Tasmania’s Old River Valley
Geoff Mosley makes a journey with an abrupt end into the wild heart of Southwest Tasmania
Have you ever wanted to be in the very heart of a big wilderness area? It is something I have desperately wanted for over 30 years. For myself and a few friends this dream destination has always been the Old River Valley, an area lying beyond the Eastern Arthur Range in the Southwest Tasmania Wilderness Area. Access to the Old, as I will call it, is either from the east via Geeves Bluff and Gorilla Ridge in the Eastern Arthur Range, or from the west by way of the Port Davey region. In the nineteenth century the area was traversed by a number of explorers, including the legendary T.B. Moore. If they cut any tracks none have survived and modern bushwalkers are very much on their own in this wonderful wilderness.
Our dream was finally realised when we went in from Bathurst Harbour in January, 2009. There were three in the party: John Mosley (my son), Andrew Hyde and myself. The reader will better understand how sweet our journey was if I tell you that for John and I this was the fourth attempt on the Old and the third attempt for Andrew.
It all began in 1978 when the weather turned bad and John and I gave up on our Old quest at the top of Luckmans Lead in the Eastern Arthurs. It was apprehension about what awaited us in the Old that made us turn back, and this was essentially the same reason for us giving up on two further attempts in the summers of 1995/96 and 1997/98. On both these occasions looking down on the Old from a saddle near Geeves Bluff, the feelings of trepidation in our party were so high that we reluctantly did other things.
Since the unsuccessful 1997/98 trip had begun with the prior circulated invocation ‘Do not fear the Old’, the prospects for a successful fourth attempt might have been poor except for the fact that once we were dropped off in Bathurst Harbour, near the Old River mouth, there was no going back.
Our 2009 trip began uncertainly as we had no idea where Par Avion was going to drop us off. The best we could get out of them was ‘on the southern shore’, meaning south of the Old River Estuary. After leaving Melaleuca Inlet and heading out into the open water of the harbour the boat speeded up, waves crashing over us. At 4pm the skipper peered at the shoreline, spotting a pebbly beach; we knew that the time for the start of our walk was near. To avoid damage to the underside of the boat the skipper reversed in, and we jumped out into the water, Andrew falling over. After waving goodbye to the rapidly disappearing crew, in sodden boots we climbed a spur of the Ray Range and soon made our way to our first campsite a kilometre or so from Ngyena Creek.
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