Western and Eastern Arthurs Traverse - Part 5

A 12-day traverse of the Western and Eastern Arthur Ranges in Southwest Tasmania by Kylie and Clinton Garratt.  Part Five features challenging conditions and an eventful traverse of the Eastern Arthurs including a rarely traveled route.

Luckmans Lead

Day 9 - Pass Creek to Goon Moor

Our departure from Pass Creek campsite coincided with a brief pause in the heavy rain.  This was just enough time for us to ascend the first part of Luckmans Lead to a point where hail was still settled on the ground from the last shower.  Right on cue another heavy hail shower lashed us and added to the icy drifts.  We appreciated the hail bouncing off us without having a chance to get us seriously wet.

Stuart Saddle

Just before reaching the forested section of our climb clouds opened to reveal the valley between an invisible Mt Hopetoun and the peaks immediately above us.  A spectacular waterfall plunging into the forest in the middle distance looked surreal - as if the scene was lifted from a book about fairies and unicorns.

The Needles

Above a brief forested section settled hail was replaced by settled snow.  Bracing southerly winds encouraged us to make excellent time on the snow-covered descent around the Boiler Plates and up into Stuarts Saddle.  We gazed up at the ominous dark cliffs of The Needles and wondered at how anyone could contemplate the direct ascent mentioned in The Abels as an alternative to the more common sidle around the back.

Mount Hopetoun from Stuart Saddle

The tent platforms offered a salubrious midday lunch venue before we continued through delightful pandani studded forest in a particularly heavy snow shower.  As if right on cue, the snow halted and clouds parted just as we arrived at a clearing which offered superb views of Mount Hopetoun.

Clint at Stuart Saddle

Chapman spends several paragraphs detailing the route as it makes its way among the southern peaks of The Needles.  With heavy snow falling and extremely limited visibility we simply followed the track in front of our noses and, consequently, were quite surprised when Goon Moor suddenly appeared in a break in the clouds.  Within minutes we had arrived at the tent platforms and set about clearing snow ready to pitch our tent.

Goon Moor

Day 10 - Goon Moor to Bechervaise Plateau

The day started with a bleak old trudge over the fan-out section of Goon Moor before a very well formed track led us on a curvy path through The Gables.  Extremely limited visibility and cold conditions encouraged speedy progress through the Four Peaks.  Seemingly vertical walls rising into the cloud all around us made it hard to imagine any way of collecting the multitude of peak bagging points to be gained in this area.

Federation Peak, Devils Thumb, Stegasaurus Ridge and Geeves Bluff from Four Peaks

Right on cue a break in the clouds greeted us as we emerged at the end of Four Peaks. Thwaites Plateau, Devils Thumb and a broody Fedder emerged from the clouds.  Renewed optimism spurred us through the mist on the gradual ascent over Thwaites and we arrived at the Hanging Lake turn-off right on midday.  The snow and ice at the junction guaranteed a Federation Peak ascent would be out of the question.  With children arriving at our place after school in little over 48 hours the question weighing heavily was, 'How would we go on the Southern Traverse in these conditions?'

At Hanging Lake Junction

From Hanging Lake Junction traversing the fan-out section between us and Stegasaurus Ridge was no easy feat.  The visibility was so poor that we could not see from one fan-out marker to the next.  Eventually we located cairns indicating the path ahead.  At the Stegasaurus high point of 1165 metres we were tantalisingly only 60 metres lower than Federation Peak itself but problems were about to set in.  Soon after the high point the route traverses a large boulder above a cliff line which dropped into the swirling cloud between us and Lake Geeves.  With much trepidation we traversed the ice and snow covered boulder only to find an even more daunting descent ahead.  At this point we pulled the pin.  After traversing back over the snowy boulder we took a few deep breaths then scooted back towards Thwaites Plateau.

Looking towards Stegasaurus Ridge - an innocuous start to the Southern Traverse

Devils Thumb

At Devils Thumb we left the track and located the large cairn indicating the start of the Forest Chute, a little-used emergency route between Thwaites and Bechervaise.  As if to taunt us, Federation Peak briefly showed itself as we started the steepest part of our 500 metre descent.  A faint pad existed until the forest was entered from which point it was impossible to discern that anyone had ever passed that way before.

Top of the Forest Chute

Eventually the slope eased but progress was slow due to the multitude of fallen trees, some solid, some completely rotten and unable to support our weight.  In many places the ground was metres below us.  We looked forward to arriving at Lake Gaston where Chapman nonchalantly says we need to, "Pass along the southern shore of the lake..."  How hard could it be?

Federation Peak from above the Forest Chute showing Lake Gaston, the Rock Slide and the cliffy forest on the left where we actually climbed up to Bechervaise Plateau

When the lake appeared through the dense forest there was no easy shoreline to traverse.  The dense forest extended well beyond the shore.  Walking anywhere near the lake meant ominous deep pools of jet black tannin stained water lurked beneath the mossy rotten tree trunks over which we scrambled.  A watery plunge was the last thing we needed.

Forest Chute

Keeping a safe distance from the lake shore the forest opened and, like a beacon in the night, a large cairn appeared beside a torrent tumbling down a steep, rocky bed.  Hoping this was a marker for the long-awaited rock slide we headed up the northern side of the stream.  As the terrain got steeper the scrub got thicker and we had to choose between splashing our way up what was beginning to look like a waterfall or move away from the stream and attempt to find more open climbing in the forest.

Cairn marking a very watery Rock Slide

Moving away from the stream the forest opened ever so slightly.  In several places the mossy ground was close to vertical and the only way to progress was to remove packs, climb the protruding tree trunks like a ladder and pull the packs through narrow gaps behind us.  An hour after leaving the stream bare walls of rock ominously closed in above us and day light was rapidly running out.  Were we even heading towards Bechervaise Plateau?  Was the Rock Slide further around to our left?  Were we heading towards a cliffy dead-end part way up the north face of Fedder itself?

Climbing these trees was one way we ascended the near vertical, mossy slopes

After crawling up a narrowing, mossy ramp between rock faces we were able to climb a rock protruting above the beautiful but suffocating forest which had hemmed us in for the past three hours.  To our delight, in the fading light, we could just make out the ridge ahead of us leveling out.  On our left an adjoining ridge appeared to be scrub free while behind us we could see we had climbed to the same height as our Forest Chute entry.  Below us to the right we could still hear the roar of the stream tumbling down a deep and narrow cleft between us and what must be Fedder's menacing north face.  Was that powerful stream the Rock Slide which was meant to give easier access between the lake and Bechervaise Plateau?

Bedraggled packs tell a story

A nasty, densely scrubby and not-so-minimal-impact traverse to our left delivered us to what was a delightfully scrub free walk of two hundred metres around to the tent platforms at Upper Bechervaise Plateau.  Right on dark, as we cleared snow to pitch the tent, at least some of our questions had been answered.  The roaring stream was indeed the Rock Slide.  We still do not know just how difficult it would have been climbing that route while a snow-melt-powered torrent took the same route in the opposite direction.  Something to investigate another day.  At least we were still on track with our goal to be home by mid afternoon on Day 12.

Western and Eastern Arthurs Traverse - Part 4

A 12-day traverse of the Western and Eastern Arthur Ranges in Southwest Tasmania by Kylie and Clinton Garratt.  Part Four takes us over the final section of the Western Arthurs visiting an Abel enroute and descends to the surrounding plains at Pass Creek.

Day 7 - Promontory Lake to Lucifer Ridge

A stunning sunrise inspired a pre-breakky photography session overlooking the lake.  On the ridge to the south we soon lost all sign of the trail but many gaps in the scrub and animal tracks made for easy walking as we sidled The Sculptor.  We soon gained a view down to Lake Venus and the pretty wetland to its north.

Sunrise on Carina Peak at Promontory Lake

Despite clear skies in most directions cloud seemed to be hanging around The Phoenix.  As we ascended in fog we eventually joined a faint, cairned pad which took us close to the highest point.  For the sake of peak bagging points we deviated briefly to the highest rock where Kylie posed with Millie, our trusty personal locator beacon.  We had been using Millie to send off an "Ok" signal to our families at each summit and campsite along the way.

Kylie and Millie on The Phoenix

Fog accompanied our descent past numerous contorted rock formations until sunshine greeted us in the saddle at the start of Centaurus Ridge.  From here the clouds revealed an encouraging glimpse of Bathurst Harbour and the Norold Range, a graphic indicator of our significant progress from west to east.

The first peak on Centaurus Ridge is the highest so, again shrouded by cloud, a short deviation, selfie and PLB message ensued.

Centaurus Ridge

Following that first peak, most of Centaurus Ridge is significantly lower and the track easily sidles the remaining lumps and bumps.  By the time we reached the foot of West Portal we were bathed in full sunshine making warm work of the long ascent.  Hat and sunscreen made their first and only appearance of the entire trip.

The slightly lower first summit of West Portal taken from the true summit.
The summit route sidles the first peak then descends to avoid the cliffs on the left of this picture.

Where the range swings north along the Crags of Andromeda we gladly ditched packs to head up the highest Abel in the range, West Portal.  After a small peak is sidled an attractive plateau is reached.  Just beyond the plateau cairns seemed to lead ominously down the south side of the peak.  Hoping we had already passed the first peak mentioned in Chapman a fruitless upward climb confirmed there was indeed another higher peak which required significant loss of height to approach the airy climbing gully.

West Portal selfie

While we enjoyed what would be the highest point of our entire journey Federation Peak appeared from the clouds giving us a brilliant, albeit brief, view of the entire Eastern Arthur Range.

Easter Arthur Range from West Portal

After shouldering packs our path meandered through the Crags before reaching another distinct 90 degree turn in the range where Lucifer Ridge droped spectacularly away into the cloud swirling below us to the east.  With only two kilometres to Lake Rosanne it was tempting to push on but Chapman informed us half of that would be through dense forest.  Given our knowledge of how gnarly Western Arthur forests can be we decided that would not be fun in the failing light and found a suitable place to camp.

Eastern Arthurs from Lucifer Ridge

The sunny day and our location on the ridge top meant very limited water.  After watching the last direct rays of sunlight illuminate the Eastern Arthurs, Kylie pitched the tent in the strengthening gale while I slowly filled our water bladder from the only water in sight.  The pool was barely five centimetres deep so, painstakingly, dozens of careful dips with a pot yielded the water needed to see us through the night.

Day 8 - Lucifer Ridge to Pass Creek

During the night we were 'treated' to a classic south-west Tasmania lashing.  Torrential rain accompanied howling gales as Hughie tried vainly to blow us off the ridge.  Had we been ensconced at Lake Rosanne we would not have 'enjoyed' the full benefits of that night-long buffeting.  In the morning water was everywhere.  Barely metres below the ridge crest countless rivulets were tumbling noisily toward unseen valleys far below.  The irony of last night's water collection exercise was amusing.

As predicted the dense forest was indeed slow going.  It would have been a tangled, torch-lit affair had we continued the night before.  We were happy with our choice.

Lake Rosanne

Lake Rosanne and its characteristic monolith appeared eerily from the mist right on cue as the obvious track swung north.  Without any apparent track heading our way we continued east following the broad ridge crest.  After crossing a slightly scrubby saddle we picked up a faint track which we followed successfully over several humps on Lucifer's lower slopes.  An almost total lack of vegetation following recent fires made for easy going while a couple of brief pauses in the deluge allowed for a couple of pleasant snack breaks.

Pass Creek

The further we descended the ridge the more the sound of Pass Creek taunted us from below.  When we finally emerged from the cloud we could see the creek was still within its banks but the flow would make our crossing a lively affair.  A fixed rope made for a safe, albeit entertaining crossing with the bracingly cool, swift flowing stream around knee deep.

After the rarely used track from Kappa Moraine and the even more rarely used route beyond Lake Roseanne the track from Cracroft Crossing to Luckmans Lead felt like a superhighway.  By early afternoon we had reached Pass Creek campsite (which is well past Pass Creek) and were very happy to setup camp, dry out and ponder the Western Arthurs behind us and the Eastern Arthurs ahead.

Western and Eastern Arthurs Traverse - Part 3

A 12-day traverse of the Western and Eastern Arthur Ranges in Southwest Tasmania by Kylie and Clinton Garratt.  Part Three sees us traversing the infamous Beggary Bumps, bagging a fog-bound Abel and moving beyond Kappa Moraine.

Day 5 - High Moor to Haven Lake

Pre-dawn on the tent platform revealed the fog had retreated since last night and there was almost no breeze.  Considering this would be our highest camp for the whole trip we were being treated to delightfully benign conditions - perfect for an early morning assault on Mount Columba.

High Moor from Mt Columba with the not-so-distant Sirius Ridge and Pegasus Minor peering from the mist.

A quick stroll and scramble led to the summit in time for a sunrise which was almost imperceptible through cloud draped over the surrounding peaks.  Views back along the range were mostly obscured although Pegasus Minor and the south ridge of Mount Sirius protruded from the mist.  These peaks, which cradle Lake Oberon, appeared deceptively close as memories of yesterday's efforts made it feel they should be further away.  A map check proves they are a mere 2.7 and 3.7 kilometres distant from my early morning vantage.

Beggary Bumps from Mt Columba

Looking at the range ahead it felt appropriate that cloud was blocking all the major peaks.  It was as if today's obstacle course, the notorious Beggary Bumps, were being highlighted as the only thing which mattered.

Tilted Chasm

From camp the first couple of 'bumps' are quickly engaged.  Relatively easy ascents, descents and sidles soon lead to the appropriately named Tilted Chasm.  A lively, steep descent through the chasm leads into one of many arduous patches of dwarf forest which speckle the mid-sections of the range before yet another sidle and ascent leads to The Dragon.  Along the way we speculated as to how this feature got its name.  The many contorted rock patterns in the area could potentially look like a fire-breathing, winged beast.

The Dragon?

A lengthy sidle around The Dragon was followed by more up and down in steep forest.  At one point there were clear tracks heading both up and down.  It is generally a good rule of thumb to try the up track first.  At least if/when you discover it's the wrong option you have a downhill walk/scramble back to where you first faced the dilemma.  In this case the uphill track led to the affectionately named Lovers Leap.  At this point you emerge on a 4 metre high cliff facing a lower ledge a tantalisingly short but committing leap away.  While it was tempting to 'test-drive' this obstacle I remembered Chapman saying it could be bypassed with a steep scramble down and up.  Back down we went.  Twenty minutes later we arrived at the lower half of Lovers Leap making all of two metres forward progress in that time!

Zig Zag Cliffs above Lake Ganymede with Mt Columba above.  Lovers Leap is near top right.

Having dealt with Tilted Chasm and Lovers Leap my subconscious was clearly getting a little over-confident.  A break in the cloud revealed a lake, seemingly close below us and, beyond it, a distinctive peak which I had seen in Chapman's photos of Haven Lake.  Had we just nailed the Beggary Bumps an hour quicker than 'Chappy slow time'?  A check of the notes revealed I was indeed getting ahead of myself.  The contours on the map belied the series of little bumps yet to be encountered.  The next two hours were spent going up and down like a yoyo.  In several places only a step or two seperated the bottom of one awkward descent before engaging with the next challenging climb.  Kylie looks back at the Beggary Bumps as a highlight of the entire traverse.  Masochist!

Approaching the summit of Mt Taurus with the Beggary Bumps in the background.

In one of the steep descent gullies toward the end of the Beggary Bumps Kylie was leading when she heard an ominous crack.  I had straddled the top of the chasm with my feet on a narrow ledge and my arms holding a tree branch.  The branch gave way and Kylie looked up just in time to see my pack-laden body swing through 180 degrees and back as I became suspended by my arm pit in a fork of the tree overhanging the five metre vertical drop.  Amazingly my feet swung back onto the ledge I had been descending towards and, apart from increased heart rate and dented pride, all was well.  Much thought was expended considering how else this may have worked out.  It was also a great example of why we were always careful not to end up directly above or below each other.

Mt Aldebaran from Mt Taurus

Once we arrived at the broad saddle marking the true end of Beggary Bumps we then had the relatively simple climb over Mount Taurus and down to the tent platforms at Haven Lake.  With my overly optimistic assessment of our progress earlier in the day and my near death dangle my head was in a bad place as we approached the top of Mount Taurus.  It took encouragement from Kylie before I made the five minute detour to claim my two peak baggers points.  I can't believe I almost passed it by.  The view back along the Bumps was most satisfying and Aldebaran looked decidedly stately presiding over Lake Jupiter far below.

Day 6 - Haven Lake to Promontory Lake

After greeting us on arrival at Haven Lake, steady rain continued through the night and into the next morning.  With the lure of peak bagging points and Abel status of nearby Mount Aldeberan we waited until midday to give the weather a chance to clear.  Eventually we shouldered packs and reluctantly gave Aldebaran a miss.  Even as we walked away we were already starting to speculate how we would deal with this item of unfinished business.  Perhaps another traverse.  Perhaps a short trip in and out via Kappa Moraine.  Time will tell.

Haven Lake with its distinctive unnamed peak.

Lake Sirona had a navigational challenge in store.  By now the rain had been replaced by thick fog.  The trail appeared to suddenly plunge into a bottomless abyss right where I thought we should be approaching the lake which, according to the map, was a mere 50 metres below us.  As Kylie climbed confidently down I looked at the map, studied the notes and reluctantly followed, worried we may be launching ourselves off the edge of the range.  Within moments the truth was revealed.  The sullen surface of the lake was blending perfectly with the surrounding mist making it invisible from the low ridge above.  The descent took less time than I had spent contemplating the dilemma.

Lake Sirona hiding in the mist.

Beyond Lake Sirona easy walking led to the tilted pyramid of Mount Scorpio's summit block.  Kylie kindly posed where the main track perches precariously above steep sloping slabs.  At the top the clouds would not part for a view but we did get a faint glory projected around us and the satisfaction of bagging another Abel.

Mt Scorpio

A rapid descent down Kappa Moraine then a more gradual descent past Lake Juno led us to Lake Vesta, our lowest point since ascending Alpha Moraine.  An impressive waterfall linked the two lakes while the surrounding cliffs reached imposingly up into the clouds.  This area featured dense regrowth following a relatively recent fire event.  It was only then that I realised the rest of the traverse had a total lack of recent fire.  The stunted forests along the range to this point had featured fire-sensitive, dwarfed, rainforest trees with an open understory.  I now found myself frustrated at the dense undergrowth getting my shorts wet for the first time in the whole trip.

Lake Vesta

With daylight hours dwindling we regained a hundred metres in altitude and made our way two thirds of the way around Promontory Lake.  After reaching the southern shore we set up camp just in time to enjoy the sun setting over the broody lake.

Promontory Lake

Shadow Lake & Little Hugel

My last post described a failed trip to Lake Rhona* which ended up being a Florentine Valley Road recce with a short walk to Richea Creek.  I left that story with us camped in public forest at Catagunya looking for an alternate adventure.  We certainly found one!

Mount Olypus from Little Hugel

After checking Lake St Clair ferry prices we decided a trip to Shadow Lake would be a good option.  The walk traverses a variety of Eucalypt and Myrtle forest on the climb away from the Hugel River until a flat, sparsely vegetated area is traversed.

Hugel from Little Hugel

Upon arriving at the lake a number of large, established camp sites can be found along the track leading to Forgotten Lake and Little Hugel.  We selected a dry, sandy spot to pitch our tent and enjoy a relaxed lunch.

Sunrise on Little Hugel and Shadow Lake

In the afternoon we had a lovely walk up Little Hugel.  We encountered settled snow in the Pandani forest overlooking Forgotten Lake.  By the time we arrived on the dolerite scree slopes it was quite deep in places.  At the summit the sun warmed us up as clouds intermittently unveiled views to the north and east while the western horizon remained broody.  Mounts Hugel and Rufus peeked out for the briefest of moments while the bulk of Olympus was a more willing focus for our gaze.

Shadow Lake camp

Reluctantly we retreated back to our tent and settled in for the evening as flurries of snow started to look a little serious.  Much to our delight, while the sun was setting, snow started settling on our sandy patch.  By morning it was half a metre deep.

Kylie clearing a path

Thoughts of spending a second night and/or returning back via Mt Rufus were quickly abandoned as we wallowed through delightfully deep, fresh powder all the way back to Cynthia Bay via the most direct route.  What seemed scant vegetation the previous day presented a much more formidable obstacle with every branch and sapling bowing under the weight of the snow making the track tricky to locate in places.

Snow monster on my back

We returned to our car just as roads in the area were being declared open so an uneventful but stunningly beautiful drive back to Hobart quickly ensued.  Settled snow accompanied us all the way back to the southern end of the Fourteen Mile.

Fourteen Mile Road

* We have since had a successful winter trip to Lake Rhona.  How we dealt with the flooded Gordon is, as they say in the classics, another story.

Richea Creek

With three days off in early July Kylie and I set our sights on Lake Rhona.  It had been a record dry June in many places so, despite being winter, we thought we had a chance at crossing the Gordon River.  We had heard mixed reports about whether the crossing log was usable so we decided seeing is believing.

Tiger Road bridge

Much of our first day was spent looking at various closed roads.  Following instructions from our trusty Abels and Southwest Tasmania guide books we headed along Tiger Road in the Florentine Valley.  In the theme of seeing is believing we passed a permanent-looking sign warning of bridge-induced road closure.  Sure enough the Tiger Road bridge over the Florentine River is fatally compromised with at least one of the main bearers in the drink (above).  While this closure did not appear on John Chapman's South West Tasmania update page, we did find it on the STTas (Sustainable Timber Tasmania - formerly Forestry Tas) Road and Track Closures page.

Contrast between temporary road sign budget of Parks and Forestry

So...  Back down the road and up Eleven Road where the bridge is sound.  Another permanent-looking sign warned of the road being closed at "Twin Lakes Bridge."  Nothing with that name appeared on our maps so that was bit of a mystery.  Just over the road from the sign a much-less permanent looking Parks and Wildlife Service sign (laminated A3 paper stuck to a tree) indicated we were on the correct road to the Lake Rhona walking track.  Ironically, there were several more intersections to negotiate without even a 'budget-basement PWS sign' to help.  At least these turns were as per the guide book instructions.  Perhaps this is an indicator of the difference between the budgets of Forestry and Parks.

We drove past the amusingly named Mother-in-laws Road just before arriving at the car park for the Richea Creek Track.  After a quick bite of lunch we optimistically shouldered our three-day packs and headed down to meet the Gordon River.

Gordon River at Richea Creek

Time for another broken bridge.  We could see the origin of the mixed messages.  The log is still there but broken near the far bank.  The river was flowing over the log by up to half a metre for a section of about 5 metres.  On this day the log was treacherously slippery so an epic straddle or a very dicey crawl would be needed and that's before reaching the submerged part.  We did not feel terribly brave at this point and resigned to missing out on Lake Rhona this trip.

 

Mr Chapmans notes talk about wading the river 20 metres upstream.  However, the Gordon is a big river at this point and it was flowing strongly.  Looking from the bank it appeared over two metres deep and, again, neither of us were in the mood for a swift-water swim to find out.

Twin Lakes Bridge

Back up at the car park we decided to investigate the Twin Lakes Bridge mystery*.  We suspected it would be at the far end of Tiger Road where it crosses the Florentine River to rejoin Florentine Road.  Sure enough the bridge at that location was closed.  No obvious droopy bearers this time but the surface has not seen much love for a long time.  Surprisingly this does not rate a mention on the STTas road closures page despite this being the route described in The Abels as access to Wylds Craig.  At the bridge there was still no reference to Twin Lakes.

While in the area we scooted up the road leading to the 'new' access track to Wylds Craig.  A large log over the road stopped us about 600m before the track.

After failing to cross the Gordon we had plenty of time to dream up plans to fill in the remaining 2 days.  We hit the Maydena shop for extra supplies (to allow us to stay away an extra day) en route to a sneaky little camping spot in State Forest (Permanent Timber Production Zone**) at Catagunya.  Where we went from there is another story...

* I found Twin Lakes!  A map searched revealed the "Twin Lakes" to be a pair of tarns near the summit of Mount Shakespear just north of Wylds Craig and about 5km as the crow flies NNW of their namesake bridge.

** Tasmania no longer has any State Forest.  Instead we have Permanent Timber Production Zone (PTTZ).  How's that for a politically charged term?  The label is even more ludicrous considering over half of the PTTZ is not available for timber production due to stream side reserves, wildlife corridors, buffer zones, etc.