Originally, the plan had been to do the Western Arthurs Traverse in March with the same group from the January hike.
But after visiting some friends who had just come back from the Western Arthurs, it was clear that this Traverse was only for people who had no problem with making critical decisions in a precarious and challenging wilderness environment and were prepared for major techical scrambles up and down steep vertical drops and rises in an exposed area, which many in our group weren’t.
This is how we came to the Du Cane Range instead. After all, it was about the journey together, and not the destination. (Although the destination of the Western Arthurs hasn’t been quashed completely, just shelved for the time being.)
The Du Cane Range runs parallel to the Overland Track in the southern end of the Cradle Mountain Lake St Clair national park. It’s about a half day’s hike from Narcissus Hut which lies at the northern end of Lake St Clair. Most of the peaks on Du Cane Range are day hikes that many Overland Track pilgrims do as side trips, such as the Acropolis and Parthenon.
Our journey to the area took place the afternoon before the start of our hike. We headed up the Central Highlands Highway from Deloraine to Miena. The store at Miena was closed but it looked well stocked, so we continued on to Bronte Park on a gravel road, which turned out to be a tyre killer (more on that later). There were several nice camping spots near Little Pine Lagoon and at Bronte Park we caught the first glimpse of the Acropolis standing sentinel on the horizon.
We arrived at Lake King William free camp in Derwent Bridge late in the afternoon, to find the wind picking up. There was no lake, seeing as it hadn’t rained for months, just a small creek trickling. We looked for a sheltered cornered for our tents among the bushes and found a nice level spot. A delicious dinner was cooked up (gratefully lentil free) and an early night was on the cards with the howling wind and singing rain tucking us into bed.
Nice sheltered spot.
The lake nothing more than a creek.
In the morning, the wind and rain was horizontal and I peeked outside to see if Kylie’s tent was still in one piece. Fortunately she and it were still attached to the ground but the tent fly was lashing around like a trapped snake.
We decamped very carefully and then made our way to Lake St Clair visitor’s centre to find that power had been lost and they were trying to turn the generator on. There was no possibility for a hot drink unless you were a paying guest in one of the deluxe cabins, then there was a buffet available that would have made your eyes water.
While nosying around inside, I found this nice quote:
“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” ~ Rob Siltanen.
As we weren’t cabin guests, we piled into the car and drove to Derwent Bridge and found the Wombat Cafe had enough gas to boil water and fry up toasties in a skillet, so we and every other wet/cold patron was more than happy to place an order.
Biker tourists were streaming into the cafe, having made the ride from Queenstown in the surly conditions, to defrost and warm up by the very much appreciated cosy wood fire in the corner of the cafe. They were also waiting for fuel, which wouldn’t be available until the power was restored. But the food and comraderie more than made up for the temporary inconvenience.
Eventually we made our way back to Lake St Clair, where at the carpark in the rain we jammed our packs with food and then marched over to the BBQ hut next to the visitor’s centre to wait for the rest of our team to arrive.
When the rest of the group did arrive, the obligatory snack was taken out and offered as a sacrifice. Last time we had eaten a pineapple on top of Higgs Track at Lady Lake, this time we had homemade cakes from the Chudleigh Menonites. They were divided between Neil, who got a brownie; the cookie monster, who ate a whole spiced cake; and the rest, who shared the crumbs. ;P
The gang getting ready before the ferry ride.
As the countdown to catching the ferry approached, every now and then the clouds would part and sunshine would appear only to vanish a few seconds later. This game of hide and seek continued for much of the day. Taking a wander down to the ferry terminal, I saw the tiny boat bobbing up and down in the water like a cork in a storm and wondered what kind of ride we were in for.
Fortunately Pancho, the captain and a stoic salt, assured us it was going to be a washing machine once we got out of protected Cynthia Bay and up to Narcissus Hut. The good news was that he was going to go slow over the tumult and we wouldn’t be stopping at Echo Point hut as that had been a nightmare earlier that morning.
We surfed our way to Narcissus Hut with no mishaps and the wind and rain seemed to somewhat die down as we started walking towards the myrtle forest away from the button grass plain. The rain eventually petered out and the dull conditions made the colour of the forest so vibrant and rich that days later on the same track back to Narcissus Hut, the same colours were completely saturated by the intense sunshine and appeared totally indistinct. We had been so fortunate to have gone through the weather to have experienced its delicate subtlety.
The route through the button grass to Pine Valley-Overland Track junction.
Through the Myrtle beech forest.
These planks remind me of plateau running in Norway.
Mountain rocket.
It had been a while since our last hike and the pack weighed a bit more. We were carrying more food, and of course I was carrying three litres of water, although gratefully nobody was carrying a pineapple this time. I had read about the crazy things people take in their packs, and among them have been watermelons, cans of food and wine bottles. Seeing as the packs of yesteryear had probably been about ten times heavier than our lightweight packs of today, I took a moment to pause and respectfully reflect on how hardy bushwalkers in the past had been and promised I would never complain.
The track from Narcissus hut to Pine Valley hut is a gradual climb, stretched over a distance of about nine kilometres so the ascent is hardly recognisable. Most of it is through a mix of dry sclerophyll and myrtle beech, and then you are greeted by typical Southwest terrain replete with waratah, snowgum, pencil pine, king billy pine, pandani, celery top pine, sassafras, banksia, leatherwood, mountain rocket, fagus, lichen, moss, boardwalk (not a plant), and then the most incredible ancient rainforest you’ve ever seen as you approach the hut. The amazing thing was that it was perfectly still inside the forest. A sanctuary away from the turbulent morning.
Heading to Pine Valley.
Leatherwood.
These colours were so vibrant in the overcast weather.
Pandani and celery top on the left, myrtle on the right.
The track.
Entering the Pine Valley forest.
Very hard to capture the vivid green colour with a camera.
Forest artwork or architecture?
Pine Valley hut is near the Cephissus Creek, which accompanies you almost all the way to Narcissus, with its source originating up in the Du Cane range near Mt Geryon. The hut is brand new, fancy and modern, almost too much so. It doesn’t have much character compared to the absolute magic of the surrounding enchanted forest, but we did spend the night inside it - probably out of curiosity, convenience or need for warmth. Having found a spot to sleep on one of the upper bunk platforms, directly under a spotlight, I wondered how warm it was actually going to be.
The intrepid adventurers ready for what lies ahead!
After an evening concert of squeeky air mattresses and two people playing slam cards on a metal table, we eventually fell asleep. Actually, there was a moment of weirdness in the hut when the two people playing cards were distinctly heard as Hilde got up to pee but when she came back, I realised that nobody was there. Was there a kind of trippy twilight zone vortex inside the hut or perhaps it had been a matter of everything existing all at once? I guess I will never know.
The next morning, we were ready to enter the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth being a series of lakes and tarns on top of the Du Cane range. Someone who had really been into mythology had obviously walked through this region and been inspired to name it after the Greeks. Perhaps Mr Du Cane himself?
Hilde shows the way to the Labyrinth. For the Acropolis continue straight ahead.
Giant with red fungi growing on it and white leatherwood flowers on the ground.
The ascent has begun.
Looking through a keyhole.
The rocky road ahead.
Fagus, the only native tree in Australia that turns yellow in autumn.
From down in the dark depths of the Pine Valley, we made our way up the rise to the top of the Parthenon. It was like ascending to meet the gods.
While waiting for the group to take a puffy break, I looked up into the tree canopy and found a heart staring back at me. I’m not the kind of person who sees love in objects or things, and perhaps I was imagining things, but there it was - the tree’s branches forming a heart with the diffused morning sunlight creating an aura. It didn’t matter that nobody else saw it. Did the forest love us? Who knew. All I knew was that I loved being in the forest.
As the trees gave way to boulders, we could see how gorgeous the weather was - blue sky, sunshine, stillness. Nothing of the previous day remained. It was like it had never existed. It didn’t really - there was only here and now.
The forest showing some love. See the heart?
Negotiating the final steep vertical steps over rock and branches, we made it to the top of the Parthenon and were met by one of those memorable panoramas that is the raison d’être of bushwalking. With Lake St Clair in the distance and mountains and mountains all around, it was like coming home.
Neil blasting his way up.
Heavy going with full packs.
The panorama of Lake St Clair to Mt Olympus in the background and Mt Gould and the Minotaur in the foreground.
We dropped our packs and climbed a small rocky rise for a majestic 360 degree view of the entire region all the way to the west with endless peaks in the distance and all the way to the north with the country we were about to uncover on foot. I took a photo of Hilde and Kristina quietly surveying the vast expanse in front of them. Were they riding the air of freedom and enjoying it? I hoped so.
Two ladies in sync looking west across that endless horizon.
After putting our packs back on, I was buzzing from the stunning beauty all around us. We were now about to enter the Labyrinth, a highly sensitive ecological area. As we came to the edge of the Parthenon, the first view of the lake system and the magic that lay beyond teased us. Mts Eros and Hyperion beckoned, and off in the far distance possibly Mt Thetis waved to us.
Carefully, we made our first descent to the first lake, Lake Cyane, our intended lunch spot. Somehow Neil and his girls (me, Hilde and Kylie) were the first to get there. While we waited for Kristina and Laurie to arrive, our minds gently landed in the impressive landscape. This was the beauty of bushwalking with our group, there was no rush to get anywhere. For we were already in the place we wanted to be.
Neil looking back at us with the splendid backdrop of Lake Cyane.
One of the many small tarns before the descent down to Lake Cyane.
A short time later, we set off again. Kristina took the lead and weaved us around Lakes Cyane and Ophion.
Looking back at the spot we had our break.
Hugging the shores of Lakes Cyane and Ophion.
It was here, at Lake Ophion, that I had read about a side track branching off that would take walkers to Walled Mountain. We were alert to this and although we walked past the actual junction at the northern border of the lake (without realising it), there was another junction just a bit further ahead, which someone had marked as a false turn off. Arrows pointed to the north and we continued on to Lake Elysia, which was only a short ten minute walk from Lake Ophion. I had stopped at the small stream that ran into Lake Ophion to fill up my water bladder and then joined Hilde for the last metres to Lake Elysia. And what a view to behold when we arrived. The Acropolis and Mt Geryon appeared from out of the pencil pines.
Kristina on her way to Lake Elysia with the ‘gun site’ of Mt Geryon revealing itself.
Mt Geryon and the Acropolis.
Lake Elysia is known for being one of the most stunning lakes for reflections, and it wasn’t hard to see why, especially as the sun started to set and the wind died down.
The lake of reflections.
It wasn’t advised to camp close to the lake, so we went further up the hill behind the lake to find a tent site. There we found some reasonably level soft ground, which wasn’t too boggy or wet. The other option had been down at the lake on the large flat rock platforms. As everyone set up camp, a nice large boulder at the lake became our kitchen and dining room, and we each slowly made our way down there to sit on the rock and drink in the beautiful scenery. Some had taken this literally and had gone in for the obligatory lake swim. Kylie with a rousing yahoo and Kristina with a more subdued sigh of pleasure,
The next morning, after a very peaceful sleep, Laurie and Kristina decided to decamp and head up to Lake Helios, which had originally been the plan of the whole group. A theoretical plan of sorts that would later be confirmed en situ when we arrived in the Du Cane range. Now that we were here, the plan looked more like some of us using Lake Elysia as a base and undertaking day trips, such as exploring Lake Helios and beyond, rather than camping there. Laurie was keen to make it up to Mount Massif and that was only possible by camping at Lake Helios. So it was here that the group split in two.
We bid Laurie and Kristina farewell, and soon two other bushwalkers arrived and took up residence of their tent site. Neil got busy talking to them, and it appeared they had kayaked up Lake St Clair and were making their way to the unnamed highest peak on the Du Cane range, north of Mt Geryon. That news was enough to ignite Neil’s drive for climbing mountains, and soon we had our day packs on and were on the track to Mt Geryon, which happened to be the same track as Laurie and Kristina were on.
Leaving Lake Elysia.
Heading towards Lake Helios and Mt Geryon.
Walled Mountain reminding us it’s also expecting us.
Heading down to Pool of Memories.
Inevitably, we caught up with them at Pool of Memories. A loud ‘Cooee!’ alerted them to our approach and we had a short snack together at the pool’s edge. Pool of Memories is a smallish picturesque lake with pandani and the Acropolis and Mt Geryon framing it. Someone had done some rather handy stone work around the pool.
Pool of Memories.
I wondered where the ‘pool of memories’ name came from and what significance it had? I remembered that in the Greek underworld of Hades, there were two pools souls could wash themselves in. I later found out that ordinary souls dipped into the pool of Lethe and absolved themselves of all memories, while initiates of the cult of Demeter, bathed in the pool of Mnemosyne (the goddess of memories) to absorb the Mysteries or divine wisdom.
The divine wisdom would induce a vision of the afterlife so powerful that it would change the initiates’ world view. It was an interesting analogy, as we were out in one of the most stunning natural locations in Tasmania - where if you spent enough time alone you would most certainly acquire a different world view.
Being a mythology fan, I remembered that lakes, tarns, pools and any kind of waterway had always been reflective mediums to test out what the viewer really sees. If anything. Immersing ourselves in water is also a powerful surrender to the natural elements. Probably one of the most intimate ways of being ‘in’ nature.
Could these be more reasons why bushwalkers go bush?
As we pressed on from Pool of Memories, one of our goals for the day was to find an area of mobile reception. A climb up from the pool brought us to a large rocky ridge, the perfect location for Neil to test out his mobile. Lo and behold, he was able to ring Lake St Clair lodge to change the return ferry booking. Amazing what you can do in the middle of nowhere.
While Neil rings civilisation, Kylie and I discuss where we are.
The view from the rocky ridge with Pine Valley on the left.
Here you can get mobile reception. Crazy, eh.
Heading upwards from the rocky ridge we could see Cephissus Creek dropping down from dizzying heights into Pine Valley below us. Another steep incline fringed by alpine scoparia, mountain rocket, pineapple grass and heath soon appeared. I stopped for a moment to admire the variety and beauty of the native gardens.
The higher we got, the more the country opened out with breathtaking views of Pine Valley’s unique glacial shape. The track was very rocky and there was quite a bit of scrambling to the top, with a small stream tumbling over the rocks offering opportunities left and right of the track to catch some crystal clear drinking water.
Pine Valley’s glacial shape.
The alpine flora.
From here you can see Lake St Clair in the very distance to the left (the trip’s starting point), and the lake in the very back in the centre of the photo is Lake Elysia from where we had started off that morning.
When we made it to the top we were not disappointed by the incredible vista. While four of us had lunch at a nearby small tarn, Neil and Kylie went on ahead to find the junction for Lake Helios and Mt Geryon. Neil wanted to know if it was easy to see Lake Helios, as according to the map it wasn’t that far away. He was also keen to summit Mt Geryon and his girls weren’t sure yet if they wanted to follow suit. But we had come all this way, so by the time we found him and Kylie sitting on and amongst the boulders, we were in for the final dash up to Mt Geryon. At the junction, we bid Kristina and Laurie farewell once again.
The fork in the road for Laurie and Kristina.
While we headed up to Mt Geryon.
Neil told us he had wandered over to the edge of the ridge not far from the track junction to see if Lake Helios had been visible. He had only seen another descent into the carved out landscape where Lake Helios was situated. He estimated it was probably another half hour’s hike down from the ridge, and we thought we might try it out on the way back to base camp. Little did we know what kind of spanner in the works would prevent that from happening.
Straight ahead is Mt Geryon north and probably the unnamed highest point on Du Cane range, and to the right is the saddle before the clump of boulders up to the Mt Geryon plateau.
The hike up to Mt Geryon saddle is easy going, follows a gentle rise and requires a little bit of rock hopping. We made it to the saddle in less than half an hour and through a cleft in the cliffs we could see across to Du Cane Gap where the Overland Track makes its way through.
Tassie Shangri-La
Neil was fairly keen to climb the north peak of Geryon, which is generally regarded as a ‘bushwalker’ rather than a rockclimber destination. He might have given this peak a go if one or more of us girls had been keen, but we were already a bit short on time. So Neil decided to head to the southern end of the plateau to enjoy a fantastic view standing 1500 metres above the world.
To get there a large boulder scramble awaited us. Kylie and I joined Neil in the attempt, and although it wasn’t difficult, you did need a good head for heights, which Kylie realised she didn’t have and so went back down.
I followed Neil for a bit, but then paused to take in the view, leaving Neil to continue on. The altitude gave me a clear view of Mts Eros and Hyperion, Castle Crag, Falling Mountain and Du Cane Gap. I even saw Mount Massif, which is an elusive part of the Du Cane range. They were all points on the map we had pondered over and discussed prior to coming on the trip.
Falling Mountain and Du Cane Gap.
The off track route down Falling Mountain on the Geryon side of Du Cane range looked like a steep ski slope through thick vegetation, just as we had imagined. While the back side of it, which would have also taken us off track, wasn’t visible from where I was standing. I guessed it was possible to make it all the way down to Kia Ora hut on the Overland Track. Options we had considered if we had gone all the way to Lake Helios and Mount Massif and didn’t want to return the same way.
Neil disappeared among the boulders, a bit disappointed I hadn’t gone with him. He later told me it had only been a few more metres of bouldering before it had levelled out into the long plateau. I was satisfied though with how far I had come, especially as that morning it hadn’t been the first destination or goal in mind. Every view we had in any direction was mind blowing, so just being with ‘it’ was more than enough.
The tiny dot with arms flailing.
We had arranged for Neil to come back down from the summit at a certain time, and if he didn’t appear, we’d send a search party for him, e.g. me going up to find him. So back down at the saddle we three girls waited for him. After a while a tiny dot appeared above a massive boulder and arms flailed around in the air for balance as the tiny dot started its cautious descent. It was Neil. Yay!
It had been a running commentary among us girls since our first Map of Tassie hike together, about the kind of food we would be preparing, or would like to eat. A habit Hilde and I had started on our first long distance hike in Norway. Neil often seemed to be privy to this gourmet discussion, as we would be bringing up the rear of the group with him in tow. Often times talking about food was a way of staying motivated on a long day’s hike when we were tired. Other times we were just hungry.
Our foodie talk went into overdrive as the spanner in the works for that day revealed itself. The sole of Neil’s boot suddenly appeared like a dog’s tongue hanging out and panting. It was coming off. As he pulled over for a pit stop, a plethora of tools came out his pack including a roll of gaffe tape and climbing rope to reattach the sole to the boot. Neil - the original MacGyver.
This fine piece of repair work took quite a while, and required repeat attention all the way back to base camp, making for a longer walk than anticipated. Along the way, not to be outdone, the other sole on the other boot came loose and started flapping around. Soon Neil had two boots taped and roped, with extra insurance from the pack straps Kylie had fortuitously taken with her.
Fortunately, nobody really cared (I think) how long it took us to get back. It was a beautiful walk and we weren’t about to leave Neil behind to fend for himself. Funny how nobody took a photo of this misadventure, because it had been quite a fun sight. Dinner tasted especially delicious that night after our nine hour hike and we crawled early into our sleeping bags.
Sunrise at Lake Elysia.
The sunrises at Lake Elysia were stunning. Every morning I would try to wake just before the sun made it’s way over the Acropolis. Parrots would come at the same time to sit in the same tree near our big boulder kitchen. The solar breeze would kick in and remain until the sun rose higher in the sky.
The plan for the new day was to go and have a look at Walled Mountain, whether from down below, half way up or from the top, I wasn’t sure. Not everyone was keen to climb another mountain after yesterday, but it was agreed that anyone could bail at any time and head back to camp.
After a very leisurely breakfast and easy start, we followed the Labyrinth track back towards Lake Ophion and took the turn off to Walled Mountain, which we thought to be correct but which turned out to be wrong. Soon we found ourselves heading off track through beautiful bush. Not that it was terribly hard going, but as the track notes about Walled Mountain were in an official guide, logic dictated that there had to be a marked path somewhere.
The cairn marks the track at Lake Eurynome.
After bushbashing for a while and coming across Lake Eurynome, Hilde spotted some cairns and we found the official track. This made it much easier, and as it turned out, much faster than what we had imagined if we had continued bushbashing. From below it looked like we would have to follow the distinct ridgeline all the way up to the top (at least in my naive mind). This looked to take much longer than the actual track turned out to be, which cut a neat vertical line straight up across a much shorter distance.
Winding our way between Dombrovskis Tarns (visible) and Lake Aeacus (not visible).
Some boulders to negotiate.
The map readers discuss where we are going. The track took us up in the green canals you can see in the back.
On the way up we came across the two bushwalkers who had, the previous day, gone up to the unnamed highest peak on Du Cane range. They were coming back down from Walled Mountain and informed us that it wasn’t much further to the top, and to keep going - the view was worth it. The track weaved under a grove of pencil pines and crossed some pools to start the final steep, technical section obstacled by branches and bushes. This didn’t last long and as the views expanded, we realised we weren’t far from the top.
Almost there Neil! Mt Geryon and Acropolis behind him with the labyrinth of lakes.
I wonder if she’s thinking, why are we on another mountain? :D
When you look at Walled Mountain from afar you imagine the top to be narrow and bony. This is an illusion. Once you’re up, you realise there is a massive plateau that seems to expand into perpetuity towards the west. This time I joined Neil at the trig point summit, as it was only a five minute walk from the flat, and to say the views were stupendous, is a gross understatement. Feeling like an eagle soaring above the world is an metaphor that comes to mind.
On Walled Mountain plateau heading to the trig point.
Massive cushion grass.
King of the mountain!
The view from the top - north east looking at the nipple of Mt Hyperion, the carved glacial bowl where Lake Helios is and the Mt Geryon section of Du Cane range blocking out Mt Massif.
The view from the top - due east towards Mt Geryon and the Acropolis. You can see Mt Geryon north and the highest unnamed point in the Du Cane range to the left.
The view from the top - south east looking at the Labryinth lake system.
The view from the top - due south looking at the long ridge extending to the right of The Guardians, with the distinctive peak of Mt Gould jutting up above The Minotaur.
The view from the top - the mountains of the south west including Frenchmans Cap which was under cloud, but which we had seen from Mt Geryon the day before.
The view from the top - due west and the seemingly neverending plateau of Walled Mountain. We’re thinking some of those mountains in the distance may be the Eldon and Tyndall ranges near Queenstown?
This time we made it back to camp in the mid afternoon and had ample time to wash, cook dinner and enjoy the evening before retiring to bed. The next morning we were up early to prepare our return to Pine Valley hut. That morning we heard rock climbers yelling at each other, but we couldn’t work out where they were, whether on Mt Geryon or the Acropolis.
Kylie preparing for her return to the hut.
As we set off from Lake Elysia, we retraced our steps back to Lake Cyane. It was there that I saw the first wildlife I had seen on the entire trip, a lone water bird gliding along like an ice skater. The lake’s surface was perfectly still and she seemed undisturbed as she drifted happily. Then as she intuited she was not alone, she headed towards the edge of the lake to blend in with the bushes.
For someone who doesn’t like her photo taken, the best shots are usually with her in it!
Just making it up to the Parthenon from the Labyrinth.
There’s a track winding back to an old fashioned shack…
This boardwalk leads you up the tree!
We made it back down to the hut in three hours. Neil found a nice corner in the hut for himself, while the rest of us put up tents on the outdoor platforms. Neil struck up a conversation with a young Japanese hiker, who had hiked up to the Acropolis and back in two hours. Although we may have felt inspired on an intellectual level to do the same, I think we all agreed it was a hike for another time. What we did want to go and see were the Cephissus Falls, which was on the same track as the Acropolis. So off we set.
Enter the pandani. (Bruce Lee fans will get it.)
Tactical camouflage.
Seeing as there hadn’t been much rain of late, the falls were reduced to a mere trickle. As we followed the trail through the ancient rainforest packed with pandani, the biggest King Billy pines I had ever seen, massive gnarly old myrtle beeches, leatherwood and celery top pine, we walked past the falls without even realising (until later). The only give away was the louder murmur of running water.
Going past the falls following the almost empty creek bed.
As we continued for another ten minutes and the track started to take us up an incline, I stopped and checked my map and realised we had gone too far and were now making our way up to the Acropolis.
Cephissus Falls.
Backtracking a fair distance, we found the falls tucked away to the side of the track, not far from the hut. And while they may have been smaller than usual, they were no less beautiful or stunning.
The biggest King Billy pine I’ve ever stood next to.
I could just imagine how impressive the tiered falls were in the peak winter rains. There was also a beautiful pool of water in front of the falls, which was no doubt breathtakingly cold. I soon found myself standing beside a giant King Billy pine.
Back at the hut, Neil, Kylie, Hilde and I rustled up the last bags of food for dinner, and were glad to be joined by Kristina and Laurie, who had made it back from Lake Helios. A full belly and a few games of Boggle later, everyone slowly made their way to bed.
It had not only been a trip filled with ripped boot soles but also ripped air mattresses. Hilde’s mattress had developed a leak, so I gave her mine seeing as I didn’t mind sleeping on a hard surface. It was a much better sleep outside the hut than inside and we woke early (thanks to the person with a rather loud voice). I headed up to the helipad to watch the sunrise and wasn’t disappointed.
The view from the helipad in Pine Valley as the sun hits Mt Gould and the Minotaur.
Neil had discussed a return route to Narcissus Hut over the Minotaur and across Gould plateau. In the end it was probably more ambitious than we were prepared for this time. There are so many entry and exit options available in the Du Cane range, making it a perfect place to keep coming back to. As I watched the sun hit the mountains, I thanked nature for the magnificent time we had spent here and looked forward to our return.
Back at camp, Kristina and Laurie were up early getting ready to head out to Narcissus Hut. They were booked on the midday ferry, while we were booked on the afternoon one. After breakfast, we bid the couple farewell once again as they set off ahead of us.
With five days of hiking under our belt, the rest of us blasted our way back to Narcissus Hut in record time (for us), shaving quite a bit of time off our hike in to the hut on the first day. I think we were very keen to get to back to Lake St Clair and have a beer, or at least to get to Narcissus Hut and just sit down and relax. As we arrived at the hut, I saw Kristina and Laurie off at the ferry.
Crouching Tiger in a moment of contemplation on the old foot bridge.
Back on the Overland Track not far from Narcissus Bay.
It was a leisurely wait in the gorgeous sunshine at Narcissus Bay, with multiple rounds of snacks, games, and a swim in the river for Kylie. A group of influencers making social media vlogs for their fans mentioned the koalas they had seen on the Overland Track. That made the locals giggle and triggered some gentle ribbing at their expense. “Watch out for those koalas at the ferry terminal!” we cautioned, as the influencers and their selfie sticks headed in that direction.
At the ferry terminal looking out for koalas, with Mt Olympus in the background.
The boat ride back to Cynthia Bay was a world away from the boat ride in six days ago. The weather was calm and sunny. Everyone enjoyed the quick trip back to port under the experienced command of Pancho’s wife.
Back at the car, Kylie, Hilde, Neil and I grabbed a beer and we saluted each other and Kristina and Laurie (in spirit) on another fabulous trip in the fabulous Tasmanian outdoors.
But the adventure had not ended. We still had the gravel road to negotiate across the central highlands to Miena. On the way down to Golden Valley, we realised the back tyre was flat so we pulled over. Four people got out, four loads of packs and gear were thrown onto the ground and the spare tyre rolled out.
It was a great spot of teamwork as chocks were thrown under tyres, a momentary adjustment of the jack was undertaken, and the tyre came off and the spare went on. Later the tyre repair service said the tyre had been shredded from the inside and was therefore unrepairable. I dare say the gravel road had something to do with it.
It seemed that each group hike had a slight misadventure at the end. The last hike had had the leech incident; this hike had the tyre incident. As long as they remained this banal, I didn’t mind.
It was early evening as we dropped Neil off in Western Creek and then Kylie at her car in Chudleigh. Hilde and I made the final drive to our housesit in Launceston where two beautiful cats were very happy to see us. As we sat down, tired but content, we saluted each other on another great adventure. After all, isn’t this what life’s about? The adventure together?
Neil and his girls, minus Kylie who’s taking the photo. Enjoying our still cold after six days in the boot of the car non-alcoholic beer!
There have been many takeaways from this trip, but the most mindful one has been seeing the light in people’s eyes when they are out in nature.
Bushwalking can mean so many different things to so many different people. For some it’s about a destination, a goal. For others, it’s about the journey, the experience. Some are driven by the interactions and the company. Others, by the exploration and discovery.
Perhaps bushwalking is all of these and a lot more, such as the taking of time, or of not even thinking about it. Of simply enjoying the moment, as well as ourselves and others in an unending moment. Because it is later, when we reflect upon the experience, that we may regret not having been fully present.
In nature there is nothing to distract us, only our minds. When we no longer see a separation between who we are and the nature we see, maybe the distraction can slowly dissolve away and the presence becomes complete.
Once again I am grateful for the pleasure of hiking with every one of our group’s members. Until the next time!