Actually, it’s surprising how many people think that Tasmania is on the other side of the Tasman Sea, which nomenclature-wise does make sense. But no, folks, travel across the Tasman from Australia and you’ll end up in New Zealand, not Tasmania. When in Tasmania, you could be forgiven for thinking you have, in fact, crossed the Tasman, travelling through green fields of sheep, with picturesque mountains in the background.
Bizarrely, the best day of my trip was the worst. Or the worst day was the best, maybe? I went with the intention of climbing to the summit of Cradle Mountain. The morning of the day I arrived at Cradle Valley, the whole Northern part of the island was hit by a storm which brought gale-force winds and left many towns without power (not a great thing when you’re desperate for a morning coffee!). As I drove towards the mountains, the sun peeked out for a while, steaming the water off the road. But the closer I got to Cradle Mountain, the greyer the skies became, the more I had to turn on the windscreen wipers and the heating. As I drove in the national park gates, snowflakes swirled in the air.
Not to be intimidated by the weather, I checked in to the backpackers and hurriedly changed into my thermal gear. Jeans did not do anything against that cold! Given that the forecast for the next day (the day I intended to climb up to the top) was even worse, I decided to brave the elements and at least go and see if I could see the mountain. So I walked for two hours around the edge of Dove Lake, only getting rained on once! The path in many places was running with water like a mini-creek, and the mountain-tops around me shifted in and out of cloud. Huge thundering waterfalls cascaded from the cliffs, and the rainforest trees were bright, mossy green in the wet.
A number of people staying in the backpackers were heading off on the Overland Track the next day. The booking system for this walk means that you have to start on the day you booked in for, whether the weather is favourable or not. In any case, as we reasoned around the pot-belly stove, it rains seven days out of ten (according to Lonely Planet), so even if you start the six-day walk in fine weather, chances are that you’ll get soaked sooner or later. Needless to say, they were not looking forward to that happening on day one!
The next day dawned grey and drizzly. I decided to walk with the Overlanders for the first part of their walk, see what the conditions were like, and then decide which way to return. From Cradle Plateau there are a number of walking tracks to choose from.
The first section, along boardwalks in the valley, was easy and not too wet. We chatted as we walked along; a Canadian couple, an Irish couple, a Dutch guy and myself. Past some impressive waterfalls, and up some steps we came out beside the pretty little boathouse at Crater Lake. The surrounding mountains were completely hidden in cloud, and the rain was starting to fall more steadily. As I took my map out of my jacket pocket I realised my mistake in not bringing a waterproof map case. The paper wouldn’t last long in the wet!
We pushed on up to Marion’s Lookout, which wasn’t so much a lookout as the edge of a hill in the fog. No looking out was to be had, just some huddling beside some rocks to try to get out of the strengthening wind long enough to drink some water. As we climbed further up the wind threatened to blow us off our feet entirely, and patches of snow became more frequent beside the path. Once on the plateau, the path was mostly underwater, with unmelted snow in the puddles beside the rotting duckboards that served as the track. Now I understand what Tasmanian mud is! In places there was nowhere to go but right through the middle of the mud. In fact, the national park authorities specifically ask walkers to walk through mud and puddles rather than going around them, in order to keep environmental damage to the fragile alpine landscape to a minimum. I was very glad of my sturdy, waterproof leather boots and my warm socks! There were sections of newly-constructed boardwalk, but most of the track was wet, muddy, slippery and rocky. In one place we had to gingerly rock-hop across a flooded stream as the rain kept on falling around us.
Eventually we reached Kitchen Hut. As soon as I stopped walking I realised how wet my clothing was getting, and how cold I was going to be if I stopped moving. I had a waterproof jacket, but no overpants, and my legs were certainly not dry any more. After eating some nuts and yoghurt I decided to part ways with the others and turn back. There was no sign of any improvement in the weather and I did not feel confident to walk alone on a strange track in the conditions as they were. So I decided to go straight back the way we had come, knowing that there would be other Overland walkers coming up, in case I ran into any difficulty.
Walking back, I was facing into the wind, and felt the full, painful force of it whipping raindrops into my cheek. The rain was more horizontal than vertical, and it didn’t take long before the conquest of my legs was won by the rain, and I felt the first little trickle of water down my ankle. This was the beginning of the end for my dry feet. Before I reached the edge of the plateau my boots were squelching with every step, and I could feel the water sloshing around my toes. I must have looked pretty crazy, stumbling along in the sleety wind and rain, my glasses completely covered in mist and water, my pants dripping, boots sloshing! But I wasn’t cold. What they say about thermal material and wool staying warm even when it is wet is absolutely true! I had woolen gloves that I was wringing the water out of, but that still kept my fingers warm. My feet and legs were not cold even though they were as wet as if I had been standing waist-high in a swimming pool.
As I climbed lower the wind eased, and then even the rain let up a bit. I was suprised at how much I was enjoying walking along through the mud and the rain, completely soaked! Once I was off the heights I was confident of my safety and took an alternate track via Wombat Pool to my starting point. With my feet already as wet as they could possibly be, I walked through water and mud on the path without a second thought – it was like being a kid again splashing through puddles!
The weather gods must have a sense of humour because, as soon as I had changed out of my wet and got in my car, the sun came out! Not for long, however, the grey clouds soon moved back in, and as I drove out of the valley I left it as rainy and cold as when I arrived.
But, somehow, that was the highlight of my trip. I discovered that walking in bad weather doesn’t have to be a bad experience, and I have plans to walk the Overland Track in December this year. Now I’ve had a taste, I want to do the whole thing!
Photos will be coming shortly: I’m currently battling iPhoto!
In October last year I walked around 320 kilometers on the Camino Frances, to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, as well as one of the most difficult, and it challenged me and affected me in ways I did not anticipate.