A Tasmanian journey
Lost in the highlands
May 2, 2011 | Russ Graysonby Russ Grayson. First published 2001.
“TURN 180 degrees to your right now. We are on the other side of the button grass plain. Look for our orange marker”.
Figure in a landscape—walking the Tasmanian high country
May 2, 2011 | Russ Graysonby Russ Grayson. Originally published 2002.
TO CLIMB or not? That was the debate I held with myself on the walk up from the Waldheim road head.
To the summit, one last time
May 2, 2011 | Russ Grayson… Russ Grayson. Originally published 2002.
Early summer, 1980…
“Here, take hold of this”. Peter leans out and offers the end of a length of nylon climber’s tape to Robert. “Pass it to Keith”.
Home from the mountains— a stopover in Ouse
December 2, 2010 | Russ GraysonI remember her then. Checked wool shirt of the kind favored by bushwalkers and outdoor types. Warm wool trousers, dull khaki in colour. Petite wire framed glasses balanced on a delicate nose. Blonde hair tied back I’m bunches. Chunky leather boots. Pack on back.
Going to Launceston? Just don’t breathe too deep
July 11, 2009 | Russ Grayson | 3 CommentsCAUGHT BETWEEN rapacious extractive industry on one hand and the sublime beauty of nature on the other, Tasmania remains a paradox in the Australian political landscape. Now, there’s something else to add to the offshore contradiction that is this southern island state—Launceston’s air.
City in memory
December 29, 2008 | Russ GraysonI’VE WALKED THESE STREETS BEFORE, a long time ago… through Prince’s Square, along Charles Street, turn into The Quadrant then into Brisbane Street and up to City Park.
Misadventure on the way to the Walls
July 20, 2004 | Russ GraysonTasmania, some time in the 1970s.
CLAAAANG! Someone slams the car door and the party sets off into the early evening gloom of the rainforest. A short slope leads from the forestry road to the Fish River.
Just a minor incident
July 20, 2002 | Russ GraysonTasmania, the late 1970s.
UP AND UP. Through a dark, wet forest of towering trees. Along a rough track that never saw the work of a maintenance gang. Squishing through muddy patches, slowing as we climb the steeper sections. All familiar stuff to mountain walkers.
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