Within the last two months, I have been forced to turn back on back roads in the Otway hinterland – once by a giant messmate on Kaanglang Track, and again by a massive Mountain Ash 1.5 metres in girth on Garveys Track.
Only last weekend, when going to open the Historical Society’s exhibition, “Logging in the Otways”, on Sunday morning, I found a fallen trunk-segment from a multi-split gum that had shattered the footpath outside the Society’s rooms. Falling sometime in the night, it had crashed onto the main footpath leading to the now populous Richardson Boulevard precinct, smashing the handrail fence beside the footpath. By 10am, our wonderful SES team – what would we do without them – had cut a pathway through the trunk, but the shroud of ‘consequence’ still hung thickly in the air … had it fallen on a passing pedestrian, it would have been ‘goodnight, Irene’!
If there is one thing the vast majority of Lorne residents love, it is the trees. ‘Lorne, the town that nestles in the forest’ … ‘Lorne, where the forest meets the ocean’ … ‘Lorne, a sparkling jewel on the Great Ocean Road, where tall rainforest trees and dense ferns ring a sparkling bay’ … Lorne, trees, ocean – the three words linked in almost every tourist brochure, and every glowing review. One could well say ‘trees are us.’ The magnificence of the coastal Blue Gums, the hinterland Messmate, and the extraordinary Mountain Ash of the rain forest – these are the separator that stands Lorne apart from all other Victorian towns.
But we pay a price! We must balance beauty side-by-side with safety. As the town grows in popularity and patronage, so we must care for those who come. Those who live here know to look to the trees, to their risk, to their potential to fall, to their ‘unexpectedness’. Even so, there is always that risk that we may be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The history of the town records several deaths from ‘widow-makers’ that have fallen without warning. Indeed, I still shudder a little when nature beckons me to the male loo at Qdos and I recall that a decade or so ago, a massive gum speared through the roof, skewering the toilet bowl with a direct hit … luckily it was at night, and luckily ‘un-sat’. Sadly, and on a different occasion, a couple in the nearby camping ground were less fortunate when a widow-maker crushed their flimsy tent. Camping in the forest can be a dangerous thing to do. Look up before you pitch.
Forestry sites abound with information and warning – but these alone are no protection. Our gums are simply unpredictable trees! We must understand them and respect them.
Paraphrasing one forestry site: ‘giant eucalypts [gum trees] have a habit of dropping heavy branches, earning them the nickname of Widow Maker. Gum trees preserve their health during periods of drought or inadequate water supply by allowing some branches to dry out and break off – a sort of self-pruning.’
In built-up areas, roads, buildings, footpaths, and driveways limit the availability, distribution, and access to water for these giant trees. Construction limits root growth or damages existing root systems, preventing the absorption of water sufficient to maintain a healthy crown on the tree. Where there is not enough water, the tree will block the water channels of certain branches to preserve the health of the rest of the tree. Eventually, those branches will break off.
Conversely, heavy rains can soften the soil and loosen the tree roots that anchor the tree. This can cause huge trees to fall without warning as the surface roots snap and the tree topples under the weight of its superstructure. Anyone who has walked a while in the Australian bush will be aware of the rending sound of a forest giant as it crashes to the ground through the foliage of its neighbour trees.
When huge branches fall from 30 or 40 metres, they can do enormous damage to cars, buildings, and people. This is particularly so during storms or strong wind. Lorne residents – indeed residents and travellers all along the Great Ocean Road will notice the Surf Coast Shire and VicRoads workers pruning back gum trees in public areas. This is vital tree maintenance – especially for eucalypts.
The balance between arborist management and environmental protection is a fine line – especially in a town like Lorne, so renowned for and dependent upon its natural beauty. Arborist activity can upset – even anger – those who love trees and councils should take care not to slash and burn indiscriminately. However, they are pretty good at their job, they do commonly choose the trees to prune and those to leave very carefully, and they are generally amenable to discussion. So … be kind to your council workers. It can be a difficult job.
On your own block, check for any branches that might pose a threat. Branches which appear to be discolouring, are dry or brittle, are losing foliage, or are dying, should be removed – and removed by an arborist who knows where and how to cut.
The rare beauty of Lorne, the Great Ocean Road, the Deans Marsh Road, and the Otway forest tracks proves to be a truly double-edged sword … it creates a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ dilemma. Imagine the bush cleared back for 30m along each side of each road ‘for safety’. No overhanging ferns to grasp at you as you pass. No dark and mysterious forest, just bare ground. Gone, the majesty. Gone the gloriousness. Gone the salve to the soul. But … and it is a but … bush to the edge of the road creates risk. Risk of treefall. Risk of fire. Risk of unseen, unexpected animal strike.
Life and happiness demand trade-offs, as do the risks and joys of our trees. As in all things, we should strive to keep the balance right. Vigilant, but permissive. Trees, but safety. As a tall, craggy Australian Prime Minister famously said: ‘life isn’t meant to be easy’.
John Agar
