Tuesday 15th December

Up the hill out of the forest and out into the endless buttongrass plains. We are told the aborigines burnt the grass and that stopped the trees growing back. At least down here they don't deal out this crap about the aborigines having greater environmental concerns and gently looking after the environment like humble shepherds. I think any rational person can see they did what they did to survive as a species in a tough environment. They probably even made up narratives that gave legitimacy to their fears and aspirations - just like we do - just ask the mining industry.

We came across a lady whose truck was broken down - we stopped and talked briefly - she was obviously a pro development Taswigian - of course they own a bulldozer company - they don't make money by leaving forests and the landscape in peace. She says - "oh the Tarkine, don't blink or you'll miss it" - to some extent she is right in one way - the Tarkine seems to be over sold and Mal suspects there is a bunch of smoke and mirrors going on here.

We go into a forestry reserve where we walk amongst the wreckage of past wood cutting exercise - old trees probably over 2 meter in diameter lie rotting because they were probably too big to cart away or were already rotten inside - it is like a graveyard where a few trees were missed but the old tree ferns that were crushed and maimed by falling timber bear testimony to the harshness of extracting large trees out of densely populated forests - it all seems a sort of sick publicity stunt - hey city folk see how what we do is so environmentally friendly, see we have left a few sample big trees so you can see how good we are - all I see is a cynical ploy for politicians and the timber industry to keep raping the forests and leaving just a trashed shell behind. They have now established large plantations of trees, they should now be restricted to harvesting those trees and leaving what little remains intact for future generation to marvel at and respect.

Mals conclusion is that it is not possible to extract large trees out of timeless forests in a sustainable way -

We see a wombat crossing the road, he stops when he sees us, he tries to remember, do I keep crossing or do I go back - he is muddle headed after all, finally he gallops back into the bush, we keep going to a small reserve called the Milkshake Hills - it must have been established in the 1950's, it has quaint shelter sheds with shingle roves which are well worn, enmossed and sprinkled with forest debris. Unfortunately the gravestones of once ancient trees stand as testimony to the predatory behavior of the human species - the locusts of the natural world, we swarm and plunder and scar the landscape in our passing.

We have dinner by candle light and Mal tries to put out of his mind what he sees - he needs selective sight so he just sees what wonderful things the Tasmanian Forestry Department has provided, like really new toilets and bar b ques.

Wednesday 16th December

Next to Vicki is a tree which has a girth of around two meters. It seems out of proportion next to the camper, some of these trees are really giants. We walk through the forest and gradually the ground rises and in a matter of a dozen steps we blink our eyes because we are out into the bright morning sunlight. A short walk and we are standing on top of one of the Milkshake hills. These are small rounded hills that are covered in buttongrass and other low herbage and the occasional small gum.

The landscape rolls away in every direction, the shadows of the clouds create a moving tapestry as hills are brightened and then cast into shadow. It is a picture of natural tranquility.

Our next stop is the …………… arch. This is a natural geological formation. An arch is formed between two sinkholes, where water has dissolved the overlaying rock and then caused the under lying rock to form a cave and eventually the roof collapses leaving a crater like formation. Well two of these formations have formed that are only 50 meters apart and the wall between them has become involved and is now a large arch where you can walk from the edge of one sinkhole through to the next. One is dry but the other is now a small lake. It is truly amazing. Almost as amazing as the young local who we chatted to as we were trying to find the place. "No mate, I have lived here since I was four and I don't know of any natural arch." The arch is about 5 kilometers from his house.

In the afternoon we tried to drive to Wuthering Heights Plain - well with a name like that who could resist - well resist we could because there is a gate on the road which says this road is owned by a mining company so rack off.

We retraced our steps and headed for Arthur River on the West Coast. We stood on the headland as a fisherman untangled a large pacific gull from his fishing line. One unhappy bird, a lot of curious onlookers.

We drove out to West Point and sat on the rocks and marveled at giant kelp, the leaf (are they leaves) was at least 600mm across. Giant they are and soothing as they languidly slow dance in the softly moving ebb and flow of the ocean.

We drove North and as the sun sank low we stopped at a pub for a counter meal - it took a long time coming so it was twilight after sunset by the time we drove down to a small free camp a few Kms away. Mal helped a young guy fix a hole in the rear tyre of his motorbike. The night was still and we had a good sleeps - the only problem was that locked gate at Wuthering Heights Plain.