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Koruna Peak, Wilmot Range 2020 Oct

Koruna Peak? Never heard of it, but a guy for whom I have great respect was leading a walk there, so I signed up and then did some research on where it was. On the Wilmot Range; oh goody. Now I am definitely going. Three other guys also put their names on the list, so we would be a party of five: 4 males and Louise. Oh oh. Would I be able to keep up? Will I be a disgrace? Will the guys just disappear off into the distance? Oh well, I do a lot of solo walking these days, so if I do find myself left alone, it’s hardly a catastrophe, but I sure hoped I could keep up.

This member of our party selected a spot looking east over Wilmot Bay to Starfish Hill
Wilmot Range: Exploring more as golden hour is approaching

This walk starts with an ascent of Mt Sprent, which has, as far as I am aware, the steepest track up any mountain in Tasmania. It is a track built by guys for guys, with each step so huge that for me it constitutes a climb in its own right. For every step, the height gain expressed as a percentage of my total height is so great that I can’t just step. Well, certainly not with a multi-day pack on. I have to find a sapling or tree root or some other object and haul myself up with a few animal noises to the next level. Thus I grunted and tugged my way up the mountain whilst the others gained height with less audible and visible effort. I was never actually last in the queue, but I could tell that that was merely because I was with guys who had manners, and I was very aware that I was holding everybody up.

Views to the east: very tempting

As a result, when we got to the summit of Sprent, I offered to withdraw from the group so they could make faster progress without me, and be more sure of reaching their goal. Dale (the leader), however, said I was fine, and then looked at me cheekily and said: “You do have a head torch, don’t you.” I smiled.

The view to the south. Koruna Peak stands quite tall in the distance

On we went, through the ice and snow on top of Sprent and then down the boulder cluster beyond to the slightly scrubby ridge below. Many of the rocks were decorated with rime – and there was a frozen sheet of water in one point – so everybody had to be careful, which greatly helped my cause of keeping up, and I managed to keep pace and even take a turn at leading once the scrub started. I was keen to try to pull my weight and contribute to the group, and not just be a parasite.

The view to the NW. You can see the dilemma about which place to position your tent.

At all times we had fabulous views out to left and right as we walked, and in what seemed like a very short time, we had reached our camp spot. We had absolutely no need for head torches, and even had time to explore all over the place once we’d sorted out our real estate for the night. I put my tent in the shelter of a rock in case the wind came up, and then grabbed my tripod and camera and went exploring, climbing this and that interesting rock structure until it was time to cook dinner. Sunset offered a dilemma: should one go for the views to the west of mountainous silhouettes receding into the distance, or catch the eastern back glow with water views? I decided for west, and enjoyed the show greatly.

Climbing around for fun. This is the view back to the north with Sprent in the distance

The middle day was just a daypack one, so I was as light as a feather and as free as a bird. I could even run over the hillside if I dropped back for photographic purposes, of which there were many. The fabulous views continued all day, and we enjoyed our climbs of the black dot of named Koruna Peak, and the high point of the same, which was actually further on, on a different peak. There were also other little structures of various challenge, so we filled our day with fun.

The setting sun illuminates the trees as I gaze east
My little home away from home that gives me absolute freedom
Sunset on the first night
Looking down to Islet Lake from near Koruna Peak

Rain arrived at some stage during our return journey, so once we were back at camp, we all disappeared into our tents. I did too, but kept a very watchful eye on the weather: I have been caught out before assuming a grey non-set, and been surprised by the sun finding a hole in the clouds. My watchfulness paid off: the sun did exactly that, but I had tripod and camera prepared, so raced out in the light shower to photograph the golden watery light as the sun lowered itself into the blurry horizon.

As the rain eased a bow formed near my friends’ tents
Final sunset

The last day was wet, but that didn’t matter, as we were on our way out and could put on dry clothes at the car. We merely had to reverse our steps of the first day, with a massively steep descent where trees came in handy to lower oneself to the next level. I swung like a little monkey, also using my arms against rocks on each side to lessen the demands on my knees and quadriceps.
Be that as it may, I have fallen helplessly in love with the Wilmot Range.

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Sprent 2018 Mar

Mt Sprent, Mar 2018.


Mt Sprent was not actually my first choice for Easter, nor even my second, but, … well, let me begin at the beginning. My birthday was on Good Friday, and my wonderful (firstborn) daughter said that, as a present, she would fly down and spend the night on a mountain with me. Can you think of a nicer, more special present than that? I certainly can’t. Presence makes the best presents. Time is surely the most marvellous thing we can give each other. But WHAT mountain do you choose when given such a fabulous offer? I wanted it to be new, preferably an Abel, and beautiful. It also needed to be done in two days, as we had to be back for Sunday’s all-important Easter Egg Hunt for the children.


Ambitiously, I chose Bonds Craig. That was before I got a crippling chest infection and before I got news that, given all our recent rain, the Gordon River would be flooded anyway. OK. Plan B. Sharlands Peak. But, with a fever and weakness, I really didn’t think that was possible in two days either. Plan C was Mt Sprent, which I had’t yet climbed. We would hopefully get great views, and it’s just a tiny climb to the top, and even a sick Louise can do a climb that short. I was right. I coughed my way to the top, but had no trouble doing the physical ascending bit.


I picked Kirsten up from the airport on Thursday afternoon, whisked her away while Abby maintained that “Mummy’s NOT going” (how dare we have a girls’ adventure without her), and headed for the south west, with the skies getting increasingly ominous as we drove. At the sign that announced we’d now reached the wilderness area, the rain added its confirmation by bucketing down and the temperature dropped about twenty degrees. We pictured ourselves huddled in some windy shelter having the picnic dinner I’d packed and shivering while at it. Kirsten suggested we check out the Strathgordon Wilderness Lodge. Now, there’s a good idea if ever I heard one. There was room at the inn. In we hopped with glee.


Next morning (Friday, ascent day), it was till bucketing, but the forecast said the water amount would decrease after midday, so we did a rainforest walk and had a picnic lunch so as not to eat in a downpour, and set out in the afternoon. I was right about the shortness of the climb. Even with my illness, we were on the summit in two hours, and had oodles of time to find a spot for our tent on the Wilmot Range before the elements closed back in. Problem: all flat spots were a handspan deep in water, and, of course, all slopey spots were, yes, slopey. We chose the best spot available, which sloped on both the X and Y axes, and practised rolling towards each other and sliding towards the foot end of the tent before thinking about dinner.


We seem to have a bizarre sense of humour, as we found all of this rolling to  be hilarious, and knew we were in for a long night.  Dinner was also a bit of a problem as, since the combination of motherhood and a demanding and fulfilling job has compromised my daughter’s fitness, we were squashing ourselves into my solo Hilleberg which I carried. It’s delightfully spacious for one; for two, well, it is a solo tent. It was cuddly. I found it tricky to cook given the cramped nature of our environs, and the fact that rain was pelting down outside and we had wet gear strewn about the vestibule. I therefore cooked just one dinner which we shared between two, so my special birthday meal was half a dehydrated, rehydrated cottage pie dinner. I thanked my darling daughter for bringing me to a thousand star hotel, and we ate our fare with relish. Pity we couldn’t see any of the thousand stars.
It was, indeed, a long and giggly night. She apologised about the lack of comfort. I explained that I thought that comfort can hardly be considered one of life’s necessities. Given what we, as a family, have experienced and endured over the past few months, I think comfort is a very low priority in life. We had each other and we were happy. Isn’t that all you need?


Next morning, we descended, and reappeared at the Strathgordon Lodge in time for some freshly made vanilla slices (YUM) and a hot drink before heading east via some waterfalls to the eagerly awaiting rest of Kirsten’s family. (My second-born daughter was in Africa, so couldn’t join us this year.)