Where it is wide enough The Meander River does indeed meander. But when it hits the town weir, or what passes for it, the placid stream becomes something of a torrent as we shall soon see.
No matter whether the water is slowing passing by or rushing, this river is without a doubt a significant scenic feature of Deloraine, and the local gentry have taken full advantage with the construction of a magnificent riparian park.
We made that part of our first long walk around town. What a wonderful introduction it was.
All we had to do was to step out from the end of our caravan park and we were there. A formal pathway was to take us all the way from here to a foot bridge across the river at the old water mill.
Our first surprise came in the form of a series of large pieces of public art and here we soon made a connection with our earlier stay at Mole Creek. You may recall the odd looking series of huge beams we found during our jaunt to Allum Cliffs, which we later discovered was one of a series along the 'Great Western Tiers Sculpture Trail'. Well here on the banks of the Meander River were a whole lot more of them.
Initially, in a state of blissful ignorance, I merely photographed them, not realising until we were wandering along the opposite bank just what was going on.
The path continued on past this first open area of the river bank
and soon brought us to the town swimming pool, which oddly enough, given the temperature of this day, held no appeal whatsoever. The day was bright and sunny, but the autumn chill had well and truly set in.
Beyond the pool these formal looking gardens were more than merely decorative.
This nearby sign provided all who wandered by with the names of each of the various species and their locations within this long, narrow planting. What a great idea for any who may have been establishing their own domestic patch of floral heaven here in Deloraine....a real chance to 'try before you buy'.
This bloke was having a good time enjoying his brisk morning upstream paddle, but despite the bare arms his beanie was a good indication of the fact that this was anything but a warm day.
We, too, were hoofing along at a pretty rapid clip, soon passing yet another of the offerings on the sculpture trail. At this point I should comment that despite what we considered to be the somewhat tenuous and almost self-indulgent connections between the art and the associated commentary (as you will soon see) these pieces certainly generate interest.
Majestic pines towered over several sections of this well used walking path
whilst here their smaller arboreal cousins all but hid a charming little rotunda set back from the river's edge.
Yet another quite spectacular piece heralded our approach
to the first of a couple of river bridge crossings, this one the road traffic bridge which had brought us into town the previous day.
Had we arrived by train, we would have crossed the river on this second of the two major river bridges under which we would shortly walk.
Had we arrived by train, we would have crossed the river on this second of the two major river bridges under which we would shortly walk.
The path then brings Meander meanderers to the town 'Lions' Train Park, where all are reminded of the significance of rail to this town.
As one would expect, there was a public BBQ area nearby
and an equally public toilet block, where, if you look closely,
visitors from all over the globe are greeted (to the town presumably!) in these carved words of
welcome in their own languages. That is certainly different to anything we had previously come across.
From this 'International' comfort stop, the path took us on towards the third bridge,
an elegant suspension bridge built for the use of all who wander this way on foot.
From this vantage point, we could see that the previously placid waters of the Meander do pack a punch as they tumble and roar over the low town weir. Although it is difficult to make out, next to the red building on the left bank of the stream, an old water wheel speaks to earlier times, when the power of the river was an important source of the energy needed to mill flour.
As one would expect, there was a public BBQ area nearby
and an equally public toilet block, where, if you look closely,
visitors from all over the globe are greeted (to the town presumably!) in these carved words of
welcome in their own languages. That is certainly different to anything we had previously come across.
From this 'International' comfort stop, the path took us on towards the third bridge,
an elegant suspension bridge built for the use of all who wander this way on foot.
From this vantage point, we could see that the previously placid waters of the Meander do pack a punch as they tumble and roar over the low town weir. Although it is difficult to make out, next to the red building on the left bank of the stream, an old water wheel speaks to earlier times, when the power of the river was an important source of the energy needed to mill flour.
Downstream from the weir the now unchecked waters swirl swiftly along a much narrower course all but choked with encroaching trees and bushes. It was here we realised that the lake like appearance of the river in the vicinity of our caravan park and beyond was all down to the effect of the weir. Well done Deloraine!
At this point we actually left the river banks to walk further around the eastern end of the town, but for the purpose of this missive, let's return to the other bank and complete this riparian ramble,
beginning back at the road bridge where the plethora of signage nominated nearby destinations with which we were now all too familiar.
Both river banks are equally well served by good walking paths and we took full advantage.
We had only moved on a hundred metres or so beyond the road bridge when we came to the first of the sculptures on this side of the river, and now I actually stopped to read and photograph the interpretative plaques which accompanied each of the two we found here.
I include them with no further comment,
because frankly,
what more could I possibly add without exposing myself to the criticism of being a Philistine when it comes to art!
From this side of the river
we were afforded another view of the caravan park which was our current home,
and as we reached it, we decided to ignore the invitation presented by the arched bridge near our park to return to our van
and continued further on upstream. Here the river flowed through what appeared to be a series of ponds
and small lakes,
where ducks and some large geese were making themselves very much at home.
Here the walking trail ended. This most modest of bridges took us across a small tributary stream, back onto the town roadway system and thence to our park.
As river walks go, this at Deloraine was as picturesque as any we had seen in Tasmania, and this ramble along its banks remains one of our fonder memories of the island.
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