Photographer DON DEFENDERFER
Gustav, Gustav, where are you? We have a stranger here to meet you.
I’m coming. I’m coming.
Why don’t you take him for a walk, Gustav? He looks like a man in need. I will put on some tea for when you return.
I stood still, stunned, as a tall man emerged out of the mist and put his hand out to shake mine.
Good to meet you.
I shook his hand and his grip was strong and sure.
Welcome to Waldheim, where there is no time and nothing matters. I am Weindorfer. How can I help you?
I looked at his face and it was full of kindness. In his eyes I could see and feel the dank woods and the dark wilds.
I told him I didn’t know why I was there seeing him.
Let us walk. Follow me up this path into the woods. I walk here often.
I followed him into the wet forest. He walked briskly up a foggy path into the half-light of a grove of damp beech trees. After a few minutes he stopped below a dripping myrtle and turned towards me. He looked at me closely, straight into my eyes, and I felt he was looking right through me, like he knew my soul.
Where are you from?
Far.
Far away?
In time.
Oh I see. Yes, of course. I understand now. In time, I know this; I know how one can travel through it.
How do you understand this? None of this makes sense.
I understand this from living in the wilderness, from being here among the trees and streams, from being close to the seasons and cycles of the moon.
Time isn’t what you think it is. It is much more fluid; it is like a river. Yesterday is always flowing into the present and future here. And vice versa.
Vice versa?
Yes, here there is a seamless flow of time from the mountains to the rivers to the sea and back into the clouds and down to the land and into the rivers and creeks again, back into the flowing arteries of the earth. Rivers feed the heartbeat of life. Rivers have so much to teach us. I live here by a small one and I learn daily from its flow.
You are still here? But I thought -
Yes, still here. And yet few see me. Few know how to disconnect from time and find me. Kate still plays the piano, but few can hear her songs. Birds sing to her melodies but she misses company.
He paused. I looked at him. A lanky, bearded man in gaiters, dressed in an old coat and capped in a worn fedora-like hat.
None of this made sense. How could he be standing there, speaking to me?
Does anyone else see and talk to you like me?
The birds, the wombats, the pademelons and pencil pines, they all see me - they understand time and place. They understand the river of life. But we have not had a visitor like you for many years. However I am not surprised by your visit – I have expected someone like you to come with tidings. Recently I have sensed alarm and felt warnings.
Yes, alarms are going off around the world. This is a time of warning. Maybe you can help us.
He gestured to the dripping forest around us as he spoke.
I don’t know. I am just a custodian of these woods, of these lands. I am a simple man, a botanist and guide. I tried to achieve a few things in my life - that is all one can do. I did my best to look after this place for people like you, for the future. Maybe this place of trees will help you.
He stared deeply at me and I dropped my gaze to the ground. I thought to myself, how could an old man talking about trees and kangaroos help me?
You seem concerned.
Things are not well where I come from. The tidings I bring are not so good.
Tell me.
Everything seems out of hand. We have changed everything: the sky above us, the seasons we rely on, the health of the seas, the air we breathe. We have changed the soil and soul of the land in ways you couldn’t imagine. Even as we have progressed in incredible ways with unimaginable technology and innovation, we have gone wrong, we have slowly dismantled the natural world. People have been uprooted. There is much discord and unhappiness. Things are falling apart.
Ahh, things falling apart, I have seen this before.
But you do not know our world as it is today; it is in a bad way.
Tell me more.
There is sadness and hunger. Everything has speeded up. People have forgotten how to slow down, how to breathe. We don’t know where we are heading, but we are heading there fast. Things feel out of control.
He stood silent for a few minutes and gazed into the trees. He then turned to face me and drew me into his eyes as he spoke.
I see. I understand. I see and feel all these things at once now. It is not surprising. It is a good sign you are worried. Let me tell you what I have learned here.
In my time there were bad wars. There was avarice and greed and poor people and the land was treated badly. People believed in things that had no tether. And from what you have told me, nothing has changed. The world has been this way for a long time, ever since we forgot how to walk softly on this earth. That is why I have fought to save these forests and mountains, so we can learn from the source, from original places like this that we have become alienated from.
Hear the creek flowing. Hear the rain sifting down. Look into the eyes of a pademelon. Gaze at the silver drops of rain slipping off the fronds of the green pandanis. Admire the dainty golden leaves of the autumn fagus. Can you smell the sweetness of the King Billy Pines around us?
Come with me, let us walk further through the rainforest and listen as the woods speak to us.
I breathed in, slowly and deeply. With the cold fresh air in my lungs I could taste the scent of the ancient pines and the sodden rotting earth. The wet woods felt refreshing and reassuring.
Walk this simple track with me and open your eyes, open you heart. Let nature back into your heart, to heal you. These lands repair the wounded. Breathe in and you will feel a sense of renewal and the promise of youth again.
My brow started to relax as we walked further.
In a thick grove of woods he stopped walking and turned towards me.
Waldheim is a place of trees and is clockless. This is a timeless place of pause for people like you. For anyone who wants to learn. It is a wise place - if we can learn how to absorb and understand it, if we learn how to hear its voice. I am still learning. There is so much more to learn.
Hope is all around us. Walking in these woods always restores my faith.
He looked into the dark forest and closed his eyes and whispered.
Listen. Absorb.
I stood still and closed my eyes too, and what I heard was like a quiet symphony, with violins sluicing gently through the forest, delicate voices singing down a creek and slow bass notes vibrating in the woods. The land was speaking to me through its music.
His voice emerged from the music.
It is quiet here, silent but for the natural world, which is full of song. The caw and cackle of the currawong, the rise of the wind swaying in the branches above, the slip and slide of the river flowing down its course, the rain seeping down. Listen to these songs and they will guide you.
I opened my eyes. He was watching me and he smiled slowly.
I think you have good ears and eyes. The earth guided you here. The earth will guide you further, if you let it. You will find a path forward. You will not get lost on this path.
Let us walk on. Maybe we will see a tiger quoll … or Thylacine.
. . .
We walked in silence, deeper into the forest, following what looked like an old wallaby track. After a while I asked him more questions.
Tell me more about what you have learned here.
He stopped walking, and leaned on an old walking stick. He spoke slowly but surely, like a creek flowing.
What I have learned is this. Men, humans, we have become separated from the real world, from the basics, from rocks and lichen and water, from plants and animals; from the spirit that created us. The native people who lived here on this island, our own tribes back in the old country, they understood this connection to the land, to the spirit, but somewhere along the way we lost this connection, and this has been our problem for a long, long time.
Your problems are not new – they just sound worse and harder because they are bigger. But the problems stem from the same roots, and the same solutions exist.
What solutions? How do we change? Everything seems too big, too fast and too hard to change.
He gazed at me and spoke assuredly.
We treat the earth like a commodity when it should be treated as part of our community. We have separated ourselves from that from which we came. The earth is part of our family, it is our mother – how could we abandon her? But we have – this I have never understood.
You must teach people connection. Bring them here; bring them to wild places like this all around the world. Once they are connected back to the natural world they will find a way forward and solve the problems that the earth and humanity face.
I felt impatient and spoke fast.
But people are too far removed from places like this. They live in big cities, sprawling metropolises. They don’t know where food comes from, they never touch the soil and they never see the stars. There are tyrants in power. The whole modern system relies on infinite growth on a finite planet. There is excess and disease. The list of things wrong is endless.
He looked straight into my eyes.
Calm yourself. Don’t worry. As I said, this has always been the way. Focus on the good that is out there - remember it is not all bad. Despite our flaws and stupidity, we are amazing creatures. Solutions exist. You can change everything. Everything can be changed.
Walk on.
We continued walking through the woods and came to a clearing, with a view across honey-coloured buttongrass plains towards dark and sombre mountain peaks in the distance. He stared at the view for a long time and then spoke.
What I have learned here in these mountains is that each day dawns with new hope and means, that each year is filled with infinite possibilities and new dreams – I have learned this from watching the seasons here, from watching the snows cover the mountains, from seeing the blizzards that come and go, from seeing clear mornings after storms and from following wombat tracks in the snow.
He pointed at a clawed wallaby print in the snow.
One can learn from the smallest of things – these things are messages – a leaf blowing in the wind, beech trees turning red in autumn, a wallaby staring into your eyes and then bounding away. Look for these messages. Follow the tracks of nature and they will lead you to wise places, where answers can be stumbled upon. Stumbling is good. No one has perfect steps. We learn through falling, especially when it is dark and thick with snow. In darkness we can discover light.
He gestured to the mountains in front of us.
I walk to take in this view everyday. Lately, at dusk, I have heard voices rising all around me. From here I have heard many young ones crying out - it seems they have much to say.
He leaned in close to me.
Listen to the youth. Follow them. Listen to their concerns and dreams and answers – they know what is best for the world, a world that they have been given and must now repair. The earth needs renewing. Renew it with them, for them, and for their children and their children’s children and for generations of wombats and pademelons to come.
Come to Waldheim for guidance - you can learn from the rain and wind and sun and the dark eyes of the wallabies and the primordial screech of the black cockatoos here. There is history and harmony here: learn about this harmony and apply this wisdom when you go away.
He paused and gazed at the mountains for a long time.
I stared at the mountains too, at the clouds and the snow pasted on the peaks.
I talk too much. I don’t want to preach – beware preachers – but I have been starved of society. Listen a bit more and then we will refresh and you can tell us more about your story and the times you live in.
I am all ears.
I have walked these mountains for over a century. And I have asked myself every day, what am I learning, what have I learned? Sometimes I have felt I have learned nothing, that the mountains are cold and miserable and there are no answers and life has no meaning. But when my eyes and heart are fully open, when the sun returns to shine and an eagle soars above, I see that I have learned eternal things, about beauty, about things that matter, about loving this place.
His face lit up with light.
Look for love in whatever you do.
Look after places like this around the world. You will find love in these places. These places will forever be humanity’s reservoir for inspiration and guidance. You will be able to breathe in the peace from these places whether you are here or not.
We all breathe the same air. You can change the world, one breath at a time.
He pointed towards the mountains, which were now painted in silver and golden light. His voice grew deep and strong as he spoke.
Look up, over the plains and hills to the mountains. The sun is leaking through a hole in the clouds – look at the long muscular spheres of light pressing down from the heavens to the land below. Look at these shafts of brilliance and tell me that there is not a higher power than us, something to believe in and guide us, something, alas, that we still seem to know so little about.
See the light shine and feel the presence of what some call God or the spirit of mother earth. The beauty of it is astounding and humbling. In a place like Cradle Mountain, in wild places where the mountain spires are like cathedrals, the spirit of life shines brightly. Behold.
I gazed at the scene, at the glowing clouds and the violet light beams bathing the mountains. I felt my heart leap and a cold tingle ran down the back of my neck. I had never seen such beauty.
We stood and stared at the mountains for a long time.
After a while he resumed talking, now speaking softly.
Take the inspiration of this scene; the light will guide you through tough times ahead. Remember this scene when you are in darkness and feel obligation. When you climb a mountain, you get there one step at a time. You will get there. Focus on what you can achieve.
When you leave here, take a bit of Waldheim with you in your heart. It will help you make the right choices.
Now, enough of my talk.
We turned around and walked back down toward the cabins on the edge of the woods. A dog soon came up the track to meet us.
Look, here is my dog Flock – I have walked with him for over a hundred years and he has never let me down. I have travelled far at Waldheim with Flock - we have seen the world together, and he has taught me much on our wanderings.
Come, have tea with us now in our humble home, in what we call a chalet. We have all that we need here. We have all day. We are not in any rush. Time has paused here.
Kate will play the piano and we will sing together. We will eat stew and have rhubarb pie for dessert. We have a hot refreshing bath should you wish one.
Let us warm by the fire and listen to the wet woods drip and the creek sing. The land is speaking to us. It is a wonderland.
There is so much to talk about.
Tell me, have they improved the road into here yet?
Postscript
Austrian-born Gustav Weindorfer came to Australia in 1900 and soon fell in love with its unique plants and animals as well as Australian Kate Cowle. He first came to Cradle Mountain in 1909 and was immediately awed by its wildness and beauty.
Seeing the breathtaking views of the wilderness from the summit of Cradle Mountain in 1910, Weindorfer proclaimed, “This must be a national park for the people for all time. It is magnificent, and people must know about it and enjoy it.”
In 1912 Gustav and Kate built a rustic home and guest chalet in a scenic spot on the edge of the woods looking towards Cradle Mountain. He called his alpine chalet “Waldheim”. Gustav spent the rest of his life living in his remote forest home.
After many years of lobbying and promotion, Gustav’s efforts led to the permanent protection of the Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair area in 1922 as a Scenic Reserve and Wildlife Area.
Kate passed away in 1916 and Gustav died within sight of Cradle Mountain in 1932 at the age of 58.
Gustav’s reconstructed chalet is now used as a museum and eight cabins are located in the woods next to the museum and are popular with bushwalkers from around the world who can walk the same tracks that Weindorfer once walked.
In the mid-1980s, the unique value of the Cradle Mountain area was recognised internationally with the proclamation of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage area and the protection of 1.38 million hectares. Gustav’s dream of protecting the area for all time had come true. Now, more than 280,000 people visit the park each year.
This story is taken from Don Defenderfer's "Tasmania: An Island Dream" Part 2.
Don Defenderfer is a native of San Francisco who once went on a holiday to Alaska where he met an Australian who told him to visit Tasmania. So he did, and while here he met a woman. That was 40 years ago. He was state coordinator for Landcare for many years, a job that allowed him to be inspired by not only the beauty of the Tasmanian landscape but by the many people that are trying to repair and renew it. He has a Masters Degree in Social Ecology and a Bachelor of Environmental Studies with a minor in writing. He has published three volumes of poetry, and his work has appeared in newspapers and periodicals, including The New York Times and The Australian. Two volumes of collected essays and poems, "Tasmania: An island dream" Parts 1 and 2, can be bought through the Forty South Bookshop.
