Heels 1988

Tasmania Tempts Two Trans Tasman Trampers

Friday 25 March

An effortless example of the plan as little as possible technique landed me at Sydney's Central railway station where I had booked a (Get this students!) first class conveyance to Melbourne to meet Bruce.

Saturday 26 March

At the Melbourne terminus a Minor baggage handling dispute (Demarkation?) is resolved without serious injury. Frenzied food purchasing and packing completed, we bid farewell to Bismark and Amadeus (Bruce's cats) and stagger off to the Station hotel where much real ale is declared drinkable (Boutique brewery pubs are very popular here). Unfortunately night has fallen and we miss out on aerial views on the flight to Hobart . A party is in progress at our billet - everyone is getting wasted - I supervise, while Bruce spins out on nicotine.

Sunday 27 March

Coffee and Croissants for breakfast, then aboard the Bushwalkers (Say 'Tramping' here and you will get a blank stare) transport to the mighty Western Arthur range. A long drive on a road liberally strewn with dead natives, through very dry country delivers us to Lake Pedder in Tasmanias famous south west wilderness, with the range in sight!!.

Just a short day this one - only 3 hours until we find a good campsite whereupon Bruce declares "Let a fire be built upon the firmament in this place" and lo' a fire is made. Cigar and Jim Beam ration consumed we settle in for a fine cold starry night.

Monday 28 March

A perfect day for it. Enough high cloud around to take the bite out of the sun. We set off for the 700 metre climb onto Mt Hesperus at the far Western end of the range. The nex't few days will be spent entirely above the bushline as we traverse this long jagged range ennobled by some 36 lakes.

We flash the climb in less than 1 1/4 hours surprising ourselves. Spectacular views out to the Great Southern Ocean with other ranges spread as far as the eye can see. Up by the trig, we are greeted with a spectacular view of 5 jewel like lakes, each dark dark blue with a lighter orange fringe of Algae around the edges. A real antarctic breeze is blowing in from the South, as we start the short walk to Lake Cygnus nestled beneath the rugged Cappela crags. We crest the ridge to a sight that will become familiar to us, of Guiness-hued lake set amidst sage green vegetation with massive grey cliffs shooting up all around.

page 70

In this serene silent place, we warm up by mis-throwing my plate/frisbee around for an hour or so on a firm white sandy beach. With the sun goes the warmth, and we dress for dinner. The Bourbon is ritually slaughtered after a structual defect is found in the lid.

Tuesday 29 March

Fine weather for our most Energetic day. We cross the beach to the expected obvious ground trail sidling around Mt Hayes between some large nergs. The travel is rugged but straight forward An easy sidle from Procyon peak brings us down to Square Lake. This lake - not visible until you are just about on top of it - has what is possibly the most spectacular setting of any in the range. Sheer cliffs descend from the summit of Procyon peak straight into the water for about two thirds of the lake's circumference - a quite magical place.

We don't linger long however as there is still a lot of ground to cover. Yet another steep grunt brings us to the panorama we have been waiting for - Lake Oberon with the crux of the range spread out behind - The incredibly shattered skyline formed by Mt's Pegasus, Capricorn etc. We grovel down the steep Scrubby face (having missed the "real" route) to the wide grass plain before the lake. The "trail" is followed to Mt Pegasus via an amazingly "directissimo" route to the rocky summit for an intoxicating view. Lunch is absolutely vital.

We descend via an equally directissimo sidle to the saddle before Mt Capricorn feeling more and more like mountain goats -humbling news greeted us later - a crazy person has run the range in 24 hours!!. A fairly easy, but steep route takes us to the summit of Capricorn through a hole in a rock. Lakes Titania, Uranus and Ariel glitter far below (and I mean below!) us. The descent off Mt Capricorn leaps down guts so steep that the major concern is that your pack keeps threatening to project you into the void as it grounds behind you.

When we make it to the saddle at last, and look back, we are filled with admiration for the first people to have established this route From the top of Mt Capricorn, the rock walls seem to descend straight into Lake Ariel, with only a few tenuous threads of scrub criss-crossing it. It is these we have just traversed.

We continue along the range to our campsite for the night at High Moor, between the twin peaks of Mt Columba, High Moor is the most exposed campsite on the range. The promised stream is dry, so we resort to the time honoured trick of scraping water out of puddles. We dine cocooned in our pits with a glorious view of the sunset and Lake Dione far below. Later on the big starmaker appears to cap off a great day's tramping.

page 71

Wednesday 30 March

The day dawns with high cloud but still pleasant. We start with a hiss and a roar on the aptly named "Beggary Bumps" which are promptly re-christened with a similar but subtly different name. Steep (!!) drops which turn into steep sidles then into steep climbs then more steep drops amply justify this new name. We finally descend almost vertically a piece of track aptly titled the "The Tilted Chasm", followed by "Lover's Leap" under Mt Dragon. This used to be a feared part of the range requiring a rope. It doesn't seem all that bad, but we exersize caution and take the horrible sidle 20 metres further south.

The rest of the day is fairly tame and we quickly weave our way through Mt Taurus toward Haven Lake, our campsite for the night. The icey waters of the Lake are briefly disturbed - the interests of hygiene taken care of, we build a cosy fire and finally get the blockage in the damn pipe cleared. More stars than usual come out tonight.

Thursday 31 March

Horrors!, the weather has crapped out. We set off in freezing conditions for a shortish day to Promontory Lake. Route finding is not so easy; now that we have completed the crux of the range it is more open and the route less obvious. From the open tops of the range we descend another of our friendly ultra steep guts to tiny Lake Sirona. Finally, between my feet I can just make out the shoreline with it's characteristic orange fringe. Bruce is at first confused, peering outwards into the mist straining to catch a glimpse, until I direct his gaze down past my feet, and he see's it - directly below!. It is a very beautiful lake with a large rock situated in the middle. In the gloom it appears spooky and ethereal.

We rush on, lose the route in the murk, stumble around for 20 minutes, then press on over Mount Scorpio and down the broad ridge of moraine "K" until we pop out below the clouds and spy the twin lakes of Vesta and Juno nestled among the crags of Mt's Scorpio and Carina. Off to the east and above us is Promontory Lake, our destination. We make camp in a freezing wind. In these conditions you could almost imagine it to be Patagonia, with its rolling tundra, stunted beech trees, icy blue-grey lake and grey rock peaks all round. We retire early in this ruggedly beautiful place to avoid hypothermia.

April Fools Day

Fortunately, the weather dawns fine(ish) for our last full day on the tops. On the map it looks like a long way to Lake Rosanne, the last lake on the range. In fact the travel is comparatively easy. We "cruise" over Mt Centaurus, from where most of the days route is visible through gaps in the cloud. Basically the ridge dog - legs past the shoulder of West Portal (There is a matching East Portal on the Federation range further South east) into the Crags of Andromeda, then zags again down the ridge to Lake Rosanne.

page 72

Low cloud envelops us for the approach to West Portal, producing a ghostly setting amidst little rock spires on the quite narrow ridge. We stop for lunch with a view over lake Mercury, which is bounded on 3 sides by the ridge we have just travelled. The local wildlife flees before a stirring rendition of the great old Paul Robeson song - Old Man River. There is something to be said for standing in the middle of no-where screaming your lungs out - quite theraputic actually!

We stumble over the last of the crags, and descend the steep gully south of Lucifer ridge. I hate to think what it must of been like to go through this Scoparia (A local tormentor somewhat akin to leatherwood) before the passing of many feet wore a ravine through it. Little Lake Rosanne finally waves its long wide beach (Frisbees!!) at us. The campsite is just in front of a huge rock rejected by the builders of stonehenge. We meet our only human contact while on the range - a really rugged character on an extended tramp through the entire range. He departs at dusk !!.

Saturday 2 April

Rest day!!! and a deafening dawn chorus, in stark contrast to the ethereal silence of the rest of the range. A common feature of rest days is that bugger all is done. We do not break with this tradition. The major excitement for the day was the two swimms Bruce took to receive the wretched frisbee from the lake. My laughter was soon stilled however when I had to go in.

Sunday 3 April And Monday 4 April

Leaving the range is like farewelling a friend. We circle the lake and descend the open steep slopes to the Arthur plains that run the entire northern side of the range. Ahead of us is a walk up the Arthur plains beside the Western Arthurs. We complete almost half this distance in a sunny 3 hours which highlights the nature of the terrain we have gone over in the past 5 days.

Next day another 3 hours, in cold drizzle, sees us back at our campsite of the first night. Due to human frailty of the planning kind, we are a couple of dinners short and light on brew materials? a frugal dinner is consumed. A stream of overnight campers wends past - lesser mortals who barely scratched the surface of the western arthurs.

Tuesday 5 April

Back to cosmopolitan Hobart today. Away early to sprint back to the roadend, where we shelter from the icy wind behind an impressivly fortified hut. The van arrives and whisks us back to hobart where we retire to a mega flash Gym for saunas, spas and showers – two of each. Next stop is the pub where we continue our investigations into the nature of the excellent locally brewed Cascade Pale Ale. That night at the flat the permanent party continues unabated. Again we Supervise page 73The next few days are spent exploring this small but very beautiful state in a "Rent a Wreck" putrid purple 1975 Toyota Corona known as the Purple Pig.