The Barron Falls
18-June-2010
Looking back it was madness but at the time it was why not. The North Queensland sun was pumping up the heat, and a tiny green pool of water at the base of the falls looked inviting from way up at the railway station. Only a trickling thin ribbon of water found its way into the pool sounding like a water feature as the relaxing tinkle echoed off the acres of hot vertical rock, and lured us down. A sign said not to, but it was faded and old and we wondered if it meant it.
The fence was easy and after that the faintest of tracks wound steeply out of sight into the gorge. Fifteen minutes later we emerged from the greenery onto an expanse of head high boulders that littered the canyon floor. It was difficult to make our way across, and not a good place to have to run for your life. The green water that looked refreshing from afar was too warm. It was also much bigger than it looked and hinted at the scale of the monster cliffs looming behind us. I floated on my back looking up but couldn’t relax. After twenty uneasy minutes we left and began to pick our way out and up.
Heavy storms emptied themselves over the tablelands that night and on a hunch I went back to the falls the next day alone. Little droplets of water landed on the windscreen as I pulled into the empty carpark, and after turning the engine off a low frequency rumble rattled the dashboard. From the platform it was clear; yesterday’s water feature was now a river falling off a cliff. I stuffed my camera into a sandwich packet and hopped the fence.
The closer I got, the harder it was to make out what I was looking at. After smoothly pouring over the rim the water began to smoke and explode, before finally shrouding itself in vapor as it’s irresistible force met an immovable object. The too warm pond from yesterday was ground zero and drowned beneath thousands of tonnes of constantly falling water.
On the way down I passed three others coming back up, all wide eyed. We nodded but said nothing, there was now space in the noise for words.
At the base was a stand of small trees with clean trunks that formed a canopy. It was another world, dark because of the foliage and mist, with a cyclonic wind that blew from all directions and was equal parts air and water. Most the sound now was a low wavelength thumping that was more felt than heard and triggered adrenalin.
I stayed for a long time and finally climbed back to the railway station as a tourist train emptied.
Barron Falls 1988
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