Tag: hiking

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Mersey Crag 2016 Oct

Mersey Crag via the Back Door. October 2016

When planning this trip, I castigated myself: Why hadn’t I climbed Mersey Crag when the road to it was somewhat open, and when I was so very near the summit? On two occasions I had been within cooee of the top, yet had not gone there because I thought access to it would always be easy, so why rush things? Why not savour the moment and do it all by itself sometime? Why not? Because floods would come, ruining approach roads and denying us all any kind of access to the area, possibly for years.

Mersey Crag summit, looking down the Little Fisher Valley

So, now I thought I was doing it the hard way, because it was a very long way in, and I thought I was not doing it the beautiful way, because I do so love the Rinadena Falls. Little did I know. Alright, it was a long way in, but we summitted on the first afternoon, so not too long, and what surprised me most of all was the extreme beauty from the moment we rose above the bushfire marks on the Blue Peaks track.

Mersey Crag summit looking across to Turrana Bluff

We reached the base of Blue Peaks in an hour and a half, but were focussed on our far-flung goal, so resisted the temptation to lose time by going up. We would stay focussed on our ultimate goal for now, and not climbing this first peak would justify another visit to this area that we were already falling in love with from the moment we entered the zone of lush cushion grasses with narrow, pure streams running through. On we continued, not even stopping for a break.

Summit area looking to the Walls. You can see Mt Jerusalem, The Temple, Solomons Throne, King Davids Peak and then, further back, mountains like the Acropolis and Geryon.

The official pad finishes here, but a rough hint of a route around the first two lakes – one followed, we suspected, by many fishermen – continued until we needed to cross the outlet stream separating Little Throne Lake from Grassy Lake. All this time we had no idea of how soggy things were going to be up here, or how many detours we were going to have to make around tarns, or, for that matter, how deep the many, many creek crossings marked on the map were going to be. Here was our first real creek. Hm. Up and down we go, looking for a place to cross. It is mostly wide and deep and flowing quite swiftly. We find a possibility, but it is risky. Will I fall in and get everything wet?

The frozen tarns of our tent site

Being a shocking pessimist in such matters, I opt for a double crossing, first with my pack, and then with my precious camera. Believe it or not, I even took off my jacket and jumper in case I fell in and wet them. Unscathed, we sat on the other side of the river and had lunch. Little Throne was just behind us now. From here on would be genuinely trackless wilderness, pure freedom to choose our direction and path.

Morning glory
We set bearings from our paper maps, but also plotted our course on our gps systems to check our progress, and off we set, around Little Throne, past nameless bumps of great beauty, offering excellent views, and past thousands of tiny tarns, all sparkling in the afternoon light. We just adored it. All further creek crossings and tarn skirtings were problem free, and we were happy with our progress.

On Turrana Heights, we reassessed. I had originally suggested that we go for four hours with the full packs and then summit from there, but I was so happy with my pack on my back I kept pushing for further. Having the packs with us reduced all stress about whether or not we would make it back to where we had dumped them. We have both been quite sick in this last week. Angela was off work with a virus, and I had been to the doctor’s the day before with a combination of bronchitis and asthma. I found it hard to read my body under those conditions, and my pack meant security. If I hit a wall without notice, then everything I needed was right there with me. Angela was fine with this. On we continued until nearly four and a half hours, when we saw an irresistible spot just before the Turrana-Mersey saddle. It was now less than two kilometres to the summit, and only 3.15 in the afternoon. We could set up our tents here, saunter to the top and still be back in the light with no problems. Angela ate lunch part two.

Cresting the summit was very sweet. There are summits and summits, and this was a good one, as we had both held doubts about whether or not we could make it given the amount of water there might be to negotiate, given the distance, and the uncertainty of our health. When you doubt, the victory is felt more keenly. We had time in abundance now we were there and had our tents so close, so enjoyed the top, savouring the extensive view and delighting in all we could see. At a very leisurely pace, we ambled, almost reluctantly, back to our little tents.

We had both been snug and warm overnight, having both elected to use our extra bivvybags. I had actually been a little hot and had stripped down during the night. It is testimony to these bags that we discovered in the morning that our tents were rigid with ice and the world outside our aegises was a sparkling, glittering white one. Enthusiastically I snapped the frozen tarns and sword-like pineapple grass. I had lugged my tripod all this way, but, sadly, was too cold to use it. I told myself sick girls have an excuse.

Back home we go
We swept the ice off our tents with brooms made from the scrub and slowly packed up. The only pressure for the day was our appointment with the Raspberry Farm for celebration cake, and there was no risk of missing that. We deliberately left unfinished business in the area, planning instead the next trip as we bypassed peaks that could wait for next time. What a glorious weekend.
Route data: Day 1, 20.35 kms +702 ms climbed yields 27.3 kilometre equivalents. Total of 7 hours’ walking.
Day 2, 14.55 kms + 410 ms climb gives 18.7 km equivalents. 5 hours’ walking.

Total for two days, 46 km equivalents and 12 hours’ walking (this does not include breaks like lunch or morning tea). OK. We’re allowed to be tired. Here are the maps – rather a lot of them, as we covered rather a lot of territory and it is pretty complex (4 interconnecting screen shots).

From end of track to south of Little Throne (1:100,000)


Continuing SSW over the side hump of Turrana Heights

From the unnamed lump SW of Turrana heights heading towards the Turrana-Mersey saddle. The waypoint marks our tent spot.

Tent to Mersey Crag summit return.

Note, these are “only” 1: 100,000 scale, chosen to give the broad shape of the land without too much detail to confuse.
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Kangaroo Island Wilderness Trail 2016 Oct

A thrilling start to day one.

What a welcome addition the Kangaroo Island Wilderness Trail (KIWT) is to our nation’s list of possibilities for long distance walking – and what better than a primarily coastal path. As any follower of my blog knows, I love getting out into “Type A” wilderness (no paths, no infrastructure: just pristine nature), but that does NOT mean I spurn paths and trails; what I especially love is a track where everyone is doing the same route and so shares a common pilgrimage.

The scenery on day two was my favourite

I once walked a long distance trail of my own design in Grand Paradiso National Park (Italy), where there were abundant paths and possibilities, but not one person I met shared my destiny. The instantaneous camaraderie of a set route was never there, and this track holds no place in my emotional psyche. A route like KIWT offers the chance to meet fellow travellers of shared interest.

I just don’t tire of colours like this (Day two cont)

I could almost be called a multi-day coastal path junkie, having walked the South Coast Track (TAS), the South West Cape Track (TAS), the Thorsborne Trail (QLD), the Coast Track of the Royal National Park (NSW), the old version of the Three Capes (TAS), the South West Coast Path (ENG), the Pembrokeshire Coast Path (Wales), Wilson’s Prom (VIC) and the Abel Tasman Track (NZ). I feel I’m thus qualified to place a judgement on this track, and my verdict is that it can hold its head high. I have adored all these trails. There is something special about wild cliff tops overlooking vast expanses of ocean with the wind in your face and a proper pack on your back. The presence of seals on this track as you gaze south gives a very exotic feel. Beaches that you have taken a few days to walk to and that are inaccessible to the madding crowds are also very special places. Note, I said a “proper pack”, by which I mean a full-sized, laden one. Daypacks just don’t do it for me. A real pack is a symbol of freedom and adventure, heavy though it may be. I think the weight is part of what bonds walkers when they meet each other. Here is another person willing to endure this kind of burden in order to have this kind of encounter with nature.

Beach walking, day two

So, why do I find this particular track such a welcome addition?
First, it provides a possibility to walk a distance trail in the driest state on the driest continent on earth, yet with the guarantee of water at the end of the day. Kangaroo Island is a very special place, but it would be a very uncomfortable walk without the provision of a campsite with water at the end of each day. This is not something to take for granted.

I arrived here in time for sunset at the end of the day 2 section. 

Second, the diversity of scenery is thrilling, from scrubland of taller eucalypts to coastal mallee sections, a fabulous river mouth as the Rocky River enters the sea, the brilliant cliff and beach sections, the spellbinding rock formations, the lagoons, and finally, the sinkholes near the end.

And here is the highlight for me of day three: The Remarkable Rocks

Third, the diversity of plants adds to this already stimulating variety. See the blog I have already published (below) for a full list of the wildflowers I identified in the first two days on the track. You will find about 45 listed. Even if you grouped them into colours – mauve, yellow, pink, white, red, orange – you would then need to discuss size, colour intensity, shape and all the other factors that make each one different and a pleasure to look at.

On day three I also enjoyed my side trip to Sanderson Beach

Fourth (but not in fourth position by any means), how can one not mention the animals? On the first and final days, I had the extreme privilege of seeing wild koalas doing their thing in the trees above me (so, sleeping or eating). I saw big KI Roos on all days except the second, with some putting on a boxing display during dinner on the fourth night. Goannas were plentiful on the first day, and I saw an echidna or two. Equal in pleasure for me with the koalas were the seals at the end of day 2 at Admirals Arch. I especially loved the pups who looked up at me with their endearing, huge eyes. I spent ages watching seals.

On the afternoon, and again in the evening of day 3, I also walked out to the cliffs 15 mins from the campsite to enjoy their drama.

There were a lot of cliffs on the journey (days 2, 3 and 4). Maybe you think that one cliff line is like another, but cliffs are like people, and each one is different – in rock type, or formation, in the aspect or the particular way it drops into the ocean or the way its rocks catch the light or in the view along the coast each provides. There’s always something to entertain.

Sanderson cliffs. LOVE them.

The beauty of this path is not weather dependent. I should know, as I experienced everything other than snow. I began rugged up from the cold, but had stripped down to singlet and shorts by the first afternoon. Day 3 brought a literal gale, where I was blown off the path several times. Days 4 and 5 had rain – sometimes heavy – and hail, along with very high winds at times, but nothing detracted from the fun of the journey, even though at a theoretical level I would have preferred to have been warmer. The communal cooking areas (with sheltering roof, windbreak and guarantee of water) made a huge difference, as you could socialise there with other walkers, and not be confined to the prison of your tent in the presence of rain. You can sit at table and chat to others, and you can even, as the girls I met and I did, play games under the shelter.

Day 4. Here are Helen, Kirsty, Jules and Mary walking along the cliffs. Being and to the left is a unique view of the Remarkable Rocks, not offered to car drivers.

I had connected with the four others who had started the track when I did – the first to do the track following the Premier’s official launch the day before – by the third night when I returned from a sunset photoshoot on the nearby cliff line. It was cold enough for some of us to cocoon ourselves in our sleeping bags while we sat at the table, but we had great fun meeting each other and talking and laughing our way through the evening.

Hanson Bay Day four.
The worst part about doing this trail is finishing. As I hugged farewell to Kirsty, Helen, Mary and Jules, and later, to Alison, the wilderness trail manager, I was filled already with a terrible nostalgia for the walk and all it represented. I would have happily begun it all over again straight away.

Great Walks magazine is publishing an article I have written on this walk in its December-January edition, where I give a day by day description of my walk. I have deliberately kept this blog different, and more general, to provide two alternative approaches to the story of the trail. I have also tried to provide different photos to give you variety. For a day by day account, please buy this great magazine. Buy it anyway, not just that issue. We need to keep bushwalking magazines alive. I hate the way airports offer you motoring and cycling and fishing, but no walking. Give me bushwalking pictures and stories, please.

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SWITZERLAND 2016 Zermatt, Matterhorn

Zermatt and its Matterhorn: A place of magic and enchantment, despite the throngs of tourists on the main drag. Just go two hundred metres from the shops and you’ll have lost 99% of these people. Sometimes, in fact, I was “too alone”: I would have liked it if someone else was climbing some of the icy, slippery, clouded-in mountains I chose to ascend. I felt unnerved up there lest anything go wrong, and was pleased to descend unscathed. I am not as brave as might appear to be the case. Our world is so beautiful I don’t want a forced early exit. The scenes from the tops of the mountains I climbed were so murky they are not for public viewing.

The shots I will share with you are taken by the lovely Stellisee, which put on a varied and beautiful display for me. I hadn’t meant to stay there two days, but had accidentally let my battery run down, so had to spend a morning descending to Zermatt (on foot) to recharge it and then climb back up for lunch. After that, I couldn’t be bothered moving, so just did more exploring in the local area. Note, I didn’t say “waste” half a day. I regard a silliness like that, and the need to drop and gain 1300 ms in a morning, not as an inconvenience, but rather as an alternative workout. “OK. I’ll recharge my battery and have my workout that way rather than some other way”, is the way I see it. I want to do something waiting for the next lot of light, so it might as well be that.

Below are some shots of my reluctant, final descent. My whole holiday was drawing too rapidly to a close. My yearly dose of peace and mountains was almost at an end, but in scenery like this, it’s hard to have a heavy heart. Besides, I wasn’t quite finished yet!

As I dropped down the narrow path, passing endless stanchions in the process, I thought about how tourist bureaus and other such bureaucrats and edacious money-makers seem to destroy the very object that they want to use to make their guilders, and yet never quite understand what it is they’re doing. At our own Cradle Mountain, they are wanting to build some kind of cable car thing to take the tourists into the area, not understanding for one moment that in seeking to give them a “wilderness experience” they would be doing something that redefines the area to be non-wilderness in any true sense of the word. Those who actually want wilderness will be compelled to look elsewhere.

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FRANCE Chamonix from south 2016 July

Chamonix Mont Blanc area: south of the valley.

 

Refuge Plan de l”aiguille, back up nice and high. My new friend, Leslie.

Evening light, patiently waiting for sunset and chatting. The Mont peeping out shyly.
Thanks nice clouds.

Up above the palisade of steep rocks and into the fluffy white. It’s “wild”, but is this wilderness? Whatever, it’s beautiful.

“My” beloved Mont Blanc, up nice and close. This is with a wide-angle (distancing) lens, not a zoom one!

White on white, heart aching heartache, white on white, you are may respite.

Storm clouds gather. I hope to climb to your summit one day, my fair lady.

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Parmeener 2016 Aug

Mt Parmeener is neither pretty nor dramatic. Perhaps worse for its popularity, nobody has allocated it a point, and despite its offical 1286 ms above sea level elevation (peak baggers’ master sheet incorrectly says 1280; other websites incorrectly say 1270) it fails on other criteria to be an Abel. Lots of people and things are neither pretty nor dramatic, nor worth a point in some random system, but they are still interesting for other reasons, and well worth our engagement. Mt Parmeener is one such.

The view west
Its altitude, if nothing else, should hint at its expansive views. Being right on the edge of the escarpment, it looks out north over the Mole Creek region far, far below. Looking west, we could see snow on Ossa and Pelion East. To our south, the Walls covered in snow were visible, and to the east, Quamby Bluff’s distinctive shape called to us, as well as sharp bluffs along the escarpment’s piped edge. It felt airy and wild up there. The wind was cold, but we were not blasted out of existence, and enjoyed the feeling of space along the top.

Lake Mackenzie, not too far away below there

We drove south from Mole Creek, on a road imaginatively named South Mole Creek Rd. Road names are a little confusing, as different maps call the roads a variety of names, but one thing stands firm: you want Blairs Road, and it is correctly named on all the maps I’ve consulted. We headed south from Mole Creek, as said, and after about two kilometres, turned right (west) onto a road that ran into Blairs Rd at a left hand turn that had us heading south again (named on the map). We followed Blairs Rd for several kms, through what appeared to be a farm, and on, into the forest … and up. Had there not been a big flood recently, it would have been possible to have driven to a boom gate. Now you have to stop short of that, but not too far short; fallen trees and soft ground made further driving impossible. For walkers, however, they just add a bit of fun and challenge.

The track takes you up through beautiful myrtle forest.
Beyond the boom gate (which informs you that dangerous fires are raging ahead and you should not enter), the road morphs into an old stock route – South Mole Creek Track – where cattle could have walked three abreast in some places, only single file in others. This route takes you on the gentlest of inclines up onto the escarpment. I was stunned to read we had climbed over 500ms (to the escarpment; 660 ms in total). We took around 2 hours from the car to the end of the steep climb, and a further 30 minutes from breasting the rise to our actual summit, further to the east of our emergence point on the tops. Once up onto the escarpment, the climb to the summit is minimal. Spaces were open, the air was fresh; it was great wandering along deciding which gully we’d use to attack the final rise.

My husband, with ever-worsening Parkinson’s disease, made it to the summit without any problems, so I would classify this as a very pleasant and doable family walk. At this time of year there was abundant water on top (flippers were more necessary than a water bottle). Given the many access problems posed by this winter’s floods, I recommend this track as something that remains reachable when so much else is closed off.

Mt Parmeener, route.