THE

HIDDEN
PATH
NOT 20 MINUTES FROM THE CENTRE OF HOBART, AT REVEALS
ONE OF TASMANIAS MOST PLEASURABLE AND CONVENIENT
WALKING AND CYCLING TRAILS. WORDS AND IMAGES BY NICOLE GILL

OUNT WELLINGTON IS A PLACE

valley, following us as we walk. The rst section is

common stone to gold. All the rocks have been

of many secrets. Its Hobarts most

steep and sinuous, snaking its way back and forth

carefully placed, each interlocking with its neighbour.

visible landmark, but is lled with many

across the ridgeline through a landscape of complex

Already the plants are moving in, bright green

hidden places. One such place is the path that

textures and forms. Late blooms of Christmas bush

seedlings coiling from cracks between the stones.

leads to Wellington Falls.

strew the path, fuzzy white owers with violet-

Meandering through the landscape like a wilful

ecked throats. Great boulders, split asunder by

above the path: a setting t for a tea party. The table

watercourse, the Wellington Falls Track is an

time and weather, display intricate lichen mosaics,

is a at-topped boulder, presided over by a log

extended piece of installation art. No duckboards

while neon bursts of young fern fronds startle with

throne. Two wedges of wood have been fashioned

mar its passage; no rails of steel guard its edges.

their crimson against quieter browns and greens.

into short stools. A smaller rock functions as another

For this is a path where old techniques have been

As the slope increases, small stone drainage

made new, where indigenous materials provide the

backbone for a track of sophisticated simplicity.
Not so much an imposition on the landscape as a
dialogue with the environment through which it ows.
Its mid-summer, and the air is drowsy with the
sweet vanilla scents of the owering mountain
heaths. The dissonant warble of a currawong
echoes across the slopes. Although the day is
warm, the hidden path is shadow-dappled and
cool. Weve pedalled along the Pipeline Track
from the old school house in nearby Neika and

seat. We pause a while, nibbling on chocolate.

A little further along, in the middle of a scree eld,

YOUNG GUMS, ARM AND

THIGH THICK, CROWD
TOGETHER ALONG THE
TRACK, THEIR TRUNKS
ENCASED IN POSSUMCLAWED BARK.

stashed our bikes near the base of the walking

we encounter the rst of several rock sculptures.

A smooth, steep-sided cone shaped from local
dolerite shards, this stylised cairn sits quietly by
the path, marking the way for waterfall pilgrims.
Young gums, arm and thigh thick, crowd
together along the track, their trunks encased
in possum-clawed bark. Passing them by, we
descend a stone staircase anked by more rock
sculptures, leading us to the Wellington Falls
lookout and the vista below. A fallen eucalypt,
bone-bleached by the elements, provides a barrier

trail. A traditionally built dry-stone wall marks the

features traverse the track. No water runs through

at the edge. Set back from it, a smooth-topped

beginning of this unusual track as it begins its

them today its unusually dry, and parched brown

slab of gum rests atop a base of neat-stacked

winding journey up the ridge and along the

mosses line the path. We round a bend and nd

stones, forming a low bench for alfresco lounging.

contours towards Wellington Falls.

ourselves at the foot of a stone staircase that

We clamber on top of the log and watch the water

falling down to the rocks below.

Constructed barely three years ago now, this

ascends to a rough-hewn bench. Jack-jumper

path was formed to allow walkers to safely skirt an

ants guard the stairs, high-stepping about the

area of the Pipeline Track obstructed by a landslip.

stones in their shiny, chitinous armour.

Led by Snapper John Hughes, one of Australias

Australian Traveller

We spy another of the tracks diversions perched

We move into the land of endemic richeas. Rising

most esteemed track builders, a team of a dozen

like mountain spirits, they rattle their branches at us

people took six months to hand build the trail.

as we pass. Small, fat, olive-brown birds utter like

Rising above a tangle of gum and wattle, the

leaves between the trees. The path rises to meet a

weathered face of Cathedral Rock looms across the

curving dry-stone wall. The late afternoon light turns

The rst whiff of evening oats in on the breeze.

We turn away from the falls, mount the staircase
once more, and slip back into the folds of the
hidden path.

Australian Traveller 55