Marriott’s Falls Tasmania

A jungle strangely hidden on the edge of Mount Field National Park. Sinewy trees and open grassy areas where wombats graze merge into a dense forest of giant ferns and moist earth. A canopy high and heavy encloses a meandering track, the roof so low it feels claustrophobic at times. And then listening, the trickling water turns into a splash then a smashing on rocks as the track ends with fallen trees so thick with age and slippery with constant damp. Climbing over the heavy logs, surrounded by four walls, I sit in my own private space watching the earth wash itself.

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