A visit to Dip Falls in northwest Tasmania isn’t complete without venturing a further kilometre up the road to experience The Big Tree. At the end of a short walk down a well defined track
surrounded by eucalypt forest and towering manferns
was most certainly a big tree.
The Browntop stringybark, formally known as Eucalyptus obliqua, is not especially tall at 62 metres, considering the species can reach heights of 90 metres. However, the circumference at the base is an impressive and unusually large 16 metres.
There used to be a boardwalk around the base for a close up inspection, I don’t know when or why it was removed.
The tree is estimated to be around 400 years old and it now has large holes and hollow cavities in it’s trunk.
Once it becomes unsafe it will, sadly, be cut down and laid to rest among fallen friends.
After many years exposed to the Tasmanian elements, the timber edging along our blackberry patch was starting to crumble. We had erected a temporary protective net that we have been meaning to upgrade for the same number of years.
Last winter, we purchased a couple of garden tunnels and finally got around to it. The new edging was laid with space to allow for the depth of the new covers
followed by plastic to discourage weeds and grass growth.
We filled in with soil
and a hefty layer of mulch.
Job done!
Or not. Our measurements hadn’t allowed for the 100mm skirt around the base of the covers. Back to the drawing board. We moved the edging another 200mm
and repeated the filling process. A new frame was added to support the training wires and the first cover fit like a glove.
With both tunnels in place
the canes were fixed to the wires, ready for some warmer weather.
We had a bumper crop this year, a few kilos of berries still being harvested at the end of April.
There are a few ways to experience the Tarkine Wilderness while staying at Corinna and the Old Telegraph Hill walk is one of them. The beginning of the 1.5 kilometre walk is easy going along a boardwalk through typical Tasmanian rainforest. Towering trees shelter luscious lichens and tannin stained streams.
Fifty metres along, the walkway ends and the trail becomes a little less obvious.
The old cable line reassured us we were on the right track.
Someone has thoughtfully fashioned a stile of sorts to help negotiate the huge body of a fallen hero.
We continued to climb, surrounded by ancient myrtles and leatherwoods
playing host to myriad fungi and lichen.
With feet slipping at all angles along the twisted track
we came across a series of dangling cables and a lone telegraph pole.
The step ladder and aerial confirmed our suspicion that this was our destination.
We had read that there was a chance of getting a signal at this point, although it was hit and miss. With some minor acrobatics we were rewarded.
We had a poke around and found some remnants of long abandoned equipment
before retracing our steps and following the cable downhill.
Toward the end of the boardwalk section, we noticed evidence of burrowing freshwater crayfish. They live in tunnel systems in muddy banks and seepages, rarely venturing out and they construct ‘chimneys’ made from balls of mud at the entrance to their burrows.
Every time we think we have completed our last ‘big project’, another one somehow appears on the list. The large decked area outside the lounge is exposed to the worst of our weather and the timbers have suffered over the years.
Having been advised that replacing it would improve saleability, we took up the challenge. Ekodeck was our material of choice, having used it for a previous project, high winds added a degree of difficulty to the delivery.
We had worked out that if we laid an end board, we could use the full 5.4 metre lengths for the rest and avoid extra trimming. The old boards were cut away to allow for that first board, fitted with precision around the upright posts.
While I set about demolishing the old step,
Michael extended the cut to avoid damaging the new board as we removed the old ones.
We both thought removing the old boards would be the easy part but it took a lot of effort to prise them off. Our concern that the joists and bearers may have needed replacing was, fortunately, unfounded.
More precision cutting
and the first of the long boards was laid.
We made our own joist tape out of concreters plastic (that, for some reason, we have a very large roll of). The cut strips were rolled up, secured with a clothes peg and unfurled as we progressed.
After removing a section of the old boards,
we started laying the new ones
and over the course of two days (working in the mornings only as it was too hot by midday), we were halfway there.
We didn’t remove all the old ones at the beginning because we had to keep the area covered so our nocturnal furry visitors didn’t go under the house and get sealed in. We continued in the same vein until we came to the last piece.
A bit of head scratching had preceded this point, going from Plan A to Plan D and finally settling on Plan A. More precision cutting
and a perfect result.
A new step up to the front decking was fashioned
and a smaller step down to the garden.
Now we have a few hours (days/weeks/months) of sanding and staining the uprights and balustrade as well as the facing boards. Then, eventually, staining the rest of the old deck. Then…….
We have been to the town of Stanley on many occasions, it is one of the ‘go to’ places to take visitors. The signpost on the highway to Dip Falls, 27km inland, has always intrigued me but time has been our limiting factor in the past. We decided to stay overnight on our latest trip which gave us the opportunity for a detour and picnic lunch. The peaceful drive through picturesque farmland was on a mostly sealed road with the last few kilometres unsealed but well maintained. We chose to view the falls from below first, the initial impression on our descent held promise of something spectacular.
The stairs are steep but easily traversed (with a rest or two on the ascent).
The roar of the tumbling water and further glimpses through the foliage spurred us on.
The wonder that awaited us was breathtaking.
In the absence of a very wide angle lens, I resorted to photographing sections of the falls as the two tiers dropped thirty metres over distinctive dolerite columns.
The tranquility downstream belied the tempest of the falls mere metres away.
At the top of the falls, the serene waters were idyllically unaware of their impending adventure.
Even from the lookout, the extent of the vista demanded serial photographs.
Dip River was once a working forest and during the 1920s, the small community of three houses endured isolation and hardship to manage the sawmill. Not far from the top of the falls, remnants of an old boiler that provided steam to power the sawmill, lies as a reminder of Tasmania’s timber heritage.
cannonhillchronicles 