The air around Tyenna had that crisp, damp weight to it that only seems to exist in the Tasmanian wilderness. We woke to an overcast sky, the kind that makes the green of the paddocks look almost neon against the grey. Looking out across the fields, the mountains were playing hide and seek, with thick blankets of low cloud clinging to the timbered slopes and completely swallowing the peaks.
We decided it was a perfect day to head into the scrub for the walk to Marriotts Falls. It started out as a lovely, gentle stroll, following the river for the first half of the trek. The track was flat and easy underfoot, allowing us to really take in the sounds of the water rushing nearby. Lisa was in her element, pointing out every tiny detail in the undergrowth, while Steve was busy making sure we didn't miss any of the local fungi popping up through the damp earth. We even found one perfect little mushroom nestled amongst the brown, fallen ferns and moss.
About halfway along, the track decided it was time to give our legs a bit of a workout. It turned away from the river and started climbing into the hills, where the world suddenly became a sea of vibrant green ferns. It felt like walking through a prehistoric tunnel. The further we went, the more the track tested us; the final stretch turned into a bit of a muddy scramble. Steve had a bit of a dry chuckle watching Lisa try to navigate a particularly slippery, hilly patch without ending up wearing the scenery, but we both agreed the mud just added to the character of the place. If it had been a dry day, we might have missed that wonderful, earthy smell that the rain brings out of the soil.
The effort was more than worth it when we reached the falls. Marriotts Falls is a spectacular sight, a long, elegant drop of white water framed perfectly by ancient-looking tree ferns and moss-covered logs. We stood there for a good while, just the two of us, listening to the roar of the water and feeling the cool mist on our faces. The grandkids would have had a field day trying to climb over those fallen trunks, though we were quite happy to keep our boots on the ground and just soak in the view.
By the time we made it back, our boots were a fair bit heavier with Tyenna mud, but our spirits were high. There’s something about the quiet of the forest here that really stays with you long after you’ve cleaned your shoes.
