Category Archives: Walking

The disused railway line

The last remnants of the old railway line crossed the road as I walked away from the bridge over the Derwent River on the edge of the area known as Macquarie Plains. I hope the blue sky and the bright green hilly paddocks in the first photo below makes your heart ‘sing’ as they did to mine. And note the line of fence forming a lace-like barrier between land and sky at the top of the hill.

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The line continued on westward.

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As I walked higher up the road, I could see the track crossing the Derwent River yet again.  Then it curved away permanently from the River.

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I guess the beer business is booming

The area is known for its hop growing and apparently the demand is increasing.  On the river banks opposite the Bushy Park Sports Oval, new hop fields were being constructed.

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Did you spot the snow on the distant mountains in the second photo?

Crossing the Derwent River

In stages over more than the past year, I have walked as near to the Derwent River as I can, and each time I see it up close again I am thrilled. Its scale, its colour, and its texture are always different.  The changing effects of the sky on the water’s surface are fleeting, and I love seeing every view.

On Day two, I had left Bushy Park, crossed the Styx River and was now on my way to the Lyell Highway with a despondent resignation that no more close encounters with the River would be possible this day excepting when I crossed the bridge.

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The bridge was long and offered one lane for traffic and no pedestrian path. This is an area where powerful log trucks, various large transports, farm vehicles, massive four wheel drives, and all manner of smaller cars and motorcycles power along the road.  I considered hitching a ride over the bridge with the intention of travelling across in safety. Thankfully the vehicles do not come in a continuous stream, so I looked for a gap in the traffic.

With an ear to the wind, I listened to hear approaching vehicles. In a moment of quiet I made my ‘run’ for it. Friends would know no running was involved. Rather I stepped out purposefully and as quickly as I could, humping my backpack along with me.

Two thirds of the way across I felt indignant. I wanted to have a look at the river but the fact that it was dangerous to be on the bridge unnerved me. Nevertheless, I glanced around and noticed the magnificence of the views up and down the river. As I readied to take a quick photo I could hear an approaching vehicle.  But I stood my ground.  Then I flattened myself against the bridge railing as a monster dual cab ute whizzed past with the driver glaring at me.  I glared back; I hoped my stony look, backgrounded by thoughts of frustration that walkers were not considered in the bridge design, communicated to him.  I know I know I know. Of course it didn’t. I am sure he simply thought my presence was the impediment to his safe progress.

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Before long I was off the bridge crossing the Derwent River and heading eastwards to the Lyell Highway.  Getting down to the water was impossible. In this case it was the tangled Blackberry canes that stood in the way.

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A 1904 church

From a distance, the structural framework designed to hold the hop vines ‘caught’ a church like a spider’s web. I walked quickly to find out more about this decorative little building.

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I learned that this very pretty St Augustine’s Church, which sits a short distance from the township of Bushy Park, is part of the Anglican Parish of Hamilton.

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A very large tree effectively blocked opportunities to take full frontal photographs. From the Gretna end of the building, the church appeared as follows:

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I found little background on this church. The foundation stone was laid on the 20th July 1904 by the Right Reverend J.E. Mercer D.D. who was then Bishop of Tasmania.  According to the Tasmanian Anglican,St Augustine’s church is nestled in the picturesque hop fields at Macquarie Plains. This beautiful little church has experienced huge floods over the years, with the 1960 flood almost reaching the guttering, where a small plaque now records the level. It was during such floods that many records were lost or damaged’.

The church is listed on the Tasmanian Heritage Register.

Bushy Park’s Sports Oval

Bushy Park’s sports arena was a typical rural affair; a large expanse of featureless green, a toilet block, a tiny visitor building (‘geez mate it’s starting to rain let’s go and stand under the verandah’), a track, and not much more.  No football goal sticks in sight.

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Barbed wire fences prevented me entering this area and therefore I could not walk to and then walk by the river. I continued along the road, and turned right at the T-junction. A left turn would have taken me away from the Derwent River to Glenora, Mount Field National Park and further afield to Strathgordon and Lake Gordon.  By turning right I was on the way to the day’s destination of Gretna.

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The local hops growing association seems to own the Bushy Park sports oval and offers ‘day use’ only from this entrance point on the road to Gretna.

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Looking back along the road:

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Looking forward along the road:

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This glorious afternoon was improved by the sensational golden blossoms of this wattle tree:

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Passing a hop field

After leaving the Text Kiln and the other specialist hop buildings in that wonderful grassy green precinct, I continued along a dusty road expecting to connect with Bushy Park’s main road.  Earlier in the day I had read the HPA signs about the need for good farm hygiene so I was surprised no gate existed to stop me walking along this road, and that an unfenced hop field was located directly on my left.

This made it easy for me to take photos of the sprouting hop vines.

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In the second photo you can see the ropes up which the vine will grow.

Just before I reached the main road, a farm gate was propped open and looked like it had been a long while since it had been closed. The sign on that gate said Private Property.

A splendid hidden world

The shuffling walk down 1 Acre Lane with the wheelie bins was well worth it. The old lady answered my many questions before she continued on to her house when I stopped to admire the first of many extraordinary buildings.

When I look back over this two day walk along the Derwent River, finding an historic precinct at the end of a dusty lane was my greatest joy.  An absolute treasure.  In Europe such a place would attract hundreds of coaches disgorging thousands of people each day to visit. Yet in Bushy Park Tasmania, I was the only visitor. Extraordinary. Some of my blog followers are brilliant photographers and would, if they visited, create amazing pictures.  I hope my photos are sufficient to whet everyone’s appetite for a visit and to have their own experience of this historic site.

The precinct contains an innovative and more recent initiative – a Junior Angling Pond.  Perhaps fishing is the main hobby of locals and what better way to lure new devotees than to offer children their own safe experience.

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The buildings had no or limited signage, therefore identifying the purpose of most was impossible for me.

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The photo below looks like a large unusual house but apparently this was the bakery feeding the hundreds of workers involved with the hop industry in the past.

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The most surprising structure was, what is now known as, the Text Kiln, built in 1867. As I approached the building I did not know this name or the year. Immediately I loved the shapes of the structures then suddenly I was stunned see a sandstone plaque embedded high up on a wooden wall. This was a biblical text.  And nearby was a second text. My mouth dropped open; I wrinkled my forehead and shook my head.  What am I seeing? What is going on here? In this remote location, clearly the early hop growers placed a great deal of importance on the Christian scriptures. I wondered if this text indicated a puritanical god-fearing way of living in the 19th century in Bushy Park. What was that community like?

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Beneath a window one text offers: ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life’.  In a triangular alley another plaque exhorts us to ‘Have faith in God’.

As I walked around the building, I saw many more texts .

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In all, approximately 13 different texts exist on three sides of this magnificent building.

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Eventually I left the Text Kiln and wandered further around the precinct.

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The old lady, owner of the wheelie rubbish bins, lived on-site in the red-roofed house.

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I guess the red bricks have been painted over in the building named the Red Brick Kiln, shown in the photos below.

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The last building I looked at before following another dirt road to the main road, was the Picil Kiln as pictured below.

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I hope to bring friends here with a picnic hamper and perhaps a bottle of bubbly in order to relax and soak in the quietness, and to be pleasantly stunned by the scale and dramatic shapes of the buildings.  Perhaps I will see you there one day.

Hop farms

Suddenly, I was on the outskirts of the tiny town of Bushy Park and hop fields began to edge the road.  In case you don’t know, hops are the raw material for beer so the agricultural activity in this area is serious business. In Tasmania we have two mainstream brewers; the Cascade and Boags breweries plus other interesting boutique beer makers.

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The Beer Pilgrim  has lots of photographic information to offer. An ABC news item includes photos of the hops and some processes. In addition, information about the growing patterns of hops, their harvests and other details are located at Hop Products Australia abbreviated to HPA.   I was fascinated when I read ‘The hop plant originated in China, but it was the Germans – way back in the 11th century – who first discovered the crop’s potential as an ingredient for beer, and they’ve been at it ever since.’ I wondered whether the world would be a different place if the Chinese had made that discovery first.  What would be the Chinese equivalent of an Oktoberfest?

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When I read the sign in the photo above, I felt good that I hadn’t found a way to walk on the river edge on the other side of these hop fields – if I had, then the soles of my shoes might have delivered exotic seeds or destructive pests to the ground.

As I continued walking, I enjoyed looking at properties and different vintages of houses.

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The hop vines were not yet growing up the lines so the views across the paddocks were relatively uninterrupted. Before long, across a hop field I could see specialised hop buildings near private houses.

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Then, as I reached 1 Acre Lane, at the far end I could see Oast Houses and other large buildings.  In the Google Map photo below the hops have grown up the vines on the left and they obliterate the views I had over the empty paddocks – but this is the lane if you are visiting Bushy Park and looking for what I could see. On the street view of Google maps no sign naming the lane is in evidence, but since that street view was made a sign has been attached to a pole on the non-lane side of the road.

Bushy Park lane to oast houses

My feet were aching and touchy at each step. I wondered whether I had it in me to walk down the lane to see whether there was public access and have a look around, and then have the feet to walk back to the road.  I still had quite a few kilometres to go to reach my day’s destination at Gretna and I felt rationing my steps could be a good idea.

Just then an old woman, on the main road, was dragging two large empty rubbish wheelie bins towards me and the lane.  A tiny lady, I felt she could have fitted inside one of these.  It looked like a massive effort for her. She was pleased to rest and chat with me. I asked if public access was available and she told me that I could look around the buildings but not in them, and that most were heritage buildings and no longer operational. She headed off down that very lane. That long lane.  After she had taken a few steps she stopped for a rest. I realised this was a weekly challenge for her after the rubbish had been collected. I had no idea how far she had to walk with the bins, and since I could not see any residential houses I guessed that somewhere at the end of the lane in the precinct with the Oast Houses and other specialist hop buildings, she had a house. I called out ‘Can I give you a hand and take one of them?’  She didn’t have the energy to look grateful and simply said, ‘Yes’.

With apologies to The Beatles – The long and straightened road / That leads to her door / Will never disappear / I have not seen the road before / It will always lead me there / Lead me to her door

Watch out! Cows crossing

After Rayners Corner, I walked back along Glenora Road because I could not access the property separating me from the Derwent River. The tall dry teasels made a barrier on the left of the road.

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When I registered the sound of a motor cycle and a quad bike on the hill, I watched two farmers sweeping down as they herded cattle towards the fence next to the road.

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Within moments the bike was on the road ready to halt traffic.

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And then the cows were out.  Their job was simply to walk from one paddock to another across the road.

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But along the road barrelled a speeding car which skittered the cattle so they began to run towards Bushy Park.  The car stopped short. The farmers glared. I stood still knowing if I kept walking in that direction the cows would be spooked further.

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Eventually the cattle found their paddock.

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I continued walking along. Then I turned and talked with Mrs farmer while Mr farmer locked gates.  When he joined the conversation he assured me that while the cattle had a mind of their own, sheep were the particular challenge he particularly did not like when it was time to take them over a busy road.  His sheep could never be trusted to know they should not run off.

Leaving Rayners Corner

Rayners Corner represents one bend in the Derwent River near the township of Bushy Park. Total tranquillity.

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Unpredictable water levels

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This sign is located near Rayners Corner beside Glenora Road on route to Bushy Park.

Years ago a friend and I drove up along the Lyell Highway, and then took a track down to the river somewhere between New Norfolk and Gretna.

We walked across a gravel bed to a rocky scrubby clump edging the water.  For a couple of hours we sat on the river side with our feet swinging above the glossy glassy black racing water of the Derwent River, lulled by the sun. I remember the clear reflections of the dense vegetation on the other side of the river. It was a joy to see fish rising to grab an insect that had been flitting near the water surface. Clouds began to pile up in the distance and around that time I looked down and realised the water was nearly touching my feet. The river’s water level was rising. We clambered back to the other side of this outcrop and discovered, to our horror, a swirling and dramatic pour of water separated us from the river bank. In recent blog postings I have mentioned the speed with which the Derwent River travels towards the sea. That day was my first experience of its dangerous fast moving flows.

The river was rising as we watched. We were stranded on an island and we didn’t know how much water had been released upstream. This meant we didn’t know whether the island would become submerged. Within seconds we knew we had to try our luck and get back to land.

Quickly we cast our eyes around for a couple of suitable branches that could act as walking sticks, as balancing poles, so we could cross the raging torrent.  Each of us started the crossing with a balancing stick. I remember stepping into that cold water and finding how uneven the ground was. It was not a simple gravel bed rather I was trying to walk on irregular sized rocks that rolled when I was pushed onto them by the force of the water. I remember that it was important to tread slowly and to lean my body at an angle towards upstream to counteract the pressure to send me downstream.

When I started the crossing the water level was at the top of my thighs. The distance wasn’t far but the water reached around my waist and splashed higher as I approached the safety of the river bank.  Once out of the water, we felt exhilarated.  But we both knew the danger we had been in.  And similar signs to the one in the photograph above were not around.  Situations like this remind me of the powerful importance of local knowledge.

The quest for water to drink

The road narrowed. The road verges reduced in width. The traffic sped past. Vegetation grew rampantly between the road and the Derwent River. The river poured towards the sea. And I walked, occasionally sipping, and wondered what I would see over each new crest or around each corner.  Would I find accessible water?

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A cluster of large rocks and a pull-off area for vehicles alerted me to a new chance to reach water.

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Rayners Corner

At the bottom of the incline, a rocky track was extended into the River with a few rocks – most suitable to fish from. And most suitable from which to fill up a water bottle! This location was on the opposite side of the river from a mapped point known as Rayners Corner (although not showing on Google Maps).

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I sat for a while and soaked in the clean atmosphere.  Looking back down the river I watched the hard glassy flows of the Derwent.

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Then I made a short video scanning the environment.

Marvellous place. Marvellous water.

A Swallows Nest

We have a saying, ‘one swallow does not a summer make’ indicating many of these birds need to be spotted before any declaration can be made that the seasons have changed to true summer.  So it is not surprising that I saw no sign of a swallow when I walked past the property titled Swallows Nest – I knew it was cool spring and so did those clever birds which must have been off somewhere much warmer at this time of year.  We have 6 swallows and martins that spend time in Tasmania, and depending on which is being considered, the birds may have migrated to Queensland, Indonesia or even to the Arctic Circle for our winters.

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The property, Swallows Nest on the road to Bushy Park, seems to offer accommodation for people (but where were the swallows’ nests?) however the property was locked up and looked peopleless. When I read that an old Hop Kiln Guest House was ahead, I imagined seeing a fascinating historic building and therefore I looked forward to discovering it.

The renovated building below apparently first started its life as a Hop Kiln.

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More information is located here.

Not far below, the Derwent River poured by.

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Woolly long horned cattle

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I have never seen cattle with these characteristics before. They were large, curious and looked unkempt on account of their shaggy coat. But so strong and healthy.

I suspected they might be some sort of Scottish highland breed. The example photographed on this site seems to be similar to what I saw.  Then I discovered the existence of a Tasmanian Highlanders Breed Association. Their website declares ‘Highland Cattle thrive in Tasmania’s changeable climate, they love the cold winters and lose their long woolly coats to enjoy out hot summer.

Frog Palace

First I noticed the pink painted house and could see what seemed to be a stunning purple flowering jacaranda over the fence.

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Then I saw the sign.

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After a few more footsteps, I heard frogs happily croaking in a tiny stream of water which was heading downhill towards the Derwent.

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In the past this property has been subject to flooding from rising river waters. Not much further along the road was a measurement stick showing the different meter levels that the river has been known to rise in extreme circumstances. The vertical white line on the left of the photograph below is the measurement tool – its height (well above my head) indicates the inundation that this area can expect occasionally.

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