A path less travelled

A path, of sorts, disappears into the forest as it winds uphill at the back of my property. It is part of my daily vista. It beckons. It’s steep to ascend but feels even steeper coming down. It’s not really a path made for walking. It was built for a purpose on a frightful day before we came here. Closer inspection reveals its history.

On one side of the track, my left as I am puffing uphill, the young forest has a low understorey. Native bracken and karri hazel fight for ground with the weedy black wattle, nightshade, thistles and blackberries. Nothing is much taller than a metre. Except the karri of course, which stretch up to 70 metres or more. The karri tell part of the history. The trunks are scorched, the bark blackened with char, three, four, five metres up the trunks.

On the other side of the track, the karri hazel, casuarina, net-leafed acacia and karri wattle form an impenetrable, tangled undergrowth five or six metres high. The trunks of the karri tree are virginal cream and pink and fawn.