So I was a day late. From Queenstown I putted along, stopping momentarily at the Henty Glacial Reserve. It’s amazing to see those conglomerates that 300 million years ago were the scrapings of a glacier yet now they’re on high in the western mountains of Tasmania.
Finally wound my way to Montezuma Falls carpark. I’d been there before but didn’t get to do the walk so I was really keen this time. As for the weather, most would have assessed it as perfect, but I really wanted totally overcast for rainforest photography. Too much contrast makes it so hard; still, I hope you enjoy some of the images.
It’s a straight flat 3 hour return walk along an old tramway, built to retrieve ore from the many mines in the area. At times boggy it’s no surprise as you constantly hear the roar of the river in a steep canyon far below and the trail has many flows that sometimes disappear underground, at other times cross beneath the boardwalk and often just splash onto the trail.
You have to be careful not to stub your toes on old spikes and sleepers but the beauty of the moss covered myrtle, tree ferns and hard water-ferns are a constant distraction.
I went down all bar one of the side tracks, looking for different photos and occasionally succeeding, before I made Montezuma. They promised much, from writings and personal anecdotes from friends, and they delivered in spades. It’s a massive drop from above and the trail delivers you to the best viewing point at the base. After you’re sated here you can take the precarious swinging bridge (no more than two adults and a child at a time please and not for those with vertigo problems) across the raging waters for a different aspect entirely.
Leaning out over the wire to get some shots is guaranteed to thrill. It was when I was about to return that I met Connie. She was from Westernport Bay and she was all smiles while her husband, who was acrophobic, wouldn’t cross the bridge but kept bobbing up and down between the bushes like a duck at a shooting gallery, apparently concerned for her welfare. He looked hilarious.
I had my slightly small hiking boots on and on the return leg my muscles were aching trying to compensate and my feet hurt, exacerbated by stumbling over a dozen spikes from the old tramway, but I made it and drove into nearby Rosebery where there’s a motorhome friendly carpark.