So Many Paths (somewhere in the north Tarkine)

Today’s title, dear reader, is a classic by the Little River Band from 1978. Although there may have been many paths up the mountain, our single path was overgrown and problematic and the view from the top? Not, as the song states, still the same but quite changeable. More on that later.

The day began in a more leisurely fashion because there was no requirement to break camp. We were up at 6:45am for a 7:00am breakfast to leave to climb the mountain at 8:00am. Today it was an out and back walk, from the camp site to a trig station above the canopy that promised views of where we had meandered to date.

Light filtering through the canopy.

As seemed to be the fashion, the first direction was up through the still dripping scrub. The forecast for today was for serious rain and possible thunderstorms. To date the weather had been very kind and there was only a brief shower overnight, which did not amount to much.

The “track” snaked its way through the forest, undulating up and down the hill side, as we negotiated fallen trees. We followed the magic pink tags when they could be seen. It was easy to wander off if you allowed your attention to drift - the track was indistinct, even non-existent in sections, because so few humans pass through the area. Tracks were easily swallowed by a sea of leatherwood petals, falling leaves or rapidly growing mosses and lichens. We are the last group of the year to walk through this section of the Tarkine, the next people to come through, won’t arrive until November, eight months away.

A steep bit.

Despite the relatively short distance we needed to cover, progress was slow at times. We clambered up hills littered with the fallen giants of the forest. We splashed through creeks, across muddy areas and through fern gullies and groves. It was difficult but the mist, which showed no signs of dissipating, made it ethereal. The grey sky above suggested rain was still a real possibility.

There were plenty of fungi.

After a morning of dips and climbs, we were suddenly heading steeply downhill to a creek crossing. The climb up the other side was like nothing I’d ever experienced. There was a narrow track that could only been seen when deliberately searching for it. The scrub had encroached from both sides. Bauera, two metres tall and dense, completely enclosed the way forward and could only be negotiated by force. The track was incredibly steep and very slippery underfoot and the Bauera attempted to thwart any progress at every tiny step. Slip back, fall to the side, lunge forward. The person in front of you might be only two steps away but they could not be seen. I have bush-bashed before but nothing in this league. It was exhausting, but the view from the top drew me forward. Sorry, no photos, I didn’t dare stop to unclip the camera.

Button grass, heath and mist.

Suddenly the Bauera was gone and button grass was in its place. While it grabbed at your boots and tried to trip you, the going was much easier. The danger on the track was now the occasional jack jumper nest. It eventuated that there were four nests between the end of the Bauera and the trig station. The ants looked angry, I didn’t stop to find out as the call “jack jumper nest” was passed down the line to alert the unsuspecting.

The button grass signalled the final climb to the summit. The mist was still rolling across the valley although the cloud had started to thin. Would the promised view be waiting for us?

The summit.

That became a secondary concern after we hit the top of the mountain. Our first actions were to drop the daypacks and check for leeches. I had two. One was just beginning to sup on my knee before its meal was terminated. There was another attempting to traverse my boot.

The literal high point of the day.

De-leeched and re-energised by chocolate (thanks Dave), we explored our surroundings and looked out across the top of the Tarkine. The mist was rolling away, the clouds, although moving very fast, were clearing and there were brief patches of sun. Worth the struggle? I remain unconvinced.

The view as the mist cleared.

The return trip was so much easier that I began to wonder if I had exaggerated the experience on the way there. We moved quickly toward camp, stopping only to de-leech once again. This time I had three of the little critters, inching their way up my boots and gaiters. None made their target. We were back at camp for lunch.

These did not make dinner.

Once again, Dave volunteered to be the water carrier as we made our way down to the creek and up to the Tarkine Falls. I tried some fancy shots of the falls but without a tripod and stable surface it proved nearly impossible.

The falls.

The afternoon was quite restful and we whiled the day away playing cards and chatting. Dave was introduced to Monopoly Deal, the card game version of iconic board game. He lost. Multiple times. A fact Lani was prone to remind him about for the remainder of the trek. Lucky Dave isn’t competitive (LOL. Much). He totally didn’t vow to buy Monopoly Deal when he got home, master the craft and request Lani as the guide for our next adventure so sweet revenge could be extracted (he did). The wind continued to blow from the south which kept the humidity at bay and the sun continued to shine. 

Arty shot of the falls.

Dinner was mushroom and pea risotto. The guides continue to surprise by pulling fresh food from their large backpacks and challenging David’s palate.

A riff on the 'boots and view' shot.

Weather: misty and cloudy before a clear afternoon.

Distance covered: 11.1km.

Total distance: 43.8km

Until tomorrow.