The Mylor to Cleland section of the Heysen Trail will always stand out as one of our most unforgettable walks, not because of the sunshine, but because of the rain.
From the moment we set out, the air was heavy with mist, and fine rain settled into every fold of the landscape as well as our clothes! The path wound gently uphill through tall gums, their trunks slick and dark with moisture, while the scent of damp earth and eucalyptus filled the air. Despite the grey light, the forest glowed with colour — deep greens, soft ochres, and the occasional spark of orange leaf against the wet track.
That night, we sheltered at the Woodhouse campsite, grateful for the cover of a barbecue shelter. As the rain continued, we could hear the steady drumming on the tin roof and the rush of water gathering in the gullies around us. By morning, 80 mm of rain had fallen overnight — and when we woke, rivers were running right beside the shelter.
After some discussion (and a little bit of cussing from me), we decided to cut the walk short.
This painting, Mylor to Cleland, captures that feeling — the stillness, the wet earth, and the quiet power of nature in motion. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most memorable journeys are the ones that don’t go as planned.
