HIGH ON A MOUNTAIN TOP

Saturday morning we arose early so we could get to our pre-determined destination before it got too warm – as I was more than a little bit leery, having been pretty well baked the previous week. As it turned out our fears were without foundation, as you will see in the pictures that follow.

Our destination was a large wilderness area on the west coast, bordering the Tasman Sea. But we were so intrigued by the beach area that we stayed there for quite some time as the sun finished coming up. The beach we stopped at was littered with billions of small shells.

The tide was out, so we were able to walk far out on the shelf; but there wasn’t much out there to see, other than a couple of people who were scrounging for oysters – which is very common when the tide is out.

We both enjoyed, however, the peaceful little stream that flowed from the mountain side into the bay.

As I mentioned the tide was out, but in this picture it appears to be coming back in. The mountains in the background are the ones we had planned to explore. As you can see, the clear early morning sky had already started to cloud over – a condition that remained the rest of the day.

As we were about to begin our hike, we came across this beautiful little stream, presenting an almost “Garden of Eden” image. (Just out of the camera’s view, were the little lambs grazing in the adjacent pastures.)

The beginning of our mountain adventure was as idyllic as could ever be imagined. We had to watch our step pretty close however, as the roots that kept the path stable, also proved to be capable of acts of treachery. So we would pause from time to time to take in sights around us, before advancing onward.

The path wound its way around trees of every description: oaks, cedars, palms, and ferns the size of palms.

It was probably a pretty good thing that we kept our eyes on the ground, that way we were less intimidated by the steepness of the trail that quickly took a commanding presence for the remainder of our hike. Up, up, up we climbed for the next 3 hours. We went from sea-level to about 1500 feet at virtually a 45 degree angle.

Frequently the trail all but vanished, or was only wide enough for a single shoe width, before the mountain fell off into places we didn’t care to go.


Perhaps it was frequent pauses to catch our breath (I mean to take some pictures), that prolonged our hike, but what was supposed to have been 2 ½ hours ended up being much more. Our hips, knees, ankles, all became like one – JELLY.

From the top of our assent we could see our point of beginning, the little stream that flowed along the pasture lands and into the bay – a gorgeous valley.

We paused to rest beside a Kauri tree, before attempting to scale the next peak. Goats Hill was calling our names. There is little doubt why it was so named, for only a goat could scale that mountain. We were literally on all fours a couple of times.

From the top of Goats Hill however, I was able to get a good picture of the mountain lake that fed the stream we described earlier.

Ultimately, on the far side of the mountain, we were introduced to more breath-taking vistas – MYRIAD, by name.

Even the way down (the other side) was not without its challenges. With our rubber legs, even stooping over was a challenge.

I had to take a picture of our canopy – for we had been in the shade almost all day – sometimes from ferns the size of trees, as in this case.

We had read about the beautiful steams on the far side, about the water falls, and the swimming holes.

We saw the streams and they were all that had been promised. We saw the swimming holes, with little girls swimming, but the water falls was ANOTHER HOUR OF HIKING and we just weren’t up to it.

Alas! We arrived at the bottom and on level ground. It was so nice of them to provide a gravel path the last 1/2 mile of our hike.

When we got back to the car, I just had to take ANOTHER picture of the “hills” we had just scaled.

The flat one on the far left is Goats Hill, the pointed one just to the right of it is the one that at the least lessened our novice status.

And, finally, as you can see, the tide was no longer out. Our little bay was full of clear Tasmanian water.