Tag Archives: Lyell Highway

Between Wayatinah and Catagunya Power Stations- posting 6 of 6

 

The goal was achieved. It was great to have it done. I am very grateful for Andrew’s generosity of spirit and for his notes and photographs. The walk between Wayatinah and Catagunya Power Stations could be ticked off the list. But a long walk back to the Lyell Highway had to be faced before returning home. Andrew turned north for the 7 km walk on Catagunya Road. He passed a mix of open unfenced paddocks and distant plantations. The Cooma farmstead and outbuildings were the only marker that people had lived in the area.

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For a brief moment he thought he would have company. Andrew had been walking for a while when, in the distance on a straight stretch of road, he could just make out a couple of figures coming slowly towards him.  Someone to say g’day to and have a natter  – but  – on closer inspection they transformed into ambling sheep. After that, Andrew’s company all the way back to the locked gate was a rather large herd of very healthy looking quadrupedal steaks – which, with a spritely step, he kept ahead of. After some 7 hours of pleasant walking, this walk along the Derwent River was over.   There had been time for plenty of stops during the day to take photographs and to enjoy the surroundings.

Hydro Tasmania, TasNetworks and forestry related employees can drive over the convoluted maze of tracks between the two dams, but there are numerous locked gates and no general public access.  Even during the walking, many locked gates with serious double and complicated locks were seen. I have said in earlier postings that landowners and managers in the Derwent Valley and Central Highlands can recite histories of bad experiences with people entering their lands and not treating it appropriately or stealing their wood or livestock. It is a shame that a few people wreck it for the rest, and remove the opportunities for those who care for the land and the property of others and wish to explore more of our wonderful Tasmanian natural environment.

 

Revisiting Butlers Gorge for missing photos – posting 1 of 5

After I walked from the Lyell Highway at the Butlers Gorge junction and then proceeded to follow Tarraleah Canal No 1 (which contained the bulk of Derwent River water) to Clark Dam holding back the waters of Lake King William, I returned home and checked my photos.  I found some key photos were absent.

I realised that my feet must have been exceptionally painful and my sore knees crumbling so that I was unable to remember to keep taking photos in that last kilometre of the walk.  I had made no record of those last few hundred metres.  Thanks to blog reader Jeanette I returned to the spot one gorgeous morning, walked up and down the area and clicked lots of photos.

At one place we crossed the aqueduct and looked at the serene and clear Derwent River.   20160425_112018.jpg

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The rush of the water through the Canal was recorded.  Watch this video.

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I loved the views looking along the two strands of the river; the water in the original river bed, and the water in Tarraleah Canal No 1.

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The rocky edges of the river shown above indicate that water is released from Clark Dam from time to time making the river wider.

The finish is in sight – towards Wayatinah post 9 of 9

Once walking on the hard and consistent surface of the Lyell Highway, good speed was made walking for approximately 8 kilometres, until Andrew reached the turnoff to the township of Wayatinah, pausing only for the passage of multiple camper vans, hire cars and enthusiastic motorcyclists making their winding way between Hobart and the West Coast. This was an extremely unpleasant piece of road for pedestrians.  The road was designed in remote central Tasmania with never an expectation people would walk along its edge.  The result is that verges are narrow or almost non-existent, and guard rails often sit at the top of a dramatic drop. I know elsewhere I have needed to hop over such guard rails when vehicles approach and hold on for dear life so as not to fall down a massive incline.  But Andrew survived the walk with care.  Earlier plans to walk with pleasure listening to music through ear phones had to be abandoned in order to listen for traffic speeding around tight corners in the winding road.

After walking to the Wayatinah township Andrew continued downhill to the bridge over the Derwent River where his vehicle was parked. A moment of concern flashed through his mind as he approached.  When walking towards his ute Andrew could see a couple of guys including a burly chap wearing a high-vis vest hovering around the vehicle and peering in the windows. Oh Oh. Was this someone about to break into the vehicle and steal it? Had he arrived just in time to prevent such a loss? As Andrew approached, the chap called out, “Is this your bus?” “Yes!”, Andrew replied, somewhat relieved.  “Thank God you’re alive!” The fellow was a SALTAS salmon hatchery employee and, rather than having an intent to interfere with the vehicle, he had been deciding whether to call the police. He had seen the ute parked unattended for over 24 hours and feared that a fisherman had fallen into the river and disappeared!

Andrew explained that he was not a fisherman but a bushwalker and then proceeded to describe the project to walk the Derwent. The employee emphatically declared it was not possible to walk the full length between Wayatinah and where Andrew has started the walk the day before. “The river can’t be walked, the country’s too steep!”  He felt the project to walk the Derwent was “nuts”. “You can’t walk down there’.  It was useful to have confirmation supporting Andrew’s experience.

After dropping off his pack at the ute, Andrew then wandered upstream for a few hundred metres to the weir where SALTAS has a water intake.

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He then continued on a track for a further few hundred metres until he reached a bend in the river where there is a flying fox for what looks like Hydro Tasmania equipment. Beyond that point familiar-looking scrub fringed a river bank which steepened quickly and dramatically.  Further walking on the river edge was clearly impossible from then on, and the volume of water in the river made walking in the river impractical.

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With that, the Tarraleah to Wayatinah section was essentially complete – complete except for about 4-5 km of winding gorge which was undertaken higher up away from the river bed and its edge.

I am so very grateful for Andrew’s persistence with the walk, his notes and his wonderful graphic photos. From these I could ‘feel’ the journey.  I felt my heart soar when I saw the photos. I could feel the rush of the water, smell the freshness of the bush, and hear that clean ‘noisy’ atmosphere of the terrain. They took me out there.

As I had imagined, this was a walk compressed tightly into a narrow valley, over rocks and around water pools and flood debris for endless kms. With steep sided hills pressing in on both sides, there were no vistas or panoramas just the sight of the next corner ahead.  Never a chance to get a walking rhythm.  This was a walk which held both physical and mental challenges.  Other than where to put his feet next,  Andrew’s greatest ‘problem’ could well have been associated with ‘when will this relative sameness ever end’. While he saw snakes sunbaking on the river rocks, he was never in danger. He didn’t turn an ankle and he was able to walk out and live to tell the tale. Bushwalking always involves endless problem solving and I have always felt it is likely to be an activity that could stave off dementia.

One of my hopes was that there would be things to see or hear that are not normally seen – and that Andrew would experience completely new things which will thrill him.  Seeing the Counsel River gave him that excitement and he has planned to return, albeit getting there from the land on the other side of the Derwent River and not via the River.

This was a walk conducted safely.  Andrew used his maps and GPS constantly to be pinpoint his location and monitor progress. For example, walking through the plantation forests without this equipment could have been difficult because maps are out of date and endless new unsignposted roads and tracks exist which do not always follow contours. Getting lost would be easy.

That Andrew accepted having clothes ripped, and his body scratched and bruised in the quest to see if something was possible, is completely admirable. Even a week after the walk, one spectacular bruise on his shin (caused by slipping between two lumps of wood) was still working its way through the green and yellow stages of healing. This is not a walk which others should try; it was rough and the walk was mostly hard going. Regardless, the country was amazing and the rainforests sensationally beautiful – “there were heaps of interesting forests, and cascading waters from the hills”.  I still feel thrilled that he undertook the walk and that there has been a new story to tell and photographic evidence of the journey to walk along the Derwent.

From the visualisation to the actual – towards Wayatinah post 2 of 9

The question remained. Was walking this leg achievable? Was the Derwent River sufficiently friendly to allow humans to walk its length? With my feet and knees complaining every time I walk for more than a couple of hours, I asked friend Andrew to proxy for me and undertake the walk along the Derwent River from near Tarraleah to Wayatinah. Since Andrew is a fit, agile, very experienced and sensible bushwalker, I felt certain if he could not finish this leg of the walk then no-one could. Besides he has been a positive supporter of the project from day one and was happy to undertake the walk on my behalf.

At 6.30 am, the day started with a drive from Hobart to the bridge crossing the Derwent River at Wayatinah. After parking his ute on the Florentine Road near the salmon hatchery at Wayatinah around 8.30 am, a friend drove him westwards along the Lyell Highway to the junction with Butlers Gorge Road. Under overcast skies on a cool day, Andrew began walking next to Tarraleah Canal No 1 around 9.30 am and continued until he reached the first crossover walkway about one kilometre further on. This location promised the shortest distance down to the Derwent river bed.

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Andrew crossed, looked downhill and saw nothing but dense scrub ahead. He remembers remarking out loud “don’t dither, just do it. Don’t delay.  Here we go; just do it”.  At 10.10 am he left the Canal. Before stepping into the unknown, he spent time getting a GPS position fix and a magnetic bearing. Once set, he plunged into the thicket and took a series of sightings from one key tree to the next.  This allowed him to stay on his bearing, and meant he would be able to retrace his steps if the going was too tough and the forest impossibly dense.  The route down the steep slope passed massive tree ferns, smaller ferns, myrtles, mature eucalypts and the occasional Sassafras tree.  Many fallen trees littered the understorey and it was clear this was an old forest in a constant state of regeneration. Scrambling over or under logs and negotiating rocky bluffs was a normal part of the descent.

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Half way down the steep incline,  it seemed that serious wind was blowing high up in the trees. Before long it was clear the rushing sound was the water of the Derwent River further below.  Once the river could be seen, then it was a comparatively simple process to choose the clearest path to the river bed.

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Visualising each walk in advance – towards Wayatinah post 1 of 9

The further I travelled inland towards central Tasmania, the less guidance and direction was available. This meant that I needed to scrutinise every piece of available information more intensely because the challenges of the terrain increased and therefore the dangers of walking alone multiplied.  My friends and relatives feared the worst and hoped for the best and we have all been thankful that my walks and returns home have been safe. Apart from the occasional bruise and scratch or two, no physical harm has befallen me.

During my first walks along the Derwent River, I gradually increased the volume of research I conducted in advance, so that I could make the most of each opportunity.  As the project lengthened, I spent more time visualising the walks so that I could be sure my pack contained the appropriate provisions. In addition, I wanted to be sure that I could achieve my goal.

In particular, I invested a huge amount of time imagining a couple of the walks. These were walks about which I knew very little and which I anticipated would be the trickiest.  One was the walk along the river starting near the junction of the Lyell Highway and Butlers Gorge Road close to Tarraleah, and extending to the bridge over the river at Wayatinah.

Using knowledge from my walk along Tarraleah Canal No 1 and from walking beside the Derwent River near the Wayatinah bridge,  I had some understanding of the challenges. My intention was always to start at the Tarraleah end and work my way downstream along the River bed.

The first obstacle was the dense bush between the Canal and the river bed down an exceptionally steep incline. From what I could see at the top, the rainforest was a tightly packed mangle of massive tree ferns with their fronds at face level and above, amidst all manner of eucalypts, myrtles,  celery-top-pines, sassafras trees and laurels.  If I was very unlucky intermingled with these wonderful but tightly packed specimens, I suspected the tree known as Horizontal (Anodopetalum biglandulous), the anathema to bushwalkers, could be a major impediment.

Photos near my imagined starting point show the beautiful but almost impenetrable bush facing the start of my walk along this section.

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I believed I had two options; one was to walk along the plush mossy flat Canal verge until I could spot a ‘gap’ and then plunge into the thicket.  The second option was to walk on the track beside the Canal until I reached the first Hydro Tasmania crossing located about a kilometre westwards along the track,  cross over, and hope there was some sort of clearing through the bush down to the bottom of the hill.  If not, then I would have to make my own way until I reached the Derwent River bed.   The first crossing, in the photo below, shows no sign of tracks extending further.

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From that crossing down to the river, I anticipated the distance would be approximately  one and a quarter kilometres on a slope that dropped around 210 metres.  Unless I was fortunate to find a clearing that Hydro Tasmania had made, something like the following example spotted closer to Clark Dam, I expected to be in for a hard time.

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I knew this was the side of the river that received minimal direct daily sunlight compared to the bush on the other side. I imagined a wet slippery bush environment, that would be dark amidst the undergrowth ( I am short and I realised much of the vegetation would be above me) with interspersed and unpredictable rocky outcrops that would require flexibility and care. If the day was overcast, my ability to see clearly through the dense bush might be limited, so the danger of slipping over a cliff had to be taken into account.

While Michelle’s photo below taken during a flight along the Derwent River shows the vegetation between the Canal and the River bed, the location is further along towards Clark Dam. Nevertheless it does show the density of the bush which needed to be penetrated and walked through.

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My aerial photo below gives a stronger sense of the gradient from the Canal to the river bed in some sections.

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The photo below, which I took during my Canal walk, looks back and clearly shows the steep gradient.

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I imagined slipping and sliding part way, with backpack occasionally getting ‘hooked’ to slow me down. Despite the short distance but considering the possible obstructions and the need to skirt around these,  I mentally allowed at least an hour for the descent.

On the River bed I hoped for a low water level in order to be able to rock hop for much of the 14-15 kilometres down to the Wayatinah bridge. If the water level was low, at best the river bed might look like the following photos as it did near the confluence of the Derwent with the Florentine  Rivers.

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Alternatively it might have limited water something like the following photos of the Derwent near Wayatinah.

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Of course, hoping for minimal water was likely to be a pipe dream and I realised it would not be realistic to expect this situation for the entire length of the walk. I knew from aerial shots, old maps and out of date Google Earth that large pools of water would present challenges and that clambering up any side of the River to avoid these would be part of the walk.

From maps I could see approximately  eleven small creeks and the Counsel River feed into the Derwent. I fervently hoped little rain had fallen in this area in the preceding weeks, that these creeks were low on water, and therefore that the spill into the Derwent River would be minimal. If much water ran down these creeks then the likelihood of more and larger water holes along the Derwent increased. If this was the case then I could imagine fighting my way through vegetation overhangs in order to clamber onto the bank and then negotiate the forest to bypass the water obstruction.  Anticipation of such exhausting activities did not thrill me.

Once on the River bed, rocks that roll were at the top of my list of fears; such as – would I turn an ankle, break a leg, smash my head into another rock, or get weighted down in a deeper pool with the pack on my back.  I could not see how developing any sort of walking rhythm would be possible. My usual opportunities to walk and look around me would be unlikely. I foresaw the absolute necessity to watch the ground/rocks/water and think about and make decisions where to put each footstep would become mentally exhausting over such a distance.  I doubted if it was possible to walk this stretch of the River and, even if it was, I thought the possibility of covering the length in a day even a long day, would be unlikely.  I allowed two days for this leg of the walk.

I always take my tablet for photos and carry this with me to point and click as a record. Typically on a one-day walk I might take 300-400 photos and then pick a selection for the blog posts.  But for this walk I realised that carrying the tablet would not be wise. I could see that having two free hands to clamber over rocks and debris and vegetation would be smart, and I also needed to allow for the unexpected underfoot changes and the need to grab or balance using my hands.  Clearly stopping to retrieve my tablet for photo ops would slow me down. Therefore, I knew that I would not be taking many photos so that the record of this walk would be less than normal.  But my safety had to be paramount.

From aerial reconnaissance and nearby on-the-ground checks and maps, I found it difficult to visualise where I would set up the tent overnight.  Both hill sides were steep but maps did indicate that near some major bends in the river there was sections beside the water bed that might be a little flatter than elsewhere.  On one bend, some larger islands were mapped mid-stream. I wondered whether I might be lucky to find them water free and accessible and not totally tight with vegetation.  Perhaps there I might find a sleeping spot.

Overall I visualised a most unusual journey. One where the only view would be of steep forested hillsides rising above a comparatively tiny water bed, and never a panoramic vista of distant hills or mountains. Rather I could expect to see only the next bend in the river. While that would provide me with curiosity about what might be around the corner, in advance, already I imagined seeing more of the same.  So this leg of the journey along the Derwent River was to be about physical endurance; surviving without becoming despondent about the relentlessness of watching my feet placement.  This was the ultimate chance for me to understand the limits of my capacity and capabilities.  I looked forward to  snatching and enjoying occasional moments when native birds flitted about, the sun sparkled on wet vegetation, and variations of mosses and lichens on rocks appeared in all their glories.

I envisaged this experience would introduce me to a continuous valley that is currently protected, untouched, unvisited, and not normally seen at close quarters.  Simply wonderful, however great the challenge to see it.

Glorious photos of Meadowbank Lake

 

Meadowbank Lake is the last expanse of water that has been dammed for hydro power generation purposes, before Hobart.  A good, but narrow bitumen road (Ellendale Road) crosses Meadowbank Lake near its inland western extremity.

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This glorious sight is easily accessible from the Lyell Highway on the northern/eastern side of the Derwent River, or via the tiny towns of Glenora and Ellendale on the southern/western side.

Looking westwards:

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Looking eastwards:

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I have written about Meadowbank Lake before and previously included photos.  The photos in this post were taken one day after completing a walk further inland. I was being driven back to Hobart along the Lyell Highway, and then we deviated by crossing the Lake and proceeding to Ellendale to buy freshly picked raspberries and blueberries.

Only on one occasion have I passed by this Lake under cloud.  Even then, the more sombre colour of the Lake and the less vivid greens, greys and beiges of the landscape were still most attractive.  There are picnic spots either side of the Lake, and public toilets on the Lyell Highway side.  A wonderful location for solo or family visits.

Hitchhiking

Part of the fun (challenge) was returning home after completing an inland walk along the Derwent River.  Elsewhere in this blog,  I have talked about the difficulty of accessing public transport away from the Greater Hobart Area.

On a few occasions, I emerged onto the Lyell Highway and with no public bus scheduled to pass, I stuck out my thumb and hitchhiked a ride back to Hobart.  As in most countries, hitchhiking can be a dangerous choice but in all cases I was fortunate.

I felt the most fragile on one ride because the young and inexperienced international driver who was used to driving on the other side of the road, was driving either at or over Tasmania’s speed limit.  With her perfect blond hair swinging, and her fine hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, she seemed unable to understand the limitations of our Central Highlands highway. Our road signs indicate cars can travel at a maximum of 100 km per hour on the Lyell Highway, but this does not mean it is always safe to do so.  Despite being a highway, this two-lane road is narrow and does not always carry white line markings to indicate where the road meets the loose gravel or vegetated verge. In addition, this winding road requires drivers to reduce their speed to navigate corners safely.  I made, what I thought were casually expressed, comments such as ‘I suppose you wouldn’t be familiar with narrow winding highways and how this makes a difference to your driving’, and ‘I know this road reasonably well and think the patch coming up will need to be taken a bit slower to avoid entering traffic if any’, and other similar comments.  It made no difference and, if anything, the car whizzed along even faster.   I tightened my seat belt.  Closer to home she told me she planned to deviate and take a slightly longer route to Hobart. I knew the deviation was a narrow gravel road in parts and I believed skidding along such byways was highly possible with her driving style. Her decision gave me an opening to get out and say good bye without hurt feelings.  I was most relieved when I stood back on terra firma and waved farewell.

On another occasion, after standing in the one spot for one and a half hours and watching traffic stream past, a very old beaten-up ute driven by an even older man pulled up.  He had seen me there an hour or so earlier when he travelled west. Now he was returning home to the next town 8 kms away.  Would I be happy if he dropped me there?  Absolutely.

At the worst, I knew I could set up my tent in the camping ground or book into the hotel overnight then catch a bus home the next day. But life treated me better than that.  A cup of tea in a civilised café was my first priority.  I sat outside at a garden table in the warm afternoon sun, with a large pot of tea feeling like I had won the lottery.  At the next table two men were eating a late lunch.  They noticed my backpack and struck up a conversation. One was a walker who was in training for some serious trail walking in Europe where he planned to travel later last year.  So we had interests in common and our chatter was convivial. Without knowing what sort of vehicle they were travelling in, I asked if I could get a lift back to Hobart.  Yes they said ‘if you don’t mind travelling in a truck’.  Visions of smelly cattle or sheep trucks with generations of human flotsam and jetsam distributed through the cabin came to mind.  But I was smelly I supposed having not showered for a day or two, and they were travelling my way.  I nodded,  ‘Fine. Thanks.’

‘That’s it over there’.  They pointed.  A shiny state of the art new truck gleamed on the other side of the road.  It took my breath away.  Inside, it was clearly so new that the original plastic sheeting covers were still across all seats and everything was protected.  Never in my life have I experienced a vehicle in pristine condition, and with all attempts by its occupants to keep it this way.  Once we were on the road, Kevin and Adrian explained.  That morning they had made a sales presentation to a local government agency hoping to inspire them to buy one or more of these state-of-the-art trucks.  I have always wondered what the outcome was for their negotiations.  I thought it was a superb vehicle not the least because the airconditioning could be controlled.  But what do I know?

This was a Webster truck. I can no longer recall which brand and  – at the risk of being the stereotypical female –  I do recall it was gleaming white. Is that a help?

All of these people and more, have helped me to return home safely. I am grateful. Thank you.