day in the summer of 2009.

Next week I will be sharing some of my discoveries in my venture into family history, perhaps I can find the reason why I would take 4 hours to walk around Dove Lake. Is it written into my genetic code???]

***

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Arty Friday–Ocean Beach, Tasmania

Virtual Trekking Behind the Art: Ocean Beach Tasmania

[This week Adelaide has endured a dramatic start to winter. After a beautiful warm weekend, storms descended upon the city with a bang of rolling thunder and constant flashes of lightning early Wednesday morning. Then the rain like an apocalyptic flood dumped on us. I walked to the bathroom and felt a damp patch on the carpet. Oh, dear, the roof is leaking …again! Still nothing like the church where I go for Bible Study. Arrived there to find the whole foyer flooded and mopping up in operation. The ceiling had collapsed under the weight of a leaking roof and had the heavens descended. Fortunately, there were still dry areas to meet. Then, that afternoon, after Writers’ group, my friend and I began our trip home in sunshine. But, ten minutes into the journey, hail pummeled my car. We quickly sought some refuge under a tree until the hailstorm passed.

So, seeking respite from the rugged week, here’s an old piece of calm from our Tasmanian travels.]

Calm on Ocean Beach

Ocean Beach lies on the West Coast of Tasmania near Strahan. The wild winds of the roaring forties (between the 40-and 50-degrees latitude) attack the coast with relentless ferocity.

In 2001 I visited Ocean Beach with my family to see the mutton birds coming home to roost for the night. I had barely stepped out of the car before the biting cold wind blasted me and I made a hasty retreat back into the car. No view of mutton birds that evening. Result, no photos.

Ten years later, my mum and I visited Ocean Beach. While the East Coast was inundated with floods, Ocean Beach that afternoon was calm. We explored the beach, taking many photos of this rare state of the beach.

*Photo 1: Ocean Beach through Dunes © M.E. Trudinger 2011
*Photo 2: Ocean Beach View the Distant storm © L.M. Kling 2011
*Photo 3: Ocean Beach gentle tide-flow © L.M. Kling 2011
*Photo 4: Ocean Beach—Lunch at the Lookout © L.M. Kling 2011

October 2016, the K-Team ventured onto the sands of Ocean Beach on perhaps a not-so-calm day; calm enough though, that we were able to walk along the beach. Not being satisfied with just an obligatory few metres up and down, my husband led us way up the estuary where we spotted a variety of birds, some fishermen, and the lighthouse sitting out there near the heads. Gotta get our money’s worth. After all, he’d seen the potential from the dizzy distance of the cruise boat as it sailed past the heads of Macquarie Harbour. I think if we’d allowed him, we’d still be walking along the coast somewhere around Tasmania.

*Photo 5: K-Team in dunes of Ocean Beach © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 6: Rough Surf of Ocean Beach © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 7: Debris from Storm of Ocean Beach © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 8: Walk of Ocean Beach and view of island © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 9: Fishermen of Ocean Beach © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 10: The birds of Ocean Beach © L.M. Kling 2016
*Photo 11: The Lighthouse of the Macquarie Harbour Heads © L.M. Kling 2016

Still, nothing like a thorough study of my muse which I have now painted in miniature on Huon Pine and on canvas in acrylic—each time different.

*Painting 1: Calm on Ocean Beach (Watercolour) © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016
*Painting 2: Ocean Beach Calm (Acrylic on canvas) © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018
*Painting 3: Misty Calm, Ocean Beach (Pastel) © L.M. Kling 2022

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016; Updated 2018; updated 2020; 2023

***

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Story Behind the Art–Cradle Mountain

[One week remaining of our MAG exhibition at Brighton Central Shopping Centre. So far, a most successful time. Our artists have sold over 56 works and counting.]

Heavenly Hike Around Dove Lake

The pinnacle of the K-T-Y’s (K-Team, the Younger) road trip around Tasmania was Cradle Mountain. I might add here that we’d abandoned my husband (Hubby)in Poatina on a Christian Leaders Training course, while I chauffeured the younger members of our family to the scenic sights in the Central Highlands and East Coast.

So, Sunday January 18, 2009, with Cradle Mountain National Park our goal, we drove the hills, dales, twists and turns. And we fended off near-misses with drivers who apparently didn’t know which side of the road they were meant to be on.

[Photo 1: Our goal to view, Cradle Mountain © L.M. Kling 2009]

Before entering the National Park, we had to buy The Pass. And the K-Team kids took the opportunity to have some lunch at the café in the Visitors’ Centre.

Then another wait on the sealed but narrow road. We watched the procession of cars squeeze past us as they exited the park. The boom gate took what seemed an eternity to rise. I reminded my “lambs” that good things come to those who wait. However, the only positive my 15-year-old Son 2 could muster was more atheistic zeal to preach to his captive audience.

Finally, the boom gate rose, and I ferried the K-Team Young’uns to a highly sought-after carpark. We piled out of the car, sorted out backpacks, and with the sun warming our backs, commenced the hike around Dove Lake. At first, I had to drag a reluctant Son 2 to join us on this adventure, but soon, wooed by the brilliant scenery, he raced ahead to catch up to his older brother.

This time we hiked the opposite way around the lake from the way we did in 2001. Following the well-trodden path, a small lake emerged.

[Photo 2: Small Lake © L.M. Kling 2009]

‘Is this Dove Lake?’ Son 1 asked.

‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘I remember it being bigger than this.’

A sign designated to the pond, confirmed that it wasn’t Dove Lake.

A little further on, we reached the boat house and Cradle Mountain framing the view of Dove Lake. On the shore of pebbles and sand, a photographer perched near his sturdy tripod and SLR camera with telescopic lens, while his wife, long-suffering, sat under a beach umbrella enjoying a novel.

[Photo 3: Boat House, Dove Lake and Cradle Mountain © L.M. Kling 2009]

We continued our trek around the lake. Son 2 ceased his drone about the meaninglessness of life, while Son 1 captured the beauty on the little digital camera I had lent him.

We marvelled at the sun sparkling diamonds on ripples of water.

[Photo 4: Diamonds on the water © L.M. Kling 2009]

I explained that the tannin from the button grass in the highlands caused the rivers to run the colour of tea.

[Photo 5: Rivers of tea-coloured water © L.M. Kling 2009]

A cheeky currawong amused the boys.

[Photo 6: Cheeky currawong © L.M. Kling 2009]

Every few steps, I stopped and took yet more photos of the lake and the mountain towering above.

7.
8.
9.
[Photos 7, 8 & 9: Views along the way: Cradle Mountain (7), Roots (8), and Flower (9) © L.M. Kling 2009]

Even so, time stood still…

Within an hour, the K-T-Y had reached the halfway mark. What a difference eight years make! What took more than two hours in 2001, half the time this time.

[10. Halfway © L.M. Kling 2009]

More magical drifting. See, I wasn’t hiking; the path was easy, the views spectacular. My film camera took over.

Tea-stained ripples by the shore.

[Photo 10: Ripples on shore © L.M. Kling 2009]

The knotted trunks of the emerging rainforest.

[Photo 11: Rainforest edge © L.M. Kling 2009]

‘I’m in camera-heaven!’ I sighed as I caught up to Son 1 who was also clicking away on his camera.

The deep blue of Dove Lake dazzled us.

[Photo 12: Deep blue water © L.M. Kling 2009]

Further on, a passing parade of hikers lead by a tour-guide directed my view to Cradle Mountain through a tangle of vegetation.

13.
14.
[Photo 13 & 14: Cradle Mountain Framed by forest © L.M. Kling 2009]

Then Dove Lake again framed by twisted and thirsty trees.

[Photo 15: Dove Lake framed © L.M. Kling 2009]

A couple approached us. ‘How far?’

I looked at my watch. ‘I don’t know, but we’ve been walking about an hour and a half, so, at least that.’

‘Hmmm, we’ve only just begun,’ the man said and then passed us.

My sons raced ahead, eager with the end of the hike in sight.

[Photo 16: Thirsty Bushes © L.M. Kling 2009]

Dove Lake winked through the trees. Yes, our hike was almost done.

[Photo 17: Almost there © L.M. Kling 2009]

I caught up to the K-young’uns. ‘Took us two hours this time.’

‘Dad’ll never believe us,’ Son 1 said.

[Photo 18: Days end at Deloraine © L.M. Kling 2009]

Over a hotel dinner at Deloraine, the result of the boys needing a “dunny stop” and me not wanting to cook tea that night, we reminisced the tale of two Cradle Mountain trips. And Son 2 had to admit that the hike around Dove Lake this time was not bad. And maybe, just maybe, there was a God who created this amazing world.

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019; updated 2022

Feature Painting (watercolour): Classic Cradle Mountain and Dove Lake (minus the tangle of forest) © L.M. Kling 2009]

NB. This painting of mine is available as an unframed painting at our MAG exhibition at Brighton Central, until October 30, 2022.

***

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Click here on Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981…

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K-Team Tassie Adventures–Tahune Airwalk

[Our Summer, here in Australia has continued to be filled with drama. This whole Covid-thing is like a bad relationship in which we are trapped. Pretty disturbing when game-set-and match of Dokevich verses Australian government is more entertaining news than the actual tennis. Let’s just say, as an Australian, I feel as if I’m stuck in the middle of the dystopian universe of Huxley’s Brave New World. So, where else can one escape, but virtually from all this mass psychosis to memories of Tahune Airwalk, in Southern Tasmania. Ah those were the days…]                                

Tree-Top Highlights

The K-men were up by 7am and already packing for the Tahune Tree-Top walk—a highlight all by itself as far as I was concerned. Usually, as the woman, I’m the one doing all that while the men lounge around looking stressed at the mere fact that they have to get up so early. But not this day. Brother P1 packed the lunches. My husband packed the bags. And Cousin P2 washed the dishes. All while I sat on the 3-seater-lounge and relaxed. Bonus!

[Photo 1: Memories of 2009 visit with K-Team, the Younger (K-T-Y). Airwalk through the trees © L.M. Kling 2009]

Besides, I felt tired and my throat itched. Not a good sign.

The road down south through the Huon Valley made me sleepy. Once past Geeveston, the speed limit slowed to a leisurely 60 kilometres per hour.

[Photo 2: Yes, I’d been to the Huon Valley before in 1981. Apple picking in Judbury. View of the Great Western Wilderness from the Huon River near Judbury © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) 1981]
[Photo 3: Coffee Break on banks of Huon River with K-Team the Even younger and my mum in 1995 © L.M. Kling 1995]

‘I wonder why the speed’s so low,’ P1 remarked.

‘Must’ve had an accident,’ I said.

‘Yeah, they have one accident and they push for the speed to be reduced.’

I yawned. ‘Yep.’

As the way to Tahune became slower and wound around the Temperate Forest terrain, rain spattered on the windscreen and my eyes drooped and I fell asleep. After all, this was my third visit to the Tahune Air Walk.

[Photo 4: A sunny day in 2009—Tributary of the Huon in Tahune Rainforest © L.M. Kling 2009]

My husband’s voice woke me up. ‘We’ve come at a good time. They’re celebrating 100 years of National parks in Tasmania and we get to go into all the national parks for free during the Tasmanian school holidays.’

‘Well, your mum timed the planning of the trip very well,’ I replied as we rolled into the visitors’ carpark. ‘Good timing too, it’s 10.30am and the park opened at 10am.’

[Photo 5: Speaking of mums, visit to Tahune Treetop Walk with my mum in 2013. Also rainy that day. Glad we had our ponchos © L.M. Kling 2013]

Armed with our rain jackets, layers of clothing and boots for hiking, we trooped to the Information Centre and Souvenir Shop to pay for access to the Air Walk. The National Park Pass only covers entry to National parks, not the Tahune Air Walk which costs $28 per adult. The park manager explained that the fee includes the tree-top walkways, a counter-lever (an over-hanging construction) and two swinging bridges.

Now one thing one must know about the K-Team, they have to get their money’s worth. And true to form, that day, we did indeed receive value for our money.

[Photo 6: Value For Money and Money from the Counter-Lever © L.M. Kling 2016]

Right from the start, as we stepped out the centre door, the rain eased. First point of interest, how high the river rose during the floods in July. My husband pointed at the measuring post where the mark indicated the waters rose two metres above the height of the bridge. Then for the next twenty minutes, he repeated, ‘Two metres above the bridge, wow, that’s a flood.’

[Photo 7: Height of the flood © L.M. Kling 2016]

We trekked the paths of Tahune through the temperate rainforest, above the forest, and along the rushing tea-stained waters of the Huon.

[Photo 8: Tea-Stained Waters of the Huon© L.M. Kling 2016]

‘How come the water’s brown?’ P1 asked.

‘The highland button-grass colours the water,’ Hubby explained.

‘So there’s nothing wrong with the toilets back at the visitors’ centre,’ I said.

P1 nodded. ‘I wondered about that.’

P2 laughed.

[Photo 9: Temperate Rainforest from below© L.M. Kling 2016]

We hiked for two hours fascinated by the abundance and variety of plant-life in the forest. We pointed out the Huon pine tree, the river lapping at its roots.

‘The oldest Huon Pine is said to have lived for three thousand years,’ Hubby said. ‘This tree’s only a few hundred years old, so young in comparison. They grow only one millimetre in width a year.’

[Photo 10: Huon Pine By the River © L.M. Kling 2016]

Also in the forest we saw, King Billy Pines, Myrtle, Sassafras and Blackwood trees as well as a range of ferns and native laurel.

We viewed the forest from above on the air walk, a sturdy construction made of metal. We stepped, single-file along the counter-lever to obtain the best view of the meeting of two rivers. A man lingered behind. ‘I’m not going on that thing,’ he said, ‘It’s not safe.’

[Photo 11: Forest from Above © L.M. Kling 2016]

Two children pushed past us and raced to the end of the counter-lever. The metal clanged as they raced back while tussling with each other.

Their mother raised her hands and snapped, ‘Careful!’

[Photo 12: The Counter-lever © L.M. Kling 2016]

P1 peered up at the magnificent Stringy Bark eucalyptus tree towering above us, then he lifted his camera and snapped a shot. ‘I reckon that’s the tree I saw from the other side of the river,’ he said.

On solid earth again, the girth and height of another stringy bark tree dwarfed us. A deck had been constructed around the base of that tree so we could stand in front of it and have our photo taken without damaging the roots.

[Photo 13: How big is that Stringy Bark? © L.M. Kling 2016]

We lunched in a picnic hut near a clearing. My husband made a friend of a Currawong bird. As this black bird studied our food with its bright yellow eyes, he said, ‘It’s like our crow in South Australia, but a different species.’

I filmed Hubby hand-feeding the bird. ‘Look, a new friend for you,’ I remarked.

[Photo 14: More Rainforest © L.M. Kling 2016]

Once we’d packed up, P1 announced, ‘Right, now for the swinging bridges.’

We trekked about 45 minutes to the bridges. Seemed to take forever. A boy and girl in their tweens, jogged past us.

Finally, we reached the bridge and began to cross. On the other side the kids we’d seen jogging sat on a bench the other side licking ice-cream. When we reached the other side, they raced off, jogging again. Where do they get the energy?

[Photo 15: Swing Bridge © L.M. Kling 2016]

Checked the lookout where the Picton and Huon rivers meet. Then crossed the second swinging bridge. Husband rocked the bridge, but it didn’t worry me. Not good for taking photos, though.

[Photo 16: Where the Rivers Meet down below © L.M. Kling 2016]

He then stomped up to me. ‘Look, no hands.’

Well, good for him. ‘I need to hold on.’

As we completed our four-hour walk the rain plummeted to the silty path. The K-Team’s mission had succeeded. The Tahune Air Walk—well worth the cost and the effort. And an added blessing, my threatening head-cold had taken a hike and been lost in the forest of the Tahune.

[Photo 17: Calmer Waters, Huon River © L.M. Kling 2016]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2017; updated 2020; 2022

Feature Photo: View Where the Rivers Meet. Taken from the Tahune Air Walk © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016

***

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K-T-Y Tassie Adventures–Wineglass Bay

Wineglass Bay, Freycinet Peninsula

[ January 2009, and my turn to be the Team Leader of K-Team, the Younger (K-T-Y), who were teenagers; one, of whom was a certain 15-year-old son who would’ve preferred to be playing computer games rather than travelling around Tasmania. This time the K-T-Y team venture to Coles Bay on the Freycinet Peninsula which is on the East Coast of Tasmania.]

We need an Aussie “Brat Camp, I thought as we trudged up the steep path. The best beach in the world, but did Son 2 care?

I turned and yelled, ‘Come on, son!’

My 15-year-old Son 2 shuffled up the slope, his head shrouded in emo black hair bent as he stared at the gravel. A cry sounding like a demented “Chewbacca” echoed through the valley, ‘It’s too hard!’

Son 1 and girlfriend had raced ahead.

‘Hurry up! We’re being left behind,’ I waved my arms about, ‘it’s getting late!’

‘Urgh! There’s flies!’ Son 2 batted the air around his face. ‘I need a rest! I’m tired!’

[Photo 1: Oyster Bay to the West with Maria Island © L.M. Kling 2001]

I stumped back to my son who then leaned against a rail. Oyster Bay glistened blue in the afternoon light and boats with white sails bobbed on the water. I was beginning to appreciate the effort and patience my Dad took to take my brother, cousins and me on safari all those years ago in 1981; our adventures documented in Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981.

I waved a hand over the scene. ‘How can you not appreciate that view?’

Son 2 grunted.

‘It’s better on the other side,’ I said remembering our previous foray eight years earlier up and over the rise of the peninsula to Wineglass Bay.

[Photo 2: Memories of Wineglass Bay © L.M. Kling 2001]

Another grunt, then, ‘Okay, let’s go.’

We trod up the path.

I imagined Son 1 and girlfriend way ahead. But there, at the next lookout, Son 1 bent down, hands on knees, his girlfriend patting him on the back.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘I don’t feel so well,’ Son 1 said. ‘I feel dizzy.’

Plan to hike to Wineglass Bay postponed until next morning, we trudged down to the car, and then drove the 20 minutes back to our cabin at Coles Bay Caravan Park. Son 2 grizzled all the way back. ‘Oh, why can’t we? I was just getting into it.’

[Photo 3: Compensation: Sunset on Coles Bay Beach © L.M. Kling 2009]

***

Bright and early next morning, the K-T-Y team made their second attempt to hike to Wineglass Bay. What a difference a good night’s sleep and early start make? So much easier; the air still cool from the night, and no mosquitos. In 2001, when a much younger K-T-Y team tackled the hike up and over the hummocks to Wineglass Bay, huge mosquitos, hovered around us. The route to the lookout over the bay seemed different, too; not as strenuous. Or was I just more fit?

[Photo 4: The seat of rest © L.M. Kling 2001]
[Photo 5: Umbrella Rock © L.M. Kling 2009]

Son 1 tried to catch tadpoles with his fingers while Son 2 rested on a crazy seat. I enjoyed photographing a cave nearby. After the umbrella rock, a narrow-slatted path lead to the lookout already crammed with other hikers.

Wineglass Bay in all its morning glory wooed us and once I had my turn to snap a few shots of the bay, we trod down the steep and slippery path to the beach. More amazing views through the trees and I unfurled my camera from its case. ‘O-oh,’ I checked the settings, ‘I must’ve had the camera set for the cave still.’ I realised that all the Wineglass Bay photos from up there would be over-exposed. Must take shots on way back.

[Photo 6, 7 & 8: Aspects of Wineglass Bay from Lookout © L.M. Kling 2009]

I remembered the time we enjoyed back in 2001, the boys playing pirates on the rocks, Mr. K and me relaxing on the shore of white sand watching clear cold waves crash to shore.

[Photos 9, 10 & 11: Memories of Wineglass Bay Play © L.M. Kling 2001]

This time, in 2009, we spent about 30 to 45 minutes at the beach, scrambling over the rocks, sitting and eating our nuts and chocolate, and taking oodles of photos. The kids hunted for fish, crabs and starfish. Son 1 chased fish with his camera, while Son 2 avoided the lens and disappeared.

[Photos 12, 13 & 14: Catching sea creatures with camera © W.A. Kling 2009]

12. Fishy
13. Spot the starfish
14. Spot the Crab

I wandered over the black rugged boulders in search of Son 2. There in the distance, he appeared, stepping awkwardly from rock to rock, and then, in slow motion tumbling over.

[Photos 15: If hiking over the steep hill is not your thing, you can take a sailboat cruise to Wineglass Bay © L.M. Kling 2009]

‘Are you alright?’ I called. I had visions of broken arms, legs, and face all smashed up.

Son 2 emerged, again awkwardly stepping from rock to rock. ‘I’m fine,’ he replied.

[Photo 16: Stitched together (not perfect as you can see): A wide-angle view of Wineglass Bay. A several-day hiking trek exists for those who are game © L.M. Kling 2009]

We battled the stiff return climb up the hill and then relaxed as we trotted down the slope. The early afternoon sun shone on Oyster Bay and speed boats tracked across the water. And, once again, Son 2 was glad he’d ventured to Wineglass Bay.

[Photo 17: Up and over, view of Oyster Bay © L.M. Kling 2009]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019; updated 2022

Feature Photo: Best Beach in the World © L.M. Kling 2009

***

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