queue for M.O.N.A. ferry & inspiring words from Richard Flanagan and James McQueen
from campsite at "The Junction" of Collingwood River and Franklin River, 29.12.13
Franzi (fantastic Franklin River Rafting guide) on the rocks at Irenabyss, Franklin River, 30.12.13
view from Dean and Hawkins campsite, Franklin River, 31.12.13
Coruscades rapid, Franklin River, 1.1.14
Tea-Tree at Black Forest campsite, Franklin River, 3.1.14
sharing Blackman's Bend campsite with a trio of kayakers, Franklin River, 4.1.14
Karen & Steve at Blackman's Bend campsite, Franklin River, 5.1.14
Slippery black tongue slides lazily forward
Hastening as it falls into the clashing confusion of Thunder-Rush,
Thunder rushing, erupting...
An all consuming rumble,
Of relentless power,
Tea-stained water that would so readily run through fingers,
Here piles into waves,
Holds, pins, grips, stops -
The foaming, frothing mouth of a giant.
River churn, rock push,
River suck, rock squeeze.
Drink, drawn, drunk down,
Through a jumble of jutting Quartzite molars,
Spat out as sparkling strings of pearls,
Spewed into flat pools below.
Ribbons of lace released from the rapid,
To rapidly entwine and unravel,
Forming fleeting constellations that dance across dark glass,
Before dissolving, disappearing, or drifting downstream.
Flung forward -
The most delicate and the most powerful,
The most beautiful and the most terrifying,
To rise and fall as one,
In the ever-changing, ever-flowing Franklin.
Annika Romeyn, Thunder-Rush Rapid, Franklin River, 5.1.14
returning from Franklin River across Macquarie Harbour aboard "Stormbreaker", 7.1.14
Solomon's Throne from The Temple, Walls of Jerusalem National Park, 11.1.14
view south of Hobart from Mt Wellington, 14.1.14
Whitewater Wall, Freycinet Peninsula, 17.1.14
Cook's Beach Nightfall, Freycinet Peninsula, 17.1.14
A Scribbly-Bark scroll among writhing roots,
Writ with reminders,
Of the smooth trunk where it once clung,
To be crunched under a clumsy boot.
Splayed before a crackling chorus of skeleton leaves,
Laid on a bed of ashes,
Dust, dirt and gravel.
Buried beneath a splintered sentinel,
Weathered grey shell ribbed with charcoal,
Charcoal deeply furrowed like the hide of a crocodile,
Charcoal as black as black as...
Black is the Tasmanian Tiger Snake,
Paused beside the path.
as my heart is.
Then quick, racing,
The snake races, tracing graceful curves,
Weightless as it winds its way out of sight.
A commanding retreat -
Clumsy boots permitted,
To continue -
Continue their snap-crackle,
Snap, crackle, snap, crackle...
Annika Romeyn, Freycinet Peninsula Circuit Track, 18.1.14
Kelp at Policeman's Point, Bay of Fires, 19.1.14
Gulch Point, Mt William National Park, 20.1.14
Colin at Cradle Mountain Campsite, 22.1.14
Sandstone shrouds eroded to reveal
Staggering spires and stuttering peaks.
Squeezed up and squared off,
Once molten and malleable, thin sticks of Dolerite,
Stand together, huddled tight,
To hold off the deluge of crystal clear blue sky
That hopes to creep down through clean-cut vertical cracks,
To cascade over Scoparia scrub
And pour down on golden Button-Grass plains...
While at the summit, looking out,
I soak in every drop.
Annika Romeyn, Cradle Mountain, 1st day on Overland Track, 23.1.14
Waterfall Valley Campsite, Overland Track, 23.1.14
Driven backward by stinging wind,
Driven forward by strange desire -
To see beyond the quick grey curtain,
That rushes up hillside,
And rolls across mountaintop.
Trailing wisps brush boulders,
With a feathery touch that belies
The stubbornness of this dense billowing mass
That settles on Summit,
And wraps us in a bright white cocoon.
Calm at its centre,
We are cushioned for a moment,
From jagged rock and changing weather,
Cut off from all but the closest cairns.
Steep scree slopes,
And silvery snaking boardwalks,
Suddenly seem worlds away.
Annika Romeyn, Barn Bluff, 2nd day on Overland Track, 24.1.14
Windemere Lake, Overland Track, 24.1.14
A tangle of twisted roots reach upward,
Stretching to surface above suffocating mud.
The rainforest breathes deep,
Moist on my neck.
A fresh green film laid,
On branch, on boulder.
We burrow through leafy corridors,
Clamber and climb - reach upward -
To emerge above canopy.
We dream of dinner on cliff-edge,
Together, drinking in views,
Filling ourselves with the farthest reaches.
Instead sullen faces stare into the bowl below,
Cloud soup tastes heavy in my mouth.
Salty sweat mingles with spitting rain.
Laboured spoonfuls, defeated footsteps,
But when the bowl is drained,
We catch a glimpse.
A shining lake - a glint of hope,
Then slowly, gradually, our reprieve,
A short break, a lift,
A golden rim on distant horizon.
Mountains, as if magic, reach upward and rise to the surface.
Annika Romeyn, Mt Oakleigh, 3rd day on Overland Track, 25.1.14
How to comprehend...
This acid green island in the sky?
An alien oasis atop sheer cliffs.
Colonies of Cushionplants lie low
In late afternoon light,
At rest, on flat-topped Mt Ossa.
Tasmania's highest point
Holds gifts guarded -
A gleaming pond,
Unseen from neighbouring towers,
Known only to those,
Who dare to climb,
To peer over the rim in surprise,
And to spend golden hours,
Held, forever precious, in mind's eye.
Annika Romeyn, Mt Ossa, 4th Day on Overland Track, 26.1.14
Hartnett Falls, 27.1.14
Hot sun finds hidden heights,
Hikers haul laging limbs
Up rocky ridge.
Hands grasp gritty contours,
Grateful fingers grip shallow cracks.
Pull, push, up and over,
Scramble towards brilliant sky.
A cool gust,
Offers short relief, but sharp reminder:
This sharp summit would not hesitate
To burst those bloated clouds,
That peek out from peaks beyond the Labyrinth below.
A sign to move on.
Another push, another step, another rise...
Perched atop the Acropolis,
Gust feels like gale.
Blown off balance,
By strength of wind...
Blown away by endless beauty.
Annika Romeyn, The Acropolis, 6th Day on Overland Track, 28.1.14