Day 27: 19 March 2010 Pandani Walk, Mt Field National Park

Well, it did rain last night. Poured all night. Two thin films of tenty type stuff between us and some of the 1.5 metres of rain that falls every year in this spot. But the inside of the tent stayed perfectly, surprisingly dry. Thankyou, modern technology. A bit mucky on the ground but we're out walking all day, so who cares?

Son Wim is 28 today. I remember being 28: I was having my first baby, had been seven years in the workforce, had spent 12 months backpacking in Europe and Scandinavia, had a mortgage and had already planted my first garden. The years between 28 and 58 seemed to go by in a whirr of children, career, houses, gardens, rushing about. This trip is my first time of extended, unhurried travel since age 25. And also a time for taking stock really, and thinking about what choices the future offers. We are blessedly healthy, and our stock-take about life essentially comes down to going on loving eachother, and pursuing eudemonia. This beautiful word means "happiness resulting from living a rational active life". So, in the spirit of eudemonia, we put on our hiking boots and set off.

Russell Falls in Mt Field National Park has been a protected area since 1885, a remarkably long time. The beautiful walk to these falls must have astounded old world visitors from the 19th century with its lush ferny humid shade, mossy logs and general Lord of the Rings atmosphere. We continued on from the heavily visited foot of the first falls to the much quieter top, then on up to Horseshoe Falls. Here the sun shafts on the misted air gave an ethereal mystical effect. A brown trout circled in the little bottom pool, showing us its white gape as it snapped at insects. It seemed to know they are protected up here. Further up there are the Lady Barron falls, and beyond there, a walk in old growth wet eucalypt forest, amid the truly awesome wooden columns of eucalyptus regnans, the tallest flowering plants on the planet. You have to lean way, way back from the massive base of these giants if you want to see the crown, 90m up in the sky.

Back at the camp we debated whether to do another walk, as late as it was. Of course adventure won over common sense, and we found ourselves driving up the mountain towards Lake Dobson late in the afternoon, just as all the more organised tourists were heading back the other way. But it was worth it, because the drive was spectacular, climbing up through ferny forest into alpine scenery and ending at what constitutes Tasmania's premier skiing area. I had no idea there was skiing, and even six ski clubs in this part of Tasmania. Its a bit last-century it seems, with a rope-tow as the lift, but no doubt spiffing good fun. Anyway, the reason for our drive was the Pandani Grove nature walk, which proved itself to be in the top three of the Tasmanian walks we did. Skirts the edge of Lake Dobson, a large alpine tarn, and unrolls a fascinating display of alpine plants the like of which we had never seen on the mainland. Many go back to Gondwana times and have survived because of the cool moist climate of this area. We walked and squawked, look at this, look at this, for about an hour before the dusk began to close in and we lost our nerve to continue, not wanting to be found expired of hypothermia beside the track in the morning by more organised visitors. It was great to get back in the car. The tent was dry, we slept like logs.