The forest that smelted away

I have been in Tasmania for 3 and a half weeks now. Started out working on an organic family farm and have now been on the bike for a week pedalling through the Tassie wilderness with scent of Eucalyptus often pleasuring my nostrils. The rainforests have treated me well with wildlife a plenty. I've been lucky enough to spot a quoll, two echidnas, an endemic dragonfly (the Tasmanian redspot -the only dragonfly in its family), a tiger-snake and countless birds, wallabies and pademelons. The flora has been educational in walking amongst virtual relics with known ancestors from Gondwana, including myrtles and beeches. Each walking track peppered amongst the climbs and descents on the Troll have been informative and phylisophical. 

Tasmanian parks staff have put their heart and souls into signage that digs deep into the geological, ecological, anthropological and cultural history of the respective area. Each sign fills the reading visitor (foreign or otherwise) with wonder, awe, inspiration and a personal connection to the wilderness they are beholding such that I feel personally responsible for the wellbeing of said wilderness.

The wellbeing of the local flora and fauna seems of utmost importance to Tasmanians and this impression is strengthened by the pace at which the weary cycle tourist moves. I spent days in the Tasmanian wilderness (mind you, along major roads for the most part, but within National and State Parks nonetheless) whereas the average local and foreign tourist reading the same signs as I am spend a few hours. Perhaps my perspective is indeed skewed because of this difference in pace and the impact is greater for me than the motorists I share the road with. The heartbreak incurred upon slowly turning a corner after comfortably biking through a gorgeous expansive valley surrounded by picturesque mountains to find defaced mountains, scarred by greed for fool's gold is perhaps heightened for the turtle-paced Troll trekkers compared to the motoring hares. 

A beautiful expansive valley, but turn the corner and...

                                                          ...defaced mountains.

Queenstown is a sad place for Tasmania and I feel for those who wrote the interpretive signs in the Tassie wilderness as they must feel a great deal more heartbroken than I each time they venture to the Great Western Wilderness of Tasmania.

Indeed, western Tasmania has tantalized my visual senses with beautiful mountains and lakes, but it has a dark history of mining. The extent of this history perhaps lessens any negative emotions evoked by Queenstown and surrounding area as these are not fresh wounds. Whatever the current emotions felt by Tasmanians, I thank those involved for the movements in the '80's that opened local and international eyes to the atrocities occurring in the Tasmanian wilderness. These activist movements are the reason whyTasmania has a massive Wilderness World Heritage Site in the middle of the state and why the infamous Franklin River is not damned -both of which are major reasons behind the success in tourism here.

 

Tasmania's Wilderness World Heritage Site has been devestated by fire this past week. The fires were started by lightening. The increase in lightening is the result of increase in severity and occurrence of storms. The increase in severity and storm occurrence is the result of climate change. Climate change is the result of certain human activities. Does the good fight to protect Tasmania's wilderness, the very passion behind creating Tasmania's Wilderness World Heritage Site, still exist here? Does it exist elsewhere? Can we fight with as much passion and determination to stop taking from the earth as those who did in the '80s?

 "As you retrace your steps, consider what impressions of this place you'll take with you. Think of the ages of complex processes that have made this place what it is. Think too of the processes -natural or human- that may change a place like this."