AN EXCURSION TO THE WELLINGTON FALLS, BY THE EDITOR OF L.. THE HOBART TOWN COURIER. " " THE florid description given by a correspondent, of a stupendous cataract on the south-west portion of Mount Wellington, excited an interest in our mind, which nothing but an actual visit to the scenery described would satisfy. We considered that if, on inspection, the waterfall and its localities were found to be at all commensurate with the ideas conveyed in the communication, it was matter of regret that scenery of such imposing grandeur should longer remain hid from the world, and particularly from the admiration of the inhabitants of Hobart Town. . With these impressions, we determined personally to visit the "Great Falls of Mount Wellington;" and having found on actual investigation that the description given is no exaggeration, but if anything that it falls short of the actual grandeur of the scenery, we give our readers, and especially for the guidance of those who may wish to pay these remarkable falls a visit, a brief account of our interesting excursion. m. Having engaged our guide to be in attendance, with two men to carry three days' provision, in case of accident or unforeseen delay, we commenced our journey from Degrave's Mill at four o'clock in the morning, being accompanied by two friends; these, with the three guides and two volunteer assistants, made our party consist of eight individuals. We proceeded to ascend the mountain by what is called the “ middle path," selected by our guide as being not only the easiest and most gradual ascent, and affording the best views of the surrounding scenery, but also as developing in the greatest degree the botanical arrangement of the face of Mount Wellington, incident to the various climates through which it is necessary to pass before the summit can be attained. The outset of our expedition lay along roads formed, many years ago, for the convenience of timber carriage, traversing which beaten paths, even had there been sufficient light, would not have created further interest than is manifested by an excursion to any of the hills around the city. As daylight advanced, these mountain tracks gradually became less distinct, being now seldom used, till at sunrise we found ourselves on the "middle path," clear of all other beaten paths 1000 feet above the level of the sea. Here the different species of Eucalyptus, the prevailing timber tree, with one species of Acacia, attain to an immense magnitude, and the ground being at the same time free from underwood, allows these majestic trees an opportunity of developing their stately growth and huge proportions to the wondering eye of the tourist beneath them. VOL. VI.No. 22. OCTOBER, 1845. N For the next mile and a half the road proceeds in an oblique direction up the side of the hill. Here there is not much change in the species of vegetable productions; yet those already mentioned, gradually, as we ascend, assume a less growth, incident as well to the increasing scarcity of soil as to the effects of a more ungenial climate. At the upper end of this tract, where a hut is built, the soil becomes more scanty; its place being supplied by masses of basalt, the situation of which is the result, probably, of the same convulsion which gave being to the mountain itself. This hut, we were informed, is 1700 feet above the level of the sea. The road, for a short distance from the hut, is directly up the hill, and almost immediately on leaving it vegetation assumes a widely different character. Eucalyptus is still the predominant "lord of the forest ; but now it is attended by many beautiful and odoriferous species of plants, as underwood. Sassafras, Tasmania, Gaultheria, Richea, Sprengelia, Correa, Friesia, &c., are here in sufficient abundance to stock all the botanical gardens in the universe, delighting the tourist with the beauty or splendour of their flowers and seed-vessels, and gratifying him by the fragrance which they disseminate around. This scene is soon abruptly changed by one of those stupendous freaks of nature, which appear to have been occasionally enacted by her for the express purpose of forming exceptions to the rules by which geologists attempt to illustrate her actions. On attaining an altitude of 250 feet above the hut, further progress appears to be arrested by a precipice 50 feet high. On inspection, this abrupt rock is found to be sandstone! Reposing on the bosom of one of the highest basaltic masses in the world, 1500 feet above the visible base, and 2000 feet below the summit of the basalt, with the same material extending for miles around, is a small table of the purest freestone, well adapted for the purposes of architecture. The top of this table is attained by steps formed in one of the crevices in its side. Here vegetable productions undergo quite as sudden a change as is exhibited in the mineral kingdom. If the extreme scantiness of the soil upon and around this rock were not sufficient to expose the sudden transition that had taken place from one formation to another, the alteration in the genera and growth of plants would itself be sufficient to create inquiry. Eucalyptus, still predominant, is stunted and shrubby, and the underwood entirely changed; Boronia, Andersonia, Oxylobium, Phelabium, and Pultenea are now general, but they merely prevail to the extent wherein the sandstone appears, which is about 70 yards from north to south, and 100 from east to west, having a perfectly level summit of that extent, three sides of which are precipitous, and the west side running to the acclivity of the mountain. Here we have one of the most interesting views, obtainable during the tour, of the City, with its shipping; the sinuosities of the river, with its bays, peninsulas, and islands-Pittwater, Frederick Henry Bay, Storm Bay extending to the south as far as the eye can reach. To the east we even obtained a distant glimpse of the South Pacific Ocean, between two high hills, a chain of which was pointed out to us as being Tasman's Peninsula. This spot is admirably adapted for a pic-nic, and with but trifling labour in one portion of the ascent hither, is to be made easily accessible for ladies. A spring or well close by of pure water is called "Dickinson's Well," after the name of our guide, to whom we are indebted for all the botanical pleasures of our journey. In his early rambles up the mountain, being struck with the enchanting views obtained from this favoured spot, he formed this small basin for the reception of the water trickling from the rock, and for the convenience of parties who might in future visit the place. The White Patch, as this rock from its appearance is named, is considered 2000 feet above the level of the sea, or about half the altitude of the mountain. Our path now took a southerly course, and ran parallel to the base of the hill for about two miles; this course was judiciously chosen by our guide, to attain the less precipitous and least obstructed part by which to surmount the remaining acclivity. On this part of the road we sat down to a sumptuous bush breakfast, already prepared by two of the party who had preceded us for that purpose to the well previously mentioned. On this spot most of the trees are dead, and everything manifests signs of a less genial climate. About 200 yards before we reached the place at which we left the forest path to mount the unbeaten mountain brow, we passed a subterraneous waterfall, the hollow rumbling noise of which is slight at this period of the year, but like an earthquake in the rainy season, as if pouring into an enormous cavern. The place of divergence from the path, upon which much future ease or difficulty depends, is not marked, but appears to be left to the judgment of the guide; and to his experience of the locality of the mountain more or less exertion is either caused or avoided in the further ascent, as the case may be, and "now comes the tug of war!" In continuing to ascend, nearly all the plants abounding in the mountain gradually disappear, and are replaced by others of more hardy genera. The Eucalyptus, determined to be supreme, still struggles for existence, even to the mountain top, but there can assume no more imposing an appearance than a stunted shrub. At 250 feet of altitude, the Hakea is remarkable for its singular pine-like leaves and white blossoms. A little higher commences the famous Waratah, the beautiful scarlet blossoms of which are very attractive at this season of the year. The locality of both the last-mentioned plants is confined to a belt about 1000 feet wide; perhaps the latter ranges a little higher in favourable situations. Near to and upon the summit the plants are very remarkable to the eye of one who seldom quits the plain; the foliage, the flowers, or the seed-vessels, having generally some striking characteristic to attract attention-Epacrida (an extensive tribe), Lisanthe, Andersonia, Monotocca, the Mountain Richea, and numbers of others, are in bloom at every step. We reached the mountain summit at half-past 8 A.M, in prime order to prosecute our further investigations. Unfortunately the last 500 feet had to be encountered through a fog, which, on attaining our present position, was more dense, and as we proceeded along the plain towards the Falls became a drizzling rain, which soon claimed a closer intimacy with our bush clothing than was absolutely pleasant, but could not however damp our spirits. Moreover, our landmarks were enveloped, and we depended alone upon the skill and care of our guide to pilot us over the somewhat coarse Turkey carpet spread on the mountain top. At half-past nine we reached the commencement of the bed of the stream which drains the plain at the top of Mount Wellington, and, in part supplies the Falls. Down this bed, consisting of huge rocks, increasing in magnitude as you descend, we proceeded, à-la-kangaroo, by hops and jumps, (dancing the Polka is a joke compared to the exertion requisite to be kept up for about four miles,) until a cheer, bursting from the foremost of our party, announced to the rear our near proximity to the great object of our toil. And now all were brought to a stand-each became silent-gazing with admiration at the wonderful and magnificent works of nature here exhibited. An abrupt fall of twenty or thirty feet compels the visitor to halt; beneath him the waters are received into a basin, and flowing over an edge are at once lost to view. This edge is the top of the Great Fall. On looking to discover what is become of the water, the spectator beholds immediately before him an enormous chasm, on each side of which the basaltic rock, assuming its columnar form, rises to a far greater altitude than the place from which he is now viewing the magnificent scene. The base of these columns, the bottom of the chasm, cannot be seen, in consequence of the depth and extreme narrowness of the rent, which appears to proceed at a right angle from the bed of the river. To obtain a view of this tremendous rent, it now becomes necessary, first, to ascend the hill, then to preceed along the bush for a short distance, and finally to descend a very precipitous path until you reach the bottom of the towering basaltic columns, from the summit of which the liquid element is now seen rushing headlong down. We proceeded up the chasm described by Tyro, till the spray of the cataract fell in a shower around us, from whence viewing the majestic fall, the stupendous precipices on either side, and the magnificent and beautiful scenery by which the whole is enclosed, we feel the attempt difficult-if, indeed, it would not prove abortive to describe the ensemble of the scene, which will affect individuals differently according as the taste and perceptions of the grand and sublime in nature have received cultivation. It is to be regretted that our little party, suddenly formed, were not prepared to measure the height of the cataract, which, in our estimation, is about 200 feet. Upon this point there is a difference of opinion; our guide estimates the height at 150, while some few individuals who profess to have visited the spot give a much meaner altitude to these romantic Falls. The summit of the basaltic columns on each side of the Falls appear to be fifty or sixty feet higher. After feasting our eyes for some moments with the wild and romantic scenery by which this place is surrounded, having attained the object of our search, we were unwillingly compelled, before we had sufficient time fully to satisfy our admiration, to retrace our steps by the same route which we had already traversed in approaching the Falls. It is the opinion of our guide-and from his knowledge of the mountain we doubt not he is correct-that an easy horse road may be made from the city along the south-east acclivity of Mount Wellington, which would. obviate the necessity of an ascent of some 700 or 1000 feet, and make the Falls approachable by a not very difficult ride of 10 miles. If this be the case, it is highly desirable that such a road should be immediately commenced, and we would recommend subscriptions to be opened for that purpose; the funds collected to be at the disposal of a committee, who shall see it properly expended in the object for which it is subscribed. The vegetation on the margin of the stream, along which we had to ascend, is very different from the city side of the mountain; but the ruggedness of the road, combined with the continual drizzling rain, prevented accurate attention to the vegetable kingdom. By 3 o'clock we had returned to where the stream leaves the plain on the mountain top. Here we again halted our now weary limbs, having procured keen appetites from the length of the journey, and the incessant exertion of skipping and jumping from rock to rock, both up and down. the bed of the river. At this place, on each side of the watercourse, the basalt assumes a most singular appearance; the whole plain appears very roughly paved with huge blocks, each of which leans towards the direction taken by the stream, exhibiting a "regular confusion," which, viewed from a distance, gives the country the appearance of roughly-ploughed land; and not a single plant appearing between these masses of stone, assists in the delusion. The sight of this strange and remarkable frolic of nature is alone sufficient to repay a visit to this grand depôt of natural curiosities. Our return across the plain exercised the experience of our guide to the utmost, the denseness of the fog completely precluding the sight of all objects at a greater distance than 10 or 15 yards. Furthermore, the irregularity of the "heather" put our pedestrian abilities to the test, and induced us to remark, that a carpet, with the ends of the threads cut shorter, would be more in unison with the now increasing tenderness of our feet. On attaining the eastern acclivity, the peril of attempting a descent in a fog struck us most forcibly. Any one portion of this precipice first struck upon, in coming from the plain, will appear to the unpractised eye exactly like all the others, and without great circumspection and care on the part of our guide we might have commenced our descent either in the direction of Brown's River or that of New Norfolk, or of any of the intervening places. An examination of the nature and growth of the plants around us seemed, however, sufficient for him; and after a little delay, required under the circumstances to bring conviction to his mind of being in the proper direction, we commenced our descent at half-past four. This downward portion of our journey was the least agreeable; and after struggling through the fog and the scrub, and over the rocks for a good clock hour, which seemed to us like two full hours rolled into one, we found ourselves once more in the "middle path," within 100 yards of the very place which we left in the morning to commence our ascent. All difficulties being now considered as surmounted, we agreed to proceed round to the stream, or "springs" as it is called, which supplies, or rather ought to supply, the town with water. We gratified ourselves with a view of this useful watercourse; and wondering by what clever |