Category: tasmania

Posted on

Collins Bonnet 2014 Feb

Collins Bonnet, 2014 Feb

View from summit to sea

What do you do if you have time on your hands in Hobart? Go shopping? Not in your life. For me, the answer is to use the time to climb a mountain, and that’s just what I did last Thursday, having driven down earlier than needed for safety reasons.
Having breakfasted at home in Launceston (taking care to pump myself full of caffein), I drove down, bypassing not only boring shops but also alluring cafes and brasseries, and went straight to the Big Bend on Wellington. Work first, reward later.

View along summer ridge

I had chosen a route to climb Collins Bonnet from here, as I will use the Myrtle Gully track some other time to climb Trestle Mountain, and I only wanted to do one mountain today. This route is longer in distance (and time) than the alternative, but I was in no rush. I had snacks on board and not having any kind of time estimate did not bother me. Maybe some time in the future I’ll compare times with the other way.
Off I set along the trail in the clear mountain air … down and then along past an open marshy area (no snakes today, which pleased me) up past Mt Connection that I climbed a few weeks ago, down to a saddle, mildly up on a widish forest road and at last I was climbing the actual mountain I had come to see. (More detailed information is on the relevant map. I will post my route when I retrieve my phone).

View towards Wellington (and my bagged Mt Connection).

As I sat on top, munching shortbreads, drinking spring water and surveying my temporary kingdom, I gazed across to Wellington from whence I’d come, a mountain with a far more extensive vista than the one I was on. However, I knew exactly which mountain I would prefer to sit on. Where I was, I could hear nothing but the solitude of wilderness, feel nothing but space and peace and the freedom and independence that accompany an excursion such as this. Here there is music for my soul.
I am always a little worried when I’m not carrying lunch that my shelf-life, which seems remarkably small to me, will terminate before I get to the end if I linger too long. I need feeding at very regular intervals and didn’t want to be late for a now much-needed lunch, so walked with purpose back to the car and, by implication, back to the fine food vendors of Hobart. YUM.
1 hr 49 from Big Bend to top. 10 mins eating. 1 hr 50 back. Total exercise: 3 hrs 39 mins.

Posted on

Nicholas 2015 and Huntsmans Cap. Jan

Mt Nicholas and Huntsmans Cap. Australia Day, 2015
While others enjoyed their lamb Barbies, a group of us defied the Australia Day template and ate salad rolls or snacks on top of a mountain (well, two actually). In deference to my broken hand, I’ll make this primarily a picture post.

The wonderful towering palisade that guards the summit of Mt Nicholas.

I knew from my last visit that none of these chutes give safe access to the top – but I also know they’re fun to explore. This is a grand mountain with lots of interest for rock lovers

The gang on the summit of Mt Nicholas

Huntsmans Cap, our next destination, as seen through the trees from the flanks of Mt Nicholas

When one climbs Huntsmans Cap, one emerges on a rocky spine that is then followed for quite a way, over a series of would-be summits until the real summit is reached at the end. Huntsmans Cap is an Ablettte.

Cresting the lower part of the spine of Huntsmans Cap

The real summit of Huntsmans Cap, with the sea beyond, at the end of the enjoyable rocky spine that operates as its conduit. (Map of routes to come once I’ve got the phone battery recharged to enable download.)

Map showing both walks. On Mt Nicholas, the cyan route is a former one; today’s route is in purple. We went up by the fascinating rock formations and cliffs, but opted to return straight down in an unimaginative but efficient line to the road, which we then followed to the car.
 
Posted on

Stacks Bluff Wilmot Bluff Jan 2014

Looking back from whence we had come: to Denison Crag and Storys Bluff (inter alia).

The doctor at the hospital who had operated on me frowned severely: “You’re not to do anything dangerous with this cast on. If you bump the pins holding the wires in your hand, the situation will be disastrous.”
“I’ll just be walking, ” I quipped in as meek and subservient a voice as I could muster under the circumstances.

Stacks Bluff from Wilmot Bluff.

I wasn’t totally foolhardy: I had backed out of my planned six-day venture onto the southern ranges and exchanged it for a tamer three-day bash to Mt Sorell, but this had been cancelled due to flooding of a river we needed to cross. What was I to do? The thought of another weekend cooped up without a mountain was unendurable. I was craving a mountain with a need as strong as that of a growing plant for water, but with a broken hand, I would prefer the security of company. Then I noticed that Boots ‘n All were going up Stacks and Wilmot Bluffs, neither of which I’ve climbed. Perfect. I was ridiculously excited, like a prisoner released from gaol after a false conviction. At last my January mountain-drought was to finish.

Kind of a selfie, as the mild exposure en route to where I was now standing was a little off-putting, I set the aperture and speed to what I wanted, went there myself and got a friend to go click.

As I boulder hopped and noted the drops below, I spared a thought for the poor anxious surgeon who would find my activity dangerous. “Dangerous” is a very relative term, but I could tell that that medico envisages it as absolute, and that he had acquired defining rights. I jumped over the next crack, landing with ease onto the waiting boulder and pondered the relativity of words like danger, safety, risk and health. At lunch we had had a talk about freedom and how we gain true freedom. Americans use this word a lot, and yet your freedom (to own a gun, for example) can mean my thraldom to death; one can be so obsessed with one kind of freedom that one becomes a slave to that notion and loses real freedom in the process – and so it is with safety. A timorous pursuit of safety can lead to a lifestyle that is unhealthy and, thereby, unsafe from a different perspective.

How I love the jagged drama of these rocks.

It was a grand day: glorious scenery, a fun climb and great company. I returned home physically and psychologically refreshed.

Two routes for the price of one here. Yesterday’s is the cyan route, partly obscured by the purple, but visible if you search.

 

Posted on

Gussy climbs Mt Parsons 2015 Jan

I was hoping that Mt Parsons would be Gussy’s first peak-bagger’s point, but he only made it to the first (fake) summit, so is yet to officially score. Perhaps he is the first barefoot three-and-a-bit year old to climb the fake summit, however. He certainly had a glorious adventure, and was super-keen to conquer the rocky lookout highpoint above Bicheno next day, and to do a string course at orienteering the day after. He finds that a packet of macadamia shortbreads and a beautiful view (but possibly more of the former than the latter) suit his style. Here are some action shots of the momentous occasion.
Practising, Bicheno

 

Here we go

 

 

Tough work
Adding extra stones to cairns is great stuff if your little legs are getting wobbly
He’s a long way up now.
About here we met some real climbers with ropes and helmets. They were really sweet to Gus and made him feel a champ. They confirmed he was about to reach ‘summit B’.

 

Rejoice
Posted on

Connection 2015 Jan

Mt Connection Jan 2015.

Mt Connection, view
The photos of Mt Connection in this blog come at a high price. Earlier in the day, I had done an orienteering race, in which I was (as one does in this sport) running along at high speed, reading my map closely as I did so, solving navigational problems and checking off landmarks in my peripheral vision, when I tripped over a 10cm-high obstacle and went flying. My first instinct in falling is always to protect my irreplaceable Swiss compass. This I did magnificently, but for the second time in my life, broke my hand whilst saving the compass. I really must stop this habit.

View back towards Wellington
Nonetheless, having promised to drive to Hobart and collect our daughter and toddler, I duly drove south, undeterred by the nausea I felt post-smash, planning to run to Mt Connection and back before dusk, photograph sunset on Wellington, eat some fine Hobart cuisine, camp high on Mt Wellington, photograph the dawn and then collect my family. The photos here are from the Mt Connection phase of that plan. I enjoyed my time on the mountain, despite the pain.

Unfortunately, only half the programme got completed. On the way back up Mt Wellington after dinner, I passed out and drove into a deep culvert at the side of the road and now our car is more smashed than I am. I guess I’d been in shock but only realised it after the event. We were rescued, but were not finished with towing until 2am.

After running to and from Mt Connection, we watched sunset from Mt Wellington

(My chosen route up Mt Connection was via the fire trail that departs from the Big Bend near the summit of Wellington.) I am now typing slowly with one hand. The surgeon operated yesterday to rejoin and untwist the severed bones. You’ll be thrilled to know that I got in another O-race and climbed another mountain before the hospital system put me under GA.