Cradle Mountain | Natureloverswalks

April 16, 2024

Inglis Escarpment 2024 Apr

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.

Ramaria samuelsii. Not too many fungi, but at least we got some.

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.

Russula persanguinea plus a waterfall. does it get better than that?

Bit of water bashing, bit of scrub bashing … our idea of fun.

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.

The wise girl pitched her tent upon the rock??? And the wiser man pitched his near a protective bush. No problems: no wind was forecast and no wind came. Thanks for the lovely shot Adrian.

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.

Sunset. Inglis Escarpment. Sigh. This is also taken from my tent, as it was now getting very cold.

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.

March 8, 2022

Cradle weekend 2022

This weekend had so very much packed into it, it is extremely challenging to select less than twenty photos, so I have had to omit a great deal. There were wombats, mountains, of course, waterfalls – one of which is a blue line on the map with no name on an unnamed creek, so for reference I have called it Kirsten Falls. (It empties into Crater Lake, but Crater Falls already exist, down lower, with their own upper and lower versions.)

Wombat; Cradle. Always adore seeing them

There were sunsets and dawns, a visit to Sutton Tarn, which I have never previously sighted, a swim for my daughter Kirsten (in Crater Lake), and, perhaps ridiculously, I visited Wombat Pool for the first time, too. How can I have been in this area that used to be my almost weekly playground before the government handed it over to tourists and made it exceptionally difficult for Tasmanian residents to enjoy any more, and not been here?

Kirsten Falls that feed ultimately into Crater Lake. Crater Falls (Upper and Lower) are below the lake. These falls are just a blue line on the map.

Does anyone else remember the good old days when you could scoot up here after work, have a quick bite by Dove Lake and then go up into the mountains before it got too dark to see? We used to regularly pop in to Waterfall Valley Hut for the weekend. I used to park at the lake and run repetitions up Marions Lookout for training for my mountain running. And so much for astro, sunset or dawn photography by the lake: all just events in the memory of those of us who lived before the tourist invasion. Before the government turned natural beauty into a saleable commodity, sucking out its soul in the process.

The waterfall shots aren’t my favourites, but I do like documenting waterfalls I have visited, so you’ll have to humour me on that one. Only one fungus has made it into this small selection, although more were there to be seen.

It is a weekend present in my brain not in words, but rather in a series of images and feelings that I have not wanted to reify by reducing them to words. I will let the photographic images function as poetic images to hint to you at a wider whole that transcends its adumbrated representation here.

Our itinerary is as follows:
Friday evening: arrive; wait for the boom gate to open and then walk to our hut (almost in the dark).
Saturday: a loop that included Kirsten Falls, Sutton Tarn, Little Horn, Lake Wilks, Ballroom forest, Wombat Pool and Crater Lake.
16 horizontal kms + 600 ms climb which yields 22 km equivalents.

Lake Wilks Falls Upper were flowing well today

Sunday: unfortunately we only had half a day, so went towards Barn Bluff in freezing, fierce wind, and returned in beautiful sunshine with a crisp autumnal feel to the air. The light was beautiful. We rushed the first half, hoping to squeeze in the summit before our turn around time.

However, one of our trio was freezing and decided to turn back. Kirsten and I continued on, but we had lost too much time by then, so opted to give the summit a miss and just enjoy being up high on the Bluff Cirque and Cradle Plateau, and taking in the scenery at a more leisurely pace.

I have already climbed it three times, so didn’t really need a fourth – well, that will happen, but not today – and Kirsten summited it with me when we both ran up it several years ago. After lunch, she would have a huge drive to Hobart, needing to be back in time to have dinner with the children and get ready for work the next day, so it was better to have a relaxing morning than rush the summit.
19.1 horizontal kms + 230 ms climb yields 21.4 km equivalents.

Cradle Mountain. Sadly, it is time to descend for lunch …

January 10, 2019January 10, 2019

Cradle Mountain Area 2018 Nov

Cradle Area 2018 Nov

The forecast was good. I found a kind neighbour to mind my dog. I was off. I was excited … until I found myself at a locked barricade at the start of the Dove Lake Road. I had heard rumours of this, but my head has been in the sand this year. Bang. Reality hit me: We northern Tasmanians have now been officially locked out of our play area. The tourists have priority (although we are the ones whose taxes go to Sparks and Wildfire). I have had so many fun times in this playground – times when Bruce and I would dash up after work, have a picnic tea by the Lake, and then proceed to Waterfall Valley Hut for the night, doing most of the trip in the dark. We loved it: a bygone era, when Tasmanians were allowed to play in their own National Parks. They were also days when the paths were not littered with toilet paper, and our eyes were not assaulted by signs that assume the reader has an IQ of about 50, informing the intruder to hang on, to be careful, to walk in a single direction … pointing out that if we step over a huge cliff, we will surely fall.

I sat near the barricade for an hour, after which time the precious tourists had finished being shuffled, so many sheep going baa (one guy [unprompted] complained to me that he felt like he was in a factory on a conveyor belt) to the lake, and I was allowed in, hotly pursued by others who wanted access for the evening. Unfortunately, I had camping in mind, so set off at a trot over the hills and far away, over the back of Cradle. Having been locked out, I had to speedwalk in the dark, but that doesn’t matter, as I’m just a local, a faceless nuisance whose needs don’t register on the great desks of the money makers. I also, of course, got to choose my tent spot and to pitch in the dark.

Despite my swearing at Sparks and Wildfire and the government, I did enjoy my evening in the mountains. It was a mild night, and I had fun with a spot of astro photography. Next morning, the scenery made me forget the travesty of the loss of my playground and I delighted in nature’s wonder (lots of photos here) before downing a quick breakfast and getting back out before the busloads began. The Wilderness runs to timetables now. If that is “wilderness”, we need a new word for the real thing that is being denied to us. What a pity these bureaucrats use words they don’t understand. How is it that the fate of all that beauty is in the hands of people who have no personal acquaintance with the object of their edacious decisions?

May 7, 2017July 29, 2018

Cradle Mountain 2017 autumn

Quamby Bluff in the early light. I so love a dawn start to my jaunts.
Whilst everyone else seemed to be dashing to Cradle Mountain for the fagus season, my interest lay in the fungi that usually appear at this time of the year, and in the waterfalls that should be flowing after our recent rains. I was impatient to get there and see what I could see.

I had a wonderful day – by myself, so I had head space, and yet not by any means alone, as everywhere I went I met new lovely people who wanted to chat to me, so had a delightfully companionable day as well. It was a perfect mix of solitude and sociability. Many, many of these people helped me in one way or another: one cleaned my car camera (for reversing) for me, one helped me adjust the stiff legs of my new tripod and taught me how to use it as a monopod as well. When I lost my black gloves at late dusk, people assisted in trying to locate them for me. On every trail I walked, I met people who wanted to discuss ‘fungi success’ on other trails, or camera gear, or to relate stories to me of this or that walk they’d done elsewhere. The mountains were full of nature addicts. It was so lovely to be helped rather than be the eternal helper, which my role as carer of my ill husband dictates. With every breath the air felt so fresh and clean: two lungfuls for the price of one, it seemed.
What follows is more of a photo essay than a verbal one. It is the story of my love of light, of nature, and of this beautiful, peaceful spot that I am privileged to call home.

Russula persanguinea

And now we come to sunset. My battery is running dangerously low. I get into place, reckoning I’ll shoot until it runs out and then head for home. Shortly afterwards, a seeming crowd of photographers appeared. It got quite crowded, with tripod legs being intertwined with mine (but not spoiling my image). I was sure glad I’d arrived early.

I would have loved to stay at the party and shoot the stars. It would have been a freezing party, but jovial, I’m sure. Maybe next time I’ll be a little more careful when I pack my bag!!!

April 25, 2017July 29, 2018

Crater Falls 2017 Apr

Crater Falls 2017 Apr

I needed some breathing space, some time out from being stuck at home as a carer., some solitude to regain some sanity. Only the wilderness could do that for me. off I set. I had never photographed Crater Falls before. I had just rushed past, giving it a nod in acknowledgement of its beauty, but always being obliged by the others I was with not to linger long enough to do it photographic justice, which takes rather a long while, actually. I had a lovely day rectifying that, and searching for fungi, which were playing hard to get, despite its being autumn. Groups of fagus hunters went merrily by. There was a great mood in the forest that day.