Partially hidden under 20 years of leaf litter, the old kiosk and ticket booth might not be recognisable, but the tell-tale picnic shelters certainly are. Who could ever forget those unique timber tables with roofs craftily created from upturned square-shaped fibreglass plastic tubs - recycled formwork from the construction of the ceiling at Belconnen Mall and its car parks. Nothing screams Canberra more!
Like me, many long-term Canberrans will nostalgically recall the entrance to Ginninderra Falls which during its heyday of the 1980s and 1990s was one of our region's most popular tourist attractions.
It was virtually a rite of passage for anyone growing up in the ACT to spend an adventurous day or two at this natural treasure. You couldn't claim to be a true Canberran if you hadn't gazed at the falls (yes, there are two), duck-dived in the waterholes and huffed and puffed your way back up the over 5 kilometres of walking tracks. Not to mention chase a lizard after it stole your freshly bought bacon and egg roll from that kiosk.
After the gates were locked at the height of the public liability insurance crisis 20 years ago, the natural wonder, which John Hyles and his family has owned for 40 years, has been lauded as a future national park or nature reserve and even a green offset to be managed by a conservation trust. Due to a mix of bureaucratic issues and lack of political will, that hasn't eventuated (yet), and for two decades Ginninderra Falls has remained out of reach for an entire generation of Canberrans.
But that may soon change with the announcement earlier this week that the Hyles family has put the falls on the market, and today John has invited me for an exclusive behind-the-scenes peek at what makes his backyard so special.
I'm extra lucky, for it's my second visit since the falls closed. Regular readers of this column may recall that in March 2012, I filmed the falls in which the Ginninderra Creek (yes, that's the same one that meanders through Belconnen's suburbs, usually at just a trickle) drops a total of almost 100 metres after a big storm. At the time, I compared it to a Kakadu waterfall in flood. It was an extraordinary sight. I'm yet to witness anything in our region to rival the power of the water that day.
Today, as I catch my first glimpse of the upper falls from the Pulpit Lookout, while they are far from a tumultuous torrent like during that flood, there's still a steady stream of water cascading into the gorge below. Any wannabe waterfall owner won't be disappointed, that's for sure. Not a bad water feature to have out your back door.
"See these hand rails, they were bent during the flood you filmed," says John. Bent is an understatement, they're all but snapped near the base, virtually lying flat. Whoa!
Next, John leads me to the very top of the falls. It's a place that lobbed onto my bucket list a few years back after first seeing this very vista beautifully depicted in a painting by Scottish artist Constance Gordon-Cumming.
While most images of the falls - including those in the glossy real estate brochure - feature the full drop of the falls as viewed from one of the lookouts downstream of the falls, when a guest of the Campbells at Duntroon way back in August 1875, Gordon-Cumming instead captured a view from atop the falls looking down into the gorge.
Graeme Barrow recounted Gordon-Cumming's celebrated daytrip in the National Trust of Australia (ACT) Heritage in Trust, February 2011 magazine.
"Seventeen picnickers were on horseback while others made the journey in a brake, a buggie, a car and a dogcart. They included well-known names in Canberra history, among them Charles and George Campbell, sons of Robert and Sophia Campbell, founders of Duntroon; Emily Smith, wife of the long-serving rector of the Church of St John the Baptist, the Rev. Pierce Galliard Smith and Frederick Davis, overseer of the Ginninderra estate and son of its owner."
According to Barrow, during the afternoon Gordon-Cumming, a tireless sketcher and a watercolourist, "made her way to the top of the upper precipice and made a drawing of Ginninderra Creek disappearing over rocks and reappearing downstream."
Every one of those movers and shakers on that outing must have loved her sketch, for they all later signed the completed watercolour as a memento of the occasion. The painting was acquired by the National Library of Australia in 1985.
As dramatic as the falls are whether admiring them from above or below, for John, what he's enjoyed most about his extraordinary backyard over the last forty years is the wildlife.
"There's nowhere in the world like this so close to a city," claims John, who admits whenever he gets the chance, he walks through the surrounding bush to immerse himself in nature. "There are wallabies, Rosenberg monitors, legless lizards, you name it ... it's crawling with native creatures."
John's favourite spot is the platypus pool which is squirreled away deep in the gorge between the upper and lower falls. "It's a magical spot to swim amongst the fish and platypus," reveals John while sitting atop a rock peering into the water for one of the elusive monotremes.
I suspect John is really going to miss this place. If it was your backyard, wouldn't you?
Hopefully with this week's news, a new generation of Canberrans will soon be able to appreciate Ginninderra Falls for the natural wonder they are.
Are bunyips part of the deal?
Like John Hyles, for me Ginninderra Falls isn't just about the falls either. I'm drawn to the confluence of the Ginninderra Creek with the Murrumbidgee. With the river flanked by cliffs on one side and an expansive sandy beach on the other, a more idyllic riverside you won't find within cooee. It's Kambah Pool, Casuarina Sands and Pine Island all rolled into one magnificent stretch of river valley.
According to folklore, it's also home to the so-called bunyip. In Canberra: Its History and Legends, John Gale reports "Captain Sam Southwell ... was riding along the banks of the Murrumbidgee River... when he saw a strange animal of proportions akin to those of a three-month-old calf basking on a sandbank at the water's edge".
According to Gale's description, "the clatter of the horse's hoofs ... disturbed the creature, which at once wriggled rather than walked into the deep water and disappeared. The rider, dismounting from his steed, descended afoot to the place where this strange animal had been basking and examined closely its trail. This had the appearance of fins or flippers and not of feet visible to the water's edge where the thing had disappeared".
The bunyip falls into the realms of cryptozoology which is the domain of other creatures of questionable origin like the Loch Ness Monster. Of course, Southwell's bunyip may have also been a case of mistaken identity. Though of exactly what, we may never know. One thing is for sure, this slice of paradise doesn't need any made-up creatures. It's enticing enough just as it is.
Even Gale recognised this in his writing , saying it "must be seen to be appreciated".
Fingers crossed the new owners make this a reality.
WHERE IN CANBERRA?
Rating: Easy
Clue: Were you reading it all?
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to tym@iinet.net.au. The first correct email received after 10am, Saturday October 19 wins a double pass to Dendy, the Home of Quality Cinema.
Last week: Congratulations to Peter Lambert of Campbell who was first to correctly identify last week's photo as the former wharf on Springbank Island. The photo, which features an EB Holden, was taken in 1963, a year prior to the lake filling. Jim Paterson of Lake Burley Griffin Cruises notes many of the wharves installed around the lake, like this one, included several steps. "They must have been thinking Lake Burley Griffin was tidal," he muses.
Many incorrectly thought it was the wharf at nearby (west) Acton Peninsula but as several eagle-eyed readers pointed out, if you look closely, you can see the Acton wharf through the back window of the car. In the background of the photo, you can also see part of the multi-storey Sylvia Curley House where many nurses who worked at the adjacent Canberra hospital (demolished in 1997), including Deb Stevens, lived. "In the early 1970s during a very hot summer, we couldn't sleep so a group of student nurses from Sylvia Curley went skinny dipping late at night," recalls Deb. "We had to stay in the water for ages because a group of guys on motorbikes stopped by the wharf on a ride," she muses. "We were very cold by the time we got out of the water." Special note to Mick Mason, Pat Gallagher and Steve Leahy of Macquarie who, using old maps and historic photos, also confirmed the wharf was at Springbank Island and not on Acton Peninsula
The photo brought back memories for Angela Brown who in the lead-up to the lake being filled, recalls "driving with my siblings to the original Canberra hospital around the empty lake and seeing machinery etc working on flattening what is now the bottom of the lake. It was a dustbowl".
Michael Axelson reports that back in the late 1960s he used to swim from (west) Acton wharf to Springbank Island and one day slipped on the slippery wharf stairs while at a birthday party of the daughter of the hospital administrator and had to have stitches in his head - done by Dr Elvin, the boss!
Sammy reports that the wharf is the same as the Yarralumla Bay Wharf next to the YMCA Sailing club. "We used to swim through the little square tunnels under the steps there which is quite scary the more I think about it."
- CONTACT TIM: Email: tym@iinet.net.au/ or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, GPO Box 606, Civic, ACT, 2601
