Tag Archives: danger

Danger – mostly it’s in the mind

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“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” – Helen Keller

The world is a wonderful place but not everyone is someone I want to meet, especially not when I am alone in remote or isolated areas of the landscape.  Through our population there are a small number of people who are addicted to drugs which can make them irrational and dangerous, there are others who find humour in physically hurting strangers, and there are a few who like to go in for the kill.  I do not want to be at the receiving end of any such activity.

When I first started writing the Walking the Derwent blog, I would provide advance information about which bus I was catching and from where.  Early blog followers pointed out to me this might be an encouragement to a weirdo to join me on my walks, and so I stopped giving out this information.

Then  one day I surrendered to those fears and stopped worrying: partly because I was well prepared for  most adverse circumstances. Despite the concerns of others,  all my walks have been safe.

For the past months I am sorry not to have been able to immerse myself in the stimulating isolation, the grandness of the sky and the clean freshness of our bush; instead for much of this year I have been hunched over the computer tapping out my books.  I am particularly grateful for the blogs of others who continue to photograph our wonderful Tasmanian bush nooks and crannies – especially those locations which few get to see. In particular I would like to draw your attention to This Amazing Planet .  Mark adds a photo or two each week and they never cease to amaze me – if you wanted another blog to follow then you will love the regular outpourings  from this site.

Death and Lake King William

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Fairly early in my walk along the eastern edge of Lake King William, when I neared the power transmission lines, signs such as the following were posted.

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I have no idea how close one must be to incur death, and therefore the concept of a ‘near approach’ is rather meaningless.  However, because I saw the 4WD track crossing under the power lines from time to time, I guessed that walking along these tracks wouldn’t bring on my early demise, well at least not from electricity jumping about. And so I live to tell tales.

Later in the walk when I approached another sign, the combination of the sign and the vista created a special message.

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The way my simple mind worked was this:  Lake King William is a man-made lake damming the burblings and gurglings of the infant Derwent River. The purpose of the Lake is to enable hydro-electricity power generation. The Lake drowned the native vegetation and dead trees are the result. The Danger sign alerts people to the danger of death from the electricity pouring through the wires overhead. The making of electricity kills and electricity itself is a killer.

As I walked, I thought a lot about the conservation needs of our forests and our contemporary way of life needs.

On the one hand, I can imagine the sorrow and despair that some will have when seeing the photos of the dead remains of old forests jutting out of the land as the Lake’s water level drops. I guess some people would wish this dramatic change to the original landscape never happened.

On the other hand, most people want to click lights on at night, recharge their technological devices, and have a refrigerator to keep their food cold and safe, run a washing machine, boil water and cook food. Without electricity (which is always generated using some natural resource), our contemporary lives could not continue. Hydro power is cleaner than coal power, and not dangerous like nuclear power.  If we must have electricity, which resource source should we use?  The creation of wind turbines changes landscapes and uses large quantities of processed mineral resources.  Equipment to support the gathering of solar power also uses processed mineral resources. If we choose to live as we have become accustomed, then ancient forests will be continue to be lost either directly or indirectly. There are very few who would give up the use of anything made from or using electricity.  I wonder if it is even possible to do so absolutely in first world and most third world countries.

Dangerous rivers

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‘The Derwent is ranked No.8 in the country’s top 10 most dangerous inland waterways, with 12 victims since 2001,’ said David Beniuk in his article “Don’t run the risk in rivers”, published in The Sunday Tasmanian yesterday.

He explained that ‘Tasmanians are being reminded of the dangers of their beautiful, but potentially deadly rivers in a national campaign.’

The Royal Life Saving Society says ‘We are a state that absolutely loves our waterways … But our inland waterways, in terms of drowning fatalities, are really where it’s happening in Tasmania. The perception is that the still waters of a river are calm and are safe. But it’s what we don’t see and don’t know, things like ice cold water, snags, things like tree branches as well as river currents, that often get people without notice.’

Beniuk reports that ‘The state registered the highest per capita rate in the country, with men over 55 at risk.’  He noted a number of things we can do which offer protection: ‘wearing a regularly serviced life jacket, avoiding alcohol, never swimming alone, knowing the area, telling people where and when you’re going and learning first aid.’ In addition, ‘checking weather conditions and the Maritime and Safety Tasmania website were also important.’

This article was timely; over the weekend a friend urged me to stay with my decision not to canoe/kayak down the Derwent River.  As I mentioned in a recent post, a strong fit male family friend canoed down a short section and had never been so frightened.  I got the message then.

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.