Trip Report: Tasmania December 2021

An extended self-plagiarisation of the report left in the Tahune Hut Logbook, plus a culmination of some graffiti from Georgia Forster's Diary I scribbled in purely due to promising I would use it to make it worth her taking it to Walls. Anyway, enough with the promotional jargon and onto hard details and serious recounts.

December 9 2021, Camp March was filling up and its occupants were brimming with excitement, even from those with recently broken ankles in denial about their chances of participating in the trip.

Pleasantries were exchanged between the dirtbag army and Eric's family, and Janice (Eric's mum) was treated to Yim's 35 minute rendition of the 'kookookaakaa' bird as if she doesnt hear it every morning.

After marvelling at a few of the more visually captivating meals, in particular Nalana's egg mixture (we still don't know what it was supposed to make), we rolled out of town in a series of cars of varying functionality and Eric bolstered his reputation early on as the craziest driver of the trip.

Roughly 5km into the hike, Nalana became 'the hot lunch' guy, flopping his jetboil out in front of everyone without warning. Not only an early indication of his preparedness and ADFA experience, but a deviation from the staple falafel hommus wrap. A blemish on UQMC tradition. He would have been briefed that boilers are only used for PB rang dinners.

A discussion about favourite lolly snake flavours was instigated to test the waters, see what we would be dealing with. Tassie Tom reckoned yellow flavour was the best, either attention seeking or colourblind. Eleanor supported this claim in a bold entrance to UQMC negotiations. This heated discussion soon simmered back to the gear nerds discussing which brand of gaitors are best for 60cm high grass in 72% humidity or something like that.

We stopped again at the halfway bridge. I got the kit off without anyone's ok and Tom Preen campused the bridge giving himself 'send blisters'.. he clearly dabbed the water midway as well. Rumour has it he logged it as an onsight on thecrag. Shame him at @TomP.

We ran into some friends of Emily on the trail that became of interest to us for their bag scales! The heavy bag-bearing lads positively brimming at the opportunity to flex their bag weight to the rest of the group. Tassie Tom topped the pile with 23kg. He was spotted shortly after offloading the rocks from his pack and depositing them back on the trail.

At vera we had discussed as a group sitting the temperature gauge outside the window so that we would have an excuse to light the coal burner inside.

The following morning after a delightful romp up a forest covered hill, we arrived at the Something Pass! Our first view of the peak itself. Frenchman's Cap! We all immediately understood the name's origin.

After an early arrival at Tahune Luxury Holiday Resort, we made the summit of the Cap in the early arvo where the group gathered for numerous photos, and to check the view as well. A discussion about a recent winter ascent of Mt Ossa from Tom prompted Eleanor to realise that they had seen each other on that trip, proving that there really is only 20 people in Tasmania during winter. Elijah had touched a poisonous mushroom on the hike up to Tahune Hut.. we were all scared enough of him afterwards that no one complained when he played a bower late in a game of 500 that evening. With Jarred being put in the second group of the hike, Tom P assumed Jarred's supremacy in 500, as well as his demeanor, telling his partner to play 'the suit' and counting all the cards.

We took the middle day of the trip to go down to the Irenabyss. The alpine lakes with tannin in them looked like giant teas. We continued down the ridge through ever changing terrain and crazy views over the Franklin Gordon rivers area. Eventually we arrived at the campsite where a rock skimming competition raged and people took the chance for a dip. The order of coldest to warmest dips on the trip was dutifully negotiated. Naturally following this was a recount of who was leading the 'turbo chicken' pond bagging competition for the trip.

The trip back up the hill was strenuous, Michael and Rachel flirting with the difficulties of the hike by organising a water bladder parcel pickup on the way up the hill, a tall order especially considering Rach was still recovering from having a lighter pegged at her head the previous day. Jos, a 50-something yr old dutch fella scorched us all on the hill, striding out ahead with his long dutch legs making us all feel like couch potatoes. This effort earned him a spot in the group photo on the helipad, along with ranger Paul who had been a bit abrupt with us at the first hut, but turned out to be a big softy that could flash teeth for the camera after all.

The journey out the next day was surprisingly quick. All done by 4:30 which gave us time to scream through 'The Derwo'.. nah 'The Derwas'.. nah i guess we'll have to go with 'The Ders'. Nalana got wind of the fact that it was managed by Sri Lankans and declared he was 'psyched for some Lankans to make him a curry'. The crew didn't look too hot as we rolled into the Ders and ordered beverages and chips. Eric ran over a paddymelon on the way home during dusk, which if I am properly aware of conventional vegan ethics, is inconsistent with veganism. The gang flouted Launceston public laws the following day with a rest day bbq in the gorge with plenty of beverages stowed away in an ice filled 60L esky (nah we couldnt locate one, it was a hiking bag). The public showers saw record usage and the playground equipment saw some larger than normal kids climbing the swing sets. The general public was treated to a rambling from a someone who ended up getting cuffed! At least this rendered our bbq relatively insignificant.

The second rest day looked almost identical except the bbq location was changed to Wyett st. Ruth delivered a thank you message to the family on our behalf and some toe socks as gifts - normally an unusual gift but Janice could not contain her excitement. We all ate like kings. Delicious food, but the vegan cheese is still up for debate.

The following morning saw our departure from Launie to the Walls. Eric had apparently since taken some feedback on his driving and appeared to be driving slightly more carefully. After 1 hr the hiking difficulty tapered off considerably and gave way to some beautiful wetland terrain. Hannah, Kylan, Charlie and Michael sought refuge from the remarkably bitey sun under bushes at the otherwise vegetationally deficient first campsite.

After arriving at the sublime* (defined: close to death experience as established at Franklin river) campsite at Dixon's Kingdom, we quickly made some plans to meet up at the top of the western peaks of the walls for sunset. A great romp through some vegetation for Eric, Yim and I took us the long way up, luckily sunset lasted for about 14 hours. Nalana declared he looked like a sherpa with his beanie/skull cap hybrid piece and took the opportunity to lock in the nickname 'Tenzing', cementing his role in supplying other people with food that had fallen victim to possum attacks.. such as the author of this very piece of writing. Emily overstepped big time at the sunset viewing, vocalising interest in 5 minutes of silence for sunset instead of letting it happen organically. The effect was the exact opposite of the intention, resulting in 5 minutes of laughing at the sunset! A moonlit walk along the ridgeline afterwards was a magical experience to behold. Much zombieing the next day was the call with only an ascent of the nearest peak.. except for madman Tom P who decided running 15km around the park was the call.

About half the gang travelled to an alpine pond for a swim and soon realised the bottom was quicksand. A few outrageous dips were had, none more so than Yim who resembled a popped balloon as he tore around the surface of the lake in vague figure 8s. Tawny and sleep by the pond was the call afterwards, Tom W and Jarred looking very comfortable for sleeping on boulders.

An evening game of frisbee delivered a truly athletic moment from Kylan, who opted to jump a shin-bound frisbee and land in a scoparia.

Pack up and get out was the go next morning and a few of us walked around the back of the walls through a path that was hard to follow at points. The authenticity of this adventure was promptly stifled by Nalana's genius watch that could tell us how many micrometers of elevation remained and our carpark ETA to the nearest second. His journey wasn't all comfort though, taking great exception to Hannah's backpack organisation and claiming this is 'not how the backpack engineers want you to carry your water bottle'.

From here on it was a dribbling of broken hikers departing Tasmania, bound for Covidland for christmas, leaving only footprints, and taking only memories (and potentially a couple of kitchen utensils).

Written by Jack Seawright