Way down south - Southwest National Park, Tasmania

Here, where the world is quiet,

Here, where all trouble seems dead

Winds and spent waves riot

- A.C. Swinburne

Styx River - Oxley Wild Rivers National Park

I remember the descent; an open ridgeline to the river. There were forest red gums on the slope, very little understorey, fine shards of rock underfoot and towards the end it was easier to descend sideways, like a crab, inching our way down. A fire had been through before us, maybe only a week or so prior, and it had left us more view than expected. We could see down into the Styx River valley; from ridgetop to riverside we had to drop 700m in elevation.

As we descended, the elusive spotted quail-thrush nearly eluded us. Two of them took flight through the trees. We listened for their voice: it is a high pitched 'tseep tseep' that is almost beyond hearing and then when settled they call in far-carrying, repetitive notes similar to a treecreeper but slower, more plaintive.