Names are important even when the meaning of a name twists out of reach.
Here the small creek (crudely named "W-Tree") plunges down to the Murrindal River which then joins the Buchan River (Buchan may be a Scottish Highlander contraction of the Kurnai Bukkan-munjie, perhaps denoting the place where swamp reeds were used to weave bags) which then saunters to the Snowy River at the magnificent Balley Hooley.
Small black fish dart in the pools above the falls avoiding the fate of the water which twists and cascades down the escarpment through the toponyms and polysemy buried deep in map names. Water does not tell the secrets of the plunge through Scottish and Kurnai names. Will time disclose the poisoning of a Kurnai clan on the Murrindal in 1850, or is this just raw meat for those engaged in the vicious history wars that beset Australian left and right leaning academics.
All I can tell, is that a powerful man fearing the end of the world once scoured the world for a safe haven before choosing to come here for refuge. Since then the waterfall has burnt many times. Less certain is a first people rock shaping near the splash ledge, but this is only visible with a front-on shot.
Still, the world has not come to an end just yet, and this is the best place in the world to sit and boil a cup of coffee. While we wait for the world to end. Part of me is still there, watching the water fall, the fish dart, in love with life.