The Healing Power of Water

“Don’t seek for everything to happen as you wish it would, but rather wish that everything happens as it actually will - then your life will flow well.”
-Epictetus

Gentle ripples on Leeawuleena. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

Two days after the return from our South-West ‘raftwalking’ trip, I was doing my daily yoga routine in the morning when something unexpected happened. I did the usual forward bend, and then the backward bend. When I came out of the backward bend, (note, the Camel Pose), I could tell something was wrong. My lower back hurt like hell and the best thing I could do was crawl into bed and lie on my side. When I went to stand up a few minutes later, agony. Couldn’t stand up straight. From one moment to the next, I was completely debilitated.

Apparently, this is a common story. It is usually by doing a routine movement that a disc will bulge or slip in the spine. In my case, years of abuse has led up to it. It turns out that discs, the softer bits of padding between the vertebrae have memory! Carrying heavy backpacks for years has compressed my L5/S1 disc to about half the thickness of the others. As my osteopath, Richard said: it was the last straw that broke the camel’s back! Yes, well in my case it was the camel that broke the Andy’s back! As the MRI later revealed later, that bottom disc, a crucial load bearing part in my spinal column was protruding. Thankfully, the disc did not impinge on any nerves, which can be the more problematic type of disc injury. Apparently heaps of people are walking around with bulging discs (a protruding disc is a more severe form of this) and never even realise!

Mt Ida. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

Part of me enjoyed the two weeks of enforced rest. I was meant to be back at work but my body clearly said no. I had to stay at home and stay in bed. I spent two weeks on hardcore painkillers and relaxants, then transitioned to some natural tinctures and ointments once I was off the opioids. Many thanks to Bec and Marcella, naturopaths at Goulds for getting me on the chamomile sleep syrup so I could sleep, (I actually got to enjoy the taste after about a week of nearly gagging on it every time!) and for the comfrey and kunzea cream as a topical ointment for the pain during the day. Also, the curcumin tablets to bring down the inflammation and magnesium powder to relax the muscles overnight was a good combo.

Slowly but surely, and with the use of a lower back brace I was able to return to my day jobs and slowly start going about my life again. Regular visits to the osteo and physio, actually doing the homework they gave me, and a month later I was able to ride a bike, six weeks later I was paddling, and now, four months after the injury I am able to climb outdoors and have just returned from a 5 day guiding trip carrying a 15+kg pack. My back seems to have come good. For now.

I suppose if I am sensible and avoid any further 7 day portages with 30+kg packs, in particular up Gorilla Ridge, there is a good chance it will stay good in the future too.

(Whenever I see my friends, they tend to ask me, what’s your next adventure? My current answer is that I have just about recovered from the last one! I guess it is getting close to start plotting my next moves…)

Submerged rocks. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

But it wasn’t just my back that had caught up with me after our return from the South- West. Oh no, this return wasn’t done with me yet!

Over the two months after my return, my relationship with my girlfriend went through a slow meltdown as well. I was told repeatedly that my behaviour wasn’t respectful, kind or understanding. I was forced to recognise that I have some behavioral patterns when it comes to my personal relationships that can only be seen as destructive.

My lower back injury followed by our break-up made it feel like the year of reckoning has arrived! My life really felt like it was falling apart, and I questioned whether I was really as good a person as I always believed myself to be.

Any break up comes with internal reflection, questioning and a realisation that we have work to do in understanding ourself. (Either that or it comes with denial and finger pointing). In my case I have been finding solace in a stoic book of philosophy that I got from my good friend Vito for my birthday last year. The basic premise of the stoic thought is that there is no use getting upset over things we cannot control. And the only thing we can control is our own reaction to situations. We choose our response. Everything else is out of our control. This is empowering because it means I can choose my response. I can be a kind person. I can be an understanding person. I can be a caring person. I can be accepting and wise. And I will be that in the future.

Reflections in alpine tarn. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

The most useful technique for healing my shattered self was to sit by the creek for a while. In our mad, mad world, this would be my recommendation to anyone suffering from anxiety or simply feeling overwhelmed. Go and sit by a creek and be silent for a while. Watch the moving water and pay attention to your breathing. Breathe through your nose, into your belly. Nice deep breaths. Do that for a couple of hours. Try and quiet your mind and not think about anything at all. See what happens. The results are remarkable.  You will gain mental peace, tranquillity and an acceptance of the cards dealt to you by fate and fortune. I recommended this technique to a friend recently. I was stoked to hear when she happily reported back to me that it really helped with her anxiety. And if you are thinking to yourself, sounds great Andy, but I am too busy to sit by the creek for a couple of hours, then I would argue that is all the more reason to stop rushing about and just go and sit by the creek instead. There is always time for the things we deem important.

Cloud reflections. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

The idea that ‘change is possible’ was recently reinforced by a hypnotherapist that I had treatment from. The hypnotherapy part really wasn’t what I was expecting. I simply lay on my back and listened to the therapist tell me a narrative. She told me a simple story with five chapters.

1.      You are walking down the street and you fall into a hole. You spend hours frantically trying to get out. Eventually, you succeed and escape the hole.

2.      You are walking down the street and you fall into the hole again. This time, you remember how to get out and manage to escape a lot quicker.

3.      You are walking on the street and yet again, you fall into the hole. This time, you climb out straight away.

4.      You are walking down the street, but you see the hole this time and walk around it.

5.      You choose a different street to walk down. This time, there is no hole in it.

Australia’s deepest lake. Which I am sure was a big old hole in the ground before it filled up with water!
Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Feb 2026.

I guess life is just like that. We are bound to make mistakes, but we do learn. Sometimes slowly, and sometimes we do have to make the same mistakes again. But eventually we learn and we go on and continue. And perhaps one day we become wise and manage not to fall into the same hole again. Perhaps one day we may even figure out how to look after each other and our blue planet.

Our only planet.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, 4/4/2026

Raftwalking in the South-West XV: The Victory Paddle down the Cracroft-Huon

“No person has the power to have everything they want, but it is in their power not to want what they don’t have, and to cheerfully put to good use what they do have.” -Seneca, Moral Letters, 123.3

Gabe recharging his solar batteries on the final leg of the walk to the Cracroft. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Day 18.

Our torturous seven day portage was over: we had made it to the Cracroft River! Given the amount of rain that had fallen, we had abandoned our aspirations of paddling through Cracroft Gorge, and given the river had risen a foot overnight, our decision was justified. The Cracroft at our camp was about 30 metres wide and flowing fast. We were all very eager to put on the river and to not wear our walking boots for a change!

Looking down at Cracroft Crossing. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

We put on at 8am and covered the seven kilometres of distance to the Huon in about 45 minutes. We were on a vast conveyor belt and the forest on the sides of the river were flitting us by. We encountered grade 2 rapids, and plenty of logs in the river, but none of them were river wide and they were all reasonably easy to avoid. We read and run all rapids and all three of us managed to stay in our boats the entire way.

The mighty Cracroft River rose about a foot overnight. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

The Huon had some great wave trains and due to the high water most of the islands had turned to strainers. The RH bend before Harrisons opening had a bit of a constriction and was quite exciting for some moments, especially since there was a rather large tree in the middle of that rapid which was crucial to avoid at all costs. Later we saw a rather large floating log in the middle of the river, gently bobbing along in the flow. Eventually the log got pushed into an eddy but the sheer size of it was something to behold!

There were some adventurous green beetles that hitched a ride on my dry suit as we paddled down the Huon; at one point, one of them climbed on top of the other. These bugs were really living life on the edge, mating while being splashed by white water from the waves, at any moment facing certain death if their grip on my dry suit was to slip.

We stopped for lunch on the river and pulled ashore in one of the eddies. The graceful swallows put on a great show for us snatching insects out of the air above the water. It was satisfying eating our last dehydrated lunch, knowing we were only a couple of hours away from the cafeteria at the Tahune.

The great conveyor belt of the Huon River at moderately high flow. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Where Mount Riveaux’s dominant ridge meets the river, that’s where the most significant rapid on the Huon River is (below Huon Gorge). Gabe went down first and pointed river right. Grant and I had pulled into the eddy on river left so we had to paddle hard to ferry glide across the main flow and clear a rather large hole that Gabe was trying to get us to avoid. I made it around the hole, if only barely. Grant on the other hand managed to end up on the line Gabe wanted us to avoid and ran straight into the hole backwards. To his credit, Grant managed to stay in his raft. It was an amusing moment, even more so because we knew the Riveaux Rapid was the last rapid of significance. We were past our last real hurdle!

We arrived to Tahune just a bit after midday. We had covered more than 30kms in four hours! The rain arrived while we were packing up. We retreated to the cafe and placed an order for the food that we had dreamt about in the preceding days.

We had made it, without any real incidents, although not without difficulties. From Scotts Peak along the Port Davey to the Crossing River, down to Port Davey, across Bathurst Harbour, up the Old River, over the Eastern Arthurs and out via the Cracroft and the Huon rivers. Perhaps Grant was right and it was an elegant trip after all. Despite everything the South-West could throw at us, we managed to pull through.

But the trip is not over when you get home. When you get home the final phase of any big trip begins: the return! And for me, the return from this trip was a tough one.

Morning light on the Huon. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

-A.S. 27/3/2026, Brushy Creek.

Raftwalking in the South-West XIV: The Eastern Arthurs

“In your actions don’t procrastinate. In your conversations don’t confuse. In your thoughts don’t wander. In your soul don’t be passive or aggressive. In your life don’t be all about business.”

-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Pine through mist, Four Peaks. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Day 16

It dawned clear again and for a brief few hours it was hard to believe it could ever rain again.

We left Hanging Lake at 8 am and headed towards Thwaites Plateau. I showed Gabe the old campsite beneath the old Scoparia trees, it is one of the oldest stands I know of.

There were some tricky notches to negotiate around Four Peaks and we passed the packs to each other on at least four occasions. It was handy having three people to do this. We tore a hole in my bow bag that had my helmet in it during one of the pack hauls, it will be a repair job for tomorrow.

There was a steady mizzle most of the day, although it wasn’t relentless; the swirling mist created a moody ambience with the great rock towers of the Eastern Arthurs rising up all around us.

Countless scoparia thickets, dwarfed rainforest patches and alpine moors kept us company. We arrived to Goon moor around 3pm and we decided to push on.

The descent to Stuart Saddle brought us to an area of deepish snow again. About knee deep in the drifts. I had to take a break about a hundred metres to eat some emergency snacks as I was spent and was worried I would slip and fall. It was a relief to arrive to the very wet campsite and platforms covered in soggy snow.

A slight clearing in the mist! Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

It’s near the end of the trip with food rations dwindling and fatigue setting in. The talk with Gabe is more and more about the foods we will get to eat when we finish the trip. I don’t think either of us expected to be walking through snow int he Arthurs in late November. I joked that this trip has been more raftwalking than packrafting, given the ratio of walking to rafting has been far from even, with about 11 days of walking and 5 days of paddling (with the paddling days being significantly shorter on average). We also agreed that about a third block of chocolate (80g) is about the right amount of chocolate rations per day. (Which means my ration of 3 blocks for 18 days was half of the appropriate amount)! Although one could probably always conclude this at the end of a big expedition, that the quantity of chocolate was about half of what was actually needed!

Pandanni and Scoparia. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Day 17

We woke to find our tent had gotten a lot smaller. About six inches of snow fell over the night, which made our pyramid tent sag in a fair bit at the sides.

We left Stuart Saddle just a bit after 8am. Packing up was unpleasant due to how wet and cold everything was. I felt for Gabe as he only had his scrub gloves and no overpants and we still had to climb over the Boiler Plates in what was effectively a snowstorm.

Grant reluctantly wore his thermals today, then declared he was overheating when we started walking uphill. This was while I had everything on and was just warm enough!

Pandanni in rainforest. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

It was awesome seeing icicles dripping off the rocks and to break trail through powder; and to observe firsthand the harshness of the climate the vegetation up here has to deal with! It is a world unto its own, the alpine eco-system of the South-West!

It took us about an hour and a half to reach the high point of the Boiler Plates, from where the descent begins. At first there were some notches that were quite steep but later we dropped into the scrub and we were getting drenched by snow falling on us, it was probably at about 500m in elevation where the snow finally disappeared.

The new trackwork built to replace the old trackwork burnt in the 2019 fires was a welcome reprieve for us. Pass Creek tempted us as it had enough water in it to paddle it but the banks didn’t seem too friendly and given the small size of the creek, river wide strainers were a likely possibility. We concluded that me and Grant would be hanging on for dear life while Gabe would have the time of his life. So we went with the safe option to walk to Cracroft Crossing to put in there tomorrow, and while I’m sure Gabe was disappointed with this decision he accepted the majority vote with good grace.
There was a rope across Pass Creek which we used to haul the packs across on, then used it as a handrail to cross ourselves. Strike Creek looked friendlier and was easy wade across.

We got to Cracroft Crossing at 5pm. I sewed up the hole in my bow bag. After our seven day portage, we were ready to put in on the river the next day!

Misty cliffs, Eastern Arthurs. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, 21/3/2026

Raftwalking in the South-West XIII: Hanging Lake

“In wildness is the preservation of the world.”

”It is vain to dream of a wildness distant from ourselves. There is none such.”

Henry David Thoreau

Gabe and Grant taking a well earnt rest on top of Geeves Bluff. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Grant had the lightest pack out of the three of us, and it still weighed over 30kg! Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Grant strategically positioning himself to take some photos of Gabe and I as we paddled on Hanging Lake. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

Well we had carried our rafts all the way up, so we thought we may as well go for a paddle! Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

A calm and still Hanging Lake. Pentax MX, Cinstill 800, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, Lena Valley, 14/3/2026.

Raftwalking in the South-West XII: Gorilla Ridge

“What is your vocation? To be a good person.”
-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 11.5

Fresh snow on Geeves Bluff. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 14

We started at 7am and opted for the more direct spur towards Gorilla Ridge. Because this was the more vegetated spur it was probably a bad call, it would have been quicker to do the detour (and involve a lot less effort). It was the extra creek crossing that was the main deterrent… as it was, we had to wade one small creek that came up to my knees. My right boot got saturated as we crossed. Wet feet get cold easier, it turns out!

Big King Billy Pines, Gorilla Ridge, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

We were straight into the bauera and it took us a solid 2 hours to cover 500m and climb 150m. Naturally, the scrub was wet as it rained about 45mm the day before. From the first little knoll, the going was consistently tough throughout the day with the forest being tangled and thick.

We saw large and ancient tea trees, west coast peppermints, plenty of horizontal then on the upper part of Gorilla Ridge the pandannis and also King Billy pines.

King Billy Detail.Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025. The end of the roll slipped a bit in the old Pentax so there are some double exposure overlays.

There was still a fair bit of snow on the ground from about 400m above sea level upwards and while the sun came out in the arvo, the scrub made us saturated and I got quite cold after lunch and had to put on a second pair of thermal leggings beneath my overpants. I’m pretty sure Grant just wore shorts beneath his overpants the whole day and was plenty warm enough. My feet were numb pretty much all day. Especially the right foot which met the creek earlier that morning.

Split King Billy, Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

King Billy and Scoparia(?), Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

Eventually we emerged out of the wet forest around 4pm and into some sub alpine scrub which we could finally see out of. Geeves Bluff rose up in front of us and while we only had about 1 km to go to Hanging Lake, we opted for a nice open campsite in a saddle with some small pools and friendly frogs and ancient King Billy pines keeping us company. (This was a good call as it took us a further 4.5 hours to complete the climb the next day). Our packs collected a lot of forest debris on the ascent which we shook out with some vigour at camp.

Late afternoon light, Geeves Bluff. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

Day 15.

The day dawned clear and we left our friendly open camp with its pools and croaking frogs around 730am. We called our campsite ‘Gorilla Pit’. It was actually quite lovely there and I would happily camp there again. Although that time in the future I do sincerely hope I will be on the way down Gorilla Ridge.

We ascended through dwarfed rainforest with our packs getting snagged many times. Eventually the vegetation transitioned to old growth scoparia that went well above our heads. We sidled at the base of the cliffs of Geeves Bluff and took an open-ish lead up a ramp to drop into the final sidle towards the main gully leading up to the ridge above Hanging Lake.

The final climb up the gully was open but steep, with the dwarfed scoparia providing excellent handrails on the snowy slope. From the top of the gully we still had to climb a bit further to get around Hanging Lake and we spent some time sitting on top of the Bluff, appreciating the view. We could see all the way from Bathurst Harbour to the Southern Ranges, with Geeves Bluff’s cliffs and a mist hidden Federation Peak providing some ambience.

The deep dark water of Hanging Lake was silent below. About 4.5 hours after we left the ‘Gorilla Pit’, we rolled into Hanging Lake Camp to find about half a foot of snow on the platforms.

Looking down at Lake Geeves. Pentax MX, Ilford XP 2 Super, Nov 2025.

-A.S. Brushy Creek, 7/3/26

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.