Raftwalking in the South-West XI: Towards the Gorilla

“have great patience
with all attempts at changing
for patience is respect
bestowed on the present
and a kindness to time”

-Maria Popova, An almanac of birds

Range in South-West Lutruwita/Tasmania. Pentax MX, Ilford XP2 Super, Nov 2025.

We were really in it now. It was day ten in the South-West for us and there was more rain on the way according to the daily updates we were receiving from our contacts on the outside. The rivers were already high, and since we were following the Old River upstream, we were doing the only option left to the disappointed packrafter: portaging. Except portaging is meant to be an intermittent affair, not lasting more than a few hours. In our case, our portage was to last seven days.

Gorge Ridge, warm up to the Gorilla. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 10: We hung around at Slimy Ridge camp as the rain was meant to ease by 9am. Sure enough it was still raining at 845, but it did clear eventually!

We continued sidling past the Old River for another couple of kilometres towards the junction with the Solly River. We crossed the Solly on Lucky Ducky (my raft) by tying two ropes together and attaching this to the raft. After each person crossed, the remaining person(s) simply pulled the raft bag with the rope. It helps when the paddle is put back into the raft!

We had a hasty lunch as a classic South-West squall came in while we were eating and a strong westerly ended the friendly atmosphere. Junction Ridge took us to the foot of Mt Castor and allowed us some spectacular views.

We camped on a buttongrass shelf surrounded by an epic landscape. Harry’s Bluff behind, Ripple Mountain, Mt Castor and the Western Arthurs in the distance, we really were in the middle of nowhere! We had a large friendly spider as a visitor in our tent, but it was kind enough to exit when we asked politely.

Gabriel Matuszak labouring up Gorge Ridge. Pentax MX, Ilford XP2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 11. We struck camp by 8am as we knew we had a decent day to get to the head of the Old River via Gorge Ridge. We had plans to traverse the Spiro Range but given the forecast we went with the ‘easy’ option of Gorge Ridge.

We spent a solid couple of hours battling our way across the plains to the Old River near its junction with the Collins, and although the rain was easing off, the scrub was wet so we got soaked. We saw a sea eagle which was really cool, long way from the coast, but not that far from the Old’s estuary, well as the eagle flies anyway. When we got to the Old it was just a bit too high to wade so we used one of the rafts to cross the river.

The climb up Gorge Ridge was through steep forest and there was some bauera but mostly it wasn’t horrible. The views allowed us by taking Gorge Ridge were amazing. We spent the afternoon marveling at the back of the Arthurs. There was some really nice walking on open buttongrass then a long steep descent and a horrible gully that took about half an hour to cross. Over the head bauera, etc.

Eventually we arrived to the plain of the Old River which had burnt twice in the last ten years and is beautifully flat and open. Amazing views from camp!

Looking down to the Old River. Pentax MX, Ilford XP2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 12. The rain eased around 7 am but started again just as we pulled the tent down. Our aim was to get to the base of Gorilla Ridge, and set up an early camp as we were forecast for over 25mm of rain today. Also snow down to 700m overnight. Down to 500m the following day. It was a bit of a slog across the wet buttongrass.

Mosquito and Laughing Creek were the deepest to wade, they came just above our mid thigh. The flow wasn’t too strong so we got across okay. There were puddles inside my boots in the afternoon though when we stopped.

Thanks to a navigational error on my behalf, we overshot Gorilla Ridge by 800m, which meant some backtracking later on. Our camp was nearly flat and our tent, the Mont Hypermid was holding up well in the 50km/h+ westerlies. That tent kept us dry the entire trip.

The upper Old Valley. Pentax MX, Ilford XP2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 13. The Roaring Forties prevailed overnight, bringing heavy squalls of rain and sleet. The rain continued till the early afternoon, after which it started breaking up, but still showered regularly every hour. Our toilet breaks had to be strategized as a result.

At times the clouds lifted to reveal the top of Geeves Bluff (our destination the next day), dusted in snow. The westerly wind was fresh, but thankfully had a drying effect so we were able to dry our base layers out after the soaking they got yesterday. We spent a fair chunk of the day sleeping and talking about our favourite foods at length with Gabe. All the things we will get to do when we get home from this sufferfest!

Honestly though, the country we had seen had been phenomenal. To follow the Old River past Harry’s Bluff, around the Spiro Range to the foot of the Eastern Arthurs had filled in a big blank in my mental image of Tasmania. Incredible wild country out there in the South-West, the land of tea-trees, bauera and buttongrass.

Being stuck in a tent allows one to reflect and on this occasion my mistakes really been played on my mind. I got the sense that maybe I am not a good person after all. And a growing suspicion that I am prone to making silly mistakes and will continue to do this in the future, despite my best efforts. Although I wish to be better than I have been in the past, I wonder if I can be any different than I have been? I was probably not the first or last person to ponder these age old questions while stuck inside a tent waiting out the rain.

Either way, we had arrived to the crux of the trip, the ascent of Gorilla Ridge to Hanging Lake, a distance of 5 km and an elevation gain of about 1000m, mostly through forest and scrub. I packed an extra big breakie, lunch and extra snacks. We set the alarm for 5, to leave by 7am. The rain is meant to ease off by the afternoon with a dry day forecast for the day after.

We received a message from Gabe’s dad, on the inreach saying a commercial rafting trip was evacuated that day from the Franklin due to high water via helicopter. It had rained about 45mm that day in Melaleuca.

At least paddling a river was not something we had to worry about at that point. First we had to traverse the Eastern Arthurs before we could even think about paddling!

Fresh snow on the Arthurs. Pentax MX, Ilford XP2 Super, Nov 2025.

-A.S., Brushy Creek, Lenah Valley 28/2/2026

Raftwalking in the South-West X: The Old River

“…freedom isn’t secured by filling up on your heart’s desire but by removing your desire.”
-Epictetus

The Old River I, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

It became evident rather quickly that there would be no more paddling until we reached the Cracroft River, on the other side of the Eastern Arthurs Range. The Old River had plenty of water in it and the task ahead of us was to follow the meandering course of the river past Harry’s Bluff and the Spiro Range, all the way to the foot of Federation Peak. Grant’s optimistic outlook predicted that we would paddle for a few days before we would have to walk with our packs, meaning we would have eaten at least a few kilos of the eleven days of provisions for this leg of our journey.

In reality, we were walking just a bit after lunch time on the first day out of Bathurst Harbour, when we gave up trying to paddle against the flow of the Old River. For Gabe and I, this was day nine of our trip. For Grant, this was day two. We packed up our rafts and started the long sidle around Harry’s Bluff.

The Old River II, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

The Old River came in and out of view as we sidled on the slimy buttongrass. What a beautiful river it was! Cascading through oversized boulders, flowing through an immense valley with huge quartzite peaks rising up on both sides!

The river looked inviting and was flowing well. It looked to be a very enjoyable class three paddle… if only we were going the other way! Alas, we were resigned to lumbering with our incredibly overloaded packs, all of us carrying 30kgs+, slipping, cursing and sliding as we went along.

Actually, only Grant and I cursed. Gabe seemed eternally content. In fact I don’t recall him complaining a single time throughout the entire trip. Even though there was plenty to complain about!

The Old River III, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

We covered a meagerly couple of kilometres with great effort along the river before it was knock-off-a-clock. It was around five o’clock when we arrived to a spot that was flattish enough that we could strike camp. There was nothing more promising looking further ahead, so we decided to make do. Harry’s Bluff towered over us.

If ‘Up-Kellatie-Creek’ was the worst camp of our trip, this camp was a close second-worst, despite the tremendous views along the Old River’s Valley. It really was a stunning place to camp. But the slime, oh the slime! So much SLIME! It lay so thick on the ground, about the consistency of snot. None of us was quite sure what the slime was or where it came from, we only knew it was there and it was there in abundance! It was almost impossible not to get it all over everything.

Camping on buttongrass is also a bit hilarious in general. One has to wedge between the clumps when lying down. It can actually be quite comfortable, as long as one gives up any notion of trying to lie in a straight line.

The Old River IV, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

”Pouring raing now, Gabe is snoring and the tent smells like wet socks”.

And so we went to sleep at our camp on Slimy Ridge.

-A.S. 21/2/2026, Brushy Creek.

Raftwalking in the South-West IX: Bathurst Harbour

“It isn’t events themselves that disturb people, but only their judgmenets about them.” -Epictetus

Fern Halo. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

We had an atrocious forecast and eleven days of food when Grant and Gabe and myself struck out from Claytons to commence the second leg of our journey. The plan was ludicrous: to paddle up the Old River to the base of Federation Peak, then portage over the Eastern Arthurs to the Cracroft Catchment, from where we would ‘elegantly’ paddle out via the Huon.

I’d say it was madness, but the remote country awaited and I guess curiosity got the better of us. What would we find out there?

Stranded! Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

Conditions were favourable, if somewhat wet to paddle across Bathurst Harbour. The whole harbour is very shallow with a series of cute little islands scattered about. We had a slight westerly helping us along and we reached Swan Cove in about two and a half hours.

I was pretty excited to be at the mouth of the Old River!

Cloudy Morning. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

The first couple of kilometres up the estuary was sublime as it was perfectly flat with basically no movement of water. Then the Old River started flowing.

We got to the easterly bend in the river without too much difficulty, although I was paddling slower than Gabe and Grant as my left shoulder blade was playing up.

We persevered following the river for about two more hours, at times wading, other times paddling with everything we had just to get past some constrictions. I think Gabe was enjoying himself but I was finding the ‘uphill’ paddling strenuous and challenging. It put me right out of my comfort zone to be honest!

I was relieved when Grant made the call to pack up the rafts and start walking.

And so began our seven day portage to the Cracroft.

Gabe and Grant paddling towards the mouth of the Old River across Bathurst Harbour. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, 14/2/2026

Raftwalking in the South-West VIII: Two blocks of chocolate

“We have got to be as clear headed about human beings as possible, because we are still each others only hope.” - James Baldwin

Beneath the mighty Mt Rugby. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025

It was day eight of our trip with Gabriel Matuszak through the South-West and we had only one obstacle left before reaching our rendezvous point with Grant Dixon at Claytons Corner near Melaleuca Inlet. We had to paddle across the Bathurst Narrows!

This is the narrow channel through which all of Bathurst Harbour is drained into Port Davey at low tide. This means that the channel effectively becomes a fast flowing river that is just about impossible to paddle against in a packraft if the tide is flowing the opposite way to the intended direction of motion. The tide charts told us there would be low tide around nine o’clock in Port Davey, followed by a high tide around midday. As we found out, the tide for Port Davey isn’t necessarily accurate for what happens in the Narrows as there seems to be a fair delay; and while thankfully the tidal flow wasn’t too strong for us, it was still flowing out against us the entire time we were in the Narrows. The beauty of the surrounding country made up for the slight handicap placed against us.

We were weary after the last week of paddling the Crossing, Davey and Spring Rivers, not to mention the arduous walking in between with our giant packs. I was not able to paddle fast as my left shoulder was playing up by this point. It was a three hour paddle for us from Farrell Point to Clayton’s Corner, and we were glad to get there! It certainly felt longer than the seven kilometres indicated on the map.

What a mountain! Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

Clayton’s Corner is a sheltered little cove near Melaleuca Inlet. It is named after Clyde and Win, an adventurous couple who lived in Port Davey from the 1950s. There is a cute little jetty and hut built by Clyde and Win which is now looked after by Parks and Wildlife Services. While this hut is accessible from the Port Davey Track, it is mostly visited by boaters who take shelter in this nicely tucked away little bay, well sheltered from the fierce Southerlies.

The sun was finally out and we were glad to be able to hang out all our saturated gear around the hut. We had originally planned to meet Grant at Melaleuca but we were way too pooped to sign up for an additional fourteen kilometres of paddling that day. Grant was due to fly in that day in the afternoon, and he was to bring us our rations which we had left with him before we started our trip with Gabe.

We had completed the first leg of our journey and thought it wise to spend the afternoon resting before launching into the more difficult second leg following the Old River to its source, Federation Peak.

The idea for this second part of our journey was conceived by Grant, who called it an ‘elegant idea’ to follow the Old River upstream, then walk over Federation Peak and paddle the Cracroft and Huon Rivers out. Gabe and I were gullible enough to let this ‘elegant idea’ take hold of our minds.

Upon receiving the forecast a few days earlier however, we were starting to have our doubts with Gabe. It had rained five out of eight days on the first leg, and there was a lot more rain coming. In fact, there was only to be one dry day in the following week. This just about ensured we would be walking along the Old River, not paddling it, as the water levels were going to be way too high. Furthermore, the idea of lugging a fully saturated packrafting pack across the Eastern Arthurs was a daunting idea.

Golden light, winding path. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

When we saw that atrocious forecast, Gabe and I realised that there was only one way we were going to survive the second leg of our journey; for it was going to be a sufferfest. We needed more chocolate than we had rationed!

Since Grant was flying in to Melaleuca, he was going to bring us our food for the following eleven days. So we said to Grant via an inreach message: “If we are to proceed, could you be as kind as to bring us two additional blocks of Whittakers chocolate?” Grant confirmed he would. With the additional chocolate rations guaranteed, the weather forecast didn’t seem so bad after all.

Grant arrived to Claytons paddling his packraft around six pm that day, with our food, gas and two extra blocks of chocolate. Despite the biblical rain forecast, it appeared that the second leg of our trip was on.

Melaleuca Inlet, Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

-A.S., 7/2/26, Brushy Creek.

Raftwalking in the South-West VII: The Spring River to the Narrows

“The possibilities for the future are infinite. When we focus on the unfortunate possibilities, that’s called fear. When we remember the other possibilities, which are usually more likely, that is called freedom from fear.”
-Ajahn Brahm

The Port Davey Track below the Spring River! Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The Port Davey Track from the Spring River towards Melaleuca deteriorates rather rapidly.

We waded through knee deep water for about twenty minutes while trying to find the track immediately after the Spring. We never did. We just pushed through the scrub, the beautiful rainforest with all its tangles, and eventually emerged onto the plains where we could pick up the track once again. We soon reached a creek crossing that was a fast flowing river. We used the rafts and our ropes to set up a ferry system to get ourselves and our packs across. In hindsight, it would have been faster to paddle across with our packs in the front of the boat. This is what we ended up doing later in the trip when we got to the Solly River on day 10 and that was a lot more efficient. Still, it was good practice at the rope work and I think we would do it a lot more efficiently next time!

Gabe on the Spring River. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

In the end, we put in on the Spring a couple of kilometres below where the Port Davey meets the river, where there is a fair campsite. I was tempted to put in straight from camp in the morning, but Gabe was worried about log jams, and to be fair I was concerned about puncturing the rafts among all the sharp tea trees that grew in what’s effectively a large creek at that point. We did not want to be delayed as we had a rendezvous with Grant the next day at Claytons Corner, so we went with the safe but slightly annoying option of walking those extra kilometres to put in on the Spring where it is nice and wide like in the above photograph. Those two kilometres took us over two hours, after we lost the track in the scrub, after we faffed around at the creek crossing, then climbed and descended a steep buttongrass ridge. Nevertheless, we made it to the Spring before lunch time and we put in where the river does a big U bend. We knew it would be a long but straightforward paddle to Farrell Point. At our put in, the water was already a bit brackish.

Calm evening looking over the Bathurst Channel. Pentax MX, Portra 800.

We met quite a few swans on our winding paddle on the Spring River. They kept trying to swim down the river to get away from us and we had to paddle hard to overtake them so they could relax and stay where they wanted to be on the river. It wasn’t long before the river opened up into the estuary and we found ourselves in the spectacular Joe Page Bay, with Mt Berry, Mt Rugby and the Erskine Range rising up around us. It was misty and drizzling, adding to the South-West ambiance.

It was a cruisy paddle to Farrell Point, about three and a half hours from our put in on the Spring. Farrell Point is where the Port Davey track reaches the Bathurst Narrows. This is the notorious boat crossing that so many people have epics with. The Bathurst Narrows drain Bathurst Harbour so when the tide is flowing out, you definitely know about it! As we approached Farrell Point, it became obvious we were paddling against an outgoing tide, so we abandoned any aspirations we may have had of paddling on to Claytons that day.

Melaleucas in golden light, Farrell Point, Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

We set up camp at the beautiful and somewhat elevated campsite and enjoyed a calm evening as the rain finally stopped and the sun came out. We were beneath some ancient Melaleucas and had a clear view of the Narrows and the Channel. The currawong’s gentle kooing kept us company. As the sun set, the tide slackened and the wind dropped and the water offered perfect reflections. It was a magical moment, one I will foster and remember for years to come.

Evening reflections, Bathurst Narrows, Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

Raftwalking in the South-West VI: Lost World Plateau

“Your mind will take the shape of what you frequently hold in thought, for the human spirit is coloured by such impressions.” -Marcus Aurelius

Gabe standing in the saddle with Port Davey behind. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

We left our campsite in the scrub just before 9am. I had a dream about soccer, where I saw how a team can win against all odds when they work together against a team whose defence is a bit slack (due to their assumedly superior position).

Lone Tea Tree, Lost World Plateau, Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The Lost World Plateau lived up to its name, the topography was a bit convoluted but we managed to pick our way through with only a couple of minor navigational errors. I could have been paying more attention than I was in all honesty and missed some minor cues but nothing catastrophic.

Lost World Plateau High Point, Petnax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The plateau was a series of windswept buttongrass hills, with a clear highpoint to the north of our route. Up the top wasn’t particularly warm, classic south-west showers and a moderate westerly ensured we didn’t dawdle for too long. It took us about 4 hours from our camp near Heather Bay to the Port Davey Track.

Lost World Plateau High Point II, Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

A further 3 hours of walking along the ‘Highway of the South-West’ saw us arrive to the Spring River Camp. We were a bit torn about where to put in the next day as we were quite ready to stop walking with our packs and paddle as soon as we could. But the river looked pretty woody and we didn’t want to stitch ourselves up by ripping one of the rafts on a sharp tea tree, of which there were plenty in the river. We made plans to walk just a bit further the next day. If we knew what the next bit of the Port Davey Track was going to be like, we probably would have paddled from where we were in the morning.

Navigation at times was a bit convoluted. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

PS: “Lot more rain forecast… might be interesting trying to head up the Old River”.

Back on the PDT. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Sandy Bay, 16/1/2026.

Hills near the Spring River. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

Raftwalking in the South-West Part V: Up Kellatie Creek

The mighty Davey Gorge.

This is where the Davey River has cut through an impressive quartzite range. The river must be quite deep through this gorge as there are no major rapids of note, only some standing waves and a couple of wave trains. Gabe did manage to capsize on one of these standing waves while trying to surf but he rolled back up within a couple of seconds, paddle in hand. As we entered the gorge proper we realised we have arrived to a very special place indeed.

The quartzite cliffs rose up on both sides of us, with the strata layers in the rock clearly visible. We floated gently down, with a million years of the river’s work towering over us. We were silent in the presence of a sacred place.  

Gabe taking a moment in the gorge. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The Davey below the gorge opens right up into an estuary and we had a strong WNW wind that pushed us along but also opposed us at times with the turns of the river. We saw a pair of black swans and also some seagulls fly over us. The mountains of the SW rose up around us.  

We got to Settlement Point around midday. This is the end of the estuary and the start of Port Davey. We ran some laps as we were starting to get cold in the wind. By this time we had made the decision not to cross Port Davey with our rafts due to the wind and swell forecast we received in the previous days. So we were committed to walking across Lost World Plateau back to the Port Davey track. We just had to get to Heather Bay first, which meant crossing Payne Bay, the northern, more sheltered end of Port Davey. It was still the ocean in a way, so I was a bit uncertain about paddling on to Heather bay as we could see white caps near the headlands we had to paddle around. But Gabe felt confident so we leashed ourselves to our rafts and went for it.

Gabe, smiling as always when on moving water. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The looming walls of Davey Gorge. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

There was a solid 40-50km/h westerly and a fair bit of fetch. The swell was a NW-er and less than a metre in most places but it was windy enough to form white caps. We also had to paddle around quite a few rocky islands, some of them involved sharp rocks sticking above the water.

Around 2pm we did a surf landing onto Heather bay. The waves weren’t massive but enough to have a brief moment where I thought I might capsize. As the wave picked me up from behind my raft was effectively vertical but I managed to stay in (just). I was pretty fatigued by this point so was very glad to have made it to Heather Bay. I think I would have got seasick if we had to keep paddling through the swell for much longer.

Gabe starting the paddle through the gorge. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025

There was a perfectly fine campsite among the forest right near the beach but my notes had a campsite marked up Kellatie Creek. So we paddled up a few hundred metres and found a shitty little campsite in the scrub which someone had cleared previously and which we improved slightly with our saw.  There were a lot of sharp tea tree sticks pointing straight up. We later discovered the water table sat about 5cm below the ground here, which wasn’t great news for our toileting situation in the morning, but the water here was brackish anyway so at least we consoled ourselves with knowing we didn’t pollute any drinking water. But we would have been better off camping in the forest at the beach.

While most of our conversations throughout our trip with Gabe centred around the exact number of squares of chocolates left in our rations, another popular conversation topic was discussing which of our campsites was the worst one. While there were some close runner ups, including ‘Slimey Ridge’ (to be discussed in later chapters) in my opinion ‘Up Kellatie Creek’ was the worst of our camps. One good thing about it was that we were nearly in the open. While our camp itself only had an up close view of the scrub, a short walk would reveal to us the next the way towards Lost World Plateau.

Looking up stream from Davey Gorge. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

PS: (from my trip log): Intermittent showers today had us wishing we had brought a tarp. Also, the scrub is very pokey here, a footprint for the tent would have been a good idea. Hope the showers break up a bit tomorrow so we don’t have to carry our wet gear across Lost World Plateau. 3 days to go till resupply at Melaleuca.

A.S. 9/1/26, A3 Highway, East Coast Lutruwita.

Twelve photographs from last year...

“The most effective way to change your habits is to focus not on what you want to achieve, but on who you wish to become.” -James Clear

Fagus, Cradle Plateau, double exposure. Hasselblad 500CM, April 2025.

Huon Valley from Sleeping Beauty. Hasselblad 500CM, 2025.

The mountain that shall not be named. Hasselblad 500CM, May 2025.

Snow Peppermint near Twilight Tarn. Sep 2025.

Double Exposure, Hasselblad 500CM, Mar 2025.

Rainforest on Snowy North. Hasselblad 500CM, Aug 2025.

Packrafter in Davey Gorge, Pentax MX, Nov 2025.

Mt Rugby, Pentax MX, Nov 2025.

Drys Bluff. Pentax MX, Sep 2025.

Boulder on Drys Bluff. Pentax MX, Sep 2025.

View towards the Queen of the South-West. Pentax MX, Aug 2025.

The winding path. Pentax MX, Nov 2025.

Melaleuca Inlet. Pentax MX, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, 3/1/26.

Raftwalking in the South West Part IV-The Davey River

“People come, people go,
The river continues to flow.”

-A.S.

The mighty Davey River. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The Davey River is one of the largest rivers in South-West Tasmania, and we floated on this massive conveyor belt peacefully. We had made it down the Crossing in just over an hour and a half, and now we were enjoying a cruisy paddle down a river that was reminiscent of the Huon, if it wasn’t for all the buttongrass and tea trees that lined the banks.

Gabe standing on top of our buttongrass knoll over the Davey River. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The sun was out and we pulled ashore to climb a small buttongrass knoll to get a view. While the rivers really are like highways in the South-West, they don’t allow much of a view of the surrounding landscape. For a small effort and some rather steep clambering on slimy buttongrass, we attained a grand view, stretching from Greystone Bluff down to the hills near Port Davey. We were such a long way from home!

Gabe left his helmet behind after our lunch stop and had to walk back up along the bank to retrieve it. He returned by floating down the middle of the river, big grin on his face.

After quite an exciting morning on the Crossing, we reached the gauge on the Davey by the early afternoon. This was our take out for the day, and we welcomed the afternoon sun that allowed us to hang up and dry out all our gear at the hydro hut.

Reflections. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

Like all the rivers in the South-West, the HEC had plans to flood the Davey River in the 1970s, by diverting the water into the Lower Gordon. This would have flooded a vast area that is now contained in the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, to give only a handful of metres of water that could actually flow across the Olga-Hardwood saddle. The concept is not dissimilar to how hydro can only drain the top 1.5m of the Pedder impoundment into Lake Gordon. Either way, the dam in the Davey Gorge or the lower Gordon were never built thankfully. The hydro hut remains however, and is very well maintained.

Cascading Creek near hydro hut. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

We made ourselves at home at the hut, which was a bizarre experience. It really is in one of the most remote places, and it felt strange to be using a kitchen with running water out of the tap. We made ourselves at home and sat in the camping chairs on the deck while basking our toes in the sun. We later went for a wonder to check out the waterfall on the little creek nearby; it had quite a nice little swimming hole which I utilised for a wash. It was a quick dip by all accounts!

The next day when we departed the hut, we left everything as we found it. Hydro probably leaves this hut open as the number of packrafters coming through are far and few in between and because they have respected this strange little hut till now.

Ahead of us lay one of the most spectacular landscape features of our whole trip: The Davey Gorge!

Greystone Bluff. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, Nov 2025.

Raftwalking in the South-West Part III- The Crossing River

After three days of slogging it out on foot with our ginormous packs, we had finally arrived to the put in on the Crossing River. We were below the Crossing Gorge, at the large pool where the river swings north. There was only one problem. There was a lot more water in the river than the previous night!

Our first (and only) view of the Crossing River. Pentax MX, Kodak Pro 100, Nov 2025.

The island in the middle of the pool had become a strainer, with only the tops of the tea trees sticking out. The current below the pool appeared fast and pushy. Perhaps it wasn’t quite a flood, but the river was reasonably high due to all the rain overnight. The dark water swirled in our large eddy and we stood there watching, thinking. To paddle, or not to be paddle, that was the question!

Gabe, being the much better paddler out of the two of us, was psyched as anything to put on the river. We knew that the section below us was mostly grade two, so we didn’t expect any gnarly white water. But there were only the two of us and we had left the spare paddle at home when we made the decision not to run the Crossing Gorge. But we had our hand paddles and a saw, so we had a plan in case we did lose a paddle…

In the end, we stuck a stick at the water line and agreed to inflate the rafts and get ready to put in. Gabe said he was happy to lead the way down. I said I was willing to put in, as long as the river wasn’t rising. After an hour or so of getting ready, the river was still at the same level. So that settled it. We were going to raft the Crossing River. After all, this was what we came for!

Gabe was in his element on the moderately high Crossing River. Pentax MX, Kodak Pro 100, Nov 2025.

The Crossing is a major waterway and as soon as we put in, one thing became very obvious: we were moving! The dense forest on the river bank was flitting us by, and paddling was quite optional. Our main task was simple: to avoid any obstacles and hazards, which weren’t particularly numerous. Still, the Crossing is a wild river and there is plenty of wood in it, which the unwary paddler could get swept under, or get their raft punctured by. In particular we were advised that the rocks are particularly sharp and the strata layers point upstream on this section, and that a lot of people had brought their rafts to grief by ripping it on the rocks. But as it turns out, running the Crossing when the Davey Gauge reads 9709 ML/day means all of these rocks are submerged!

After our paddle, Gabe said that this level ‘fit the river’s character’ and that our paddle was a ‘good day out’. I’d say this is a fair assessment by a competent white water kayaker. For the beginner packrafters out there I’d say 10 000ML/day on the lower Crossing is a reasonably high level and would need similar skills to running the Mersey White Water Course or Mellifont Street at Bradys. There was at least one feature we encountered that we agreed would be classed as grade three white water.

(Please note that from what we were advised, running the Crossing Gorge when the Davey Gauge read 10 000ML/day would most likely be a very bad idea for most paddlers and likely to result in serious injury, death, or at the very least, a shitty retreat from the Gorge on foot).

Scrubby Knoll. Pentax MX, Kodak Pro 100, Nov 2025.

There were two rapids of note on the Lower Crossing.

The first one was at a large island about 1.5km below our put in. We saw a horizon line on the main flow and I pulled over on river right. We agreed Gabe would go down first and signal if it was safe to run. He took the left fork in the river and caught an eddy after the first set of rapids. He held his paddle up. I followed nervously. I paddled around a hole and nearly scraped the boat at one point, making me think this line wouldn’t go in lower water. As it was, the line Gabe had picked was a good one, and we continued on together around the island. When we joined up with the main flow we looked back and saw a large river wide pour-over in the main flow, quite likely with a somewhat retentive hole at the base of it. We made the right call going left around the island. That pour-over could probably be portaged if needed on river right. The line we took around the island on river left won’t go in low water.

The second rapid of note was the constriction about 3km before the confluence with the Davey River. Some people might call it a gorge. Rocky walls rose up on both sides of the river, and there was an enormous boulder on river left. Once again, we agreed Gabe would go down first and hold his paddle up if it was safe to go. I caught an eddy and waited. Gabe went down, disappeared out of sight, but eventually I saw his paddle blade in the air. I figured that meant the line was good to go, so I pulled out into the current and headed for the horizon line.

It is a strange sensation, paddling into an unknown rapid in the middle of the South-West. My emotions were a mixture of nervous stress and excitement; but above all: utmost focus! The current sped me up and I headed towards a series of drops. The river was really getting squeezed here!

The line became obvious as I got closer; I mainly just stuck to the middle of the flow. I did have to paddle with some determination to go around some rather large and chunky holes though. At least there was no wood in this section of the river. About halfway down the rapid Gabe pulled out one of the eddies on river right, and continued to lead the way down. We paddled the rest of the rapid together, and Gabe got very excited when we went past an even bigger hole. Later he said that with a more experienced crew he would have loved to boof over that rock. Typical kayaker! I was quite happy not to go anywhere near that giant hole!

Soon, the gorge opened up, and we were through. Chatting later, it turned out that Gabe wasn’t actually signalling to me, he was just sitting in an eddy doing a bow draw or something, assessing the rapid below. Oops. We agreed next time a whistle blow could signal the rapid was good to go if we couldn’t see each other.

The only other obstacle we found was a large tree across the entire river not long before the confluence with the Davey. We just glided over the top but at lower water it may need to be portaged. It looked fresh.

It took us one and a half hours from our put in to the confluence with the Davey River; a distance of about ten kilometres. Three days of walking, one and a half hours of paddling.

Just like that, we were down the Crossing River.

And we still had both our paddles!

-A.S., Sandy Bay, 19/12/2025 

Approaching a constriction on the Crossing. Pentax MX, Kodak Pro 100, Nov 2025.