Inglis escarpment is not a name on the map, but where we went has no name, and I had to call this blog something, so I settled on Inglis Escarpment: after all, Mt Inglis was up behind us and we were on a wonderful escarpment with grandstand views, so hence I have given the area that blog name so I can refer to it.
I went with my waterfall bagging friend, Adrian. As with our last trip, we had hoped all four of our group could come, but Caedence is off playing cricket in England (congratulations) , and Leandra had other commitments, so the group was whittled down to two.
Our basic plan was to spend more time in the beautiful Bluff River Valley, and revisit Tomahawk Falls. That was the reason given, but really, we both just love spending time in off-track wilderness, imbibing new views and enjoying new vistas on the grand scale, and delighting in the minutiae of nature closer up.
To get off track there, you have to first swallow a fair bit of the Overland Track with its necessary boards and stonework, but we dealt with that pretty efficiently. It hurts the feet, but at least you move through it fairly quickly, and the scenery is still lovely. We had our first short break at Kitchen Hut, another even shorter at the Igloo, and an early lunch somewhat near the Lake Will turnoff, before heading off in that direction to begin other wanderings.
As you can see from the photos, we visited pretty waterfalls, and got a marvellous sunset. I have to confess that several photos were taken from inside my tent, as it was starting to get pretty cold after the sun had set. We were so busy exploring nearer falls that we didn’t have time to get to Tomahawk on day 1.
This was intended to be a four-day trip, but when we awoke to rain on day two, and saw the latest forecast was for rain for all the rest of the trip, we decided that we didn’t want to photograph in the rain, and neither did we want to hang around in our tents doing nothing. Walking out in the wet is much nicer than sitting being inactive, so we packed up our gear and returned home, saving Tomahawk for another trip.
Adrian’s stats say we walked 60,000 steps in the two days. My watch says we did 10 hours 40 mins pack-carrying walking (not including any breaks or non-pack exercise), the time pretty much divided evenly between the two days. This was a nice amount of exercise. The rain wasn’t too heavy; the world is good. We both felt perfectly content that the trip had been worth it.
Several orienteering friends wanted to see the astro shots I took in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping, so I decided to do another post depicting “the other side of orienteering”, only this time, as well as including some of the scenery around our event, I will also include some action shots taken mostly last month, just in case you are tuning in for a different reason and would like to know what Orienteering looks like. I couldn’t take shots of competing this weekend, as our start times were all in a smaller cluster, so I was busy competing myself. I had more time at the event (Hobart O-Fest) in February.
I would have loved to have taken more scenery shots, but the weather didn’t cooperate. While I was shooting the astro, the clouds rolled in, and stayed for the rest of the weekend. Considering the fact that it was after 1 a.m. when I stopped, and that I was competing later that day, it was possibly not such a bad thing.
The remaining photos capture some of the action of Orienteering. The first race this long weekend was a sprint around Bicheno, sometimes amongst the rocks of the headland, interweaving that complexity with dashing around the buildings of the local primary school. It was exciting and intense, with people rushing urgently in all directions, concentrating on their maps. Amazingly, nobody accidentally crashed into anyone else. There were eight courses on offer, and hence the large number of directions being taken at the same time. It looked very busy; and it happens to be very stimulating to compete: you are in a tunnel of concentration the whole time, solving control finding with route choice problems whilst reading your map running as fast as you can.
The next day we went bush at Coles Bay, in a “Medium” length course, that most people found to be very long, as the hills were steep, the bush thick, obstacles plenty and the weather hot. Times were not slick, but the challenge was worth it. This day determined the official State Middle Distance Champions in the various age divisions.
The final day had us move further south, to open rocky terrain near Spiky Beach. The designation was “Long Course”, but my time was about half that of the day before, and I don’t think I was alone. The three different courses gave us lots of technical practice. Many of us are honing our skills to prepare for the Australian Three Day Championships at Easter, to be held near Adelaide. Tasmania does extremely well at the national level.
I have often stared at Walford Peak and wanted to climb it. Last year I organised to do so, but problems cropped up at the last minute. And for some reason, Marble Bluff seems to have bad street cred (it is rather a scrubby beast), so it has also been on the to do list, but to no avail. I looked down on it from the summit of Eldon Peak in 2018 and very much wanted to see its view, but was told it was very hard to reach. Well, it wasn’t a piece of cake, but neither was it overly taxing. Let the actual adventure begin ….
Here we were, all keen for time in the wilderness and these two mountains in particular. It was to be a five-day trip, as we were also going to explore the Sticht Range. I knew I was running-fit, but last week in the Jubilee Ranges made me question whether I was also pack-carrying fit. That ingredient was gong to be rather essential on this expedition. I set out with uncertainty.
The plan for day 1 (begun after lunch because of driving time) was to walk along Lake Spicer Track until we arrived at just the right place to camp for the first night. The aim was not to go all the way to the lake itself, as we were expecting rather a hefty storm the next night, and the level of the lake might rise enough to turn tents into cute islands in the lake, if the strong winds didn’t blow them down first. We needed a sheltered spot that neither wind nor rain could mar.
There was no sign right now of the storm to come. The sky was blue; the day was glorious. Crossing the many creeks and puddles was picturesque and enjoyable, and gave plenty of drinking opportunities. Thus, when we reached the high point on the track just below Walford Peak in just a tad over two hours’ walking time (on the agenda for a later day on the rebound), it was decided not to waste such beautiful weather, and climb it right now. I was thrilled. We dumped our packs and up we went. The bush was pretty thick, but it yielded to energetic shoves, and in a shade under forty minutes, we were at the top. Everything looked glorious from up there. The many lakes in our purview shone with sparkling blue iridescence; countless well-loved peaks towered above with clarity.
Back down on the track once more, descending to our eventual campsite was fun, as said track turned into a creek with cascades that were rather pretty. Soon enough we were beside Lake Dora, and agreed that a point on the road that was a bit of a knoll would be a great place to stop. We had been on the track for about three hours, and had also done eighty minutes without packs to climb Walford Peak, but for some reason that wasn’t quite enough for me, so I went and explored the track further after dinner, and climbed a small bluff for kicks. The view was excellent. Maybe my problem was that I had just eaten the worst dehydrated meal I can remember. The packet said it was vegetarian shepherd’s pie, but it was sickly sweet and made me feel very dissatisfied.
By the dawn of day two, you could tell that the weather was changing. The air had mood and attitude, and clouds were assembling. We finished off the Lake Spicer track quickly enough, and then began the somewhat long climb up onto Unconformity Ridge. That ascent contained probably the thickest scrub of the day. Once we reached the ridge itself, the terrain varied from patches of thick scrub to long areas of smaller bushes with button grass, both knee to waist high. Only the very last bit was easy going. The actual moving time (ie, breaks not included) was around 3 hours 40 minutes total in each direction, from tent to summit and back (3 hrs 10 off-track). On top of that time, we had a few breaks so everyone could be comfortable, often eating, or just chatting and looking at the view.
Luckily, we got to inhabit the summit area without rain, but the wind was so strong that hats went flying, and we all huddled for shelter on the leeward side of rocks to have our lunch. The view was disappointingly hazy, not just from approaching bad weather, but also from fires in the Central Highlands. I didn’t take many photos.
Half an hour after summitting, we were off on the descent, trying, but failing, to beat the oncoming rain. By the time we hit the track, it was raining properly. I was pretty wet on arrival back at the tent. We tried to dry wet garments in the breeze while we had dinner, but things remained quite damp, although no longer dripping.
That night, as I lay in bed, I enjoyed the sound of very angry wind howling above me, often lifting me off the ground as if I were on a magic carpet. It was rather fun. However, a toothache that had been brewing over the preceding days was particularly painful, so I didn’t get much sleep.
On day three, the rain had settled in. I decided I needed to attend to my tooth as soon as possible, so bailed out of the rest of the agenda, and dashed back to the car. I made it in under three hours, not bothering with any breaks seeing’s I was alone, and find no particular pleasure in sitting in the rain to rest. I drove to where I had reception, made an appointment to see my dentist and bought the strongest pain killers I was allowed (I don’t usually use such things). Right now, it is the middle of the night, but my pain is so great I can’t sleep. I sure made the right decision to come home. The Sticht Range, object of today’s agenda, will just have to wait for another day. My gear was saturated when I reached the car, but I arrived home to a desperately dry Launceston.
Next day (today as I write) I had to have my wisdom tooth extracted. Leaving early was more than a good idea!
Over ten years ago, I said in my blog that I would like to return to the Jubilee Range, not only to reach the actual high point, but also, and far more importantly, to sleep up there. For me, sleeping on high and witnessing dawn and dusk are the essential elements of a satisfying wilderness experience. A single day pop-in doesn’t have nearly the same effect on me.
Luckily for me, one of my waterfall hunting friends, Adrian, had decided he wanted to check out some falls way at the far end of the range, between it and Nevada Peak. He planned a trip with four of us eager beavers in mind, but two dropped out. I feared our speed difference would make the trip boring for him, but he disagreed and encouraged me to continue, so off we set. Thanks mate. He knew I needed the restorative powers of the wilderness to soothe my soul a bit. Nothing like pushing your way through dense melaleuca and bauera, piercing your skin with cutting grass, and goose-stepping over high button grass to soothe the soul. The steep climb in debilitating heat no doubt also contributed to distracting me from the state of my soul. I drank 5 litres of water on day one!!! Pity all the creeks were dry!
Our cause was not helped by the fact that the road is now impossible and impassable beyond the Styx crossing. We had to walk 3.5 kms to get to the actual start, which added over an hour in each direction.
Luckily, we kind of had enough water to make it to Mt Jubilee. Progress was very slow, and every time we stopped, I needed another 500 mls – far more than on the Larapinta trail, where I drank 250 mls/hr. After one hour, first break, we had covered a mere single kilometre. This dd not bode well for our overall plans. We could only do whatever it was we could do. On we pressed. Up through the thick, resisting muck. More water disappeared from our bottles.
I started to worry about the future of this trip. We had already consumed so much water that we didn’t even have enough for dinner. If we didn’t find water by the summit of Mt Jubilee, I decided, we would need to turn back. Our whole trip depended on finding a source of water somewhere up high, but as all creeks had been dry, the prospects did not look good.
The slope looked like it was at last levelling out. Our climbing trials were nearly over. We were going to crest the slope near a rocky, bluffy sort of arrangement, with Mt Jubilee itself just slightly to our left, only a couple of minutes away. I dumped my pack unceremoniously on the ground and looked to my left as I turfed it. Unbelievably, hidden behind the deep green of knee-high bushes was a tiny, tannin coloured, yet pure and clean, tarn. Our trip was saved. Yahooooo. Adrian dumped his pack, and we drank, and drank and drank. I needed more, so added two more protein drinks to the couple of litres I’d just gulped. Off we set on the 5-min ‘trip’ to Mt Jubilee. On top it was nice, but I was still thirsty, so had to return to the tarn for more water and two “post workout smoothies”.
It was only mid-afternoon by the time we had explored our first summit and drunk to our hearts’ content, but I was finished for the day. It had taken five walking hours from the car to where we were, and I have not done any pack carrying or bush bashing for many months. The plan had been to sleep near the actual high point of the range, but Adrian kindly agreed to sleep where we were. By this stage, I needed a cup of soup. I really was a hard case this day. Adrian had a cup of tea, and we spent the rest of the time between then and sunset climbing knobs and bobs nearby, of which there were plenty, eating more, and setting up our tents. I was so exhausted, and so out of practice, it seemed to take forever just to get my tent up. Sunset was pretty OK, but not exactly what we’d ordered. That’s part of the beauty of nature: it is unpredictable, so you just never know what it will deliver.
The next morning, an inversion layer had been predicted in some weather app. The predictors were wrong. We awoke to heavy, blanketing mist. I had set my alarm for 5.45. I peeped out my window, groaned and rolled over in my bag. Every time I checked, there was no improvement. Near 7, I checked on Adrian’s tent. We decided we would keep our tents where they were and just do a day walk. There was no point in lugging them higher in mist like this.
We walked for seven hours this day (plus stops), covering territory that we have never seen photographed or blogged (beyond the Jubilee Ra High Point). We explored “Endless Tarn Ridge”, “Neighbour Ridge” and Lunch Bluff, and photographed Special Tarn, Sibling Tarns, The Pool and more. There were far too many tarns to name; even far too many tarns to photograph them all, although we made a pretty fair attempt at that. By the end of seven hours’ exercise, I was glad to be returning to our tents. If nothing else, I was hungry for an early dinner.
This night, sunset delivered, and the next morning, we got the inversion layer we’d wanted the day before, along with glorious colour. It was very well worth the early rise. Again, we climbed assorted knobs and bluffs for different vantage points, and shot happily until our fingers dropped off and the sun rose, and it was time for porridge.
It was glorious walking with the mist lingering below us. The scrub was still very thick, but descending makes it a bit easier. There was one section where it took us 15 minutes to cover 80 metres (the final creek crossing – quite a bitch).
I normally hate roads, but the concrete pipe that marked the end of bashing and the start of the road was perceived by us at that moment as a thing of great beauty. We cheered and gave each other a high five, had a break (drink) and then took the road (mossy covered, fern filled and shady) as quickly as we could. We both had an urgent appointment with the Possum Shed for lunch.
Well, this post is labelled Orienteering, as that was the actual reason for the travelling, and certainly our whole programme and timetable centred around the 7 races which were part of the event; however, to say we were only there in order to compete is a gross misrepresentation of what was happening.
Although I wanted to compete myself (I have neglected to mention that the event was the Australian Orienteering Championships – perhaps an indication of where our priorities lay), I was primarily there for Gussy: to help him gain valuable experience for the future – to help him see new maps and terrains, to have some of the routine actions of orienteering become automatic, to gain experience in running through the bush, to help him meet other like-minded juniors his age, and to help him learn what is an appropriate race pace.
It’s hard for a kid who is good at cross country running to choose a pace that is appropriate to reading on the run. It takes experience and the making of errors to be able to know what constitutes an appropriate speed. It also takes experience to look away from the line to features on the map and in the landscape that will help with navigation. I felt that if he wants to be any good later, this was a very important age to be learning some of these lessons. Gus said he’d like that, so off we set.
Meanwhile, luckily for both of us, my friend, Bonnie, wanted to be there to support her son, Isaac, who had just made his first Tasmanian team, but who was only in Grade 8, and Western Australia is a long way away. Much nicer for all if she and his siblings were there to share the experience.
All of that serious stuff does not mean we were just going to be race focused. Bonnie and I were both adamant that the young ones should enjoy the whole experience. I think our programme of enjoyment was possibly more energetic than the races: nearly every shot of the kids depicts a huge smile (inter alia), so I think we reached our target.
So; what did we do apart from racing? We went to Yanchep, saw the WA coastline; spent a few fabulous hours in the trees, swinging safely from wires and negotiating obstacles; used the flying fox at Mundaring Sculpture Park ad infinitum; walked the Cockatoo Walk near Crystal caves; explored (ig)Noble Falls; visited the wildflowers in Kings Park twice, and, not on the agenda as we didn’t know about it in advance, but spent many happy hours entertaining and being entertained by the puppy, Ruby, “child” of the owners of the Wooroloo. farm on which we stayed.
In addition, another unpredicted and last-minute decision, but one that I really enjoyed, we swam along with many of the teams at Lake Lechenaultia after a very hot, long race, in which the kids enjoyed trying to tip the pontoon and throwing each other and coaches off into the water, whilst others of us swam and chatted at a safe distance from these frivolities.
And last, but certainly not least, our day on Rottnest Island was a huge highlight for all: cycling, swimming and seeing darling quokas.
And somewhere in there, we did go orienteering – even successfully.
I am now home, and have edited my 950 photos and reduced the number brutally, I have had time to reflect further on the trip, and, as well as all the above, and the fun of navigating through strange terrain and seeing parts of Australia that are normally both unknown and inaccessible, I know that I also enormously enjoyed catching up with old friends, and sitting driving for over an hour most days with Bonnie and the kids through Western Australian farmland, just enjoying all the differences in the terrain, and the unfamiliar warmth at this time of the year.