Today, Sunday the 1st of December I joined eight other Ramblers on a walk to Meander falls.
We met at the Adult Education car park in High Street, Launceston for a 7:30 am departure. The morning was cool, overcast and windy with a high chance of rain for the walk. None the less we were all in good spirits as Neville, todays leader passed around the emergency contact sheet for each of us to record any next of kin! I joined Trevor, Elaine and Jan in Trevor’s Subaru for the trip to Meander falls car park. We travelled through the outskirts of Launceston and then Deloraine, taking the road to Meander that starts beside the Meander River. There were wonderful views of the gentle, now wide river, green banks and trees beside it. Due to our early start, we had plenty of time to enjoy the experience.
The track is rough and uneven from the start, it gets even steeper and rougher later. This walk can only qualify as a medium hike in Tasmania where hard walks are totally insane. The track is sheltered, nearly all under the canopy of trees. The track is easy enough to follow and there are frequent red triangles attached to trunks to reassure a hiker they are still on the track. The rain was generally very light, that steady light drizzle that wets everything slowly. It was briefly heavy when we stopped for lunch, at a site overlooking the actual falls.
There was not much conversation on this walk because of the need to keep a close, un- distracted study of the track. The variety of surfaces was wide, from soft, leaf lined paths, slippery irregular rocks a jumble to walk on with knees and ankles frequently askew. There were well positioned rock steps up some of the ascents and even wooden steps blazed with chicken wire. Some climbs were scrambles using knobs of stone and dirt for purchase.
There many flowers, yellow, white crowding the tree branches as well as some snug, pink-red Tasmanian Waratahs. Most of the orchids were resting from the activity of Spring but there were few to see; brown, pointed petals glistening with raindrops. Forest light was subdued in the fine mist and overhanging low cloud. Whatever light there was could only drift in, deleting the world of contrast and the stark shadows of normal summer. This ambience fostered a haunting quality; moss and lichen laden rocks and boulders, tall crowded maples, dripping fronds of ferns bent downwards with the weight of water along their lengths,and earth, rich and dark choked with the fine roots and threads of shrubs and trees.
The Meander River always splashed, bubbled and tumbled to our right. There were not many viewpoints to take an unhindered photograph but its presence, its sound, the clean fresh tinkling of flowing water – a fresh turbulence of joy and light – leaping small cascades, its never ending tumbling down pebbled beds, to sweep gracefully down between the hills of the Upper Meander Valley.
The early morning light of dawn hardly changed over the day so birds kept singing and calling from the forest, a stereophonic cacophony of news and greetings we cannot understand but still can delight in.
We reached the Meander Falls viewpoint not long after eleven o’clock. It is an oval, stony area with comfortable rocky seats to balance a thermos and hot cup of tea. I sat down in the rain and munched my sandwich. The falls drop from at least two huge shelves with seperate pools at different heights. Today the water travels in a narrow band, it cadence interrupted by steps creating smaller leaps within the greater fall, mist billows out, darkly staining as water coats the cliff wall. A few of us walked the short, rough descent to the lowermost pool. I looked up to make a study of the geology. The surface is not bland, not smooth at least visually but carved with deep, groves, cut down into stone and dragged to earth, not once but many times. As if a Dreamtime God, has driven a knife with an irresistible blade into the stone and dragged it downwards, hands grasping the pommel. The grooves are vaguely parallel but each is its own injury to the rock, each a distinct mark or scar. Far above me, giant trees hover on ledges. They are half way up the height of the cliff, and drive upwards out of massive, lichen wrapped pillars of stone. The pool at my feet, is clean; a near absolute translucence permits every colour, of every pebble to be seen. The Meander has begun its journey.
We had views of Bastion Bluff, and the cliffs of the Tiers, mostly in a low cloud as it tumbled slowly over us but for a few moments, it cleared, summer light dazzling the hills, illuminating the narrow dolerite pillars of the Bluff and the eroded stone sheltered akimbo at its base.
The walk back demanded even more concentration, and a few of us slipped over but thankfully there no significant injuries. The fatigue of the walk was beginning to show. We dropped down through the forest, holding trunks for support and balance, carefully placing booted feet on suspiciously wet stones and rocks, negotiating trees that had fallen across the track and and then walking gently between the trees on soft, undemanding paths.
After the walk we stopped In Deloraine for hot drinks and slices and chatted about the walk.
At the time I did the walk, so much of my attention was on staying upright and dry that I could not do my normal daydreaming at the time but the experience is there, placed forever in my memory to be naturally softened by time and increasingly treasured.
brucebarker2016 