It was not long after Christmas when the Wild West Coast decided to live up to its reputation, so with 70mk/h winds we decided to get the heck out of there. As we made our way to Granville Harbour on the southern end of the Arthur Pieman via Wynyard, the weather turned pear shape. It was a long way around to the South, through to the north first, and then back down as the western explorer road, leading straight from the northwest to the south, was closed due to a landslide earlier in the week.

Once we hit Corinna and while waiting for the fat man to take us over on the barge, (which is misleading because he’s actually quite skinny), we decided to have a couple of cold Bundys next to the warm fire at the Tarkine Hotel. By this time it was nearly 7pm and in hindsight we probably should have pulled up for the night and travelled the rest of the way in the morning. But what the hell, if we had hindsight, we wouldn’t have a story to tell now would we!

Once over the river, we headed into Granville Harbour. By the time we go to Granville, the wind had really picked up, the skies had opened and the temperate dropped to what us Queenslanders would call FREEZING.

As we drove in we came across a couple of young local fellas on Quad bikes who said they would escort us to a sheltered camp site that would be better for us with the campers. An hour and a half of 4WDing through the sand and getting bogged twice, we finally made it to a small bay just big enough for the two campers and a great fire pit in the center. There was a lovely spot to launch the boat and take advantage of the clear blue water in the morning and the young Tucker boys would have had a blast playing and running around the sand. There was only one problem, a locals perception of “sheltered” was no where near what ours were and we had little chance of getting the ladies and kids out of the cars, let alone setting up our campers without something blowing away during the set up or over night. So after a quick thank you beer with the local boys and waiting just long enough to make sure they wouldn’t see us leaving, we set off into the darkness back out again. By the time we got back out to Granville and aired up the tyres, it was nearly midnight. Jon remembered there was a somewhat sheltered car park near Zeehan from a few years ago when he was over with the family so we headed there for the night. Gees I’m glad he has a good memory.

Needless to say, we are now somewhat dubious of “local” advice.

After a quick and restless sleep in the carpark at Zeehan we made the most of our location and went to check out Motezuma Falls. After chatting to some locals who said we should be fine heading in with the campers in toe, we decided to leave the campers behind, and that wasn’t a bad choice at all.

The track in was slow through the rainforest with a few washed out potholes, but it was extremely scenic and refreshing.

A short walk at the end of the vehicle track lead to the falls and the photos speak for themselves. It was rather busy and slow going with the pedestrian limit of two adults or one adult and two children on the bridge at a time.

When it was our turn, we steadily walked on, and I think Matt was holding on tighter than I was because when it was time to turn around and wave to the camera, there was a pause and a look of “oh no” on his face (not that I think I was any better).

So falls done and dusted, lets find the next challenge we decided, after a quick team meeting. We had heard of the Ring River Track, which would take us back to the highway so we could pick up the campers.

Lucky we can confidently say that we were attempting this track with two very well equipped vehicles and again thought we would let the Tuckers lead the way.

Right from the start, this tracked posed a few challenges with some steep muddy descents and deep water holes.

  After a long water crossing that the Tuckers   powered through first, we got the call “give it some, it’s a bit boggy”. So it was no surprise that mud and water came flying over the bonnet and the number plate was dangling on its last legs at the end of the crossing, but we made it.

The track wound in and around the forest, some narrower sections plastering the Troll with deep pin stripes on either side. Bound to happen I guess.

When we came to the Ring River crossing, it wasn’t a simple cross over the river, but rather a short drive up stream before heading back onto the track.

Some previous travellers clearly had some troubles with the track, presumably in wetter weather, as there were logs and shrubs in some of the deep muddy ruts.

We have been lucky so far and all the hard work of logs lying across tracks that needed cutting and ruts filling have been done for us by previous 4WDers.

One number plate repair required, no bogs and we made it back to the highway to collect the campers and head to Strahan for a well-deserved shower and to do some washing.