Precipitous Bluff Circuit

 After running the track from Lune River to Mount La Perouse earlier this year with some mates, a wild plan was hatched to do the full circuit going over Pindar’s Peak, Precipitous Bluff, down New River Lagoon then along the South Coast track to Cockle Creek. Since the 100-mile race we'd been training for fell victim to COVID, the rest of the group decided to do it as a continuous run. That sounded batshit crazy to me, but John and I decided to do it as a fast hike instead. We parked one car at the end and drove the second to the rudimentary camp site at Lune River. We began walking at 6am the following day which turned out to be an absolute pearl. Trekking along Moonlight Ridge with Mt La Perouse and the Cockscomb framed by cloudless blue sky I thought "good choice" and was full of confidence in reaching at least the base, if not the summit, of PB by sundown. 

We haven't had many blue sky days on our adventures.

Despite being in absolute wilderness we managed to bump into a group of three consisting of John's old hospital work mate Mike Rose and two female companions. Mike is in his 60s but is somewhat of a legend of doing hard shit. They were doing the same circuit but taking 8 days instead of 2 and a bit. He's done the circuit about 10 times including twice with a side trip to Vanishing Falls which involves an extra 2 days of 'proper' scrub bashing. I thought I detected a hint of scepticism in his response when we told him of our target for the day but didn't pay it as much attention as I should have. 

The vastness of the landscape. PB in the background.

On many maps the trail ends at Pindar's Peak as this is most commonly done as a return walk. It was clear that the full circuit was the road less travelled as soon as we were head height in dense scoparia having the skin scraped from any exposed flesh. The track 'has several false leads' we read in Chapman's guidebook AFTER we had already taken several and started bashing through the impenetrable scrub. John climbed a dead tree and decided we needed to be about 10 metres to the right of where we were, it was just impossible to get there. After about half an hour of pushing, scratching, crawling, and swearing we finally found the trail again and returned to the moderate torture of following it. Making excruciatingly slow progress, it was getting dark much earlier than expected due to the gathering storm clouds. We were in a white out by the time we hit Wylly plateau, we'd been hiking for 12 hours, and it seemed prudent to stay put for the night. In freezing, howling wind we erected the tent, boiled some water and ate dinner wrapped in our sleeping bags. Being warm, dry, and exhausted, sleep came quickly. Until we felt water dripping on our faces.

We had a tent malfunction in the respect that, in my opinion, a tent's main role is to keep water out, and ours failed to do this. I slept with my waterproof jacket over my face and torso hoping to keep mostly dry. While our sleeping bags weren't totally saturated, we knew they would be after being rolled and stowed in our dry bags for the wet day ahead. The tent had pools of water on the floor and all we could do was shake it out before packing it in the middle of another squall at 4.30am the next morning. We put wet clothes back on and I was shivering violently for the first hour of walking. Eventually the rain and hail stopped, and the effort of continued scrub bashing warmed me. On the downside the scrub was now also wet, and while my jacket kept my upper body warm and mostly dry, my hiking shorts were cold, soaked and almost falling down with the weight. On day one we tried to avoid mud puddles altogether. On day two we tried to avoid stepping into mud deeper than our knee. We failed. My weakness is being cold, so I spent a tense day imagining another night in wet gear. We flirted with the idea of simply hiking non-stop to the end. But with even relatively light packs the going would be slow and we imagined we had at least another 24 hours in front of us. Finally making it to the base of PB, the skies, and track, cleared somewhat. The climb to the saddle was technical but has some interesting rock work and stairs which had been inserted by the trail builders. 

Chimney climbing. One of the few technical sections.

At the saddle we agreed that neither of us were interested in the 1.5-hour side trip to summit PB in average conditions, being already so far behind schedule. We opted to descend on the steep, exposed track, which involved a bit of down climbing but was relatively straightforward. The track became less clear traversing under the PB cliffs before turning sharply downhill toward New River Lagoon. From this point we followed irregularly spaced surveyors’ tape, many pieces of which had fallen or been obscured. It was more slow-going as tape was lost and route options carefully considered, since dropping the wrong way down the steep terrain would involve a quad burning climb back up. 

The descent from PB is exposed but absolutely spectacular.

There was a lot of climbing over and under trees and very steep descending, but we arrived at the lagoon just on low tide. This was fortunate as the next 2 hours were spent walking knee-deep in the lagoon water as the shoreline is far too thick with scrub to skirt around it. The water was warm, and the sun was at our backs, so we mostly enjoyed it except for the sunburned thighs after doing the wading in our underwear. We couldn't find the sand bar to cross two deeper creeks but found some fallen trees a short way upstream which could be crossed using some gymnastics moves. 

Doing my best beam routine to stay dry.

At the end of the lagoon, we reached Prion Beach and used the blazing sunshine to unpack all our gear and dry everything out. We made some tea and coffee and enjoyed our first actual toilet for a couple of days at the nearby campsite. It was at this point that I got that gratitude for the simple things that I put myself through these ordeals to find. Dry shorts are awesome. A dry sleeping bag is awesome. The sun is awesome. Toilets are awesome. 

Looking back at PB from New River Lagoon.

After a very pleasant hike from the lagoon, we arrived at Surprise Bay at 9pm as the sun set. The slippery rocks and high tide at Granite Beach beyond didn't sound like something we should do in the dark after 14 hours of hard walking. We enjoyed the dry weather while eating our freeze-dried meals outside in relative comfort. Things were looking up. Then the rain came again. Stowing as much of our gear undercover as the small tent annex would allow, we settled in for another damp night. I awoke at 4.50am and saw John holding the tent roof up with his finger so no water would drip on his beloved. That's devotion. I said our alarm didn't go off until 5am and went back to sleep leaving him to support the tent a little longer. 

Can hold up a tent.

The weather was awful most of the next day with hailstorms and bitterly cold wind. While the track was clearer, much of it was deep with mud with the potential to go in up to the thigh if a route wasn't carefully selected. It was mentally and physically taxing trying to join the dots and jump from log to rock to solid ground, taking a route that was as much sideways as it was forward towards the destination. The beaches in-between had a special quality to them. Not only for their rugged beauty, but, given the pounding surf, the knowledge that the only way to see them was through suffering on foot. Granite Beach had an extra treat as the track involves climbing the cliffs at the end beside a rushing waterfall. Between Granite Beach and South Cape Bay was especially horrific with mud and our tempers frayed. This wasn't helped by the frequency of which we hit our heads on low tree branches as we were too focussed on the ground to see them. On several occasions we both drove our skulls into thick tree limbs hard enough to be sporting some good-sized eggs and cuts. I thought John had given himself concussion after a heavy knock sent him sliding off the side of the track.

Once past South Cape Bay we started to see 'normal' people hiking in for the day. They were clean, smiling and they smelled good. It was an indicator that civilisation was very close. The sun came out again as if the track gods were trying to make amends for the ordeal we had been through. We will not forget though, and the phrase 'never again' was frequently uttered. We reached the car which was now in the middle of a pool of water after the heavy rains. One more muddy puddle to get through - of course. Cooking up some soup before we hit the road, we chatted to two guys who had finished hiking the full South Coast Track over 7 days. They had enjoyed it, despite the mud and hilly terrain. They had even taken books to read which is a classic sign that moving fast, and light is not a priority. Why had we had such different experiences? One traveller answered that the difference between a holiday and a 'mission' may be the time allotted. By compressing pleasant week-long walks into a couple of days, we had been continually doing 'missions'. At the same time, I wonder if the 'mission' aspect isn't the thing I crave about outdoor adventures. What does one do when the daily hike is finished by 1pm, it's raining, and you're confined to your tent? Maybe the walk-eat-sleep-repeat aspect is what I find character-building? Whatever the answer to these questions, one thing is certain - we need a new tent. Falling in the door at home, we still had a lot of unpacking and cleaning to do. I finally got in the shower and marvelled at the fact that hot water comes out of a hole in the wall. Hot showers are awesome. My bed is awesome.

This guy is pretty awesome too.

Tips:

* A clear weather window would improve this track immensely. As would actual track marking. Some good navigation skills are a must. Australian Topographic Maps app can show your location on the track. Remember to download the maps to your phone before you head off, so you don’t have to rely on signal at the top of a mountain like we did.

* Pack rubber gardening gloves for the bush-bashing through the scoparia. And ensure your legs are completely covered by sturdy pants and gaiters. We’re sporting some very scratched knees. The long-sleeve Mountain Designs button up shirts performed very well in keeping us cool, warm and protecting arms from the bush.

* Progress through many sections is slow – about 1 km per hour through the thick scrub and about 3 kms per hour even on formed track. The track winds a lot so the distance covered can be greater than it appears on the map.

* Fill up with water at every opportunity. Fresh water is hard to find after Wylly plateau and the colour is questionable so sterilisation tabs are a must.

* Do not expect to have type 1 fun. This is definitely type 2 to 3 fun as in, not fun at all. But it will be a good reference point in future to rate just how bad things are in comparison.

Precipitous Bluff. Photo credit: Matt Glastonbury (with a helicopter and proper camera I assume).

Lake Rhona - Take 2

 The last time we attempted the Lake Rhona track, the log bridge, as described in all the blogs, was 2 feet under a raging torrent. After seriously considering jumping in upstream and swimming like hell, commonsense prevailed and we retreated back to the car. This year we obsessed over rainfall gauges, Tasmanian Hydro water flows and the BOM river level readings before heading out to try again. We took the Gittus Road detour to avoid Tiger Road, assuming the bridge was still down. However we need not have done this as we checked it out on the way home and they've installed a brand spanking new one. The trail head was rammed with cars and we counted 21 hikers would be sharing Lake Rhona with us on Saturday night. So much for seclusion.

The first 20 minutes of the walk is through pleasant forest before reaching the Gordon River. With the river at ankle deep upstream the large tree bridge was quite easy and dry. It would take a biblical rainfall to go under that weekend so my fears of being stuck on the other side were eased. Hiking on the Rasselas track isn't one of the most scenic of walks in Tasmania. The bush fires ripped through in 2019 leaving little cover, lots of button grass and plenty of mud underfoot. The Denison Range provides a nice handle to trek along with the destination hidden behind the foothills. My brand new Salmon S-Labs were well and truly christened with no option but the trek through mid-calf deep mud at times. I wonder how many extra miles we do trying to avoid water puddles, vainly attempting to keep dry feet. I'd be interested in some proper water-proof hiking boots to try a more direct route. Although I'd say waders wouldn't be out of place on some of our adventures. 

Finally reaching some interesting track we started the 400m climb to the lake. It's not particularly technical although the mud keeps things exciting. Signs urge walkers to stay on the track to prevent erosion. But it's difficult when the track has become a narrow crevasse in the ground, littered with rocks and the soft grass right BESIDE the track is so inviting. It must be a monumental effort to keep tracks maintained in this harsh landscape. Parks seem to be overwhelmed with the job so there's a lot of potential for private contractors so fill this void. Even the boot-wash was out of detergent which isn't great for the spread of pests like phytophthora. 

Old Farm equipment at Gordonvale where Ernie Bond lived for 17 years

I was a little disappointed up to this point. The route was ho-hum, the weather gloomy and at just over 3 hours it wasn't 'extreme' enough to be considered a challenge. But as we walked into the amphitheatre which surrounded the lake it all became clear. This was definitely a 'destination' hike. A pristine beach in the mountains surrounded by typical Tasmanian folded mountains, including two Abels, over 1200 metres high. Despite the crowd there was still plenty of room and privacy. The great thing about the remoteness, is that the people who make the effort to trek in have a true appreciation for their surroundings, and for other like-minded people. We thought about climbing up on the ridge and doing the traverse on the mountains above the lake. But the weather was supposed to be better on Sunday so we opted to 'chill'. Which was odd because we're normally setting up our tent in the dark, while exhausted after trekking for most of the day. 

We struck up a conversation with three lads in tents next to us. Two had finished year 12 last year and all were completing apprenticeships or TAFE. They had done this hike several times and it's become a bit of a tradition with them. It was so heartening to see young people enjoying the wilderness and having fun with challenges. They told us about the Anaspides - mountain shrimp - we'd seen in the lake. They remarked how small our packs were and how we must be able to move quite fast. We were amazed they managed to cart a  Big W Hinterland double air mattress up to lake Rhona! And while we were talking they pulled out zucchinis, mushrooms and capsicums to chop up for a gourmet dinner. Not the lightest of 'camping food' but it looked, and smelled really good! We spent 5 minutes preparing our couscous and beef jerky. I don't think we'll get any nutrient deficiencies from one night off the vegetables. 

With nothing to do I had a nap at 7.30. Woke up for a bit and then went to sleep at 9. I guess this is what my body clock is really like without screens to distract it. Sleeping at 900 metres was still quite cold, even in summer and a wind kicked up over night. By morning it was perfectly still though. Sticking our heads out of the tent before dawn we waited for sunrise. Unfortunately for those trying to capture the mountains, the fog rolled in shortly before. It was eerie and beautiful though and cleared enough to capture the first rays of sunlight on the surrounding peaks. Sunrise at Lake Rhona is something everyone should do once. It is absolutely magical. 

Eerily beautiful as the fog rolls into the lake

After breakfast we headed up for the traverse. The fog was still thick and we were in a white-out at the top. Navigation was tricky at one point but the track was reasonably clear after that. We didn't get a real view of the lake below until the final stretch before descending back to the beach. It took about 2 hours and was fairly easy walking after the initial hike up. Those who had started packing as we headed up were just leaving as we got back to camp. One advantage of traveling light is there is less 'stuff' to pack up. I did envy the small luxuries of the ones with oversized packs though. Apres hike footwear and warmer clothes would be worth the weight sacrifice. After taking our muddy shoes off and getting into clean socks for sleeping we were restricted to our tent unless we were willing to go barefoot on the cold pointy sand. I find some people's choice of 'essential equipment' puzzling though. You're hiking into a remote wilderness for one night and you absolutely have to have dry shampoo spray and a hair brush? Really? I don't even shower for 3 days so my hair is the least of my worries. 

Two knobs

Very lucky to get this shot. The lake from the surround mountains

We got a lot of questions about how much our packs weigh (we don't know, but we'll weigh them next time) and what gear we were using. We've saved a bit by spending money on good quality, light-weight tents, sleeping quilts and mats. But mostly we just figure out what we can live without and are prepared to be a bit more uncomfortable than most people. The reward is being able to squeeze a 3 to 4 day hike into a weekend, so we can have a lot more adventures over the year. 

The sun was shining over Lake Rhona as we left but the surrounds were shrouded in grey. It was very tempting to stay another night but it was work for both of us on Monday. The couple who'd had a swim the day before were at it again. I assumed they were Swedes or Russians who were into that sort of thing. The lake was freezing and this girl was in a bikini. Not just a quick in and out either. Loitering in the water. It just wasn't right. But three hours later, at the Gordon River crossing, the sun was out and we went for a dip to wash some of the camping smell off. John managed to pick up a couple of leeches which were very well fed by the time we drove home. Ah, the great outdoors. 

I think we're obliged to name it when it's this big??