Waltzing Australia

Gordon River Cruise

[I arrived in Australia in August. Making my way around the continent, but late November, I reached Tasmania, Australia's island state. It is a gloriously green and mountainous state, parts of which are completely unexplored and possibly unexplorable. A few days into my visit, I took a cruise on the Gordon River.]

By noon we were in Strahan (pronounced “Straun”), a tiny center for crayfishing and tourism, best known for being the only town on Tasmania’s formidable west coast. We had a picnic lunch at the town’s edge, then strolled over to the landing at Macquarie Harbour for the beginning of a four-hour cruise up the Gordon River. The Gordon, which extends for 135 miles, is the longest river in Tasmania.

As we left the harbor, it seemed as if the entire day had turned blue and white. The sky and water were intensely blue, and the great mountains that surround the area shimmered a paler blue in the distance. There were great, billowing, white clouds, which seemed reflected by the glistening white of the mountains’ peaks and the narrow strips of white sand that border the water.

For the first few miles out of Macquarie Harbour, the river is paralleled by mountains, the most prominent of which is Frenchman’s Cap. The mountain is so called because it resembles the Phrygian caps commonly worn by French revolutionaries of the 18th century. This peak, along with the others in the range, appears to be covered by snow, but the gleaming mountaintops are, in reality, capped with pure-white quartzite.

As we moved farther inland, the forests on either side of the river became more and more dense. This is said to be the thickest, most impenetrable forest in the world. It is almost totally unexplored. It was because of this forest, and the surrounding, virtually impassable mountains, that this spot was used as a penal colony. There was no way out overland.

Much of the region is covered by myrtle rainforest, with patches of huon pine, blackwood, and celery top pine. The greatest impediment to traversing this area, however, was, and is, the “horizontal forest.” The horizontal tree (Anodopetalum biglandulosum) grows 15 to 30 feet tall, then bends under its own weight to a horizontal position. New branches also bend, and intertwine, until, in time, there is an impenetrable wall as much as 90 feet high. The only way across is literally to climb up and walk on top of the tangled mass. But if you fall through, you may not get out again.

As we returned down river, we saw a cluster of uneven, rocky humps rising out of the water to our left. This was once the most feared place in Tassie’s penal system. We passed Grummet Island, where defiant prisoners were incarcerated, and the ironically named Holiday Island, a cemetery named for the first convict buried there, and pulled in at Sarah, or Settlement, Island, the largest of the three. From 1821-1833, the worst, most unruly prisoners were sent to these isolated rock piles. Of 85 deaths on the islands during this time only 35 were of natural causes. More than a hundred convicts did escape, but 62 died in the bush, and nine were murdered by their comrades. Now, the past is only hinted at; buildings of hand-made brick and island stone stand in ruins, almost reclaimed by the island’s lush foliage.

We cruised out to Hell’s Gates, the entrance to Macquarie Harbour, a narrow channel bordered on one side by jagged rocks, on the other by a long sand bar. Tides rip through this opening, creating eddies and fierce surf. In addition, the west coast of Tasmania faces the Southern Ocean, with nothing between it and South America. Terrific storms sweep across thousands of miles of uninterrupted ocean to break on this shore. Twin lighthouses stand like sentries on either side of the wild passage where so many ships have been lost. We were told of one early lighthouse keeper who watched helplessly as the ship bearing his wife and children foundered on the rocks only a few dozen yards away.

Today the spot was serene and beautiful, giving no indication of its treacherous nature. A sleek, white fishing vessel passed us, though not under sail—it is not wise to trust the wind to carry you through such an inlet. The boat and the clean, white lighthouses stood out starkly against the deep blue of the water and sky. The only contrast to the pervasive blue and white was a swath of bright, green foliage running along the white-sand beaches and up to the lighthouses.

Reg Morrison, owner and pilot of the vessel on which we were cruising, was full of stories about the area. He and his brothers are among only a dozen or so people who have tried to traverse this wild region. In the late 1930s they went on expeditions to find and cut the rare stands of Tasmania’s valuable huon pine. Speed of travel was measured in miles per month, as they struggled through the rainforest and horizontal forest. They carved a path through the trees, but the trees seemed to close behind them. So dense was the foliage that there wasn’t even a break in the mass of green when they came to tributaries of the river—branches wove together in a solid wall over the water, hiding any changes in the terrain.

Macquarie Harbour is tinged a golden-brown hue, from the tannic acid produced by the rainforest that crowds around it. Once more, we crossed the tea-colored water, pulling into the boat mooring at Strahan at 5 p.m.

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