bushwalking with children | Natureloverswalks

April 23, 2024April 23, 2024

Hugel 2024 Apr

Every time somebody says they want to go walking with me, I feel so fortunate. This weekend was a family one: a three-generation special, and our chosen mountain (at Kirsten’s choosing) was Hugel. Great choice. I haven’t been there since my early days of Abelling, when I climbed it in glary conditions with a bad camera. This time, we slept up high, nice and close, so we could linger on top until the light gave us glorious conditions for our descent.

We wanted beautiful light and plenty of time for our plans, so drove down the night before to Derwent Bridge. I had no idea that we would be the last guests checked in before the Hotel closed the next day. We felt very sad about this!!! That Hotel is a Tassie icon for bushwalkers. I fear for its character at the hands of NRMA who will doll it up for tourists’ dubious tastes.

Thus at 8.45, which is early for my family if not for me, we took our first steps along the track to Shadow Lake. The fungi were superb; the track, mossy and lush. We all greatly enjoyed it. That section took 1 hr 15, so I was very hungry by the time we arrived at the beach Kirsten had in mind. Time for a snack, a drink and a shoulder break.

Refreshed, on we went past Forgotten Lake, where the steep climb up the escarpment begins. Steep climbs are fun, even if we did take it pretty slowly. Our packs were heavy. I had my tripod and camera equipment aboard as I was hoping to photograph an aurora, and like the tripod for dawn and dusk at all times. Kirsten was carrying a lot to make sure Gus enjoyed it.

The last part of the climb, above Dip Lake (a nameless tarn).

We bypassed Little Hugel, saving it for the next day, and continued on to a nameless tarn, where, despite freezing temperatures, Kirsten and Gus swam while I tried to photograph the occasion. Neither of them lasted more than a second, and I was still trying to get a good angle when they had already bounced with astonishing eagerness out of the gelid water. We declared it an early lunch, and they tried to warm back up in the sun while we ate.

The next section did not last long, so soon enough we were selecting our real estate for the night, a decision not based on anything mildly practical like water availability, but rather, on view. It so happened there was a little water nearby, but I was prepared to go back to wherever water might have been in order to enable a good view.

Site chosen, tents up, a snack had and it was time to set out. Gus was still going well. He had done his first ever bushbashing with a heavy (for him) pack. Hugel looked nice and close, but we knew that could be deceptive, especially with a pre-teen on board.

We walked along the ridge, and then attacked the rocks. We all felt the cairns were perfectly placed: not so near each other that you felt like a puppet or a robot, but often enough so that you had feedback that your route was the one intended. There was room for error and experimentation, which we appreciated.

We stayed a nice long time on top: we had plenty of time for the descent and we wanted to enjoy the low light to come, so stayed there until it began to happen.

I was thrilled to see young Gus getting out his camera and photographing aspects of the scenery that appealed to him. People who are sensitive to the beauty around them are usually people who are keen to protect and preserve it. He also chose to photograph quite a lot of fungi.

The day cooled down very quickly. I tested for an aurora before I turned in for the night, but nothing was happening. The other two slept in our old Macpac Olympus, a beautifully comfortable tent, albeit a heavy one. My tent, on the other hand, allowed far too much cold mist to circulate around me, and the wind to brush my face far too often. Bad choice of tent. I was not surprised when I tested conditions later to find the mist had closed in. I did a few checks, but ascertained it wasn’t even worth getting up for dawn, which is not a bad thing, as that wet, cold air was not to my liking, and the wind was pretty stiff by dawn.

Breakfast was a cosy affair in their tent, but packing up was pretty miserable. I even had trouble separating the pole segments in order to dismantle my tent. I was relieved to be setting out, knowing that the exercise would warm me up.

We liked the mist surrounding Little Hugel, so knew we would enjoy that small climb, and we were right.

There were lots of fungi in the forest to make the return journey exciting. We spent time with the best of them, but made sure we were fast enough for a nice big hamburger at the Hungry Wombat. Kirsten was excited to discover they could even do a gluten-free version for her. Not every such place is so accommodating.

November 14, 2022

Trestle Mountain

I am getting good at third climbs. Thurs-Fri, I slept on Mt Rufus with a friend for my third climb of it (see blog below this one), and next day, Kirsten, Gussy and I set out to climb and sleep on Trestle Mountain. For me it was the third time; for Gussy the second; and for Kirsten, whose choice it was, it was the first, which is why she chose it.

First creek crossing on the way to Trestle Mountain

I am delighted to report that it never occurred to Gus for a single second to be reluctant to go on the grounds that he’d already done it. He reads books many, many times over and has no problem with repeat mountain climbs. I actually find this a very important character trait. People who always need something new, who dislike something on the grounds that they’ve already “done” it are the ones who bother me. (HATE that world “done”.)

The pack isn’t just big: it’s heavy too! You have to be prepared for that taking young children bushwalking.

In actual fact, the three of us were supposed to be rogaining this weekend, but it had turned into an event requiring goggles, flippers, a wet suit and possibly even snorkels, and the organisers had decided to cancel. So, we had a weekend that had been kind of dedicated to a threesome bush adventure, so decided to combine my love of sleeping as near to the top of mountains as possible with Kirsten’s desire to add another Abel to her collection. Off we set.
Gus is only in fifth class, and it is hard work climbing Trestle right from the base at Mountain Creek with a pack on, but that is the route we decided on, it being the most beautiful – and, as all of us enjoy a good workout and lovely scenery, that is the route we chose.

Richea dracophylla Trestle Mountain. I was surprised to see them this late.

After 35 minutes, we gave Gussy’s shoulders a break, and after 46 we crossed the first creek. I decided that, even though we’d just had a break, we should have a drink, so we took the packs off again and had some fresh running water. If my memory serves me correctly we didn’t have another shoulder break until the 2 hour mark, when we found a spot incredibly suitable for camping. It was definitely time for food and a drink, as well as a shoulder rest, but while the other two rested properly, I went off to search this spot for camping possibilities. It was ideal in one sense – it was flat, with running water and smooth ground for both tents – but we weren’t on the mountain and we didn’t have a view. I was not completely happy.

I suggested they stay there while I go up further. I was sure we were about to top out any minute, so I’d see if I could find a spot up higher that suited. Off I set. It was further than I thought (12 minutes more), and then I had to explore all around the place. No spot yelled out that it was perfect, and all spots lacked the essence of beauty, but I could feel the fresh air of being on a mountain, and although it was all closed in weather-wise so there was no view, it still had that feeling of space around it that height generates. It looked like the tripod would stay in the pack yet again. Sigh.

I started back down to report on what I’d seen, and there they were. They are like me, and would much prefer to walk and explore than sit and wait. Seeing’s we are talking about my daughter and her son, that is hardly something to be marvelled at. Genetics will out. I showed them my spots. Kirsten used her power of veto, so we explored some more. She examined a patch of pineapple grass, but Gussy and I saw a kind of clearing, headed for it, and discovered what we felt was the perfect camping spot.

There had been snow up ahead on Collins Bonnet, but there was no snow here, which was a bit disappointing, but everything else was perfect. We pitched our tents, collected water, cooked and ate dinner, and then played Hannabi, a favourite card game, before it was time for bed.

The next morning was very misty and raining a bit, so we didn’t hurry at all, but were on the summit well before 9 o’clock, so Gussy was happy that some of his friends might still be in bed, but he’d already climbed a mountain. It was foggy and cold as we did the last bit from the tent to the top, but it cleared while we were playing around on the rocks, so we did get a view.
The sun was now shining, but we were still cold back at the tents, so decided to have hot soup before descending. Kirsten’s pack was very heavy indeed, and mine was not light, so divesting ourselves of that tiny bit of extra weight was also welcome. Meanwhile, we had managed to eat a whole box of chocolates that I had brought up, so that helped my cause.

He may do great things, but he is still a little boy

When I asked Gus during lunch (had at his choice of cafe back in Hobart) what were his three favourite aspects of the walk, he said, in order: camping, being on the summit, and singing all the way down.
For some reason I had asked Kirsten what was the carol that the Christmas Eve service always started with, and instead of telling me, she sang. Gus and I stopped in our tracks to listen to her pure angelic voice giving us the boy soprano rendition of Once in Royal. Tears came to my eyes, and I could see Gussy was also affected by the beauty of what he was hearing. Kirsten prefers alto, but she sure did the soprano part justice here. We then sang canons and rounds the rest of the way down, in a pretty high key for Gussy, as he has a gorgeous little soprano voice too.

Gathering around my tent for soup to warm up.

I think his favourite two were (1) “Black socks. They never get dirty / The more that you wear them the better they get.
Sometimes I think I should wash them / But something inside me/ Says No No not yet, not yet, not yet, not yet”.
(2) One bobble bop etc for those who know it. Both have primary school humour.
Before we’d blinked we were back at the car and nobody had asked for a break. Singing while you walk does that. Bruce and I always used to sing on bushwalks, and it took me back to many, many happy bushwalks of yesteryear.

Back when I was pretty fresh out of uni, I started a bushwalking club for inner-city, concrete-jungled girls (Sydney). We used to sing around the campfire, and we would make up songs about the hike to tunes that we knew ,and sing as we went along. “It’s a long long way to Blue Gum forest” remains my favourite.

July 20, 2022

Wellington / kunanyi snow climb 2022

Sometimes we think we need to travel huge distances to have an adventure, but if you’re lucky enough to live in Hobart, you can have an adventure within minutes of home.

Wellington. Some snowballs got pretty big.

Gussy and my adventure – of a snow and ice climb of Wellington / kunanyi – began literally minutes from home as we parked the car at Fern Tree to begin our assault on a very white kunanyi (Mt Wellington).
The news report said snow was down to 200 metres a.s.l., but Fern Tree is more like 450, and as we began, the ferns were green, but were nestled in pockets of white. No foliage carried the little white nests of higher up, but it didn’t take too much climbing before first snow nests and then just a white coating on every leaf and needle, every twig and branch came into play. Shrubs heavy with their burden leant wearily over the path, so we got rather snowy as we proceeded higher. We would bump a branch, and it would unleash its load. The ground was soft and delicate underfoot – real powder.

I would have become rather snowy with or without the bumps of branches, as, well, if you take a ten-year-old boy up a snowy mountain and don’t expect a few snowballs to land on you, you’re not very experienced in the matter of ten-year-old boys. Gussy delighted in building a mass of snowbombs, a veritable chain snowball maker and thrower, and would unleash them either on my back or just in front of me. We laughed together.

He tried to avoid my front, as he knows how much I love the camera perched there. Although its price probably has no real meaning to a primary school child, he knows it is valuable, and the aim of the game is to have fun, not to irritate. Snow fights are especially fun for the maker and thrower of the missiles. Some of his balls were huge, and he would walk carrying them for a while before unleashing them. I’m not sure how he managed. When they were particularly large, he kicked them like a soccer ball and delighted to watch how they scattered. He liked the ones that stayed whole for a while. (Needless to say, progress was not at race pace).

View out over the city near where we stopped for a bite to eat before braving the wind on top.

At The Springs we had stopped to put on our yaks (kind of alternative mini crampons) and had met two workmen as we did so. They seemed taken aback by our plans for the day, but once they saw we were well equiped, they relaxed entirely.

Can you spot the summit cairn hiding behind the boulders?

About two hours from the car, we were very near the top, where I knew it would be windy and cold, so I spread my survival sports blanket and we had a quick picnic in the snow before emerging into the blast. It seemed rather perverse to be sitting in the snow eating salad rolls, looking out through the swirling mist on a dark grey city 1200 ms far below, the other side of white pencils of ice, but, there it was. The water hurt my insides it was so cold. Gussy just drank snow the whole time, pulling off crystal swords and sucking them; he claimed it was warmer that way.

The break and food gave him strength, and within maybe fifteen minutes he was climbing the last of the icy rocks leading to the summit. Thanks to the yaks, it was not too treacherous.

We then did a bit of “snow bashing”. I thought it would be fun to show him a secret hut I know about up there, even if that would involve sinking in quite a bit of fresh snow. We had fun, but did arrive at our destination with very wet hands and slightly wet legs. That called for a quick bite in the protection from the wind before we retraced our steps back up to the summit.

Can you find the wallaby in the snow near the summit?

Before we left the tops, I had my wish and we saw three wallabies (singly, not grouped) mooching around in the snow. The smallest one looked freezing. Perhaps it was a bit too young to be out of the pouch. It seemed very skinny.

Back at the car, I looked up our track data: we had covered 13.62 horizontal kilometres, with 920 ms vertical, which yields 22.82 kilometre equivalents. Gus says that climb is his favourite so far. He has a dozen Abels and a few other mountains in his “collection”, so that says emphatically that it was a great day.

May 26, 2022May 26, 2022

Wedge 2022

It was not actually our original intention to climb Mt Wedge this weekend. We were here for the long-awaited ascent of Mt Field West, a climb that is now assuming saga proportions. I announced last December that I wanted to climb Field West with young Gus. It would be a long day for him, so I thought we’d need to camp down by the river at the base to avoid driving from Hobart to add to the day’s length. But that long summer holiday period got filled with a large number of tennis camps and suddenly it was time to resume the new school year. Sometime or other it would happen, and now my daughter wanted to come too.

Then she said we could all (five of us) stay at a cottage near the park as part of my birthday celebrations, and do Field West on one of the days. I phoned to make the booking. Full on my birthday. Full the weekend after. Full, actually, until after Anzac day. But then there was the problem of the school cross country race: he would be tired after doing Field West, so again the date got pushed back.

Tra la. It was to be last weekend, the one after the school XC. Trouble is, on the day the race should have taken place, at recess, Gus broke his arm, and was then in plaster from shoulder to finger tips. There was to be no race, and also, no Field West. He could not cross the icy, jagged rocks of the Rodway Range with a newly broken arm. We would need to settle for something less taxing. Mt Wedge was not too far away, and was definitely an easier climb, which wouldn’t involve him using his plastered arm. Wedge it was.

The last time I climbed Wedge was 2014. In the eight years since then, I have forgotten how absolutely beautiful the forest was. It was especially wonderful last weekend as there were more fungi than twigs decorating the forest floor. Everywhere you looked there were more, mostly in clusters. I wanted to have lunch on the summit, and we had not set out particularly early, so I disciplined myself to only take maybe five fungi photos on the way up.

A special treat was in store for us when we burst out of the forest: we were already above the clouds. Gussy has never been up above the clouds like that before, and was suitably excited. Below, the valley was shrouded in mist, but up here, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. We could see the high peaks like Field West or Mt Anne poking as indigo and white silhouettes above, and the rest was a sea of pure white cotton wool below us, with occasional fog bows.

It was even mild … or maybe we were just warm from the climb; there was no wind at all. The ground was a little damp, but we sat on rocks and used the heli pad as a table on which to spread out our goodies. We were even joined by a couple who had moved to Tassie from Melbourne in the last year, up there with their baby who toddled about the pad. It was a fun picnic.

There was no rush on the way down – quite the opposite, as Gus needed to take especial care of his arm going downhill. That gave me time to photograph a few more fungi. I think that makes it eleven Abels for him, aged ten.
And maybe one day we’ll get to do Mt Field West.

December 10, 2021December 20, 2021

Snowy South 2021

It was my daughter’s birthday, and a friend had suggested she climb the Abel Mt Snowy South on this momentous occasion. An invitation was extended to Gussy and me, and so it transpired that six of us set out for Snowy South on World Mountain Day.

Abby elected to stay at home and play with her father, and, considering the fact that Snowy South is quite demanding, this was a good move, even if pretty sad for Keith, who would normally have loved to join in. It probably would have been even sadder, however, to carry a reluctant and possibly complaining 15 kg daughter on a walk advertised as lasting six hours, if that’s how things worked out. No one wants her to hate bushwalking / mountain climbing, and as a result, all her walks are entirely voluntary.

We started quite late, and then celebrated with excellent pastries in Ranelagh before we began our pleasant way through the lush green rainforest, up to our first break at Lake Skinner, after 1 hour 15 mins walking.

After more climbing, I announced I was very hungry. I know we had had a late morning tea, but I am an animal that constantly needs feeding, so I spotted a little tarn and requested that we at least had lunch number one there. It was 2.10 pm after all – waaaay past my lunch time.

This water was in a flat section before the last climb, which proved to be rather good fun. This is not a mountain you stroll up. Young Gus is only in fourth class, and some of the hauls to the next level required quite an effort from him. I could hear him grunting on several occasions. At his height (he is very tall for his age, but still lacks the reach of an adult, especially his orangutang nana), he has to be quite creative about how he can enable the next level, as often the route we take is not one that’s suitable for him. The day before, he had raced the individual event of the Primary Inter-Schools’ Triathlon in the morning, and in the afternoon had raced the run leg for his relay team in the same event. In addition, he had been in his primary school’s mountain bike race the day before that. He did well in all three races. I was impressed that he even wanted to come, let alone cope as well as he was now doing, and do it all with such enthusiasm.

Five of us (including him) reached the summit, where we discovered it was freezing cold that high in the sky, so descended without eating. Once more, I was starving in the flat bit under all the rocks, so pleaded for lunch number two, it now being something near 4 pm, or was it 4.30? Either way, Gussy and I needed food! We sat together by the tarn, finishing off our salad rolls.

On the way home, a plaintive voice sounded from the back of the car: “If I fall asleep on the way home, will daddy carry me into bed?” Poor darling. He didn’t fall asleep, but on arrival home, he cleaned his teeth and tumbled straight into bed without dinner. When I later added up the distance and height factors of the day’s effort, he had covered twenty kilometre equivalents in a time of just under six hours. Next morning at breakfast, he piled six Weetbix into his bowl, before he even thought about the next course.