In the mountain by Hobart a lake appears just after heavy rain, then vanishes. But finding the tarn is only half the challenge
Growing up in Hobart in the 1980s, I traipsed all over the stunning dolerite uplift of the mountain framing our harbour city – Mount Wellington, today dually named kunanyi. We regularly drove up the mountain road to picnic in fern glades at The Springs, near the site of a hotel that burnt down in Tasmania’s catastrophic 1967 bushfires. At high school, our geology class forensically measured the way the crystal size in the rocks changed with the cooling speed of the lava squirt that made the mountain.
After I’d left Tasmania to go to university, threads of after-party gossip would reach me from secret summer mountain raves away from the tourist tracks, where people carried in sound equipment with generators. More recently, the Mona Foma festival has drawn next generation revellers. And while Hobartians have been cooped up through Covid-19, this unspoiled nature reserve has become a more popular escape hatch than ever.
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