Rachel Grindlay

Possibly the earliest I’ve ever got up for a bushwalk? I dreamt that we’d slept through the alarm, and I was very pleased when we woke up and it was too late to do anything about it. That wasn’t how the day actually turned out (fortunately). I felt surprisingly good when the 4:30am alarm went off.

We had a good run through to Wog Wog even though the road from Marulan has plenty of potholes following the floods last year and enlarged by the recent rain. Turns out no one in the group was keen for a cold, possibly wet, night camping, and we all went for the Saturday morning drive. (Though some with significantly later alarms than me!) The car had shown -1°C not far from the campground and it was still very cold when we started walking.

Subsequently we were all thrilled when we discovered that the Wog Wog Creek crossing was going to involve a wade unless you had long legs and a good sense of balance. Tom & Mark #1 managed to leap across but the rest of us went barefoot. There was a disaster in the offing when Ljiljana couldn’t find one of her shoes which had been thrown across. Fortunately it was eventually located. Our feet took longer to recover from the crossing, it felt like hours before my toes were back to normal.

I was glad to get off the sodden, boggy track for some exploration just before lunch. We had a nice stroll down an open ridge (for the moment at least – the vegetation hasn’t come back as much as other places yet) and found a cave for lunch.

We oohed and aahed over views for most of the afternoon. Whether that be the distinct peak of Pigeon House Mountain, or a sun-drenched Monolith Valley, or just the 360°C panorama from Corang Peak, or of course the surprise of Corang Arch.

The forecast had been for rain to come through during Saturday night. It wasn’t wrong. Fortunately we were dryly tucked away in a cave. It was hard to tell how much it was raining as the waterfalls cascading off the tops were so noisy. As it turned out not an insignificant amount, as Canowie Brook was up a fair bit from the day before. With Sunday’s weather dawning cold, cloudy, windy with the odd-spattering of rain Jo decided (with plenty of support from the party, possibly even twisting her arm?) we would head directly back to the cars.

Wog Wog Creek was no longer a leaping prospect for anyone after it’s overnight rise. But, since our feet were wet already, it made getting across a lot less painful.

With the early finish we had time to head to the Nerriga Pub for lunch. A great weekend – easily moulded to suit the weather.

The forecast for Sydney was a month’s worth of rain on Sunday. Saturday and Monday weren’t far off similar totals. And it wasn’t just Sydney – a large swath of the surrounding area would also get the deluge. So it wasn’t a difficult decision when asked if I wanted to do the ACT Rogaine on Sunday. Canberra seemed to be just on the edge of the east coast low, and would hopefully avoid most of the precipitation. I was feeling slightly ripped off as the rain got heavier and heavier as we drove towards Canberra on Friday afternoon!

Saturday dawned dry, but cold and windy. By comparison with what was going on in Sydney we were in tropical heaven and so bushwalking we were going. Ali had suggested that we would encounter lots of long wet grass, but the wind dried everything out so that promise came to naught. We opted for something closer to Canberra and not too high – and what a great option it ended up being.

After being blasted by the wind as we wound our way around the base of the reserve, we soon warmed up once we dropped into the creek we planned to ascend. The creek was a delight – the rock was dry, otherwise it would have been a nightmare. Lots of easy scrambling and rock-hopping. And it just kept going.

Eventually we got to the waterfall which was the main attraction of the walk, we had morning tea on top but soon got moving again as the wind quickly chilled us.

It was a similar story on Big Monks Summit – not somewhere to stick around – but we were much more protected once we dropped off the side.

The final creek of the day was nowhere near as enjoyable as the other ones we’d walked in so Ali & I quickly made it back on to the tops. Soon we picked up the main trail and then it was just a contouring jaunt back to the car. An excellent walk for less than pleasant weather conditions (but no rain!).

ACT 4 Hour Winter Rogaine

The forecast on Sunday was worse but I had my fingers crossed we’d get a similar day to Saturday. This was mine & Jo’s first pairing in a rogaine and it went pretty well. I’ve never done a 4 hour rogaine before – an unusual length – but long enough to stretch the legs. Particularly since we chose the hilliest part of the course (since running wasn’t on our agenda).

We constantly leap-frogged a team of 4 for the first part of the day. We were pretty confused when only 2 of the team members seemed to actually go to each control. I think maybe each team only had two wrist-bands so the two which didn’t have them didn’t bother getting to the control – doesn’t really seem within the spirit of things. But anyway – they would run past us on the fire trails – we would then take a cross-country route to the next control, shortly after they would run past us again. Oh the feeling of smugness to come out ahead of them on the road.

We pulled out a 1st in the Women’s Division – but at 21st overall it wasn’t a particularly impressive victory. That said, there was only 60 points separating the 10 teams above us (810-870). The overall winners did have a resounding victory on 1400 points – second place 240 points behind them! Hartley Lifecare did a great job with the catering – can’t really go wrong with cheese toasties and soup on a coldy, windy day. The rain started as we were driving out to the main road – so winning all round!

Two bludgey long weekends in a row had left me feeling overindulged. The forecast for the coming weekend was great. “We have to get out” I informed Tom. Unimpressed with the two suggestions I put on the table he countered with Glen Trig. Given he had been suggesting it on and off for a while I figured he really wanted to get back there. I didn’t really care where we went, as long as I got some exercise. Even better if we could line up some other people, then it would be harder to bail out at the last minute.

As we drove along the Wolgan Road water dripped from the trees, the overnight frost starting to melt. The grass was frosted over at the Newnes Campground, and I rapidly reassessed whether I really wanted to wear shorts to walk in. Fortunately the Pipeline Track warmed us up and we were soon feeling positively balmy having escaped the frost hollow at the campground.

It had been over 18 months since we’d been in the area so a visit to the Pagoda Lookout (now very officially signed) was definitely on the cards. A bit further on we had a late morning tea looking over the Glen Davis side of the Pipeline Pass and not long after left the track for the unknown.

Despite only having a couple of kilometres to cover (as the crow flies), the country was intricate. The map gurus had been at work with DEMs, slopes and probably all manner of other things I don’t understand. It made for relatively easy negotiation of the complex terrain.

Though, the maps don’t show if the gullies are going to have water in them, do they!? Tom didn’t believe Toni when she said we couldn’t go the way he wanted unless we were going to get wet. Not far off the shortest day no one was was inclined to get wet feet.

Fortunately Jon had already scouted a dry route which gave us access through the cliff line and into pagoda city. We clearly weren’t the first to use this route as we found a cairn further up the pagodas pointing down to our pass.

Tom was itching to get into the canyon above the water barrier but high cliffs kept us elevated. Something for another trip when we have ropes! Instead we contented ourselves with negotiating the pagodas.

Unfortunately the nose had a small section which was more ambitious than we were keen for. So we dropped down and traversed under the cliffs to find an alternate way up.

Even once we’d made it through the next cliffline the final ascent to the summit was not straightforward. I waded my way through scrub and managed to get on top from one side, while Tom & Smiffy jammed a log in place to get up in a different place.

The wind made us keen for a more sheltered spot than camping on the open rocks. We were glad to find a sheltered gully with some flat space. Only a small time window remained before sunset, so any camp set-up was delayed. Instead, a mad dash to get what we needed and settle in with the first round of snacks, cameras and warm clothes on the tops.

Post-sunset we went through several more rounds of snacks and finished off with sour cherry cheesecake brownie (thanks Toni!). Efforts to create a natural candle not successful. A rousing round of Happy Birthday to Vivien* (conspicuous by his absence) had to make do.

The next morning Tom, Jon and Smiffy got varying amounts of sunrise photography in, while Toni and I enjoyed being warm in our sleeping bags.

Eventually we set off, taking a different route out than the one we’d approached with.

More water (and more inconveniently, a 4m drop) prevented us getting down the gully we were exploring. After reversing we decided to roll the dice and head along the cliffs for a few hundred metres and hope the maps were giving us the right information on an alternative pass.

We got lucky and descended where we hoped to, and explored some more canyon-y sections of the main creek. Before once again deciding it was not the right trip to get wet feet.

From there it was a relatively straight-forward ascent back to the point we left the track the day before.

We saw a couple of groups of walkers at the Pagoda Lookout, including a couple of women who had walked up with nothing except what they were wearing. The other couple said the women had asked what they were carrying in their backpacks – and were a bit surprised when they said “food, water, first aid”. Apparently a new idea!

The cold wind put paid to any ideas of lounging about looking at the views.

Back at the cars at 2:30pm meant we got to Pie in the Sky just in time to get apple pie before they sold out. An excellent weekend with good weather, great company and spectacular views.

*and me

Ironically (?) I was home alone due to my last solo trip. Tom was off on a holiday without me since he hadn’t been able to make my Tassie jaunt. The weather looked like it might actually be pleasant on the weekend – I realised I had no excuse to stay home. Of course it was already Thursday, far too late to realistically find company. After a lacklustre effort (I asked 2 people) I found myself setting off, alone, from the Wattle Ridge carpark shortly after 8am on Saturday morning.

Optimistically dressed in shorts but with a scarf on, it didn’t take long to warm up as I marched along the fire trail. At the Starlights Trail I took the option less travelled (for me at least) and headed out on what the Second Edition maps have marked as the Nattai Road (erased without a trace on the Third Edition). The first part I had walked a couple of times previously, but after reaching the Troys Creek Fire Trail junction I set off into the unknown (yet again, for me!). I wasn’t sure what the state of the Nattai Road would be – non-existent, a recognisable and easy to follow fire trail or something in between?

The condition deteriorated almost immediately, though it was still clearly an old road.

The road seems to get enough use for a pad to exist through the regrowth when it had taken over. The fallen trees were more of an effort to climb through/over/under.

Then at times after battling through the trees it would open up to a clear road.

Fortunately there was more relatively easy to follow road than bush/tree wrangling and I made reasonable time to get onto the valley floor. From there the road became harder to follow so I decided it was easier to walk down the creek.

Eventually getting back up on to the bank I found the track again. For not the first time that day I was glad to have marked the line of the road onto my Third Edition map. Knowing where the road had supposedly gone previously was a decided advantage. I was curious to find two cairns close together. It was unclear what they might be indicating – if I had to guess I would say a spot to head up towards the cliffline (which looked imposing)?

My original goal had been to head a fair way downstream and hopefully get to Grant Head. It became clear that was probably a bit too ambitious for the day. Two poor night’s sleep in a row were catching up with me. I wandered on the large sandbeds admiring the landscape trying to decide what to do. Eventually I decided I should just eat lunch! Feeling slightly more energised I figured I’d head downstream and see what the going was like.

While the walking was clear, it wasn’t quick across the sand. When I hit a section where I was going to have to climb up and around unless I wanted to swim I figured that was as good a turnaround point as any. I clearly wasn’t the only one who had been here recently there were quite a number of footprints in the sand.

I continued to have the company of a single set of footprints  (other than mine) as I retraced my steps, and indeed the rest of the trip, back to where I had arrived at the Nattai River. This time I chose to stay along side the river rather than pick up the road. Unfortunately that meant a couple of shallow wades – off with the shoes. The side effect of wading through very cold water was a definite perk up in my mental state.

I’d told myself I needed to walk upstream till at least 3pm, to make the next day not too unreasonable. So not long after 3pm I settled on a little sandbank opposite Surveyors Crag. I’d passed many, many suitable, and arguably superior, camping options but the spot I chose had a nice feel to it, and it wasn’t like I needed much space! I even had my own little stream. Water is definitely not an issue at the moment – the Nattai River isn’t good drinking –  there were regular flowing tributaries.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to make myself stay up to even 7pm. But setting time limits to when I could start eating cheese, then soup, then dinner managed to string out the evening. I was amazed it was after 8pm when I decided to retreat to the tent (7pm was going to be a win).

I spent some of the many hours in bed worrying that I had left too much river walking for the next day. Who knew how rough the going would be? Was I going to be getting out in the dark? I thought it wouldn’t take long to get ready – after all I didn’t have Tom with me! Yet somehow it still took 1.5 hours – so much for my vision of being walking not long after 7am.

However, my fretting from the night before was quickly allayed when I found a secondary channel that I could just march down. I could even look up at the changing angles of Surveyors Crag without being too worried about falling over.

When the secondary channel ran out I hit a cliffy section. The first bit I soon concluded was probably a bit too high in the risk stakes to climb, given I was alone. So shoes and socks off, and a cold wade got me to the next section minus a chunk of my big toenail (ouch). The next section was easier scrambling and I was pleased to get up and avoid a much longer wade.

As the river straightened the pleasant walking was replaced with a bit more effort. Also the campsites which had been plentiful the day before were far more sparse – unless you wanted to cross the river. Fortunately the wombats had left some good tracks to follow – except, of course, the sections which were wombat height. This was much slower and harder work, and even though relatively speaking it wasn’t that bad, I was ready for it to be over well before it was.

Pleased to have reached the confluence with Wanganderry Creek by morning tea time, I remembered how much I enjoyed the last time I’d been in this spot.

Not long after morning tea I gave up on keeping my feet dry. I was now back in territory I had visited before. A couple of wades to access a long sandbank in the middle of the river were definitely worth it.

I wasn’t tracking my route so I’m not sure where I ended up in the final section leading to Emmetts Flat. If I had a trace at that point I think it would have been rather inefficient. Pushed away from the river, and trying to avoid vegetation, it seemed to take a long time to finally hit Troys Creek and from there Emmetts Flat.

The campsite is nothing like the one I visited so many years earlier – and was so enamoured by I contrived an overnight club walk just so I could camp there. I was somewhat bemused to see jonquils growing in clumps!

Leaving the campsite I struggled to follow the trail. I found fragments of it near the bottom, but then lost any trace of it going up the ridge. Referring to where it should have been on the map I was happy enough I was heading roughly where it should be. I found a large cairn which gave me hope. But still no sign. The exit was going to be quite a different proposition if the entire trail was gone!

After starting to sidle and meeting a couple of slightly disconcerting loose gullies I was happy to find the trail coming out of the rubble on the other side of a rockfall. It would be interesting to know how much formed track I missed.*

From there it was pretty easy to follow, though there were still a couple of slightly sketchy gullies to cross where rockfall had knocked the trail away. I was a bit surprised when I saw the only other people of the weekend, a group of 4 heading down around midday. Initially thinking they were going to camp but then I realised they only had day packs. I guess there was still plenty of time to get down and back up again.

I managed to walk off the track near the top – probably not the only one given there was a slight pad – but scrambling back up the slope I regained it without much issue.

From the top it was just the final fire trail bash back to the car park. Where I got an almighty fright as a large dog started barking at me out of one of the car windows. His owner, who was sitting the car, assured me it was just very friendly and excited be on his excursion for the day. They were still both sitting in the car 20 minutes later when I drove off!? And despite my fears of an after dark finish it was 2pm with plenty of time to visit a friend on the way home.

A great weekend out.

 

*A friend later confirmed she had followed it all the way down without issue the same weekend.

The advantage of planning a walk only a few days in advance is the weather forecast is available. With unpleasant weather moving into the South West of Tassie on Friday afternoon I figured relocating myself for the last two days would be wise. The downside was a four hour drive from the Frenchmans Cap Trailhead to Eaglehawk Neck. That was meant to be done over a relaxing afternoon with plenty of time to stop for coffee, and get to the accommodation I’d booked before dark. As events transpired it ended up being a fairly horrendous drive, mainly in the dark, often in the rain, and I didn’t get to my accom until 9:30pm despite getting to the Frenchmans Cap Trailhead at 11am.

I wasn’t sure I would be that motivated to go walking the next day, but after a few days of waking at 5am my body clock was unaware it was ‘sleep-in’ day. Being able to get up and make as much noise as you want is a definite upside of travelling alone. I couldn’t get going for the walk until 9am when the espresso bar up the road from where I was staying opened. What a great spot!

Arriving at the Cape Raoul trailhead I was initially a bit confused by the road markings. Then I realised it was spaces all along the road (overflow from the car park) for parking. It must get very busy at times! But today was not one of those days, with only three other cars there. The icy wind blasted me as I got ready in the car park subsequently all my warm layers came with me.

However, the icy wind didn’t last long as almost immediately the trail wound it’s way through beautiful forest. The layers came off, and most of them didn’t get used at all, as the walk is very protected from the elements.

After winding slowly up to the lookouts the track then slowly meanders down towards the Cape. Occasionally there were spots to get views, but mainly you’re in a variety of vegetation – from tall eucalypt forest through to coastal heath.

I was beginning to wonder if I was actually going to see any cliffs when I finally popped out of the heath into a low vegetation area. From there I visited the seal lookout where I had lunch, and provided advice on the Larapinta Trail to a fellow walker, and then the main lookout (I forget if it had a name).

The hordes had started to arrive by this point and I passed lots of people on my way out. It seems my timing was good as I largely had things to myself. There was more up and down than I was expecting on this walk but it was all on gently graded well maintained tracks – so my knees were never under much pressure.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at the Unzoo, which is a Tasmanian Devil retirement village. I fortuitously arrived just before one of the Tasmanian Devil feedings, where we got to see the destructive power of those jaws in action.

Chatting to a few people through the day I had got the definite theme that Cape Hauy, my intention for the following day, was hilly/had a lot of stairs. I hadn’t done any research into the walk so that came as a little bit of a surprise to me. That evening I decided I better plan my day backwards from the flight departure time. If Cape Hauy did take me 3.5-4 hours, as most of the web information suggested, then I needed to get moving early. I wasn’t keen to have a stressful day worrying about making my flight. As it turned out I was awake early again so I got away with some time to spare in the schedule. The road out to Fortescue Bay was in surprisingly bad condition, but being so early I could be relatively confident of no other traffic and could dodge potholes as needed.

I’m not a beach person but Fortescue Bay was stunning. It was another surprisingly beautiful morning given the forecast was for a cloudy day. My research had advised me there were around 2,500 steps on the walk so I was mentally prepared when I hit the first lot.

I realised that I was going to be well inside the time estimates when I reached the junction with the Three Capes track after half an hour, and the sign board said it would be an hour back to Fortescue Bay. I’d like to say that meant I slowed down and enjoyed the views… well maybe just the latter!

When I got out to the end of the track I was excited to see The Totem Pole in real life, after watching plenty of climbing films about it. I was intrigued that a Tyrolean Traverse was set-up, and wondered if that was permanent. I scrambled someway down the climbers track for a better view before returning to the safety of the official lookout fence. It was only when I noticed the rope moving in a non-wind affected way that I realised there were climbers down there.

I spent the rest of morning tea watching the first climber trying to abseil down the Totem Pole (seemed to be having some rope management difficulties), and the second climber doing the traverse. The notes on one of the climbing sites say “Equip yourself not only with the necessary gear but also a bottle of bravery pills. The challenge is psychological as much as technical.” Just watching the traverse I could definitely see how much your mental state would need to be up for it.

A couple I’d passed earlier on arrived so I took that as my time to head off. Much like the previous day it seemed I’d just avoided rush hour – passing numerous people on my way back to Fortescue Bay.

Time taken: 2.5 hours return, including 30 minutes at the lookout. The Parks Office was happy to take my partially used gas cyclinder, so with all loose ends tied up I had a stress-free drive to the airport. This walk was a great end to my whirlwind trip to Tasmania!

I had a five day window between jobs and after spending what felt like much of the last year sitting inside, either because of Covid or the weather, I was determined to use the time. After all, my leave balance would be reset to zero, so I needed to get a holiday in while I could. Unfortunately the timing didn’t work for Tom so without that much consideration I decided I would head to Tasmania.

Parks Tasmania introduced a booking system for many of their popular walks during Covid, which included a cap of 10 people starting Frenchmans Cap track each day. So from a fortnight out, I was frequently refreshing the booking site hoping someone would cancel. My persistence was rewarded when one spot became available. Up until then I hadn’t booked anything, but quickly flights, hire cars and accommodation were sorted. It all seemed a bit crazy, but as the youth would say; YOLO.

We had the long weekend away in Mt Kaputar, then I was back at work for my final day on Tuesday, before a 5:20am taxi to the airport on Wednesday morning. I’d been watching the weather forecast and it seemed I was just going to squeeze into a fine weather window.

It wasn’t the most relaxed itinerary in the world. I arrived in Hobart slightly later than hoped, had a quick swing by Anaconda for a gas canister, grabbed some lunch, and then hit the road for the 3 hour drive to the trailhead. I should have looked at Google’s route before setting off – or at least got a bit more suspicious as I followed a series of B-roads and then C-roads… and then eventually found myself at a 4-way intersection where the only sealed road was the one behind me. Great. Fortunately the dirt C-road was in pretty good nick, and it wasn’t that long before I was deposited on the A10 highway. I may have even made up some time with my dirt road driving skills, such that it was only 1:10pm when I left the car park.

The destination for the first day was Lake Vera Hut – 14.5km from the trailhead. I would likely have been more prepared for the hills had I checked the contour interval on my map in advance. As it turns out it doesn’t take very many contours at 40m intervals to make a reasonable climb! I got my first views of Frenchmans as I came over Mount Mullins. It was a gloomy day – but clear enough for views.

The Lodden River marks almost half way to Lake Vera and like most of this section the track was pretty easy going.

After Dick Smith’s intervention to move the Frenchman’s Cap trail away from the Lodden Plains (“Sodden Loddens”) the track is now largely mud-free. Admittedly it has been a fairly dry summer in this part of the world, so perhaps I had it better than normal.

I had passed 3 individual walkers, and 1 group of 3 on their way out (including one lady who had been to the summit and back that day), but given my late start I wasn’t expecting to see anyone on their way in. I caught up with a group of families as we started climbing off the Lodden Plains. I concluded the kids needed more weight in their packs, as after I passed them they jogged behind me for a kilometre or so, before eventually passing. They must have given up on running as I did eventually catch them again and got to camp about half an hour before them. One of the Mum’s confessed to me later that night that the kids were all very impressed with how fast I could walk.

I decided to tent that night; given there were already 4 people in the hut; I wasn’t sure what the families were doing; and I was planning a particularly early start in the morning. I was very impressed to use the chains on the tent platforms. The chain links would hook into the holes in the platform at whatever length you needed. This is a significant improvement on just hooking around the little nails, which is what we did on the Western Arthurs.

I settled down to cheese & biccies and a very fiery sunset. Every time I sat down to relax I had to leap up again to take another photo as the sky had gone even more red.

I moved into the hut to cook, and was glad I had as a fairly intense burst of rain sent everyone in not long afterwards. With about 16 of us in the hut for the evening it was full of energy. Fortunately the rain passed so that we could get to bed dry, though it did continue to drizzle on and off through the night.

Since we’d turned in around 8pm it wasn’t that surprising I was awake at 4am. By 6:30am I was walking. Sunrise was at 7am, so it was only just light as I left camp. The previous night when I’d arrived I’d gone looking for Lake Vera and didn’t find it. I was hoping that I would be able to find the track in the near dark! The track follows the edge of the lake in the bush, with a lot of undulating over tree routes, so the torch was back on my head very quickly.

I enjoyed the glimpses through the tree canopy of the sun hitting the peaks above me, but sadly there were no clear views. But topping out at Barron Pass was quite dramatic. A beautiful clear blue sky and views as far as the eye could see.

It was only once I was at the top I had a real look at where the route went. I was pleased from there the track sidled along the side of the range rather than plunging back down the other side. I was so excited about the good weather, and the exhilaration of being out there, that the traverse just flew past.

I passed one walker on his way out, and then just as I got to Lake Tahune at 9am there was another walker leaving. I had a quick morning tea in the sun in front of the hut before starting the ascent. I was wondering at there only being 2 people at Lake Tahune the previous night, but then I bumped into two women on their way down from the summit. What a gorgeous morning to have been up there! We had a bit of chat and then I continued on up.

Not far above the sign-posted junction is a bit of scrambling. The ‘crux’ scramble felt easier for me than a couple of other spots – which I definitely would not want to be doing in the wet. The cloud had started coming in a bit, so I didn’t have full blue skies, but it was still pretty good.

I was a bit confused when I got to the top and it was 10am. Earlier I had calculated how long it had taken me to get to Lake Tahune, and that meant it had only taken me half an hour to ascend. But then realised I had miscalculated the time earlier (only taken 2.5 hours to get to the hut), then an hour for the ascent. I had set myself a turnaround time (whether I’d summitted or not) to ensure I would get back to Lake Vera before dark – didn’t look like that was going to be an issue!

I had an early lunch on top. By the time I’d finished my fingers were frozen and a few more layers needed to go on. Really I should have descended a little to have lunch as there were some very pleasant sheltered spots not that far below the summit.

I found the difficulty of the scrambles reversed on the way down. The ones I hadn’t liked going up were fine on the way down, and the ‘crux’ scramble was a bit trickier to descend. I ended up taking off my pack and slithering down the gap on the right, easy enough for a smaller person.

Back at Lake Tahune Hut I had another snack break on the platform in front of the hut. The modern hut looked very comfortable, but I didn’t feel any regret in not staying there for the night. I thought this should be called the Walk of the Hidden Lakes, as both huts are named for the lakes in proximity but neither are really visible. Just before midday I set off on my return trip. I met the families from the previous day, with the kids out the front (of course) not far from the hut.

Interestingly the traverse which I felt I’d glided along on the outward trip seemed decidedly treacherous on the return. Everything felt slightly damper (and consequently more slippery) and I really didn’t remember the amount of undulating. Nevertheless I enjoyed the lack of time pressure to be able to take my time and enjoy the views.

The descent from Barron Pass was hard on the knees, and I was particularly glad to not have a full pack on my back. I was glad to finally get a view of Lake Vera at the base – it’s not an easy lake to see.

I’d passed the two women that I’d met on Frenchmans Cap on the descent, and it seemed likely to only be the 3 of us at Lake Vera that night. Given my tent was almost dry from the previous night’s rain I decided to move inside. Having an entire bunk shelf to yourself is a cushy way to enjoy hut life. Annie, Jane and I had a great afternoon/evening, and seemed aligned on our get up times which removed any pressure to be quiet in the morning.

We were all up before dawn and Annie & Jane set off just before 7am. I wasn’t far behind them and on the easier terrain I didn’t catch up until one of the tree-root filled descents.

We continued to pass each other through the morning and got back to the car park within a few minutes of each other.

I got some day visitors to take a picture of me with the hire car when I got there at 11am. I was excited to have the whole day to drive across to the Tasman Peninsula. I had been visualising how the day would play out…. until I tried to unlock the car.

The keyless entry fob was not eliciting any response from the car. There’s not a lot you can do without a key and no mobile reception. Fortunately I knew Annie & Jane weren’t far behind and were heading towards Derwent Bridge (and mobile reception). They gave me a lift to the Derwent Bridge Hotel where I managed to call roadside assistance. The lady at the call centre clearly had no idea of the logistics of the situation. When I asked how long she thought it would be, she said “oh we like to say within an hour”. Then she said the guy was coming from New Norfolk. I googled the distance after I got off the phone and even if he immediately left it was 2 hours drive. So I settled into a relaxed lunch with Annie & Jane. I recommend the deluxe toastie. We were feeling very smug with ourselves as it was now pouring outside, and we hadn’t used our raincoats at all on the trip.

Annie & Jane headed off, and the roadside assistance man turned up around 2:45pm. (I didn’t get his name, and I should have, because he was amazing. But fortunately a quick search has told me his name is Nic). I was hoping it was going to just be a flat battery in the fob, but that wasn’t the case. The most time-consuming challenge was trying to get into the bonnet – because we couldn’t get into the car (because it’s keyless) we couldn’t use the bonnet release lever. Anyway, after trying many different angles to tackle the issue, Nic had success. Unfortunately through the process it was raining on and off. I was very relieved when he got the car going. He then followed me back to New Norfolk (which was on my route) and checked out the car again before sending me on my way. 5 star review of Nic.

Ignoring the car issues this was a great walk, though my knees are still complaining about it!

By early April, Sydney and surrounds had already received an average year’s annual rainfall. With the combination of bad weather, deteriorated road access, lack of motivation & softness, we’ve barely been out overnight since the lockdown lifted in October last year. It was with much amazement the 7-day forecast for Easter showed fine weather… which stayed fine. No excuses this time, we had to get out. But given our lack of belief in the weather we had no forward plans, and as has become far too customary of late we were putting together ideas a couple of days beforehand.

Many National Parks were closed due to the 100mm+ of rain the previous week, or the roads into access points were closed. But, as always seems to be the case, the Nattai was open. I do wonder at times whether the person in charge of putting up notices about the Nattai just doesn’t know how to do it? That or it truly is the forgotten National Park. Anyway, I shouldn’t be complaining since it’s been our go-to for the last few years.

Access to different parts of the Nattai can be problematic. I wasn’t in the mood for throwing the dice with access, so we settled on going in from a spot we’d used for a short walk only a couple of weeks earlier. Another advantage of the Nattai is the drive is very reasonable compared to places like Kanangra, Newnes or many parts of the Wollemi. Subsequently it wasn’t a particularly early start on Good Friday, yet we were still walking around 8:30am.

After an hour on the fire trail, we headed off track, hoping we’d be able to get down one ridge and up another to give us access to the Wild Goat Plateau.

The descent to Little River was unproblematic, with just one short slow section of scrub. We enjoyed morning tea on the picturesque bank having made a thigh-deep crossing.

The ascent up the other side started off really well. It was a thoroughly enjoyable climb until about two-thirds of the way up when we hit a serious section of scrub. After wrangling vines, head-high incense plants and deadfall, we emerged near the top. Fortunately there were a couple of nice lunch spots to aid our recovery.

Our end point for the day was a spot I had picked out from the map. Normally Tom would have done some forensic examination of the aerials in advance, but I don’t think he was even listening when I’d proposed the spot at home. So we were both very pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in a lovely rocky section with spectacular views over Martins Creek. Flat campsites needed a bit of hunting for, but fortunately we were only looking for one.

Feeling very pleased with ourselves after a successful day, we luxuriated in the views. Tom’s photo gear got a work out. His unprocessed photos (at time of writing) look so much better than any of mine – that hopefully anyone looking will see these first and not have the comparison!

The next day we stayed off track, dropping down a spur, across a small creek and up another ridge to pick up another fire trail. After a not particularly inspiring off-track foray for morning tea we stayed on the fire trail till it ended. There was a nice viewpoint where we decided an early lunch was in order. We were somewhat surprised when we had company – though not as surprised as The Other Tom (as his name turned out to be)! We had the warning of his approaching footsteps, whereas he was plugged into a podcast and so had no warning until we were suddenly in his sights. He immediately recognised me from Tom’s website photos, and we had a good chat over lunch about many things bushwalking.

Leaving The Other Tom for his return 15km fire trail bash, we left the fire trail and headed north. The next couple of kilometres was some of the most soul-destroying scrub bashing I’ve done in a while.

Eventually we got through the worst of it and were soon to arrive at a spot we’d camped at a couple of years ago. We didn’t have great hopes for it given the amount of regrowth we’d experienced, but it was even worse than we expected. This was not the spot we were looking for.

I’d not paid much attention when Tom had suggested where we’d end up for the night, and he hadn’t cross-checked the previous trip’s log. After looking at the info we had, we realised were still over a (off-track!) kilometre from where we had previously camped. Agh. And it was 4pm. The spot we were at appeared to have no camping, so I thought we were going to need to keep slogging. Fortunately Tom made us have a look around and we managed to scrounge up what turned out to be a reasonably pleasant site for the night (once again, just as well there was just one tent we were trying to find a spot for).

The afternoon had disabused us of the ambitious plans for the amount of ground we had been planning to cover over the next 2 days. Staring at the map we realised we needed to start heading back towards the car the next morning. Yet another thing that Covid took from us – a season of bushwalking in low scrub country!

So on day 3 we headed off on another ridge, vaguely in the direction of “home”. Fortunately, the ridge was “average” scrub so it only took us a couple of hours to cover a couple of kilometres, some sections of it were actually quite delightful. We would have made better time if we had been paying any attention to the compass and not ended up at the top of a cliff having taken the wrong spur.

A late morning tea on the creek was lovely, though neither of it were under any illusions about how much work was still left in the day.

We opted for a change of scenery, and hopefully easier walking, by staying in the creek. It was a nice change, though not cleared by recent flooding as much as we might have hoped.

After lunch at a nice spot we landed on the fire trail. Now it was decision time (or was there really a decision to be made?). 10km of fire trail bashing to return to the car the way we came in, or 1.5km of fire trail and 4km off-track along the ridge, and take a different spur back to Little River. Both of us would normally go for the off-track/different route, but so badly beaten were we, that 10km of fire trail won out. My flayed knees thanked me for that decision as we pounded the fire trail for the rest of the afternoon.

On the plus side we had a nice camp, with yet again more good views.

Tom had built up the “bad” section of scrub on the ridge, so we were both pleasantly surprised when it really wasn’t that long. It probably helped we could largely follow the route we’d used on our way up – and that it was first thing in the morning. The rest of the ridge was lovely and it wasn’t long before we were back crossing Little River.

The plants that particularly became my nemesis during this trip are shown below. They don’t look overly vicious – there are no thorns, but they have the texture of sandpaper. Constant pulling up through them would fit into any medieval torture textbook.

Back at the car before lunch I was surprised to find police tape around the side mirror, and a note to call the police. I quickly gave them a call and assured them we were fine. We think a concerned resident next to the road where we left the car had contacted the police when it had been there for a couple of days. We spoke to one of the residents who popped over when we were getting changed after the trip – she thought it was probably her neighbour who had contacted the police. Unfortunately cross-checking the National Parks trip intentions database doesn’t seem to be part of the procedure otherwise they would have found our 4-day trip plan, and our car exactly where the trip described it would be. Instead we discovered the police had been door-knocking at our place, our neighbour’s place and Tom’s Dad’s place! Fortunately Tom’s Dad managed to quash any need for a search (though at times during this trip a helo rescue would have been welcome!).

From Harrietville we drove to Eden. My research on cafes & bakeries to stop at was thwarted by cafe-owners going on holiday, or not being open on a Monday, or things simply not existing where google said they were! Tom did get a very good beesting at the Swifters Creek Bakery, but otherwise our trip to Cape Conran Coastal Park had little to note. We did the Nature Trail at Cape Conran Coastal Park before the final leg through to Eden.

Our evening meal (very tasty chinese) in Eden was shared with numerous Valentine’s Day diners. Post-dinner we went for a walk out to the Rotary Park lookout. An almost full moon had just risen and it was a beautiful evening.

Another early start – we had to meet our transfer at 7am at Boyd’s Tower – which was around half an hour’s drive away. Steve from Light to Light Transfers drove us to Green Cape Lighthouse. Eden was forecast to get to the high 20s – apparently fairly unusual – so I was particularly glad we’d chosen to get the early start. By the time we got to Green Cape, and walked out to the Lighthouse it wasn’t much before 8am when we started walking.

The Light to Light walk was part of the area affected by the Black Summer Bushfires just two summers earlier. We had seen the previous day at Cape Conran the impact of the fires there and weren’t sure that was going to mean for us for shade for the next 31km.

We didn’t know it at the time but the section between Green Cape and Bittangabee Bay appeared to be the least fire-affected. In places there was re-growth but in many parts it felt like it has been a low intensity burn and the larger trees were relatively unaffected.

We started bumping into day walkers from Bittangabee Bay (drive-in) camping area as we got closer. One of them was gamely carrying a fishing rod in case he could cast somewhere – the disappointment on his face when I informed him this section of the track didn’t go anywhere near the coast was quite comical.

We made it into Saltwater Creek (another drive-in camping area) for a late lunch. We were pretty knackered by the time we got there – 18.5km [17.5km from the sign-board, plus 1km to get to the lighthouse & back] before lunch with packs – not something we’d been doing much of recently! So we found some shade next to the day parking area and collapsed. The plan was to spend most of the afternoon at Saltwater Creek in the shade before pushing on to Mowarry Point to camp later in the afternoon. Once we’d had lunch and a hot drink our mental capacity was up to doing a cryptic crossword. This has become one of our essentials to take on long bushwalking trips as something to fill time – weighs nothing, and provides hours of entertainment.

About 4:30pm I decided it was time we moved on. Back on the beach we had to cross the lagoon to continue north. It seemed we were going to have to wade across. But I foolishly decided to take on a high-risk rock-hopping route. It was only 2 rocks to get across but they were covered in black-green algae. My first tentative steps told me they were extremely slippery. However, I decided to pursue my route rather than the small inconvenience of taking off my shoes to wade. I was lucky my decision just ended up with me losing my sunglasses and laying in a series of bruises down my right leg, oh, and losing all dignity as I slipped off the rocks in front of a dozen beach-goers. The sunglasses were washed out to sea, and at the time I thought I was unhurt, but the deep black bruises on my thigh and shin which still persist a week later tell another story.

With that indignity behind me, and Tom crossing by wading, we were on our way again. As we approached a rocky outcrop we spied another group with overnight packs. Initially it seemed they were going north like us, until they passed us going south. I was delighted as I hoped that meant we’d have Mowarry Point to ourselves.

The section from Saltwater Bay to Mowarry Point appeared to have been scorched in the fires. There was significant regrowth – similar to what we’d seen in Morton National Park – it looks ‘weedy’ but most of it is native. But I daresay the Light to Light was a more attractive walk pre-fires. The regrowth made it feel like we were walking through a sauna as it was densely packed with little airflow. Fortunately we had 3 or 4 gnarly crossword clues still to work out, and we managed to solve them while we were walking through this section. The map case around my neck was not for navigating but so I could double-check the clues’ wordings!

Somewhat surprisingly the Mowarry Point remote camping area is not really at Mowarry Point (as it’s marked on the map). It’s somewhat past the point. Tom was getting a little nervous that the big grassy headland he’d seen on the aerials had been taken over by vines and we were going to have to fight to find a place to camp. Fortunately it was just a bit further along the route and we were pleased to get there and have it to ourselves, and be able to camp near the edge with a nice view.

Another group arrived just after we did – but they were heading for Saltwater Creek – they still had plenty of daylight but weren’t going to be getting there before 7pm. We had a swim at the beach below the headland and found we weren’t alone. There was quite a large group – but they had camped on the northern headland – with 3 or 4 tents almost on top of each other on what looked like a fairly uncomfortable slope.

The campsite wasn’t perfect – we had been hoping for good views of the full moon rising and/or a speccy sunset – but we were facing North rather than West and the light didn’t come to the party. Regardless camping on the tussocky grass is a pretty comfortable experience and we both slept well – particularly given the distance we’d covered.

Sadly sunrise was as uninspiring as sunset, and we were on our way by 9am. There was no great hurry since we just had 7km to cover for the day. Leatherjacket Bay was a very attractive spot, but only an hour into our walking we had no real reason for a break.

Eventually we started seeing some views of Boyd’s Tower. It was quite the contrast to Green Cape Lighthouse which we’d been able to see for much of the previous day’s walk. There were lots of day visitors at Boyd’s Tower, probably wondering why we were fully kitted out in our overnight gear to walk the 200m from the car park to the tower.

Later that day we went to the Killer Whale Museum in Eden where I saw some photos of the Tower pre-fires. It was surrounded by trees which were at a similar height to the lone one which features in this photo above. It would have been a very different feeling!

We had our final few days of the trip based in Merimbula. On one of the days we did the 9km Kangarutha Track in Bournda National Park. It’s a one-way track, so the simplest way for Tom & I to walk was to go in opposite directions. I dropped Tom off at the southern end and then drove to the northern end. We met about half-way through, passed over the car key, and continued on our way. It appeared to have avoided the fires and had quite a different feel to the Light to Light. Perhaps what the Light to Light would have been like before it burnt?

I realised early on that I had stuffed up the logistical arrangements. The southern end of the walk is in the National Park, nowhere near anything, whereas the northern end is on the outskirts of Tathra. We should have swapped the arrangements – since I walk faster and faff less than Tom so was likely to finish quicker (and did). If we’d swapped it up I would have been able to find a coffee in Tathra before picking him up!

After our trip out of Falls Creek we had a a few nights based in Harrietville. We had been unsure about whether to stay in Mt Hotham or Dinner Plain or Harrietville – but we were glad with our choice. Harrietville has a lovely village ambiance. The day after our arrival from Falls Creek was meant to be a rest day. But that had been on the premise we had descended from Mt Bogong the day before rather than our relatively flat stroll back to the car from High Plains Creek. So we decided to walk the section of Bon Accord Track as far as Washington Creek.

Fortunately I had been doing my research on bakeries and cafes in Harrietville the night before and concluded we needed to visit the bakery before we went walking. We timed it well – the vanilla slices had just come out, and so with two (not the one Tom had suggested we share!?!) of them tucked into the pack we set off on our walk.

Not long in I convinced Tom we really should have morning tea and eat them. He kept talking about eating half of one now and saving one for later. Amateur. They were amazing. And it would have been impossible to cut them in half without making a complete mess even if you’d wanted to.

Washington Creek itself was a bit disappointing. The sign boards said it was a great place for a picnic, I think that was overstating it. After being ejected from our initial lunch spot by some ants (I didn’t want a repeat of the previous day where half my thigh swelled up from a bite), we crossed the creek and used the camping flat. We did have a dip in the icy creek as well – but there wasn’t really anywhere more than thigh-deep. Back in Harrietville we enjoyed a coffee and a relaxed afternoon.

The alarm went off at 5am. Groan. The winding road to Mt Hotham starts immediately after Harrietville. I drove past the warning signs about the deer/kangaroos/wombats which were going to litter the road. Tom was about to make a joke about looking out for deer, when we rounded a corner to find one standing on our side of the road. After a bit of face-off it decided it might move.

The sky had lightened considerably by the time we got to Diamantina Hut. Ideally I think we would have got there 15-20 minutes earlier. As it was we started walking about 6:30am – sunrise at 6:42am. The light was magic. There’s no better place to be then on a magnificent ridge pre-dawn when it’s a still clear morning. There were plenty of stops for photos as the light changed and sun met us.

We were glad to let a large group pass us on the way out. They were pretty boisterous and the noise carries when it’s so still. Otherwise we didn’t see anyone until we met the crowds who had been camped at Federation Hut overnight. It seemed they had all set the same alarm time. We passed something like 8 groups all in a row on their way back out. It was in a section where we had to stand off the track and every time we thought it was safe to move on another group would pop round the corner!

We made it to the Federation Hut/Feathertop junction shortly after 9am. Unfortunately the cloud was gathering around Feathertop despite it having been clear all of our way in. Nevertheless we of course headed up into the cloud. The large group from earlier were flying a drone on the summit so we decided to make do with a spot slightly short of the summit for morning tea. It was really quite pleasant once you dropped a metre off the ridge out of the wind.

Once the summit was a bit more peaceful we headed across, willing the clouds to part, which they did sporadically. You didn’t have to descend far to get out of the cloud and at Federation Hut it was a lovely, sunny day.

Tom had offered me the option of continuing down to Harrietville via Bungalow Spur – he would go back the way we came and drive the car back. I happily took him up on the offer – though a little apprehensive on how steep it might be. As it turned out Bungalow Spur is a fairly gentle grade. I had been expecting something like Strongleg!!

Part of the reason for Tom’s offer was due to the bakery opening hours. The only way to visit the bakery again during our visit was to get there before 2pm – and that was only going to happen via Bungalow Spur. Tom reckoned I would be running to get there at the bottom. I don’t think he realises how much dawdling gets eliminated when I’m walking by myself 🙂 I made it to the bakery by 1:30pm… only to find the lady in front of me had bought the last vanilla slice 🙁 I had to settle for some other goodies. I suddenly felt the exhaustion having knocked off 22km and 1300m descent, and gratefully sunk into a chair at our accommodation to wait for Tom’s return.

The next day we headed to the south coast.