What better way to spend a cold, blustery afternoon than clambering down into a gorge.

But this was no ordinary gorge; it was the photogenic, basalt lined valley of the once picturesque Loddon Falls.

I’ve seen a photo of the falls in full flow and they were pretty… um, they were pretty. Although lacking in height to be truly noteworthy, they were once the focal point of a popular picnic ground on the grassy and scantily treed reserve above them.

An old stone barbeque is all that remains of those glory days. There are no facilities of the type that tourists demand of their picnic spots these days, nor is it a site that appears on the National Public Toilet Map. If you want height in your waterfall and picnic tables, go to Trentham. If you need public toilets, ditto.

Water flowing down the Loddon is such a rare event these days that we felt impelled to witness it in action. We had planned on just viewing it from above. Nursing a fear of heights, I inched towards the edge of the cliff where I hastily snapped a photo before retreating to a less vertiginous viewpoint.

My intrepid partner discovered some squarish, unevenly spaced rocks leading down the steep hillside. They were placed in a rough configuration of steps. As a means of descent, it looked less than convenient.

Bleated warnings about unstable rocks and flash flooding, and threats along the lines of ‘you’re not as young as you think you are’, had no effect whatsoever. My partner was determined to descend.

Uttering my new mantra, ‘It’s not an inconvenience, it’s an opportunity’, I managed to clamber down behind him, leaning heavily on his helping hands.

Negotiating the gaps between high steps is tricky for height-challenged, deskbound types, like myself. Add creaky knees and it becomes more of a scramble than a dignified descent. For someone whose only exercise has been a leisurely peddle on a stationary bike, it was the most physically challenging thing I’ve done since our last visit to a waterfall. Still, the destination was well worth the effort.

Standing at the edge of the pool, protected by towering basalt columns, the world was at peace. The river didn’t cascade over the falls so much as gently trickle in a calming manner.

There are actually three cascades that make up the Loddon Falls, all within 150m of each other. The others are not as visible from the cliff top as the one we chose to visit nor, I suspect, are they as easy (relatively speaking) to access.

We’ve had about 25mm of rain over the last day or so and we’re expecting more. With a bit of luck the Loddon will have returned to a semblance of its former glory by Winter’s end, although it’s likely to encounter quite a few obstacles to impede its flow: large blocks of granite eroded from the valley walls, logs, thickets of gorse, clumps of thistle and, most virulent of all, blackberry.

We would have scrambled downstream for a while but the blackberry canes inhibited our passage and rain clouds had once again shaded the sun. Hmm… standing in a river valley before rain… perhaps not the best place to be.

I’ve just discovered that the area around the Loddon Falls is considered a good spot for rock climbers. If I’d known I was in for such serious rock-face action, I’d have taken my ropes and helmet.

The ascent wasn’t quite as difficult as the descent and we felt comfortably warm after our exertions. Walking along the rocky track to the car, with the sun on the paddocks and the clouds scudding above us, it felt good to be alive.

Exercise in Winter is a great way to stave off cabin fever or S.A.D. And with dark clouds never too far away, you’ve got to grab your opportunities when you can.