Southwest National Park

Listen first. The wind here comes from a long way off. It crosses thousands of kilometres of open Southern Ocean before it reaches this corner of Tasmania, and you can feel it on your face. It smells of wet peat and rain. Underfoot, the ground is soft and springy. The rivers run the colour of strong tea. Welcome to Southwest National Park, one of the wildest places left in the temperate world.

This is Tasmania's largest national park. It covers more than six hundred thousand hectares of mountains, moorland, rainforest and coast. It has almost no towns and almost no roads. Most of its interior can only be reached on foot, by small plane, or by boat. It also sits at the heart of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. That listing came in 1982, and it recognises both the natural landscape and the deep human history here.

That human history is very old. The Palawa, the Aboriginal people of Tasmania, have lived across this island for tens of thousands of years. In the wider southwest, archaeologists have found cave sites with evidence of occupation during the last Ice Age. At that time, this was one of the most southerly places on Earth where people lived. It is worth holding that thought. This land is often called wilderness, but it has never been empty of human meaning.

Now look at the plains around you. Those tawny, rounded tussocks are buttongrass, a sedge that dominates the moorlands of the southwest. In wind, the seed heads nod like small buttons on long stems. Beneath them lies peat, built up slowly over thousands of years. Water drains through this peat and picks up tannins from the plants. That is why the creeks and lakes look dark and coppery. The water is clean... it is simply stained by the land.

In the sheltered valleys, the picture changes completely. Cool temperate rainforest grows there, thick with moss, myrtle beech and tall ferns. Some of these forests hold Huon pine, a tree that grows only in western Tasmania. It grows extremely slowly, and individual trees can live for many centuries. Its timber is oily and resists rot, so early boat builders prized it. Today, it is protected, and seeing one in the wild is a quiet privilege.

Then there are the mountains. The ranges of the southwest are sharp, broken and often hidden in cloud. The Western Arthurs form a jagged line of peaks and small glacial lakes. Federation Peak is widely seen as one of the hardest bushwalking summits in Australia. Mount Anne rises above the eastern edge of the park. Much of this rock is ancient quartzite, pale grey or almost white. After rain, the bare ridges can shine against a dark sky.

Here is a story many visitors do not know. The water you may see along the park's roads is not all natural. Lake Pedder was once a small glacial lake with a wide beach of fine, pale pink quartz sand. Bushwalkers loved it. Light aircraft even landed on that beach. Then, in 1972, a hydroelectric scheme flooded the original lake. The new reservoir is far larger, and the famous beach now lies deep beneath the water.

The fight to save Lake Pedder failed, but it changed history. Out of that campaign came the United Tasmania Group, often described as one of the first green political parties anywhere in the world. A decade later, Tasmanians fought again, this time over a planned dam on the Franklin River, just north of this park. That campaign succeeded. So this quiet landscape helped shape environmental politics across Australia and beyond.

The second surprise lives far to the south, at a remote place called Melaleuca. It sits near Bathurst Harbour and has no road at all. Each spring, a tiny bird arrives there after crossing Bass Strait from mainland Australia. It is the orange-bellied parrot, one of the most endangered birds in the world. Melaleuca is one of its last breeding grounds. Volunteers and scientists work there each season to help the species survive.

Melaleuca also has a human story. For decades, it was home to a tin miner and self-taught naturalist named Deny King. He lived there with his family, far from any town. He studied plants and birds, welcomed walkers, and helped scientists understand this landscape. Today, visitors arrive by small plane, landing on a gravel strip in the middle of the moorland. Some begin or end the long South Coast Track there.

That track, and the Port Davey Track, are serious undertakings. They take several days and cross rivers, mud, beaches and exposed headlands. But you do not need to be an expedition walker to feel this park. Short walks lead off the Gordon River Road and the Scotts Peak Road. In under an hour, you can stand on a ridge, alone with the wind, and see no sign of any building at all.

One warning is important. The weather in the southwest changes fast. A clear morning can turn into cold rain, sleet, or even summer snow within hours. Storms come in from the west with little notice. Carry warm layers and a waterproof jacket, even for a short walk. Stay on marked tracks, because the moorland is easy to damage and easy to get lost in. Respect for this place starts with preparation.

Before you leave, stop for a moment. Look at the colour of the nearest water, dark and clear at the same time. Listen for the wind moving through the buttongrass, and for the call of a bird you cannot see. Notice how far the land runs without a single road or roof. Places like this are rare now. As you walk back, take that silence with you... and leave the southwest as you found it.