Crowning glory

There is mystery at the top of our hill. It is called rainforest, or dry vine scrub.

Dry vine scrubs have a much greater diversity of species, just an awful sounding name. But in a way that name is more valid as they are not so much sustained by rain as by regular mists.

Our property includes about 5 acres of this forest, though it continues thickly on up what is locally known as Merv's Mountain. It was our neighbour Merv who bulldozed his side of the hill. At one time he kept a ragged herd of goats just to root out regrowth. All sixteen used to bellycrawl under the barbed wire and visit my vegetable garden, trampling down the wallaby wire and eating everything down to the last millimetre. At that stage I had heard my neighbour loudly proclaim his views on the vegetation that so majestically clothed our hill -- it was "softwood scrub, useless stuff" -- but I didn't know the goats were his. We had to involve the local policeman in an effort to find out where the goats without eartags were coming from, and that didn't go down well with the neighbour.

It is not an easy exercise to visit the rainforest. On a hot day one is more likely to find one's legs carrying you downhill to the river.

The route to the rainforest is steep. Come take a tour.

Climb the hill to the eucalypts. Look back at how small the farm buildings appear.

Arrive at the rainforest Edge and the Wall of lantana.

The lantana is a pain, but useful. It has protected the rainforest from serious fires.

When my children were small we would cut a neat tunnel. Access for grownups requires a more drastic approach.

This is only the beginning.