Tag: hiking

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Collins Bonnet 2014 Feb

Collins Bonnet, 2014 Feb

View from summit to sea

What do you do if you have time on your hands in Hobart? Go shopping? Not in your life. For me, the answer is to use the time to climb a mountain, and that’s just what I did last Thursday, having driven down earlier than needed for safety reasons.
Having breakfasted at home in Launceston (taking care to pump myself full of caffein), I drove down, bypassing not only boring shops but also alluring cafes and brasseries, and went straight to the Big Bend on Wellington. Work first, reward later.

View along summer ridge

I had chosen a route to climb Collins Bonnet from here, as I will use the Myrtle Gully track some other time to climb Trestle Mountain, and I only wanted to do one mountain today. This route is longer in distance (and time) than the alternative, but I was in no rush. I had snacks on board and not having any kind of time estimate did not bother me. Maybe some time in the future I’ll compare times with the other way.
Off I set along the trail in the clear mountain air … down and then along past an open marshy area (no snakes today, which pleased me) up past Mt Connection that I climbed a few weeks ago, down to a saddle, mildly up on a widish forest road and at last I was climbing the actual mountain I had come to see. (More detailed information is on the relevant map. I will post my route when I retrieve my phone).

View towards Wellington (and my bagged Mt Connection).

As I sat on top, munching shortbreads, drinking spring water and surveying my temporary kingdom, I gazed across to Wellington from whence I’d come, a mountain with a far more extensive vista than the one I was on. However, I knew exactly which mountain I would prefer to sit on. Where I was, I could hear nothing but the solitude of wilderness, feel nothing but space and peace and the freedom and independence that accompany an excursion such as this. Here there is music for my soul.
I am always a little worried when I’m not carrying lunch that my shelf-life, which seems remarkably small to me, will terminate before I get to the end if I linger too long. I need feeding at very regular intervals and didn’t want to be late for a now much-needed lunch, so walked with purpose back to the car and, by implication, back to the fine food vendors of Hobart. YUM.
1 hr 49 from Big Bend to top. 10 mins eating. 1 hr 50 back. Total exercise: 3 hrs 39 mins.

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Nicholas 2015 and Huntsmans Cap. Jan

Mt Nicholas and Huntsmans Cap. Australia Day, 2015
While others enjoyed their lamb Barbies, a group of us defied the Australia Day template and ate salad rolls or snacks on top of a mountain (well, two actually). In deference to my broken hand, I’ll make this primarily a picture post.

The wonderful towering palisade that guards the summit of Mt Nicholas.

I knew from my last visit that none of these chutes give safe access to the top – but I also know they’re fun to explore. This is a grand mountain with lots of interest for rock lovers

The gang on the summit of Mt Nicholas

Huntsmans Cap, our next destination, as seen through the trees from the flanks of Mt Nicholas

When one climbs Huntsmans Cap, one emerges on a rocky spine that is then followed for quite a way, over a series of would-be summits until the real summit is reached at the end. Huntsmans Cap is an Ablettte.

Cresting the lower part of the spine of Huntsmans Cap

The real summit of Huntsmans Cap, with the sea beyond, at the end of the enjoyable rocky spine that operates as its conduit. (Map of routes to come once I’ve got the phone battery recharged to enable download.)

Map showing both walks. On Mt Nicholas, the cyan route is a former one; today’s route is in purple. We went up by the fascinating rock formations and cliffs, but opted to return straight down in an unimaginative but efficient line to the road, which we then followed to the car.
 
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Connection 2015 Jan

Mt Connection Jan 2015.

Mt Connection, view
The photos of Mt Connection in this blog come at a high price. Earlier in the day, I had done an orienteering race, in which I was (as one does in this sport) running along at high speed, reading my map closely as I did so, solving navigational problems and checking off landmarks in my peripheral vision, when I tripped over a 10cm-high obstacle and went flying. My first instinct in falling is always to protect my irreplaceable Swiss compass. This I did magnificently, but for the second time in my life, broke my hand whilst saving the compass. I really must stop this habit.

View back towards Wellington
Nonetheless, having promised to drive to Hobart and collect our daughter and toddler, I duly drove south, undeterred by the nausea I felt post-smash, planning to run to Mt Connection and back before dusk, photograph sunset on Wellington, eat some fine Hobart cuisine, camp high on Mt Wellington, photograph the dawn and then collect my family. The photos here are from the Mt Connection phase of that plan. I enjoyed my time on the mountain, despite the pain.

Unfortunately, only half the programme got completed. On the way back up Mt Wellington after dinner, I passed out and drove into a deep culvert at the side of the road and now our car is more smashed than I am. I guess I’d been in shock but only realised it after the event. We were rescued, but were not finished with towing until 2am.

After running to and from Mt Connection, we watched sunset from Mt Wellington

(My chosen route up Mt Connection was via the fire trail that departs from the Big Bend near the summit of Wellington.) I am now typing slowly with one hand. The surgeon operated yesterday to rejoin and untwist the severed bones. You’ll be thrilled to know that I got in another O-race and climbed another mountain before the hospital system put me under GA.

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Ragged Jack 2014 Nov

We have crested the slope at this stage, and believe (falsely) that the summit of Ragged Jack is only a quick play along the rocks away.

It now seems to me astonishing that I have driven past Ragged Jack so many times without ever noticing its existence. I guess my eyes were always fixed on the more dominating Ben Lomond massif behind, which grabs the limelight due to its bulk, and yet, Ragged Jack is a much more interesting shape. Now that I’ve climbed it and know of its presence, I think it’s a wonderful mountain, and can’t imagine failing to register it. John Berger, in his excellent book Ways of Seeing, discusses how knowledge influences what and how we see, and certainly, knowing Ragged Jack as I now do, will forever influence the way I regard it in the future.

Having fun with the self-timer at the summit cairn.

It’s always wonderful when predicted bad weather moves through early (or fails to appear). Tomorrow was supposed to be the one sunny day of the week, but this morning, the sun was shining and the sky looked clear, so I suggested to my Swedish visitors that we go climb Ragged Jack after lunch. Of course, they readily agreed.

It works better with me at the button :-). Here is Salome jumping.
I have no idea why, but I was expecting very thick bush and a long section of bashing through it before emerging at a rocky section, final climb to the top. The actuality was far nicer than the expectation, and the girls and I enjoyed not only getting our two points (they’re now right into this points business) but we delighted in the climb itself, and the forest we went through.
As my car does not indicate decimal points of a km, as road RJ7 was not labelled, and as the gps said we were west of where we needed to be when we stopped, we were a little uncertain at the start, but decided to just climb anyway: the contours were self-evident and if the path we had was not the right one, we’d just go across to the real one through the bush at some other stage. As it was, the path did all the things I wanted it to, so we didn’t need to leave it.

Summit view, looking to the southern end of the Ben Lomond massif.

We climbed using it for 34 minutes, until we found the group of very obvious cairns that the book promised us. What we hadn’t been promised, but what made life easier, was a series of tapes and cairns that allowed us to chatter instead of concentrating on navigation as we climbed further through the terrain that was pretty open and nicely rocky. We were all enjoying ourselves, and playing “spot the cairn” like a treasure hunt with an obstacle course thrown in for good measure.

And my favourite summit view, to the other half of Ragged Jack and Mt Barrow beyond.
It took 30 minutes to climb from the path to a point where we had crested the main climb that lead to the summit. From there we just had to follow the cliff line to the highest point. That, however, was easier said than done, as it was here that we met thick bush that slowed us down as we tried to find less prickly paths through it (we were a lot more successful at that on the way back: such terrain is easier seen from above). The final part along the top took us 27 mins.

Up there we had our obligatory jumps and poses, a snack and a gaze at the surrounding mountains, and then it was time to descend, hoping to see the same wombat that Molly saw, but Salome missed, on the way up.
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Freycinet, Mt, and Mt Graham 2014 Nov

Mt Freycinet and Mt Graham Nov 2014

Sunrise, Friendly Beaches
The day for climbing My Freycinet and Mt Graham had a remarkably lazy feel to it right from the start. Sunrise was magnificent, and we were in no hurry to leave the beautiful beach that we’d camped beside. It’s pretty hard not to want to linger longer by pure white sand, aquamarine water and pink sky.

Having climbed Mt Dove (and Mt Amos) the previous day, the four of us were still in a jubilant mood, and looking forward to today’s mountains, even though they offered no particular climbing challenges. Having changed our plans of where to sleep (see yesterday’s posting), we were running about 28 hours late, but that didn’t matter on a day with only two easy mountains on the programme and all day in which to complete them.

Wineglass Beach

Off we set at last for the Wineglass Bay saddle. Wineglass never palls. A google search tells me that it is consistently rated as one of the top ten beaches of the world – which means that the judges have unexpectedly good taste. It is magic. For the second time in two days, the girls had to pinch themselves to make sure they hadn’t gone to heaven early. You have to spend time at a beach that wonderful, so we stopped at its entrance to have a swim. (No, not me. Anyone who knows me knows I’m too much of a wuss for that. I always photograph the swimmers and mentally join in that way.) We then lengthened contact with the beach by having a slightly early lunch at the other end. The day was long; our goals still easily achievable.

View from Mt Freycinet.

At last we had reached the business end of the day: stomachs satisfied, swimming urge dissipated, off we climbed through the forest and along the track that was almost white with the eroded quartz grains. Everywhere we looked, coloured flowers drooped over the track, picking up the light as they did so – shining yellow, white, pink and purple and greeting us as we passed, brushing our legs with their perfume.

Molly on Mt Freycinet

Up on the tops we met a group from LWC who had also chosen the single dry location of Tasmania this weekend, and warm hugs and greetings (and introductions to the Swedish girls) were exchanged. They were on their way to the beach below to camp, while our goal was to sleep on the summit of Mt Graham. If you’re a regular reader, you’ll by now know that that is my style. We only took about five more minutes after meeting the others to arrive at our destination, so were setting up our tents quickly and looking out at louring clouds. Hey. BoM said there would be no rain here today. How dare they look so businesslike! For the first time that day, there was a little haste. We did want to summit Freycinet today and not postpone it. There was still enough light.

Me, flying over Mt Freycinet.

It took only eighteen minutes down to the saddle without packs, and then twenty three up Freycinet along a track that filled us with delight as it weaved through the open forest replete with flowers. Once we were on top, we could relax about encroaching darkness – and the weather. We still had heaps of light left, and the rain was holding off. It was time for general exploration, handstands and jumping poses on the rocks that had enough space for such things.

Sunrise from Mt Graham.

Back at the tents, we were in the process of boiling water for dinner when the hail began. I poured water on the packets of powder to rehydrate them and we all huddled into our two-man tent. It was cosy with four. Hail changed to rain, accompanied by gruff, angry wind, but none of that mattered: we had our safe haven, and ate our rehy-dehy food with relish. The day before we had discovered that we all love singing. There we sat in a tent in the storm and sang for the next three hours: some beautiful, gentle songs with soothing melodies and haunting harmonies; some silly, make-us-all-giggle ones. Some sophisticated, some childish. Some negro spirituals and rounds. On we went, laughing and singing and enjoying ourselves, finishing up with Christmas carols before the girls went out into the night to find their tent and “sleep” (the wind raged so strongly that no one actually got much slumber, but at least we lay down and pretended. It was worth losing sleep just to be there and experience this beautiful mountain and the fury of the elements).

Halfway down

In the morning, we enjoyed sunrise from the summit which was only about two minutes from the tent. The wind had not yet abated, but we weren’t being blown off our feet. A bank of clouds prevented the sun from coming straight out of the ocean, but we loved it anyway, and gazed in wonder that one could camp in a spot such as this. The girls bubbled with enthusiasm.

Salome on Wineglass Beach

We sang nearly the whole way down the mountain, full of joy at the beauty around us, and stopped at the beach for yet more swimming, eating and gymnastics. The last time I did handstands was in the 1980s, when I did them in the surf with my niece, Sarah, gleefully doing stands in shallow water and then being tipped over by the approaching wave. It was time to see if I could still do them. I thought it would be rather embarrassing to end up needing to be helicoptered out because I’d hurt my back doing cartwheels along the beach, but fortunately it didn’t come to that. Both handstands and cartwheels  “worked” (generous assessment), but certainly not with anything like the style of my teenage years!! I used to adore gymnastics. Legs were not straight; body was not directly over my hands – but I had huge fun trying. Salome and Molly were fantastic. It’s actually very hard in the sand, as it sucks your energy instead of giving you spring back. When you admire the photo of Molly below doing a handless cartwheel, just remember that. Normally such things are done on a sprung floor. Her “bounce factor” is brilliant.

Molly doing a handless cartwheel.
We had also scheduled a climbing of Mt Mayson for this day. The instructions were rather obscure, and we tried about four false leads climbing upwards into thick scrub before we found the one that worked. I was dangling my huge full-frame DSLR (I didn’t have a daypack with me) as well as my Galaxy Note which doubles as my gps system. Both were crashing against the rocks a bit and had me worried about their safety, as most steps involved climbing boulders and sliding along ledges. I felt clumsy; I was also very hungry. It was time for me to have real food. I suggested we go back down to the carpark and deposit our big packs, pick up daypacks and climb back up to where we were, now that we knew we were on the right lead. Molly and Salome agreed. (Bruce had already opted out of this climb and gone to the car by himself.) Down we went, up we climbed, yet again. I was inching around an obstacle on a narrow ledge and noted that I felt decidedly woozy. I was very, very low in blood sugar. I think I was also low in salt. I can tell you that after a scallop pie, a lemon-meringue tart, an OJ and a cappuccino I felt fantastic again, but by then it was too late. I have promised to drive the two girls back to finish what we began, but on that day, I needed food more than a summit point. Alas. We’ll be back to Mt Mayson for round two some time very soon.