The ferry, The Spirit of Tasmania, is huge.
We arrived at the dock well ahead of the required time and checked in. As passengers are required to board separately from the vehicles and drivers, I left Karen at the gangway and drove the Troopy onto the ferry. Big as it is, we were dwarfed by the cavernous belly of the boat. There were multiple vehicle loading decks and we were squeezed in tight between a tractor trailer and other cars. I managed to find my way onto the passenger decks despite a lack of adequate signage, but couldn’t find Karen anywhere. While dashing around in the various levels through restaurants, gift shops, galleys, engine rooms, and along narrow corridors with doors on all sides, I was reminded of a scene from the Titanic. Fortunately, there was no water on the floor and the helpful steward paged her for me, so we were reunited again in short order. Our cabin was neat and "cozy".
As we pulled out of Melbourne’s harbor, Karen and I went above decks to see the view and we were treated to the sight of a fleet of sailboats out for an evening stroll.
We occupied the rest of our time above decks by counting the number of life boats and comparing that to the published occupancy of the boat - more than enough to go around!
Since our booking (reservation) for dinner was a bit late and we were starting to get hungry, we went down to the gift shop and picked up some chips and a bottle of Tasmanian Siraz to hold us over. The buffet style dinner later that evening was great and we turned in early. As we prepared to leave the boat following a light breakfast the next morning, I noticed the Tasmanian quarantine regulations that were handed out in the information center. They indicated that prohibited articles included anything with dirt or soil in it, fruits and vegetables, and honey. Well, I had some fishing worms in dirt, broccoli stems in with my yabbies, some potatoes and a mostly eaten jar of honey in the Troopy. When we got access to the Troopy for unloading, I extracted all of that stuff to turn over to the quarantine officer, only to find that the ban on honey had been lifted since the brochure had been published. Well, we didn’t want it back after mixing it in with the stinky, half eaten broccoli stems that my yabbies were loth to depart with, so we lost the lot. Beware of the Tasmanian Quarantine regulations before starting out!
The ferry arrived in Devonport, so we spent the first part of the day gathering information at the tourist information center and picking up last minute supplies at the local backpacking outfitter’s shop as well as pumping him for information on the Overland Track. The Overland Track is an 85 km walk through some of Tasmania’s most mountainous and beautiful country in the Cradle Mountain/Lake St Claire National Park. Lonely Planet’s "Bushwalking in Australia" stated: "If you only do one walk in Australia, make it the Overland Track". As a result, we have been planning to do this walk since the development of our overall plan several years ago. We purchased and field tested the basic gear in the Sierra Nevada Mountains before sending it over to Oz. The guide recommended 5 to 7 days for the walk, so we planned for 10 days. The country is high alpine mountains where the weather can change from warm and sunny to snow in just a few hours so one must be prepared for everything. Even though there are refuge huts along the track, when the weather turns bad they get crowded with other walkers, so you must carry a tent. Ten days of food and the means to prepare it, including stove fuel adds to the weight. Despite our best efforts to minimize and buy light weight stuff we were still pushing 45# each on our pack weights. But we were determined to do this, so on the way inland we stopped in at the ranger station at the beginning of the trail near Cradle Mountain and gathered detailed information on the track.
During our planning we had established a correspondence relationship with a delightful couple through Servas who live in Tullah, Rick and Barbara Boyle. Tullah is a small, scenic community just west of the Cradle Mountain/Lake St Claire National park and both of them were familiar with the track. We arranged to stay with them for the first few days while we did the final packing for our walk and to leave the Troopy with them while on the track. They were a wealth of information regarding alternative routes along the track and preparation for the walk, and graciously offered to drop us off at the beginning of the trail and pick us up when we were done. We planned to start on the 5th of Feb, but the weather didn’t cooperate. On the scheduled day, it rained heavily in the morning and the wind blew all day, so we put off our start until the next day, the 6th. It turned out to be a good decision, as we found out later that conditions were even worse on the mountain that day.
Finally, on about mid-day of the sixth, Barbara dropped us off at Dove Lake and the beginning of the track.
The packs seemed unbelievably heavy as we stared up into the mountains that we’d have to climb over yet that day, but every journey is easier if you just look at it one step at a time. Since it was all I could do to raise my head up from under the pack to see the trail, that perspective was easy to achieve. The actual climb was another matter. We planned to stay at Lake Rodway on the first night and the trail took us up to a ridge high above Dove Lake where we were faced with our first choice. The path that the Boyles recommended led down to Twisted Lakes from the ridge and the other went straight on to Hansen Peak. Both would eventually lead to Lake Rodway, but, being a fan of the conservation of altitude, I was loth to take the path that dropped down to Twisted Lakes knowing that it was slightly longer and that we’d have to recover the lost altitude yet that day before making it to our camp for the night. The map indicated that the alternative trail skirted around the side of Hansen Peak, so we opted to go straight ahead. That was a mistake. As we approached Hansen Peak it became obvious that the trail went straight over the top on a very steep incline. Conversations with other climbers returning from a decent of the peak confirmed this, but another walker who passed us sitting there staring up at the climb, rationalized that, "Yeah, it’s tough, but short, and once you’re over it, it’s downhill all the way". I was still reluctant to backtrack to the Twisted Lakes junction and loose altitude, so we continued on. It was a brutal climb with heavy packs.
This is view of the trail from above after we’d climbed it.
It was so steep that they’d installed pole mounted chain and cable so people could pull themselves up the narrow cleft in the rock face. We were exhausted by the time we got to the top, but the view was spectacular.
You can see the car park at the far end of Dove Lake where we’d started 2 ½ hours earlier. To the right, along the ridge, is part of the trail from below. We rested up a bit and then started down. It was indeed downhill all the way to Lake Rodway, some of it quite steep which is nearly as bad as climbing. We arrived at the hut with plenty of daylight to spare and found a great campsite along the lake. We were tired but happy to have gotten over what would prove to be the most challenging part of the trip. Dinner that night tasted better than any I can remember for a long time and we turned in as soon as it got dark.
The morning dawned clear as a bell and a faint mist rose from the lake as we got moving, fixed a quick breakfast and hit the trail. This view of the backside of Cradle Mountain is normally reserved for the select few who have climbed into the valley.
The first job of the day was to climb out of the valley that Lake Rodway rests in and back up to the main portion of the Overland Track on a ridge high above. The day was warm and the climb steep, but this time it was mostly dirt and steps had been constructed into the hillside where natural footing was not available. Part way up we encountered a work crew who were repairing the trail and expressed our appreciation for the fruits of their labor. Now, here is an appropriate spot to discuss one of the more annoying aspects of the trail at this time of year - the March Flies. I may have mentioned them before - they’re a type of horse fly that bites. There are millions of them along the trail, but as long as you’re moving they pretty much leave you alone. However, when you stop, they close in, buzzing around your face and ears, trying to land on any exposed skin with the avowed purpose of extracting their pound of flesh. We’d brought along the Tropical Strength Aeroguard which was effective at keeping them from actually biting, but nothing could keep them from swarming and landing momentarily which was enough to keep us hopping. These poor guys were stuck in one spot working on the trail and the March Flies had set up house keeping on them. They worked in a perpetual cloud of them. It was all we could do to stand among them for as long as it took to exchange a greeting. I don’t know how they could stand it all day long, day after day. Our hats are off to them, indeed. We’ve come to understand that the "March" in March Fly has nothing to do with the month of March - it’s a directive that the flies enforce if you stop to rest - march! March on!!
Once we made it up to the top of the ridge and struck the main body of the track it was downhill to our next night’s stay, Waterfall Valley. The view from on top of the ridge was awesome!
It’s Barn’s Bluff and dominates the landscape around Waterfall Valley. As we approached Waterfall Valley we were treated to this view.
The immediate background behind Karen is Waterfall Valley with the trail far below. The mountain in the background is Mt Pelion West, less than half way along the track to our final destination, Lake St Claire.
On the track we met a volunteer to the park service who was on her way to the Waterfall Valley hut to conduct a survey and do some maintenance and clean up. While it seemed that she was older than us, she was spry and experienced on the trail and disappeared down the trail ahead of us. At the outset we had resolved to take our time on this walk. This was partly in recognition that we’re not as young and strong as we once were and need to be kind to ourselves and partly because our primary aim in doing the walk was to enjoy it! In order to do that, we needed to take rest breaks at frequent intervals and spend lots of time looking around at the view. The weather that first several days cooperated. It was virtually cloudless on this second day at a time when the view from the trail stretched to the horizon. Everywhere we looked was the sight of another beautiful valley, rugged canyon or majestic peak. Breathtaking is the only way to describe it and the photos fall far short of conveying the grandeur of the place. It was through this setting that we walked down into Waterfall Valley.
As always, the packs felt great to get off! We found a nice spot in the shade along side a creek in the campground and set up camp.
Whenever possible we slept in our tent rather than the huts because it was quieter and more comfortable, especially when the weather was good.
Our meals consisted of porridge (oatmeal) in the morning, fortified with sultanas (raisins), dried apples, cinnamon, sugar, and powdered milk. Lunch was a snack of sultanas, Crasins (dried Cranberries), peanuts, and cashews. The evening meal was a packaged, freeze-dried backpackers meal in it’s own foil bag. These were great meals made up in New Zealand, and they tasted wonderful. We ate them right out of the bag to save on dinnerware. None of our meals required any cooking, just boiling water. That saved on fuel, took little time and made cleanup a snap. Next time we may order our own ingredients and make up our own packages to save on expense, but freeze-dried is definitely the way to go on an extended trip!
This and all of our campsites were occupied by friendly Barnett’s Wallabies like this one.
They didn’t beg for food and seemed interested mostly in the grasses that grew in the campsites. The smaller Tasmanian Paddymelon (looks like a smaller version of a wallaby with shorter ears) was seen less frequently. After dark, the possums came out and stole anything that wasn’t tied down or in the tent, but we couldn’t get a photo of them because of the dark.
Next day we headed off for our next stop Lake Windermere. The posted time that it should take between huts was about 3 hours, but we usually took more like 6 hours with our casual ways. This time we started with a detour to one of the more easily accessed waterfalls in Waterfall Valley. It was nice, but since there wasn’t much water in the creek, it wasn’t really spectacular and we moved on up the trail. This day was also cloudless and the views of the tarns, lakes, and mountains along the way kept us enchanted all day. This is me with Lake Windermere in the near background, the trail stretching off into the distance and Mt Pelion West growing closer.
We found a nice campsite just beyond the hut at Widermere and set up camp. Some great people that we’d met while resting at the Lake Wills trail junction camped nearby and we spent a wonderful evening chatting with them as it got dark. They are Stephanie and Mark from Sydney and we would encounter them again several times along the trail. Despite a clear sky when we turned in, that night the weather changed and we were greeted with a light sprinkle of rain and low clouds by morning. However, by the time we struck camp, it was starting to clear and the rest of the day was only partly cloudy.
The walk from Windermere to the next hut site at Pelion was to be the longest of the trip. The posted time was 5 hrs, which would have meant 8 to 10 hours at our pace and the last bit was a climb. We decided to stop short and stay at the campground in Frog Flats (auspicious name!) just before the climb onto the Pelion Plain if the weather held out. We stopped at great look out into the Forth River basin alongside the track. Most of the day was spent in open heathlands like this one.
The rest of the trip was around the base of Mt Pelion West that we’d been approaching for so long. Along the way, Karen spotted a Tiger Snake sunning itself in the path ahead of us. Now, according to the brochures, there are only three species of snakes in Tasmania and all three are venomous. This was no exception. We usually walked with Karen in the lead to set the pace so she knew enough to keep a lookout for these guys. I took the lead and went forward for a closer look. He was a big one, but in no mood for a fight. He slipped quietly from the trail as we approached and was gone by the time we got there. After that we saw lots more "stick" snakes on the trail. It was still a long walk to Frog Flat and we were done in by the time we arrived, what with all the stick snakes along the path. We found a nice site on the far side of the Forth River and pitched camp. Access to water was good and again hungry was a great cook! The weather was threatening by morning and we packed hastily for our run into the Pelion Plain.
We’d decided to stay the day in the Pelion Plain and that night in the Pelion Hut because of the deteriorating weather. We arrived at the hut early after a moderately exerting climb and claimed a spot in the hut for the night. That day we walked in the intermittent rain around the Plain and kinda recovered from the previous several days exertions. The hut stay was OK, but it was noisy and crowded and we didn’t sleep very well. It rained hard that night and the wind blew fiercely, so we were still glad of our choice. In the morning we let everyone clear out early, and took our time assembling our gear in preparation for a wet day’s walk. In fact, it cleared up considerably, and, by the time we’d completed the arduous climb up the Pelion Pass, it was sunny and warm again. We decided not to attempt the very steep (hand over fist) climb to the peak of Mt Ossa which lays to one side of the pass and, instead continue on into the Kia Ora camp.
On the way Karen managed to step on another of Tazzies poisonous snakes, a White Lipped Whip Snake. It’s a smallish, grey green snake and she’d missed seeing it in the trail. On the other hand, I didn’t have any trouble seeing it all, being just three feet behind her when it came rolling out from under her boot looking for something bite! In fact, despite being quite annoyed, it wasn’t big enough to be a real hazard and we were well equipped with high topped boots, gaiters, and long pants. After a moment’s hesitation, while I brought it’s presence to Karen’s attention, the poor thing dragged it’s bruised backside into the brush alongside the trail and disappeared. Even more stick snakes appeared in the trail from there out.
Kia Ora hut is nice, but after our previous hut stay we opted to tent it again. At this campground all the tent sites are on raised wooden platforms which was a good thing since a couple of large Tiger Snakes had been seen lurking around the dunny (outhouse) earlier in the day. While I tried to figure out how to attach the tent to this wooden platform in anticipation of a wet and windy night, Karen interpreted the intermittent sunshine as an opportunity to wash some of our dirty clothes which had assumed a life of their own. Of course, no sooner had she washed them than the sun went behind a cloud, never to reappear again. Nothing dried and so poor Karen had to carry wet clothes around in her pack for the next several days, adding to the weight of her pack. The lesson there is that dirty and dry is better than clean and wet!!
The night at Kia Ora was windy and wet, but the tent held up and kept us dry. We moved into the hut after everyone else had left to pack up in the still and dry and headed off toward the next stop, Windy Ridge in a light drizzle. In some ways, this was the best part of the whole trip. We entered a temperate rain forest where the canopy was so thick that even when the sun made a rare appearance it couldn’t reach the forest floor. Everything was quiet and covered with bright green moss. The ground was covered with the bare, exposed roots of trees which were slippery with the rain making the going slow and careful. More than anything I was reminded of the Lord of the Rings - this could have been Fangorn or Mirkwood Forest. I half expected to see Frodo around the bend ahead of us with his pack on his back and his gnarled walking stick following behind a tall wizard in a grey robe, a tall man dressed in grey-green, a shorter, powerful man in armor, two young hobbits, a dwarf and an elf. I thought I caught a glimpse of moon shaped eyes in the dark shadows, following furtively. Did that mis-shapen tree trunk only appear to be leering at us when we passed? Surely it was only the wind that caused the limbs to sway.
Deep in the enchanted forest we came upon the trail junction to some falls. We let our heavy packs slip to the ground and we made a quick dash down a steep path to Ferguson Falls.
Now that’s a falls! The plunge pool at the base of the falls must have harbored some nice trout, but we weren’t equipped to investigate, so, after a few photos and a quick bite of lunch, we recovered our packs and continued on our way. There was a bit of a climb out through DuCane Gap, but it was gentle compared with what we’d already done and was spiced with the knowledge that it was the last sustained climb that we’d do on the walk! We were tired and happy to arrive at Windy Ridge Hut, only to find out that there were no good campsites in the area! Those around the hut were rocky and sloped and the ones in the meadow were being converted to the wooden platform type. We ended up setting our tent close between two trees on a sloping tent site that was just barely adequate. The hut was full, which was just as well, and we went inside to prepare our evening meal and socialize with the various people that we’d been meeting all along the way. There was a group of four guys from a Rotary Club that we exchanged cooking hints with and, of course, Stephanie and Mark. Despite the conditions, the weather was good, if cold, that night and we slept well. After a quick breakfast, Stephanie and Mark hit the trail to keep a booking they’d made at the end of the trail for a nice room, spa and a bath.
We made our characteristic late start with the idea that if we got to the Narcissus Hut at the north end of Lake St Claire in time to catch the ferry to the other end where a hot shower awaited, we’d do it. Otherwise we were prepared to spend another night camping and finish up the next day. As it turned out the trail was easy and we made good time. By the time we got to Narcissus Hut and contacted the ferry service by radio, they were just coming out to pick up everyone else that had left earlier! So we managed to luck a seat on the ferry without a wait and ended up in Cynthia Bay at the end of the trail that evening.
Ahhh, the bath in drinking water was great! We took a campsite right next to the lake and engaged in the first order of business - a hot shower! The next treat came when our trail companions, the Rotary guys, Graham, Gary and John, who had booked a cabin, invited us over for pot luck dinner and a beer. Best beer I can ever remember!! Trouble is they only put a couple of sips in that first one, so I had to have another! We slept good in the tent that night and spent the next day doing laundry and resting up. It was Valentines Day, so we treated each other to dinner at the resort and a couple bottles of Australian Chardonnay. That evening we called our friends the Boyles and made arrangements to pick us up the next morning.
It was a fitter, and lighter couple they met than those that had been dropped off the week before. We were full of tales of the trail and hungering for a full, home cooked meal!