It was 1979, people were angry, people who didn’t want to lose something. The oft despised Greenies were out in force, a forest was in peril, 300-year-old blackbox and brushbox trees were listed to be cut down and 300 protesters dug in for starters.
A rally of 2,000 people eventually woke the government up and an impact study was set up. Its findings led to a national park being declared in 1984 called Nightcap. In the year 2000 they discovered a tree for the first time and called it the Nightcap Oak.
I’d seen the protests on TV and wondered what all the fuss was about, wondered for a long time in fact. Wondered for 35 years, but my curiosity never abated. It was that when Lorraine and I went house sitting at Skennars Head, I noted that Protesters was within striking distance and we pencilled in a day to visit this place.
Strong winds had pounded the seas for days and some rain had arrived with them but, on our allocated day we drive inland beneath sunny skies and soft white clouds, skirting Lismore and plunging further north, up past The Channon and into alternative life style country. Here voluminous vines cluttered up fence lines, secondary growth shielded houses from prying eyes and the road turned from bitumen to gravel.
There’s a sense when you enter places like this; a sense of peace, a sense of quiet, a feeling of freshness. At the end of this entry road there’s a ford and then a carpark. Had we known better we’d have parked before we crossed the ford; reason being that once you unpacked, dressed properly and were on your way, you had to come back across the concrete ford which entailed taking your footwear off to get through Terania Creek.
As you entered the walkway to the falls, it wasn’t brushbox or blackbox that caught your eye, it was the vast amounts of piccabeen palms with their lichen lined trunks, tubular root systems and voluminous discarded fronds. The abstract patterns they formed were a constant distraction, as was the occasional strangler fig and different fungi that we stumbled across.
Then we came to the bridge, also know as a series of planks across the stream. It was here that a returning couple tipped us off about a resting reptile only about 50m further on and that set our blood racing. With wary step we trod, eyes wide open and nerves at the ready. Finally we saw the resting python, whose aura was as benign as a pet dog and it moved not from its curled position while we rattled off numerous images. It’s not often you get a chance to get that close to a reptile and feel safe.
The creek’s waters were so clear, a fact that attracts the endangered Fleay’s frog apparently and you are requested not to swim in the water to avoid endangering it even more.
The steps are few but they get tricky towards the end and I had to assist Lorraine near the falls proper. The drop was much higher than I imagined, just over the 25m mark and more than you could cover with a normal camera wide angle lens. Tall palms sit atop a ledge halfway up on one side while the other has mosses where weeping water exudes from the cracks.
The walk had been only short, you can get up and back in an hour, but the beauty of it all made it easy to understand why it was worthy of preservation. From the red berries to the moth in its last hour there was an ecosystem worth showing your grandchildren and letting them know they, too, would be able to show their grandchildren.
We ticked our next box by calling into the hotel at The Channon. Once the inn had been a butter factory and now the spacious interior lent itself well to becoming a pub. Lorraine decided the fare on offer wasn’t to our liking so we had a drink in the rustic surrounds before leaving.
On our return journey we made a beeline for a place called Eltham where there’s a place called The Pantry, noted for its food. A journey through picturesque country lanes and verdant fields made for a pleasant sojourn but when we arrived and walked up to the establishment it appeared all was not in order. Indeed, it was not; opening day was tomorrow and assorted carpentry implements and hoses were scattered across the main entry to the verandah.
A chirpy young English couple greeted us and explained they were taking it over and hadn’t quite finished. The girl was quite ebullient and stories of their background flooded forth. It transpired that he had worked with some notable chefs, including two of TV fame, while she had the air of a good organiser. Unfortunately, they had no food but, so as not to disappoint us, she offered a coffee and hot chocolate, the former, according to Lorraine, the best she’d ever tasted. They are the sort of couple you can only wish well, especially if hard work and good personality count for anything. We certainly plan to revisit, perhaps you might too. Who knows, you might even get lunch there!
Proudly Australian owned and operated
