In the midst of chaos - A dramatic finale to an epic traverse

I haven't posted any trip reports for over a year now – very lazy of me. This is my account of a recent trip to the Frankland Range in South-west Tasmania. I was accompanied by my good friend Nick for the first day and a half, and from there it was solo. After 8 days, of mostly great weather, I made it out, accomplishing nearly all of what I had set out to do. A very satisfying trip!

Setting off from the car

View from Serpentine Dam

Day 1: Serpentine Dam – Mt Sprent

The tree across the track

After arriving in Hobart on the Saturday night, I had a day to prepare to last bits for the trip. I was carrying about 12 days of food, just to be sure I had enough, and with the option of a trip up the Folded Range at the end of the trip. My pack weighed in at 23kg, which was more than I really wanted to be carrying, knowing the extent of the climb on day 1. Nick came and picked me up at 7am and we drove the 2.5 hours out to Serpentine Dam, just past Strathgordon. From here we set off, meeting our first obstacle within a minute of walking: a large tree had fallen over the track. Not wanting to take my pack off, I somehow squeezed underneath it. From there I signed into the log book, and the slog up the hill began. 

It took only a matter of minutes and Nick had disappeared up the hill. He was only carrying gear for one night, so his pack was much lighter, and admittedly I was not as fit as I once was. I was determined just to keep at it, and eventually the climb started to flatten out. Upon passing the clearly visible weather station, about 2/3 of the way up, the rain started to fall. The summit was no longer in view, and it got cold very quickly. I know I was very hesitant to drop off the summit to open ridges without visibility, and I was relieved when Nick had the same thought. We decided to drop camp early, finding a semi-sheltered spot on a ridge, just below the summit. Only 20 metres below us the wind ripped across an open gully. It was only just after midday when we arrived here.

Night one camp

We both had a bit of a sleep, and by the time I had woken a few hours later, the weather had passed, and blue skies were overhead. I made a quick dash to the summit to get some photos, and I had a look around for any pools of water to cook dinner with. After a bit of searching I found a small pool down in a gully. We had enough water to cook dinner, and enough to top up my bladder for the following day. We both headed off for an early night, ready to head off down the range the next day.

Mt Sprent Summit Trig

View from Mt Sprent

Exhausted on the morning of day 2 - Mt Sprent Summit

Day 2: Mt Sprent – Below Koruna Peak

Looking down the Wilmot Range

We woke up fairly late and packed up our gear. Nick packed a day pack to join me for part of the day. The sun was out, and we could see quite some way in the distance. The initial short climb to the summit of Mt Sprent tired me out quickly with the full pack on. My body was still adjusting to several months without any pack carrying. We set off down the boulders below the summit, following a line of cairns to the open grassy ridges of the Wilmot Range. For the whole way along, Koruna Peak was in view. The route passed through a scrubby valley where a small creek passed through, but luckily we picked a line that crossed the creek immediately where a pad up to the next ridge was attained. On each scrubby ridge from here on there was a rough pad where it was needed, although the walking was almost always open and easy. We made several comments on how good the walking was. After a couple of hours of walking, Nick had to say goodbye and head back to work the following night. It was about 11:30am when he turned around. 

Nick at the point of his return - jealous of what lay ahead

Coronation Peak in the distance

I didn't have all that far to get to Koruna Peak. I kept moving until I was under the base of Koruna, where I left the pack and raced to the summit. I foolishly left the camera in the pack when I ran up. After I returned I picked up a very well-worn track that leads to Islet Lake, which sits directly under Koruna Peak. There were a few rough campsites here, but it was too early to stop. I refilled water here, and had a quick snack before setting off up the ridge to follow leads through some lovely grassy valleys below the main ridge of the Wilmot Range. After another hour or so of walking the track dropped down through some forest, passing a great little bivouac cave and a creek into a sparse grassy valley, with spectacular views of the cliffs on Koruna Peak, and the grassy tops of the Wilmot Range summits. I decided to camp here, despite it being just after 2pm. I was already feeling fatigued, and was keen to rest up in a place that had a good supply of water. I was concerned that water may become scarce as the trip went on, and that proved to be the case the next day.

Islet Lake and Koruna Peak

Koruna Peak from my campsite

Day 3: Wilmot Valley – Coronation Peak

Distinctive peak at the end of the Wilmot Range

I woke early to blue skies yet again. I packed up quickly, knowing that a big day was needed today. I set off and found a pad up onto the ridge top. The first summit that is climbed has some quite distinct quartzite spires on the top. It was a tough slog up the hill, but it felt much easier than the first two days. Finally I was regaining a bit of fitness. After reaching the top, a track leads steeply down to the next saddle, which had a large rocky overhang, a perfect place for a quick snack. After climbing the next part of the ridge, I slipped on a rock and took a chunk of skin off my left hand. It stung for a bit, but from that point I decided it best to start wearing my scrub gloves. My arms were already cut to pieces by scratchy Richea scoparia and Leptospermum rupestre (Tea-tree). I pushed on and made it to the famous ‘Bowl’ campsite. It would have been amazing to camp here, but unfortunately it was far too early for me to stop, and I wanted to catch up some lost time from day 1 today. I topped up my water and headed off to begin the long climb up Tribulation Ridge. It surprised me to find it very well tracked and relatively easy to climb. 

The campsite known as 'The Bowl' - Coronation Peak behind

There are some slightly exposed sections along the way, but nothing too scary. I guess I found that with these ridges, there is only one way to go, so tracks form fairly quickly. After slogging away for a couple of hours, I reached the top of the ridge, and then it was a simple drop down to the saddle below Coronation Peak, my camp for the night. I thought I could see water from up higher on the ridge, but the camp was dry. I set up my camp, and then filled up my day pack for a quick trip to the summit. The sun had been out all day, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to go up in good weather. I wasn't sure of the forecast for the next day. The climb follows cairns up a steep gully, with plenty of handholds, then a short section of scree, and some amazing views. I touched base with people at home, letting them know that I had made it to my camp. I took a few snaps and had some dry dinner, opting to conserve water for the following day, not knowing when the next source would be.

Coronation Peak from a high point on Tribulation Ridge

Night 3 camp under Coronation Peak - Double Peak in the background

Day 4: Coronation Peak – The Cupola

Madonna Ridge from Double Peak

I woke again to blue skies. I couldn't believe my luck! I packed up and set off to Double Peak. I made a slight blunder, thinking I had to pass over the first of the summits. This proved to be somewhat dangerous. I ascended a steep gully, and then had some airy scrambling, only to end at a point of no return. I decided to head back down and sidle underneath to the summit saddle. I then found the cairned route, and it all became very simple. I made it to the summit when an old trig station used to stand. Some concrete and bit of iron still sat on the ground. The decent to Madonna Ridge was quite simple. Tracks existed when needed. The track then climbed to Redtop Peak, where I again had great views, and then I quickly headed to the saddle underneath to begin the climb to The Cupola. I had not found water at any point during the day, so I was getting desperate for water. I'd looked for yabby holes, but they were also very dry. 

Looking down the range

Double Peak and Coronation Peak from Redtop Peak

The Cupola bowl - you can see my tent on the right

I finally made the push up to the saddle above The Cupola, where I could clearly see a creek running through the grassy bowl where I would camp the night. I rushed down and filled up on water and electrolytes. I had a quick snooze in the shade before running up to the summit. I spent quite a time up the top, until the march flies got too much for me. I was able to have a hot dinner and a really good night's sleep. Sunset was quite beautiful watching from the Cupola bowl. It had been a relatively short day, a welcome relief from the previous day, and knowing the next day could also be short was appealing.

Sunset and The Lion from my tent in the Cupola bowl

Day 5: The Cupola – Citadel Shelf

The Moat and Citadel Shelf from The Lion

Surprise, surprise – blue skies!!  I woke just before 7am, and packed up my gear. I was keen to climb the peaks while the weather was still good. I was sure it was going to crack at some point. I quickly climbed the ridge to head out to The Lion. I dropped the pack and headed out down the open ridge. For me, The Lion was the most fun summit to climb, and possibly the best views. The track sidles underneath the cliffs of The Lion, some tight boulder-y corners and horizontal in places too. After half an hour of walking from where I dropped my pack, I was on the summit. There were great views to The Cupola, and to The Citadel, as well as all the way back along the range. 

The Gully!

I headed back and picked up my pack for the fairly short journey to the Citadel shelf. I arrived there at around 11am. I set up camp and the grey clouds started to come in. I thought I best go and climb the Citadel while it was still dry, knowing there was a steep gully climb. I started walking out down the track to the spires, almost stepping on a tiger snake along the way. The track sidles around the western Citadel and leads directly to the steep gully which climbs to the summit of the eastern Citadel. I quickly started my way up the gully, having no major issues with its airiness, but as I got higher I began to worry about the descent. I have never been a confident descender. I reached the summit and took a few photos and began to focus on the descent. I actually found it to be easier than the ascent, and I didn't feel unsafe at any point. 

The Moat from near the summit of The Citadel

Croaking Lake and Remote Peak

After getting back to the campsite, it was still before 2pm, and the clouds, while they were grey, didn't look overly threatening. I had read that the trip to Remote Peak was only 3-6 hours, and I thought I would be on the quicker side of those times, so I decided to go for it. The trip out is through burnt valleys, quite a sight, and I imagine it wouldn't have been a pleasant trip before the fire went through. I made it out to Croaking Lake in 45 minutes, thinking it would take another 30 minutes to the summit. While there were no pads out here, it was easy to just zig-zag up the rocky ledges to the summit. The clouds were still grey, but I wasn't worried about rain. I made it to the summit, and then returned by a slightly different route, trying to find an easier path to the main ridge. I made it back to the campsite in just over 3 hours; it was about 5:20pm. I cooked up some food and had a good night's sleep, after a fairly long, but easy day.

Citadel Shelf camp with the Citadels keeping watch

Day 6: Citadel Shelf – Right Angle Peak

Views of The Lion and The Citadels from Murphy's Bluff

Today was the one day I was really concerned about water. I wasn't sure whether Frankland Saddle would have any water. The first summit of the day was the easy stroll out to Murphy's Bluff. Views here were quite good. The range was fairly open up until Cleft Peak, with some amazing views down to Frankland Shore. After Cleft, the route descend through some thick tea-tree, and then in some clumpy button grass. It was quite a warm day, blue skies yet again. As the range climbed up the uninspiring Greycap, I was getting very tired, and there was very little evidence of a track up here. 

A misty Mt Anne

Open ridge walking

The route from the top of Greycap suggested I had to go over some bumps, but it turned out that it is best to go underneath them, until the last one, where the route heads down the hill in the saddle between the last two peaks. The walking was easy enough, but more grass to frustrate me, and still very dry. The weather started to change up as I headed up over the last hill before Frankland Saddle. I thought the rain was definitely coming this time. I reached Frankland Saddle and went looking for water. I was almost down to my last litre. I was planning to camp here, but the lack of water prompted me to keep moving up to Right Angle Peak, in the hope of a stream up there. As I started climbing up the ridge toward Frankland Peak, it started to drizzle, but nothing much. I stopped and put on my rain jacket just in case it got heavier. The rain stopped about 2 minutes later. I kept pushing up the hill, and I was getting very tired. I struggled over the last 20 minutes, but eventually I made it to the saddle I was aiming for. I went searching for water again, but I found nothing. I had to bite the bullet and set up camp anyway, it was fairly late in the afternoon. I found a ledge that had shelter from the easterly winds, but was fairly exposed to the west. There was no hot dinner tonight – I had to save my water. Fortunately the night was calm, although as it turns out, it was the calm before the storm. The next day all hell broke loose.

Frankland Shore from below Cleft Peak

Frankland Peak from Greycap

Day 7: Right Angle Peak – Jones’ Pass

Seceheron Peak from Frankland Peak

Today was one of the worst days I have ever spent out in the bush; it almost put me off solo walking for a while. The day started like every other day; mostly sunny, and quite warm. My plan was to head out to Terminal Peak, bagging all the other peaks along the way. I packed the day pack and headed up to the summit of Frankland Peak. The climb was very simple, and only took a few minutes. I spent a few minutes on the summit touching base with home, before following the cairns down to the gully that heads down to the Frankland-Secheron saddle. The track just seemed to stop at the cliff edge, and it took some wandering to find the route down. I had some fun climbing into a small cave too. The track heads very steeply down a gully; I found it much harder than the gully on the Citadel. 

The ascent gully to Frankland Peak

I made it down and found water in a pool on the way to the saddle. I filled my bottle and headed up to Secheron Peak. The climb up was fairly simple. I pottered around trying to find a place to descend to Mt Lloyd Jones, but the cliff was huge, and I couldn't see a way down. I decided to turn around, knowing that I could get out here from the lake if I came back in the future. This turned out to be a very good decision. I made my way back to the gully on Frankland Peak and climbed back up to the summit. From the top I made a call to arrange a lift out of Scott's Peak the next day. It was getting a little bit windy, darker clouds rolling in. The phone conversation ended with the statement: ‘I have to go, shit’s about to get real up here’. As I started descending, the wind was pushing me along. I was worried that my tent may not be there. Luckily it hadn't gone anywhere. I hopped in, knowing that a storm was on its way, and it was a matter of minutes before it was upon me. The wind started to blow harder, the fly coming in contact with the inner on several occasions. I had been in the tent for no more than 20 minutes when the full front of the storm hit. The wind got so strong I began to have to hold the poles of my tent, as the wind was pushing the tent flat. On a few occasions I was pushed down to the ground with the force of the wind. There was only so much of this that I could handle; my arms were getting very tired. I was hoping the front would pass quickly. It didn't. The wind got stronger. I was being knocked around inside my tent, and then the inevitable happened – the fly ripped on the tent. It was only the webbing, so the fly hadn't torn on me. One peg had flown out of the vestibule, so I had to rig up a repair job in the midst of the storm. Water was coming in the tent from all directions too. I pegged the fly back down and hopped back in, realizing that my best option was to get the hell out. I brought in my pack and packed everything into it, leaving the tent until last. I dismantled the tent and got out quickly. I knew where the track dropped down to Jones’ Pass. I was glad to drop off the ridge into the shelter of the forest. The track was slippery and leechy, but I got down it fairly quickly. By 2pm I was at a flat, but lumpy spot near the top of Jones’ Pass. I set up the tent, reinforcing the repair work I had done. I was missing a few pegs, but I didn't care. I was just glad to be out of the worst of the wind. A few gusts worried me, but it was nothing like an hour earlier. I was somewhat rattled. I had feared for my safety for the first time in years, I felt out of my depth. Strangely enough, despite the lumpy campsite, I had the best sleep I had had all trip. The way my mat sat in the grasses was just right. I read a book for a while, and then dozed off, knowing I was up for a huge day tomorrow. The rain and wind persisted for a more hours, but it was pleasant enough.

Day 8: Jones’ Pass – Scott's Peak Dam

The long slog over the Giblin Range was upon me. I was packed up and ready to go by 9am, and I was very much ready to get home. I headed up to the pass, thinking that this was the best way to attain the ridge line. I found that to be very wrong. I followed the grass for a while, and then I found myself in bands of scrub. I tried to push through it, but the bauera and tea-tree thickened, and became impassable. I wandered around trying to find better routes, but found myself disoriented. I ended up making the decision to bash back to the Pebbly Creek valley and follow it down the valley, planning to skip the peaks. I had bashed around in the scrub for far too long, wasting 3 hours of the day. I picked up some decent pads through the valley until they all of a sudden stopped about 20 minutes down the valley. I was confused, and getting unsettled – I just wanted to get out. I could see a couple of fairly open leads up onto the range, so I made the call to make the climb up to where I knew the walking was easier. It was tiring, but I made it up. There were lots of ups and down and it took it out of me. Finally I was at the summit of Mt Giblin. I managed to get a message out to Alana, my ride home, saying that I had been delayed and wouldn't be out until about 9pm, instead of the 6pm I initially had told her. 
 

Surprise Lake below Right Angle Peak

Barrier Islands and Mt Solitary from Mt Jim Brown

I continued on to the summit of Mt Jim Brown, before the big drop down to the Lake Pedder Impoundment. I managed to find a fairly open lead, with just a small band of scrub near the bottom. Fortunately someone had been through recently and bashed down the tea-tree for me! I was very relieved to make it to the shore of the lake. This meant only about 10km to go to the dam. It was 5pm already though. I chose to put on the iPod for the walk around the lake, hoping that would make the time go faster. I was already exhausted, but the end was in sight.
 

Sun setting behind the Folded Range

The lake walking was frustrating. The mud was hard to read, and I found myself up to my waist in places. The creek crossings were often deep and cold. I had been dry for 7 days, but right at the end I found myself soaked. I was relieved to get around the corner of Giblin Bay fairly quickly and hit the sandier shorelines, making the walking a bit easier. Red Knoll was in view all the way, but it didn't seem to get any closer. Gradually I was moving slower and slower, and time was getting away from me. I crossed over McKay's Point through a grassy lead, then I rested to watch the sunset. I was treated to a unique view of Mt Anne; her peaky profile backed by pink skies was something to treasure. I resisted getting the torch out, relying on the moon to help me navigate. The rocky shore was getting slippery in places, so I decided that wading was easier. As I got closer to Red Knoll, the shoreline became somewhat cliff-like in places. In some places it was best to walk along the grassy tops until a scrub band was reached then drop back to the water. I had to do this maybe 6 or 7 times. I had planned to ascend Red Knoll and use the road down to the dam, but as it was very dark, I wasn't confident in picking a good lead to the top. I just decided to keep walking around the shore. Eventually I popped out on the road near the dam. There was a brief shout of elation, but no one there to hear it. I could see car lights down the road, and I feared that Alana had just given up on waiting for me – it was 11pm after all. I wandered down to the Huon Camp ground to check the car park, as well as log out in the log book. There were plenty of cars there, so I was confident of getting a lift out the following morning if needed. I thought I should go and check the other end of the dam to see if Alana was there though. In hindsight, I should have walked along the dam wall, I would have been seen easily with my torch, and it would have been flat, but I foolishly took the road. Luckily Alana was at the other dam car park, and I took off my wet gear and went to pick up my pack from the registration booth. A bottle of coke was a welcome treat, and some stories were told on the trip back to Hobart. It was 2:30am when I crawled into a friend's house and slept on the floor. I didn't sleep long, up again in 4 hours ready to go and see some friends for the day.

Sunset over the Anne Range

This was one of the most rewarding trips I have done weather-wise, but it also made me want to walk with others more regularly. Nearly all of my longer trips have been solo, and it nearly cost me this time. My confidence was dented a little initially, but I realized that I made it through, and I was fine. My tent is no longer usable, the poles quite bent, and the fly ripped out of its anchor, but tents can be replaced. I will go back one day, but as far as solo trips go, I hope this is one of the last big solo trips I do. 

As far as advice for people wanting to do this trip goes, I have 3 tips:

1-      Do it with a group. If things go pear shaped (it is quite possible up here, it is exposed most of the way) you have others to provide some backup.

2-      Take a bivy bag. In winds such as I experienced, I would have been fine just bunkering down in a bivy. I later found out that the wind speed at Scott's Peak was 154km/h – I can only imagine it was higher up on the range. I don't wish such an experience on anyone.

3-      Carry plenty of water. It only takes a few dry days to make the range very dry. I found no water in yabby holes, and 3 of my campsites were dry.

I hope you enjoyed the report and photos, and hopefully it inspires you to visit this truly amazing place!

Happy Walking!

Jared

A warm wander through the Southern Reserve

A long time between drinks, but alas, here is another trip report. This time, from my latest adventure. Between the 1st and 4th of January 2013, the forecast finally in my favour, I decided to traverse Mt Byron, Cuvier and Manfred, a walk I had been hoping to do since visiting Mt Olympus at this same time last year.

Mt Manfred and The Guardians

Mt Gould and the Du Cane Range

I set off from Hobart on New Years Day at around 4:15pm, having worked the day, and would have otherwise needed hangover recovery time. My plan was to walk in to Echo Point hut for the night. I arrived at Lake St Clair at 7:20pm after stopping to get a few extra supplies on the way. It was a very tiring drive, but once I was there, I was eager to get moving. It was trying to drizzle on the way up, and a light mist persisted around the lake. I set off after signing in at 7:30pm and started to walk. The daylight was still reasonable at this stage. Having walked the lake shore several times, I was keen to get to the hut quickly before the track bored me. As I moved along, it was getting increasingly dark, especially as I entered into the thicker forest sections. I was determined to keep my head torch in the pack though. I kept on moving, and a few glimpses of a purple haze over Mt Ida made for a pleasant view. Knowing I was close, I kept walking, arriving at the hut at 9:20pm, just a sliver of daylight left.I walked into the hut to find a family inside, quite content not to make space for me, so I went outside and set up my tent.I slept very well that night, a light drizzle helped me get to sleep easily. I knew the next day was not incredibly long, so I hoped for a little sleep in.

Mt Olympus and Lake Petrarch from Mt Byron

Maybe I slept too well? I was awoken by the ferry arriving with a group of tourists, many children, and a tour guide telling them about myrtles. Maybe she should have warned about potential hobo's that often hang around the hut too? It was a little after 9:30am when they arrived. I rushed to get up and pack up my gear. I was back on the track at around 10am. Knowing that it takes around an hour to get to the Byron Gap turn off, I moved quickly down the track. Had I been up earlier, I could have hitched a ride on the boat and saved 40 minutes of walking, but it wasn't to be. I reached the turn off after about an hour and stopped for a quick snack. I had walked down the track from Byron Gap, and remember it taking about an hour, but it definitely seemed like longer on the way up. There was more water around than last time, which was a good sign, as we opted out last summer due to a concern for the amount of water available. I reached the point just past the top of the gap, where an indistinct pad leads off towards Mt Byron. I was under the impression that this was a reasonably well followed route and I was expecting a few tapes here and there, but after 2 minutes I had lost the pad, and I was wandering up hill through open rainforest, littered with pandani's. I made very good time up through the forest, and eventually I made it to the final boulder climb to the summit. I was able to pick up a line of cairns up to the top, at least it confirmed that I had vaguely come the 'right' way. I stopped for lunch on top, the views a little cloudy, but it was warm, and certainly not unpleasant. It was around 1:30pm. I made a phone call to book a place on the Friday afternoon ferry while I was there, walking out around the lake wasn't in my plans, despite the cost of the ferry.

Mt Cuvier and Manfred from Mt Byron

After having  my lunch, I set off down the most obvious lead through the boulders, and followed for as long as I could to avoid diving into the trees too early. I wanted to minimise the amount of tangle I had to walk through. I quickly hit the trees, but I found it very open, and after a matter of minutes, I was on the scoparia covered flats on the connecting ridge to Mt Cuvier. The scoparia only covered around the rims of the forest, and it petered out into pleasant alpine scrub. The walking became very easy here, although it was getting very warm, and there was a shortage of water in the saddle. I followed the ridge until the scrub began to thicken around the final ascent to Cuvier Shelf. In this ascent, a series of small cliff lines had to be negotiated. Around the cliffs was a mixture of dwarf myrtle, pandani, scoparia, and bauera. As long as I was going up, I was happy though. After 45 minutes of bashing through, I reached the shelf. I immediately found reliable water, which was my main concern about visiting the area. I wandered around the shelf, looking for the campsite that took my fancy. I eventually found one in a small recess in the cliffs, with two running streams cascading over the cliff lines, making for an amazing setting. From my tent door, I had a beautiful view of Mt Byron. The campsite was perfect, apart from the plethora of ants swarming everywhere I went. The ants possessed a nice little bite as well. It was 4:15pm when I arrived at camp.

Mt Byron from my camp

One of the waterfalls at my camp

The surrounds of the Cuvier Shelf camp

Sun beading on the slopes of Mt Cuvier

After setting everything up, I decided to go for a quick run up Mt Cuvier. The sky was now cloud free, and it was a pleasant temperature. From my camp, I was able to follow a pad, whether it were an animal pad, or the commonly walked route, I do not know, but it lead up the open ridge to the boulders just below the summit. The summit itself is not overly rocky, but a nice covering of alpine species, interspersed among dolerite boulders. I took a few snaps, planned my route down to Mt Manfred, and also had a look at the best plan of attack for the following day to Gould's Sugarloaf.

I wandered back to camp and lay down, some light reading, followed by a good nights sleep.

Open walking up to Gould's Sugarloaf

The next morning, Thursday, I woke up at around 8am and got my day pack ready for a quick trip out to Gould's Sugarloaf, and then a potential camp change closer to Mt Manfred. By 9am I was ready to leave. I headed out towards the ridge leading to Coal Hill. After a little bit of searching, I found a point where I could drop off the shelf, into an open flat, that lead to the main ridge. On the other side of the ridge is some more pleasant camping around a series of tarns, just to the east of Coal Hill. The slopes of Coal Hill were covered in dwarf myrtle and scoparia. It took about half an hour to reach the summit from the tarns. From the summit, it was simple open ridge top walking all the way to Little Sugarloaf. It is quite a long way out to here, it took me around an hour from Coal Hill. The ridge was dotted with pools of water, and some shady respite. The sun was out in potent force. As I approached the top of Little Sugarloaf, the wind picked up, and was very hard to stand up top. Gould's Sugarloaf is a further kilometre southwest along the ridge, but again it was very open. I reached the top in 20 minutes. The view to the Eldon Range, and the Cradle reserve were quite amazing. Frenchmans Cap appeared very close too. I could see as far as Barn Bluff and Cradle Mountain in the north, Mt Murchison in the west, Diamond Peak towards the south, and out over the Derwent Valley and Central Plateau in the east.

High Dome and Tramontane

Mt Byron and Olympus from Gould's Sugarloaf

Eldon Range, Mt Murchison in background

View from Gould's Sugarloaf

I had a quick lunch break on top before heading back the same way to Cuvier Shelf. Again I had scrub issues on Coal Hill, but once negotiated I made good time. It even tried to rain on the ascent back to the shelf. The trip took 6 hours, and was mostly open and pleasant walking. I decided to rest up instead of moving camp, opting for an early start, rather than exhaust myself today. I curled up in bed, reading some Jack London adventure stories before nodding off to sleep.

Beautiful sunrise over Mt Byron

Having previously checked the forecast for Friday at Lake St Clair, I decided I definitely needed an early start. It was forecast to hit 32 degrees. I was up at 5am to pack up camp and get moving. By 6am I was off on the slopes of Mt Cuvier. I could see the open connecting ridge, but before then, I had to descend through forest. This didn't seem overly appealing, but once in the forest, it was rather open and easy walking. By 7am I had hit the flats in the saddle. I desperately searched for water, but I found only a tiny trickle in a small stream. I later saw from a further height, a small tarn on the edge of the saddle. I had heard that the ascent up Mt Manfred was quite difficult around the cliff lines, so I went in all guns blazing, ready to tackle whatever it could throw at me. I found it rather easy going, bashing through myrtle and scoparia to the base of each cliff, where it was inevitable be open, and then sidle underneath until I could climb them. I made quick work of the cliffs, but it was getting hot already, and water was my priority. Knowing there was a decent sized tarns on the slopes of the mountain, I headed straight for it. I had my fill and proceeded to a point where I could begin to ascend the main bouldered ridge of Mt Manfred. I dropped my pack and headed to the summit. Making quick time, I had a big break on top, having morning tea. It was 9:30am.

I headed back to my pack, with the knowledge that I had 6 hours to make it to Narcissus for the ferry. This seemed a simple enough equation in my head, but boy how wrong I was! The next 3.5 hours were the hardest walking I have ever done, maybe not so much in a technical sense, but the conditions were very challenging.

Frenchmans Cap

I headed to the Manfred saddle, where I doubled back to sidle underneath the cliff line, and head down to the main ridge heading towards Lake St Clair. I encountered a tangly band of myrtle, just before I dropped right down a cliff. The scrub didn't let up, and I was parched. I wandered along a little further, before finding the next cliff. It was about 20m to the bottom. I managed to zig and zag my way down almost to the bottom, but a final band had my stuck. The heat was beginning to play with my mind, and my decision making was certainly becoming flawed. I decided the best way down was to hang onto a series of branches and free fall the remaining 8 or 9 metres. About half way down, I had run out of branches, and I decided that this was a bad idea, but there was no way out of it. Luckily the base of the cliff was covered in pineapple grass, so I fell the remaining metres to a soft landing. I pushed out of the remaining myrtle and pandani to what I thought was the last obstacle before bashing down to the Lake Marion track. The long open ridge was very dry, and exposed to extreme heat. There was no breeze to speak of. I wandered along until a point where I thought it was suitable to drop off. I wandered off towards the forest, only to be stopped by the mother of all cliffs. It was easily 30 metres to the bottom.

Mt Gould, The Guardians, and Lake Marion

There was no easy way down. I figured the best thing to do was to follow it along the length of the ridge, it had to run out eventually. By this point, my brain had turned to mush. I was getting dizzy, and passing out on occasion, and seriously contemplating calling up the search and rescue team. My mind told me that the helicopter would be used for fighting the bushfires though, so rescue was unlikely anyway. I kept wandering, and after what seemed like hours, I found a way down the cliff. The forest underneath was beautiful and comparatively cool. It was open and very easy to walk in. I had quite a bit of elevation to lose yet though. After half an hour of walking down through the forest, I finally found a creek, where I also found an empty bread bag. I wasn't the only person to have been to this creek. Shortly after I crossed a tributary of Marion Creek, and I ended up on the button grass plains. It was very hot in here, and regular breaks were required. After crossing a few more creeks, I stumbled across the track. To my surprise it was only 1pm. I took off my scrub gloves and moved quickly down the track towards Narcissus, not knowing how far I had to go. I was still exhausted, so regular breaks were needed. By 2pm I was at Nichol's Junction, and feeling much better. A well deserved swim was looking very good. I continued on and arrived at Narcissus at 2:30pm. I was covered head to toe in scrub, and looked a wreck. I stripped down to my shorts and jumped in the river. I tried to explain to the others waiting there where I had been,  but they struggled to understand why I would want to do that. I had trouble even speaking, I was so dry.

While waiting for the ferry, my friend James turned up, having just been up Mt Gould. We caught the ferry back, and I immediately went to get a beer. It was certainly deserved.

The drive home was an adventure in itself. Driving  through Ouse, the full extent of the Lake Repulse fire could be seen, flames racing down the grassy plains towards Lake Meadowbank. It looked like hell itself. The sky was red, smoke pluming high into the sky. A seriously scary looking scene.

This trip would have to be one of the most challenging I have done so far. Like I said before, it was not hard in a technical sense, and the scrub normally wouldn't have bothered me, but the heat in which I walked in changed the game completely. I later learned that it had reached 41.8 in Hobart. God knows how hot it was where I was! The off track nature of this walk means that it should only be attempted by experienced walkers, and I certainly do not promote large groups visiting this fragile alpine environment. Let's keep it beautiful people!

Looking back at Mt Cuvier from Mt Manfred

Happy Walking!

Jared