New England Tablelands Part 1: Ebor Falls

Many people don’t think of Australia as mountainous, yet the Great Dividing Range is the third longest mountain range in the world at 3,500km. This pretty much runs down the eastern length of the country and includes Australia’s highest mountain, Mount Kosciuszko which is 2,228m. I live in Yamba on the New South Wales coast. It sits on the mouth of the Clarence River, one of the largest rivers in Australia. Its headwater is on the eastern slopes of the Northern Tablelands (or New England Tablelands) which form part of the longer Great Dividing Range as it passes through NSW.

The great thing is that I can get there in 2-3 hours. Where I am I enjoy the the best of both worlds - living on the coast, but with mountains and something wilder not too far away from me, especially considering the vast geography of Australia. Nonetheless, a 4-6 hour roundtrip is not to be sniffed at and uses up a $60 tank of petrol and about $20 of munchies.

When I visit I tend to camp overnight to make the most of my time and the journey, allowing myself to explore longer and further, and to increase my chances of good light. I particularly love having a night or two away camping with the camera. It truly feels like getting away from it all, I can just forget about everything and become fully immersed in the landscape and my photography. Blissful, but adventurous.

I’ve been to the closer parts of the Tablelands a few times, but a couple of weeks ago I headed further south to the area around New England National Park for a short recce trip ahead of a longer trip in Autumn. The New England NP sits on the ‘Waterfall Way’, a road that travels from Coffs Harbour, on the east coast, inland over the mountains to Armadale. Though called the Waterfall Way, it wasn’t the waterfalls so much as the wild and expansive mountains that I was wanting to explore. If you want to take a look at the area the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service (NPWS) do really good visitor guides for the National Parks (download the PDF here).

After a 3 hour and, towards the end, very windy drive I arrived in Ebor atop the wide mountain plateau. It's quite strange up here. At 1,300m elevation Ebor is a good deal higher than any of Scotland’s mountains. Yet the terrain is rather flat - perhaps unsurprising given that it’s a plateau! With gentle undulations and wide grassy expanses, this is cattle country. Not exactly what you expect to find at the top of a mountain. It's also quite temperate. Down on the coast the temperatures are close to 30C. Up here I don’t recall it reaching 20C and the nights were a wee bit chilly. It even snows! More my natural environment really.

Ebor is known for a series of rather stunning waterfalls, where the Guy Fawkes River plunges off the plateau and over the escarpment edge. Beyond, the river winds through the gorges of the Guy Fawkes River National Park. It is these escarpments and gorges that make the area particularly beautiful. I’ve yet to find out why the river is named after my ancestor, but it gives me a strangely warming feeling being so far from home. As does Armidale the ‘original’ (well, it's actually spelt Arm-A-dale) being on the southwest tip of the Isle of Skye, close to my more recent ancestors' old croft.

There are two lookouts close to the car park, which is only just off the main road, offering good views of the waterfalls. A path following the escarpment edge links the two. Having reviewed dozens of images in my research of worthwhile places to visit in the area, I was feeling pretty downhearted at how similar they all looked. With limited clear views of the falls, almost all of the photographs that you see of Ebor Falls, Upper or Lower, are taken from one of these lookouts and so offer limited potential for something different. I've never been a big fan of such photography, feeling a need to have more than lucky environmental conditions to make a noteworthy photograph.

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However I did spot one photograph made from below the falls. This gave me renewed hope that there was more potential than the many other photographs suggested. Having taken the obvious shots at the top, I determined to find my way down the escarpment. I’m not going to share the story or the route here, but it was a bit hairy scary at points.

When I bashed my leg on a rock, I recalled the accident my friend Doug Chinnery had in a river in Glen Coe when he badly broke his leg leaving him immobile for months. Or David duChemin falling from that wall in Pisa. Nobody would even know I was down here, nor would they hear my cries above the roar of the waterfalls if something did happen. At once I felt a bit stupid. I know that sounds melodramatic, and in reality it probably wasn’t that bad. As photographers and outdoors people we are familiar with and accept some element of risk in what we do. The extent of the risk we accept is personal.

Past psychological profiles have shown me, as if I didn’t know myself, to be generally risk averse. I have also always been scared of heights. Photography to a large extent cured me of that, my desire to get the shot overriding my irrational fears. My photography has helped me to develop a more intrepid side. I’ve fearlessly scrambled gorges in Wales and the Peak District, trekked moorland in thick snow with a blizzard on my shoulder, and climbed one of the highest mountains in Scotland. Each time I was prepared and comfortable with what I was doing.

Sometimes though that (irrational?) risk aversion pops up and imagined stories of "The Idiot Scotsman who broke his legs climbing the cliff at Ebor Falls" splashed across the international media made me feel a bit foolish. So I hastily made a couple of shots by the edge of my namesake's river before carefully picking my way back up to higher ground. I wonder now, on reflection, if it wasn’t quite as dangerous as I thought. I wonder if I should return with better light and more time, or if my initial instincts were correct and to be trusted. I guess my next visit there will decide how bold I feel.

Read more about my trip in my next blog. In the meantime, enjoy and read about a few more images below.


 

Upper Ebor Falls


 

 

SLPOTY 2014 Commendations

I’m very happy to have had two photographs commended in the inaugural Scottish Landscape Photographer of the Year competition. I’m a bit later than everyone posting about it as my MacBook decided to pack up the very same day I found out about SLPOTY. It then spent 2 weeks in the repair shop – bitter sweet eh?! Overall I had three images in the final, and was glad that two of them went on to be commended. You can see the three images below.

Interestingly, the pair of commended images were made on the same week long trip to Assynt via Torridon that I made in November 2013. What an adventure that was, full of ups and downs. But It was also a very productive trip especially considering a couple of images did well at SLPOTY.

I remember writing about the trip for a magazine submission. Sadly the article was never printed but I thought it was worth sharing now that the images have been recognised. I’ve collated it into a short eBook which you can download here.

Over a year later, the memories of that trip are still fresh, particularly the morning I spent on Stac Pollaidh where I made one of the images in question.

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The day before I was in the depths of despair. The clamp on my My Really Right Stuff ballhead had, for want of a better word, exploded on me. The pin holding the lever onto the clamp popped out and dropped into the boggy vegetation of Torridon, never to be seen again. Needless to say having a broken tripod was a major downer on my day and threatened my whole trip – I hadn’t even reached my destination at that point!

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However the fantastic Lizzie Shepherd responded to my SOS call over Twitter and despatched one of her spare clamps to me by next day delivery. The replacement clamp was waiting for my return to the hotel the very next day. Thanks again Lizzie!

The morning that I climbed up Stac Pollaidh I was still tripod-less, but I had determined not to let it ruin things. In fact, being able to leave 2.5kg in the back of the car probably helped the climb up.

The conditions on the top were incredible, and it’s such an amazing location. I could hear the wind howling over the ridge as I made the final, steep ascent and was blasted by an arctic wind as I got to the top.

Stac Pollaidh seemed blessed that morning. The weather forecast had talked of strong winds and heavy showers coming in from the west, which was pretty spot on. However the showers seemed to part on the prow of Stac Pollaidh and move down the glens either side. For the most part I was standing in blazing winter sun, while the glens and distant mountains came into and out of view through the heavy rain showers. It was like watching Mother Nature from the best seat in the house.

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As brooding squall after squall marched down the glens, the bright sunshine light the air in front of me with incredible rainbows, the like of which I can’t recall seeing before. Rainbow after rainbow danced upon the wild and wondrous landscape.

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I tried to make the most of my situation, sheltering behind and bracing myself against rocks to stabilise myself and the camera from the fierce winds. When hand-holding like this I’ll switch to Auto ISO to help maintain a sufficiently high shutter speed to avoid camera shake, preferring to deal with a bit more noise than a blurry picture. My lens's image stabilisation certainly helped too.

A polariser was needed to bring out the colours of the rainbows. Without one rainbows often appear dull and faded compared to how we remember them. With it, their vibrant glory is restored.

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I spent several hours on Stac Pollaidh’s ramparts, watching and photographing in wonder, until the sun’s position was such that the rainbows had dulled and moved out of shot. I was on such a high having seen nature’s light show over such a wonderful landscape that I didn’t feel the chill wind until I started to descend again. The pain in every other step reminded me of the ankle I had turned the previous week, almost ending my trip.

From utter despair to pure elation in the space of 24 hours. It almost seems like a photographer's life in microcosm. In the doldrums one minute, buzzing with creative energy the next. Not everything goes your way, you just have to go with it and make the most of it believing that something amazing is just around the corner.

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From a gear perspective, I love tripods. They open up a world of shutter speed possibilities. I love the time to think and precise adjustments they allow. But you can live without one if you have to. Yes, it restricts your options, but perhaps also offers fresh opportunities too. I can’t bear to think about missing the best morning of my photographic life because I’d chucked in the towel over a broken tripod.

To this day I find that if something goes wrong – a piece of kit malfunctions, I’ve forgotten something, or things just aren’t working out – that I get very down and can be very hard on myself. I always use the “Stac Pollaidh and the Tripod” experience to put things into perspective and pick myself up again. Ironically enough, my tripod failed on me again this morning - the leg fell off! Oh well, I'm sure tomorrow will be a better day! :)

(Here's that link to the free eBook if you missed it at the top.)