The Needles | Natureloverswalks

March 21, 2023March 21, 2023

The Needles Eastern Arthurs

My friends Alex and Nitya had one Abel to go – The Needles – and were kind enough to invite me along to share the journey and, hopefully, the joy. I hoped to be a help should an extra pair of hands be needed, for they now had the additional challenge of bringing a 9-month old baby to complete their task. Off we set, me with high intentions of being useful at some stage, even though we are talking about two extremely fit, strong and capable bushwalkers (and parents).

Austroboletus nivea. Hoorah. The first fungi for the season were beginning to appear.

The creek crossings between the carpark and Junction Crossing were all significantly higher than usual. They were not impossible to cross, but they did cause us to wonder whether we would ever get beyond the first significant body of water (JC), which, with a baby and deep mud, was just under three hours in.

Alas, Junction Creek involved a compulsory baptism as the tree block only helped for part of the way, and a goodly part of it was submerged anyway. The steps were underwater, and the rope for stability was down around the ankles, which offered help only to those with excellent imaginations. Sigh. In we go. Not tooo deep. Having now nicely filled our boots with a swimming pool of water (which wasn’t too chilly, actually), we sat on the other side and had some food.

Early crossing. The early ones weren’t too bad, and were not what we were fearing.

We thought our next major hurdle would be Seven Mile Creek, and were not completely confident, but you have to get there to be sure. However, Two Mile creek proved to be the scariest crossing of the day. The way across (and the only possibility in waters this high) was to use a wide but excessively slippery, slimy log which had nothing much nearby to cling to for safety or balance. Going uphill in straddle position with a heavy pack wasn’t an option. It was a very long way to fall – and into deep water.

Two Mile Creek. I wouldn’t dream of crossing this without help. The log was slippery.

Alex offered himself up as our sacrificial anchor point, thoroughly saturating himself in the dark, bottomless waters, and reaching up to us to provide a hand. He would, of course, catch the baby should Nitya overbalance but the thought of that scenario was utterly horrifying. Little Adi (Aditya) is just the cutest bundle of joy imaginable, and of course, no one wanted a single hair of his head to be ruffled. Alex is as solid as a rock, and they completed the task without mishap. Then it was my turn. Once over the other side, having twice now needed Alex’s help, I knew I had burned my bridges. Whatever happened, I could not dare attempt a crossing in reverse without Alex being there.

A happy little Adi enjoys knocking around Seven Mile Creek campsite with his team.

Wullyawa Ck offered only one rather messy way across, but one is all we needed, and there was enough to cling to for us to be able to do it unassisted. Alex, with his pack higher than the Empire State, probably had the hardest job of all of us. And thus we came to our Reckoner: Seven Mile Creek. Not today, Josephine,. She looked high and mean, but tomorrow’s crossing was over twelve hours away. Maybe the river would go down a bit overnight. It didn’t rain heavily or for overly long today.

Day 2.

We only needed to get to Pass Ck today, so were in no particular hurry, and a relaxed start would give Adi some nice crawl time, and let the creek drop some more. For the first time, Alex was the one who took Adi across for safety. He had already taken his monster rucksack across (trip 1) and helped me across (trip 2). Adi’s turn was trip 3 and then I could mind him while Nitya became trip 4. Safety was always our primary objective, and none of this would have been possible without Alex and Nitya’s massive skills. It is not something that an average person could or should even dream about. This was not about heroics or being fancy. It was about carefully executing what was definitely within the capabilities of the crew.

The next most adventurous part of the day was getting over our final hurdle, Pass Creek. Again we needed Alex’s strength. There is a rope there, but when the water is that high, it just rushes your feet out from under you and makes losing balance a very likely possibility. If you lose your contact with the bottom and are not strong enough, you can’t get your feet to go against the current to go vertical again. As a teenager and a champion swimmer, I was humbled to learn that water is far more powerful than I was. I have never forgotten my lesson.

Seven Mile Creek crossing. Adi cheers his dad on.

At last we could take off our wretched boots, tip the 300 mls water out of each, wring the same out of each sock, and dry our poor wrinkled feet. Joy. My feet had not been cold, but ‘wet all day’ is not a pleasant feeling. This was my first fight with damned platforms, which are not made for non-freestanding tents. Nothing works; nothing quite fits; the tent sags ridiculously as you can’t apply correct tensions. Grrr, but at last, after much quiet swearing I kind of had it up. We ate dinner and I said : “Goodnight”.

Now, a totally ridiculous thing happened. I felt 100% fine, but as I lay down, a continuous, hysterical and fruity cough began. And it didn’t let up all night. I got very little sleep. I had flown in from Sydney immediately before this trip, and it seems I must have picked up a bug and brought it along for the ride. Unbeknown to me, my daughter had gone into major production as a snot manufacturer up there.

Day 3

An easy part within the challenging Boiler Plates

I felt totally washed out this morning, but blamed the lack of sleep. I didn’t have a temperature, so was only under the influence of URTI. Up we climbed to the Stuart Saddle. During the first hour, the weather was not friendly, and rain and a biting wind from the south made life unpleasant. We found some shelter from the extremities after an hour and waited for the weather to improve, using the time to eat and give Adi some more play. The steep part going around the Boiler Plates was two hours of playground fun that reminded me of Moss Ridge, but I knew I was not well, and was glad to know I had managed to arrive at our destination before things got any worse. It took about an hour to pitch on these awful platforms, and I was obviously losing it, as I required a second person to help me set up any tension at all. Tent up, I fell inside. I no longer cared about anything much – not even the scenery.

Day 4.

I felt really weak, and disappointed at letting the others down when I was most needed, but I barely had the energy to get to their tent to tell them, let alone to climb with them. They didn’t need me. All three made the summit, and Alex and Nitya became the first ‘parent couple’ to have done all the Abels together. It is so fabulous that little Adi could also be on the summit with them. He had climbed one other Abel as a baby, and several, including Federation, in utero. Visibility was about five metres. Louise slept. I don’t think I was running a fever, but I felt really weak, and that I was really treading a fine line.

Adi is sad to hear I won’t be climbing too, haha. He is the best dressed bushwalking baby I have ever seen. If you are going to bring a child of any age into the South West, you need to bring twice as many clothes as you would bring for yourself. Adi owns all the gear, and more.

But down is easier than up. And it was fun. We made it to Pass Ck after lunch and my insides let me know they were displeased. There’s a toilet there. Weee.

Day 5.

I had now suffered three nights of what felt like incessant coughing. Days were somewhat easier to take, however, as exercise cleared the passageways a bit. Off we set, over Pass Ck, over Strike Ck (we even made good time to there), over Razorback Saddle the Smaller, then Saddle the Bigger. By the time we neared the top, I wanted to spew. I had overdone it, but then I heard little Adi singing, and he cheered me up and I made it. He had long conversations with his mum in the papoose, with her moving the conversations along with questions like “Really?”, or “Tell me more about it”, and Adi would gurgle happily along, answering her.

At lunch I mentally scanned the foods I’d brought. Suddenly everything I had made me feel sick to even think about. I rejected the lot. I wasn’t hungry anyway. I was offered vegan salami and flatbread with gherkin. Scrumptious . I could eat that. The other two enjoyed in exchange my beetroot dip with Dr Karg 5-seed crackerbread. This felt like a party.

Down we went, over Nine Mile Ck, over Seven Mile Ck and on, to just a bit short of Wullyawa. When you point out a magnificent view of the Arthur Range with pinking sunset to Louise and she just grunts disinterestedly, you know something is wrong. It was.

Day 6.

I woke knowing I just couldn’t do it. I don’t think I was running a temperature, but I was no longer quite so sure. If I continued as per yesterday, I would grind my body into a very deep hole out of which I might never climb. I hated the idea of going on, but calling for a helicopter was equally, if not more, abhorrent. We were too far out for me to easily come back and collect all my gear, and my car was in the carpark here. How on earth would I retrieve it? And I hate hospitals, and my purse and phone were in my car. I would be where I didn’t want to be with no means of communication and no money. And my dog was in a kennel waiting for me and I needed her hugs.

Playtime Day 5. Adi prefers crawling without those heavy gumboots on.

Then I thought of a solution: if I lightened my pack by ditching my tent, I reckoned I could make it. I could come back in two or three weeks and get it. I stumbled my way across to where Nitya and Adi were playing to tell her what I thought. Little Adi crawled up to me and gave me a hug. I had trouble not bursting into tears. Alex then said he was taking my tent. I said ”No way”, but he insisted. His pack was already 30 kgs and now all the nappies were wet, yet he was insisting on adding my 1.6 kgs – well, a bit less. I did’t give him the poles and hoped he didn’t notice. I pointed out that even if he only took the thing 100ms, that was further than I could do, and he was NOT to carry it any further than was bearable. I could come back to get it later, as planned.

We sent me on ahead so I could get out to help as quickly as I could. I made it to the end. Two days later I was diagnosed with community induced pneumonia. The wilderness is not to be blamed for my condition. I was never even cold enough to get my gloves out. The whole business is just really bad timing.
And if Alex hadn’t taken that tent, it would have been sitting there a very long time. The doctor says I’m not going anywhere for quite a while yet. We’ll see about that, but it is sure good to know my next trip, whenever it is, doesn’t have to be trudging along the Arthur Plains hoping my tent is at the end of my journey. No real bushwalker would take it, but there are a lot of tourists these days.

May 3, 2021February 8, 2023

The Needles 2021

In an earlier blog, I wrote about climbing The Needles with children in mind, to assess the suitability of taking young children up.
(http://www.natureloverswalks.com/cullin-twelvetree-range/)
I was not exactly expecting to test my theory (that this was, indeed, a suitable climb) in conditions that had nearly every self-respecting citizen of the state safely inside by the fire.

But so it was. One makes bookings to be in a place at a certain date, and then arranges everything else around that, and, well, if the weather turns cranky you either have to sit inside, or go out and take what comes. We set out to take what came, and go as far as was pleasant, and turn around when things became impossible, unbearable, or both.

We had booked a cottage near the Mt Field National Park, with the intention of “fagus hunting” up high. We had indeed hunted for the wonderful Nothofagus gunnii (dubbed affectionately simply “fagus”), noted for its marvellous autumn colours that tend to conveniently peak around Anzac day. However, up high where it likes to be, the wind was exceptionally strong, and the rain prohibitive with respect to photography, so we had enjoyed the workout up to Tarn Shelf, but hadn’t stayed up there for long. That – and some fungi hunting at Growling Swallet (a mud bath on this day) – was Saturday’s exercise.

On Sunday, Abby took Kirsten and me to Junee cave (which she felt very clever doing, being all of five years old). In the afternoon, Gus, Kirsten and I climbed the Needles.

We could see almost nothing, and even less than that, as our heads were truly “tucked in” out of the wind; we saw our feet. Visibility was only about ten metres anyway. The wind raged. The climb was steep and entertaining, and we all enjoyed the exercise with the hints of rocks and drama to tantalise.

In the final saddle, the wind was particularly strong, and the summit, for those who don’t know it, looked extremely forbidding, poking its blurry yet jagged outlines into the mist above, so that Kirsten was thinking turning around would be a very good idea, happening to love her gorgeous son and not wishing to see him disappear off the edge of this mountain.

The Needles. Alpine garden just below the summit

Gus, however, had summit lust, and wanted to keep going. I assured Kirsten that the mountain’s bark was worse than its bite, and that he wouldn’t blow off some precipitous edge, even if it did look as if that were possible from where we stood. On we went. I adore this little boy too!!

Gus said it was because of the hundreds of fungi we saw at the start that he named it the favourite mountain of his life so far (9 years), but I think it was also because of the exhilarating climb, made sweeter by the tinge of danger and the doubt about pulling off a summit victory. Where there is uncertainty and a tolerable sense of danger, final victory always feels more jubilant.

He had climbed well, making the summit in 46 minutes. Downhill was a couple of minutes slower, as more care was needed, and we felt at liberty on the descent to admire more of the fungi and the few straggling Stylidiums that were hanging around nearer to the start.

March 19, 2021June 15, 2021

Cullen, Twelvetrees Range, The Needles and more

Ever stuffed up arrangements for the start of a walk? What did you do?
Here’s what I did on this occasion.
As I explained in my previous blog*, I had been up most of the night worrying, getting only three hours’ sleep, before driving 2.5 hours north to pack my bag. There was then a 3.5 hours’ drive to reach my meeting place with the other bushwalkers of the group in the far SW of the state. Trouble is, with so much fatigue, so little sleep and so very much stress, despite setting out before the others, I didn’t quite make our rendez-vous, and when I tried to find them early next morning, they were neither where they said they’d sleep, nor where they would park at the start of the walk. I searched and drove to and fro for half a day. Had I found their car, I would have given chase, but there was no sign of it. Had they had an accident or been unexpectedly delayed? I drove back to the Needles saddle, where there is range, but there was no sign of a missed call or message. By an early lunchtime, I decided I now had what was left of three days to do my own thing. Oh the choices!!!! Such a wealth of them once one is down in the south west!

Hygrocybe firma at the base of The Needles. I was not expecting fungi here!

I had been going to climb to Pandani Shelf for photographic purposes (not using the out-of-bounds route), but the reality and the forecast proclaimed that clouds would dominate up there, so I decided for some lower joys that would nonetheless involve climbing.

Blandfordia punicea. I WAS hoping for that. These are called Christmas Bells. They seem to have failed to have noticed that it’s March.

I ate an early lunch, and settled on my first goal: The Needles, which I have climbed many times before, but never with small children in mind. Now was the time to climb specifically watching for aspects that might daunt pint-size people (like metre-high steps or huge mud baths). If all was well, then we could come here as a family in April. I have also never devoted time on the Needles to examining the flora of the region, and was interested to see if plants were recovering after the fires of two years ago.
My other question was, how long would it take: was it a good length for a diminutive five year old?

The pictures tell you that I found very beautiful flowers, and meanwhile, I decided that we can definitely bring the children, although Abby will need lifting (“flying”, she calls it) over some of the two-metre-long stretches of gooey mud, … and perhaps a hand up some of the steeper parts where sliding backwards is possible (very few of these).

The amount of burnt devastation is very sad, and yet the new growth brings hope, and many of the shrubs are recovering nicely. I even found a Geum talbotianum, which the web tells me is on the threatened species list.
Back in the carpark, I met two other very friendly plant enthusiasts, who recommended Tims Track to me, so that seemed like an excellent suggestion. My focus would switch to fungi.

The above fungi were the first to greet me. How could you miss that? They were huge and bold and cheery. I had met more lovely people in the carpark here, so was feeling generally cheerful. I might be alone on this trip, but I was certainly not lonely, and was enjoying meeting other like-minded souls.

The above fungus was part of a little cluster of canary yellow fungi, also pretty big and bold, yelling “Hello” to me as I involved myself with their world.

The Hygrocybe lewelliniae I happened upon was far more subtle. I don’t always require a siren to stop me in my tracks. This fungus has now changed its name, but I am sick of unlearning and learning anew, only to have the new one change – and of buying expensive books to have them out of date by the time I’ve brought them home. I express my discontent by using the names I have originally learned (mostly), and by not buying a $50 update which I know is already behind the times. Also, philosophically (and possibly more to the point), I am a joiner rather than a divider. Constantly splitting genera into smaller groups doesn’t suit my personality. Where we place dividing lines is a decision made by humans about nature; nature doesn’t necessitate that particular decision.

So, before I aggravate any more splitters, let us move on to my next goal, Mt Cullen, which had been on my bucket list for many years. It is the combination of the long drive and the problem of always needing to find a dog-sitter that has kept me away. Here was my golden opportunity. Having not planned to be here, I had no information, so just chose a starting point that looked appealing and climbed up.

I reached the first “summit” in 52 minutes; however, it was not the real summit. Now I was up high, I could see that the ridge led to a higher point, just across the way. However, the route was decorated with jagged rocks with a precipitous drop, and scrub in between. I battled the scrub rather than losing height (bad move), and eventually reached the summit with a bit of acrobatic work that I was not actually comfortable with, so chose an easier route for my exit / descent. It was not necessary to be so “daring”. Anyway, the twenty minutes that summit to summit took helped me kill some time: I had hoped I could spin the climb out for long enough to get sunset from a slightly raised perch, yet still get down with enough light to avoid an accident.

Mt Cullen sunset – not an overdose of colour, but better than nothing.

Once I was sure I could easily get down without trouble, I just sat and appreciated being there, waiting for colour. It was not a grand fanfare, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
Back at the car, I had to decide which of all the thousands of possible spots to choose from, would be my piece of territory for the night. I chose a beach, parked the car, prepared it for sleeping and enjoyed the rest of the fading light while perched on a rock eating my dinner.

The menu for day two was pretty similar to that of day one: A mountain or two, some recce work, fungi, wildflowers and beautiful forest.
The recce work was on Mt Wedge, sussing it out for the possibility of sleeping on high – but tonight was not going to offer any views, so I’d bide my time. The new mountain was Twelvetrees Range, which I really loved. Its open ridge had a “Sound of Music” feel to it. I could easily have been on Skye, in the Lakes or in Iceland up there with no bush to bash through and big views of water and other mountains. It was great choose-your-own-route stuff, and I wandered happily all over the ridge top. Doing it like that meant the descent to the road at the end was VERY steep. (Under an hour up; more than, down, as I chose a longer, harder route).

Twelvetrees Range – one of my favourite sections

I rewarded myself with food from the lodge, and then set about exploring the Lodge’s Forest Walk (no great finds there today), the Creepy Crawly Trail (this would be more correctly named The Ducky Weavy Trail) and revisiting Tims Track. The weather was far from photographically exciting, so I wended my way slowly east.

I love that cute, almost transparent Hygrocybe graminicolor . You may well be asking where the green is, but it can often be washed out like this. The form of its friends and neighbours enjoying the same moss close by indicates to me it was just bigger and more fragile then they were, but still part of the happy family.
I was going to sleep near the Needles, but the wind was howling and the dark clouds were swirling around me, and I decided that after all I have been through recently, I didn’t feel like moody but felt more like being beside a stream nearer the Mt Field National Park so headed even further east, arriving at my spot by the river after dark.

On my final day, my choice seemed to be between climbing Mt Mawson or more fungi hunting. The fungi had been so rewarding I opted for them, so explored the area around the Junee River, with some good finds.

And thus ends my weekend: a lot less strenuous than originally planned, but perhaps that was exactly what my body needed, and I certainly found some lovely jewels, and even met some friendly people in carparks – always a bonus.

http://www.natureloverswalks.com/wellington-kunanyi-anxiety detox/

Routes for Cullen or Twelvetrees Ra available on request.

November 26, 2016September 12, 2018

Eastern Arthurs 2016 i Needles and Geeves Bluff

Eastern Arthurs part 1: The Needles and Geeves Bluff.

The Eastern Arthurs connote wild, remote beauty; beyond that, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I was looking forward to seeing and experiencing whatever it was that lay ahead. I hoped to climb Federation Peak, although didn’t have my heart set on it, and unequivocally wanted to climb The Needles, (an Abel as yet unclimbed). That, I thought, should be a pretty definite possibility. Apart from that, great views and that special feeling fostered by deep wilderness lay on the agenda.

On the first day, we began after lunch and no one seemed in a hurry, so we didn’t make violent distance before calling it a day, and pitching our tents on a broad spur just past Two Mile Creek. We were rewarded next morning by scenes as in the two photos above. One of the features of bushwalking in the wilderness that I love best is precisely that ability to say, “Let’s camp here”, and just drop your bundle and pitch your little tent with views to die for.
On this occasion, however, doing that delightful thing had the downside that it meant a bigger-than-expected second day across the hot plains that left some of our members rather exhausted. We developed the cute habit of leaving two members behind at every campsite for a while after this. Eleven became nine by the time we arrived at Goon Moor for the third night. But I have jumped ahead. First we need to leave the plains, pretty as they are in the pictures of our first night in the above two photos, and climb up onto the range.

The above two photos are of some of the creek crossings before we began climbing. As you can see, water levels were high but not at all dangerous – and there was plenty of deep mud in case you’re wondering. Legs, clothes, gaiters and boots were all sodden and filthy by the first night, and remained so for the eight days we were there. Most of us stoically donned wet socks again each morning. Some optimists changed to dry ones, to have them generously receive the gift of water from the wet boots not long after. It felt good while it lasted.

After Pass Creek (our second campsite), we climbed up onto the range via Luckmans Lead, on a route that takes you past a rock formation called the Boiler Plates. Above, you can see the group about to pass through what I call Boiler Plates saddle. As you climb, the Plates are up and to your left. At the mini saddle, you swing left to skirt along their backside.

On the far right of this photo, you can see the backside of the Boiler Plates. Below left is Lake Leo, and behind, the famous East Portal, object of our quest on the return journey. For now, however, we are intent on reaching the campsite from which we will make our attempt on Federation Peak, viz, Hanging lake, so will not spend time or energy on longer, distracting climbs, although we did do a few smaller ones en route.

Kathy and Tony climbing as we make our way to the Stuart Saddle. Those are The Needles above, which several of us will climb after lunch.Angela, climbing towards the saddle at which we will dump our packs before climbing The Needles.

Dale and Wayne coming along the route that we later abandoned due to its dramatic plunge between two Needles. I’m glad we climbed these lesser Needles as well, as the views were fabulous.

The Louise that took the picture above was a very happy one. We had dropped our packs in the saddle suggested by the Abels book, and now were on our way to the summit of The Needles. However, this route involved a descent between some of the Needles that several members of the group were not comfortable with, so we actually ended up returning to the saddle and going back down the track until we were just short of being underneath the Needle that constitutes the summit. Even from here, the climb was not without its challenges.

The Needles, summit view. We are looking at Lake Leo and East Portal below.

Wayne, Angela and Dale went right of a rocky spur that gave them a route that was very steep and felt a bit loose in places. I went left of this spur, followed by courageous Kathy. Our route was great except for the final lunge for the summit, where we were clinging to minuscule pieces of rock with a very daring and not exactly pleasant drop straight into the lake below. I concentrated on clinging to rock and tried not to see what was in my peripheral vision. Kathy says she is scared of heights, so I was very proud of her when she emerged onto the summit space having dared that route too. I was NOT looking forward to climbing back down that way, so was greatly relieved to discover that the route the others had taken didn’t involve exposure of that nature. We all went down their route.

Having a breather climbing the Four Peaks. Rain does not seem to be dampening our spirits.

On day four, we climbed around the Four Peaks, trying to get past the many and varied obstacles before reaching Hanging Lake. We have now left two more members behind to climb other things, so are reduced to being a team of seven. We had to pack haul on three occasions on this route, more because we could not squeeze ‘human plus big pack’ in the space provided than because we needed to get clear of the weight. There just wasn’t enough space to fit us.

Geeves Bluff, view

After we arrived at Hanging Lake, several of us climbed Geeves Bluff. Here is one of the many views on offer from the summit. Wayne and Dale were busy making telephone calls on top. I tried to join in the fun, only to discover that my phone had accidentally been bumped on, and was now nearly out of battery. I never found a spot from which I could send a message to say I was still alive, so gave up. Such a message, if I could send it at all, would have to wait for tomorrow, the day on which we hoped to climb Feder. The forecast seemed good – early mist but then clearing. Hopefully conditions wouldn’t be too wet. Time would tell. This story will be continued next blog. What a tease.

February 23, 2014May 3, 2021

The Needles 2014 + SW Tasmania Feb

SW Tas and The Needles Feb 2014

Mt Anne in morning mist

Lake Pedder

We had rather a funny day, in that the original plan, which we tried to execute, was to climb Mt Styx with friends. However, after waiting in a different spot to them for fifty minutes, and lamenting the fact that it was far too beautiful a day to spend outside the general store cum cafe in Maydena, we set off for the south west, deciding to show my Swedish friends around some of our most beautiful scenery.

Climbing the Needles

We had fun wandering over the hills and not so very far away in low foothills off the Folded Range before doubling back and showing them the view from The Needles. It was not the first time I have climbed these, but it was the first time I have seen the view (or the mountain itself, for that matter. Last time I saw the flowers and a few shapes in the mist that might be rocks). It was wonderful to see the real thing.