My friends think the Overland Track is a bit easy. That's no reflection on people who do it as a personal challenge. I think it’s great people get out there, and push their own limits. But my friends do it as a day run. One has done it up, AND BACK, as a single push. I hang with a tough crowd which means usually needing an additional element of difficulty to an expedition. Being cold is my personal challenge. I am a tropics girl, 39 years, and 5 years in Tasmania has not changed that. I also have Raynaud’s which means my fingers stop working when they get cold. This is annoying when I’m at home, but is quite dangerous when I’m in the wilderness and can’t zip up a jacket or get food out of my pack. For me, this is a problem to be tackled and solved. It did not get solved on this trip, even with fleece-lined Bunnings gardening gloves and waterproof motorcycling over-mitts. I have some Gortex snow mitts on order. But for this trip John got to feed and dress me again. It’s good practice for when I get dementia, I guess. So here is a brief-ish account of our winter Overland Track.
Day 1 – Ronny Creek Carpark to Waterfall Valley Hut
After hitting the hot breakfast buffet at the Cradle Mountain Hotel, we took our bacon-lined stomachs on the bus to Ronny Creek, the official OT start. It was actively snowing and windy, but that did not deter the inappropriately attired day-trippers from their forays as far as Kitchen Hut. No wonder people die here. The snow got a little deep so we put on our snow shoes for about 3 minutes before realising there really wasn’t enough snow. We did not use them again for the rest of the trip. I declared that we must not pass Cradle Mountain without climbing to the top. Yes I know it’s snowing (hard) and the rocks are icy, and we eschewed snow spikes for useless snow shoes. Shoosh. Climb. We could barely see Cradle Mountain, there would be no view, but refer to the opening paragraph – it was the challenge. Well the challenge proved a little too death enticing so we aborted just short of the plateau. In my head the plateau was a field of soft snow, rainbows and unicorns. But it could have just been chasms of death so I guess I’ll find out on another trip.
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| The climb up Cradle Mountain |
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| Cool snow patterns |
I put my sunglasses on soon after, to keep the sideways hail from piercing my corneas. I did not use them again, due to lack of more hail, and because the winter sun is almost always at your back while traveling south on the OT. After 6 hours we fell into Waterfall Valley Hut, and a group of university students from the UTAS bush-walking club. I showed my age by saying something about how good it was to see ‘young people’ out enjoying the wilderness. We were introduced to a game called ‘Spoons’ which was played with a headtorch, battery, pot handle and a packet of Carbonara, due to the lack of spoons. It was quite physical, and required equal amounts of dexterity, lightning-fast reflexes, and aggression. So naturally John won.
Wombat count: 1
Day 2 – Waterfall Valley to Pelion Hut
We rose to see the snow had stopped falling, it was completely still, and Barn Bluff was peeking through the cloud. Ten seconds after leaving the hut we saw our second wombat for the trip. With blue skies and the sun at our backs all we had to do was move forward and marvel at the scenery. Obviously, it is different to summer. But there’s a special thrill which comes with white-dusted peaks and squeaky snow underfoot.
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| Barn Bluff from Waterfall Valley hut |
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| Some sun, finally! |
This leg would normally be done over 2 days. But the going was good, despite the snow, and it’s achievable in one, for those who would like to do more side trips further along the track. We only stopped briefly at Windemere Hut so I could give John a shoulder massage as his pack was killing him. There were two revelations for me on this trip, in terms of equipment. The first was merino hiking underwear. Why did I not know about these? I bought two pairs of Macpac women’s merino boxers and they are literally the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn. I will only wear these for the rest of my life and they will bury me in them (hopefully this model, not this specific pair). The other revelation was walking poles. With my recalcitrant hands I could not be bothered with the faff of poles, but after a trip of using John’s nice carbon ones, I am sold. They prevented many expeditions to the ground on slippery terrain and came into their own while hopping between rocks and random bits of wood people have thrown into mud bogs. Less than 6 months after my knee exploded, they also took a lot of pressure off while descending and hopping down from things. But I still think I look a bit like a ‘Landstrider’ from The Dark Crystal while using them (old person reference).
I fell in love with the north-west face of Mt Oakleigh, with the sun accentuating the dolerite columns and the curl of the south-west ridge. Unfortunately, all my photos are crap (cold hands, mobile phone quality) so I settled for the often-photographed southern aspect when we reached Pelion Hut. It was such a special track section surrounded by Mt Thetis, Pelion West and Mt Achilles, with Ossa just obscured by the cloud. The hut was surprisingly crowded with several groups walking the track south to north, which is not possible in summer. The hut has lots of rooms but only a small gas heater, which is temperamental to light and is only warm if you’re standing right beside it. The cage around it was full of people’s wet socks cooking away which gave the hut a special aroma. I had the worst night’s sleep with a chainsaw-snorer in the room beside us. Also, note: it is very antisocial to wear heavy hiking boots around the hut while everyone is still asleep. A pair of cheap slides could prevent a spork stabbing.
Wombat count: 3
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| Mt Oakleigh from Pelion Hut |
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| Looking down the Forth Valley |
Day 3 – Pelion Hut to Bert Nichols Hut
This was known as ‘the wet miserable day’. It was raining lightly, all the shrubs were wet and I was grateful for my head to toe waterproofs. Most of my dampness was generated on the climbs in said non-breathable waterproofs. The pit zips on my jacket worked somewhat, but it was essentially a choice of which direction I wanted to the moisture to come from. We decided to climb Mt Pelion East as it was an easier climb than most, even in the winter. Starting out on FRP grating it quickly turned to snow then to a river of ice on the track proper. A lot of off-track walking was required to not slide back down the mountain. Some sketchy scrambling at the top but we finally summited a peak! (No view). I am so pleased at how less afraid of heights I’ve become in Tasmania through sheer exposure and peer pressure. I could barely stand on a kitchen table without vertigo previously so scrambling exposed rock is some small progress.
I was feeling less pleased when we returned to our packs and found that the currawongs had stolen all my remaining trail mix and banana chips. These thieving birds have learned how to work zips so taking all your food with you in a day pack (or buried deep in your bag) is highly recommended. I hope they choked on a pecan. We did a side trip to see the waterfalls before the climb to Du Cane Gap. They were quite impressive, especially D’Alton Falls, and are well worth seeing if there has been decent rain.
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| D'Alton Falls |
We descended from Du Cane Gap, past the site of our infamous scramble down Falling Mountain. Bert Nichols hut is enormous, with a heater that is even more difficult to operate (hot tip: you can’t actually see the pilot light, so just assume it’s lit and proceed with the instructions) but as there were only three of us there, it left ample room for socks and other garments to dry. A first year UTAS medical student, Wade, was part of the university walking group on Day 1 but was fast hiking to make it back to guide a rafting trip down the Picton River. We were at all the same huts during the trip so he got to hear many of our war stories, which were mostly lessons in what not to do and where not to go. I hope he took notes.
Day 4 – Bert Nichols Hut to Echo Point
Reasonably good weather in the morning meant a cracking photo of the Acropolis and Mt Geryon as we left the hut. The track lost some of its appeal from there as we left the spectacular mountains and entered less interesting track, with more mud bogs. On long stretches we fall into our regular routine. John points out relevant geographical features and historical landmarks, while I pepper him with burning questions like “When koalas fart, do you think it smells like eucalyptus?”. By now we were already planning the first thing we were going to eat when the hike was finished and were looking forward to our warm home and comfortable bed. As John was swearing at the difficulty of getting the coal fire going inside Echo Point hut (be very thankful we no longer have to use coal fires to stay warm – what a faff!), we worked out that neither of us actually wanted to stay in the hut. Both of us were just pretending to want to because we thought the other person wanted to stay there, and was taken with its ‘rustic charm’ (read: run down) or something. But the fire was finally kicking off, our shoes were drying for the first time in 4 days so we settled in. John started reading the walkers log while I tended the needy fire. Literally every story mentioned the hut rats and how they enjoyed nibbling food, sleeping mats, and the occasional face. We promptly set up our tent outside. It was the quaintest hut we never stayed in.
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| The Acropolis above the trees |
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| The Scotsman knows his way around a coal fire |
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| Echo point hut has the best location |
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| Love a mossy log |
Day 5 – Echo Point to Lake St Clair
Best night’s sleep ever. Face, unnibbled. I’m so delighted with our new tent and that we got to use it, finally. It’s great to have my own side entry and annex to facilitate the inevitable 2am wee without climbing over John. It was only a 2 hour walk to Lake St Clair but it felt like an eon stood between me and a burger-with-the-lot at the Hungry Wombat. Most people don’t do this part of the track, opting to get the boat from Narcissus Hut. But John loves it for some reason, and I guess the Myrtle forest has it’s charms, although the multitude of huge fallen trees over the track detracted from them. Have you really done the OT if you don’t walk right to the end? Obligatory photos by the official sign done, we indulged in the complementary hot showers at the visitor centre and the fresh clothes from our car we’d parked there 6 days before.
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| The end! |
Burger inhaled it was a little jarring being back in ‘civilisation’. I feel confused about which world constitutes ‘real life’ after these types of adventures. It usually ends up in a compromise of gratitude for soft beds, hot showers and lattes, and a yearning to pare back the superfluous trappings of daily life, and to escape from the ‘noise’ of constant 'information'. On a recent podcast the interviewee used the difference between Western and Eastern art as a metaphor for different approaches to life. In Western art we start with a blank canvas and fill it with everything which constitutes the masterpiece. In Eastern art, we start with a block of jade, and carve away everything which is not the masterpiece. Some carving may be required.
