Mt Aldebaran | Natureloverswalks

January 3, 2020January 3, 2020

Western Arthurs Traverse K-A Dec 2019

I have lost count of the number of times I have set out (or wanted to set out) to do the Western Arthurs Traverse, and been weathered out of my mission – by fires, floods, blizzards. You name it, the weather won each time. This time I fooled the weather by not acknowledging what I was doing. I pretended I was just going to play at the Eastern end of the Western Arthurs, and by the time this morphed into a traverse K-A, the weather hadn’t had time to work up its normal fury, like a snake you surprise so it doesn’t have time to summon up all its poison. Off I set. I couldn’t believe it was really happening. And I was so glad to be doing it the tougher K-A rather than the normal A-K. I like climbing.

The first day was merely a half day, and thus didn’t begin until after lunch, so we only had time to get as far as Two Mile Creek. This was actually great for me, as it’s been far too long since I’ve carried a Big Expedition pack, so it let me ease myself into the task. The next day, of course, brought in the absolutely massive task of climbing Kappa Moraine to the top (nearly) of Mt Scorpio (which we climbed, of course), before ascending some more out of Lake Sirona, and finally dropping to Hanging Lake, where platform space was scarce, and where it was yet again proven that wretched platforms and gorgeous Hilleberg tents are not good companions. My tent is not free standing, and needs more than the usual number of anchor points. Grr.

We began full Day 2 by going backwards, to climb Aldebaran, for me for a second time. As this is one of my very favourite mountains, I don’t mind how many ascents I tally up. It was beautiful to reach the summit with the clouds still in the valleys below.

“Mt Taurus” does not look all that foreboding from Haven Lake, but climbing it was the most taxing part of the whole traverse for me. It seemed to go on forever, and I guess I hadn’t found my so-called second wind yet, so it felt formidable. I couldn’t wait to drop the packs and go touch the summit. I am confused, actually, as everyone calls what we climbed Mt Taurus, but Listmaps has the much more dramatically interesting, more “bullish” rock to the NE labelled Taurus. Is everyone quoting Chapman who got it wrong? Or has Listmaps got it wrong? I don’t know the answer.

After that, the Dragon Spine of four … or was it seven??? … bumps (one lost count after a while) was not too bad. And awaiting us were the famous Beggary Bumps with the bad-street cred’d Tilted Chasm which had to be negotiated before we reached the also-much-talked-about High Moor. For me, it was a dream to at last be seeing these wonders, having read so much about them, and seen so many pictures (mainly David Noble’s inspiring ones).

On the Dragon Spine, staring at the formidable Beggary Bumps

We climbed up a chasm that seemed pretty steep with loose sections, and I thought it was fine, but was starting to wonder about how bad the Chasm that everyone spoke about with fear in their voices was. I then got told I had just done it. I laughed with pleasure. The same happened with some sloping rock with small ledges that didn’t worry me in the slightest, but which one of our four was fearing. I was surprised to find that I’d just completed the dreaded object.

There was one moment in the day when I looked down and told myself that had been an idea less well-advised than most, but I just turned my attention to the task at hand and didn’t look down again until I had a bit more terra firma underfoot. Soon enough we were choosing our spots at High Moor. A group of ten camped there made life a bit tricky, as there was no space for my tent, but I managed.

That night, during the night, a mighty wind whipped up, ripping John’s tent along its top as it broke his pole. He and his gear were in a less than ideal state in the morning, which dawned wet, grey and windy. We spent this day catching up on the sleep we didn’t get during the night, and then climbing a few thises and thats. I had already climbed Columba the previous evening, but did it again to kill time, adding in a few other lumps and bumps to keep myself amused.

Capricorn view, looking back. I climbed both bumps.

The next day’s walking took us out of High Moor, up Capricorn (packs dumped to summit), up the much harder Mt Pegasus, which I had already climbed from Cygnus with just a daypack. Climbing it with a full pack was somewhat more strenuous, to say the least. The views from the top remain fantastic. This day was pretty hot, which was rather welcome, but even more welcome was the little nameless tarn between Pegasus and Oberon, where we stopped to dip our faces in the water to cool down and drink.

The next stop after that was at the outlet to Square Lake, where we took out about half an hour to rest up before the final slog to Lake Cygnus. High Moor to Cygnus was a pretty long day. That evening, the air was balmy, and it was so nice to sit outside and chat and enjoy the temperature. I went along to say “Hi” to the only other people at the lake, and discovered it was Ben the Skier, whom I had met the night before he did his amazing ski down the chute of the Ducane Range the month before. Small world. (At High Moor, a guy had come in and pitched next to me late in the evening: we worked out I had given him a lift just two weeks before as he headed in to the King William Range while I was bound for my Rufus waterfall adventure.)

The final day turned on mist and howling winds for us. It took round about an hour to reach the top of Morain A. In this time I was blown off the track every third step, and was absolutely exhausted from trying to stabilise myself in the presence of forces so much more powerful than I was. My core even started to cramp due to the hard work. It was a blessed relief to get out of the main wrath as we descended, and begin the easy part of the trip to Junction Creek and out.

This traverse will remain in my mind as a highlight, if not THE highlight of my bushwalking “career”. It was not as remote or ‘different’ as many of the extended walks I have done, but I adore a physical challenge and this trip offers that in extremis. I felt like I was in the most dramatically beautiful fun park I have ever entered.

April 25, 2018July 16, 2018

Aldebaran 2018 Apr

Mt Aldebaran, Apr 2018

Somewhere up there Mt Aldebaran is hiding. Looks inviting, huh?
I really wanted to climb Mt Aldebaran before the super cold set in, having missed my chance over the summer. I decided it needed to be a solo venture, but thought I’d like to do it in the school holidays, as maybe I’d accidentally meet someone up on the range, and that would feel nicer. I had my plan: early start on day one, use the Kappa moraine shortcut and continue up to Lake Sirona to sleep. I’d looked at my stats for what I’d done in the area before, and this seemed feasible. Day 2 would be a shorter, easier day, just climbing Aldebaran from Sirona and enjoying being high for what was left of the day. Day 3, I would begin my descent and climb Carina Peak, dropping just as far as Promontory Lake. Day 4, out. But then I got an email from a friend saying he’d like to join in. He lives in Hobart, so starting Thursday morning suited him (rather than sleeping in the carpark Wednesday night, as I had envisaged). That was fine, although it did make reaching Sirona unlikely, but having his company – a mud buddy – would be lovely, so I agreed.

If you look carefully you can find my friend heading off into the mist.
Day 1 did not go brilliantly. Our later start ended up very late indeed, and the track was very muddy and slow, We only made it to just past Seven Mile Creek before dark set in. I squandered half and hour at the tail end of the day trying to find a suitable crossing point for the creek that had now reached fast-river proportions. I kept going upstream until I found a fallen tree that I could hold on to. I didn’t trust myself not to be swept away otherwise. And now it was dark. Time to pitch the tents, collect water, eat and sleep. Boom. No mucking around at this end of the day. I reckon my eyes were closed by 8 pm, having got up at 4.30 to drive down to Hobart.

Up above the clouds already.
All night, it seemed, I pondered the dilemma of what to do with our shortened camping spot. My friend had struggled in the afternoon, and I thought getting his tent up the steep climb could take so long that we would be timetabled out of climbing Aldebaran, which would mean we had to do it on day 3, making day 4 too long. But, leaving the tents where they were and climbing up and down in a day was risky, as it would be a long day, and if we failed, then the trip failed, as there would not be enough time to then get the tents higher and start again. In the end, and with huge reservations, I decided to risk a long packless day, thinking that that would give the best chance of a summit.

A fog bow
Off we set at 7 a.m. Unfortunately, once we started on the steep section, our differences in speed became very noticeable. It was too early in the day to worry. At 9 a.m., my friend suggested I go on without him; he was not having a good day. I said I thought the worst of the climb was over, so let’s stay together longer, but at 10.40 a.m., I had to admit defeat. If we didn’t separate, I wouldn’t get my mountain, so, during the climb up out of Lake Sirona, we parted company, agreeing that I would catch him somewhere on my rebound. I hoped that’d work out.

From on Kappa moraine, looking towards Lake Promontory.
Now I had two big lumps to negotiate before the climb proper began. I was so time stressed by this stage that my memory of these bumps is a blur. My whole focus was on hurrying so as to get to the summit before my turnaround time. My haste meant I didn’t make considered choices, so lost time trying to get off a cliff that was too high to leap from, but had no way around. I gave up, but on the rebound, noted wear marks leading over the edge of a different cliff. Aha. A way down around the obstacle so the climb could continue. On I went, hoping I could remember all this on the way back, when I would be equally stressed for time so as to avoid being up there in the dark.

Weee. I can see Federation Peak – that fabulous fang in tiger distance.
Aldebaran has, it seems, four summits. Excitedly I climbed the first one, ready for jubilation, only to find two more bumps ahead, both of which seemed higher than this one. Grr. More wild dashing. At last, and getting tired now with all this frenzy, I crested the bump. It was 11.50. Oh NO. There was another, bigger bump up ahead, previously hidden behind other rocky mini-mounts. How long would it take to get there? My absolute latest turning around time was 12.30. More rushing. Hoorah. At 12.10 I stood on the summit and there were no more summits. I touched, took a few photos and thought I’d better go. To my horror, clouds, were now floating with a frenzy equal to my own, rising faster than I did up from the valley below and circling around me. I was about to lose my visibility. This was a complex mountain: i.e., this was very disconcerting news indeed. Meanwhile, it was very pretty, so I took a few more photos. Might as well die with attractive shots in the camera for my family to enjoy.

Still climbing. Looking down over Haven Lake to Mt Taurus.

Mist closing in on top.
On I went, over bumps and through more saddles, hoping I’d remember my route. At the last of the bumps, I found my friend, so we descended to Sirona together. I’d made OK time back, so the pressure was easing, although A wanted to climb Scorpio. Fair enough, He hadn’t got to climb Aldebaran. He set off while I did some eating, saying I’d give chase. I caught him at the saddle before the final climb, and had great fun photographing his ascent (see below).

The route ahead. Ahem.
It had been pretty quick, and we were making good progress, so we now had what I felt were heaps of breaks, and lovely long ones, sitting on rocks watching the shadows lengthen and the atmosphere take on aureate hues as the sun dropped. Next day my friend said he would have liked more, and longer, so I guess all things are relative. At least with my being a task-master and time bossy-boot, we got back to the tents with just enough light to gather water before we lost all visibility. It was a beautiful mild night, and we both enjoyed the light and the slivered moon before falling asleep. I closed my eyes even earlier that night. I heard my friend call something about the moon from his tent, but I was too tired to even answer. It had been a long day, and I was finished.

Climbing Scorpio. The mist cleared back again by Lake Sirona.
We were both exhausted on the third and final day, and the mud seemed even sloppier and deeper. Several times we were wallowing in it thigh deep. We both became covered in its ooze, but were at the cars by 2.30, which was great, although still, by the time we’d changed out of our black, smelly gear and got going, it was too late for our favourite food places. I drove my friend to Hobart, and decided I’d go back to Maydena and use day four for waterfall and fungi bagging and shooting. I might as well use being south while I was here, and had a doggy sitter for Tessa all lined up, so I should use the opportunity while it was available. It was a good decision, and next day I would visit Tolkien Falls, Regnans Falls and Growling Swallet before the big drive home.