TASMANIA – DENISON RANGES TO KING WILLIAM RANGES – JANUARY 2006
This trip was a repeat of the same trip that the leader Peter G had done a couple of years previously with Geoff S. It’s a walk that is written up in the John Chapman book on great walks in Tasmania. I didn’t know too much about the walk prior to starting, and in all honesty, even if the trip had been described to me in vivid detail, I probably would still have gone as words could not fully convey what we were about to undertake.
Peter G, Peter C, John L’E and I arrived in Hobart on Friday and checked into the YHA and purchased gas for the trip. We walked into town celebrated the commencement of the walk with dinner and I bought an organic lemon at a fruit and veg shop (at great cost I think it cost me something like $3) to take on the trip because Peter C was going to catch some fish for us and I like to have lemon on my fish when I eat it!
DAY 1 (Sat): We were on the road in a taxi on Saturday morning by 6am. We made a small detour to Mt Field National Park to go see Russell Falls. Eventually the driver off-loaded us on a dirt road at the start of a cut track on the top of the Gordon Ranges. The track led us down the hill to the Gordon River, and, boots off, we waded across about 50m of river. A short distance further on, we arrived at a junction of tracks, our track, Timbs Track (which comes in from the highway out to Lake Pedder) and the Rasselas track. We turned north into the Vale of Rasselas and continued along the valley to Gordonvale for lunch (Gordonvale is the site of an old settlement, the land had been cleared and there’s some old machinery still around, there’s a lovely green grassy spot which is where we had lunch). We then continued up the valley through button grass and a bit of mud, occasionally knee deep – well lots of button grass and lots of mud. We had had enough by 5pm and found a very small camp site amongst trees/button grass and beside a small creek. It was very squishy, not much room at all but we managed to get the four tents in the space available.
Gordonvale for lunch
Walking into Lake Rhona
DAY 2 (Sun): We broke camp at 8am and continued walking up the valley and into the Denison Range, arriving at Lake Rhona around 11.30am where we set up camp amongst the sand dunes a little way back from the lake. Lake Rhona is lovely, crystal clear (although the water is stained brown with tannin), and it’s very inviting, you could just dive into it, but it’s also incredibly cold. We laid around for the rest of the day in the shade of some trees and drank cups of tea etc. On the previous trip that Peter was on, Geoff and his party climbed the mountains that surround Lake Rhona and circumnavigated the lake on the ridge line, it looked like it would be a nice walk, but we were all feeling particularly lazy.
Our campsite amongst the button grass
DAY 3 (Mon): We set off in fine weather, a steep off-track climb up onto the Denison Range immediately above and to the right of Lake Rhona where a faint footpad ran along the range. Stunning scenery, mountains in every direction. We stopped briefly at the back of one of the mountains, when we were about to start downhill and our leader then said,” this is the point of no return” I wondered why he was being so melodramatic, and then he veered off the track (it sure looked like a foodpad to me) and straight into the scrub, for some of us, this was the first indication of what was to come and should have raised a flag or two. There was some discontent, we thought that it might have been wiser to stick with the footpad, but, our leader was adamant, through the scrub we went for the rest of the day. Apparently Peter G is the sort of person who sets a bearing and walks that bearing regardless of what’s in the way – like impenetrable scrub! We spent the rest of the day in scrub well over our head and that damned fagus, it just doesn’t move (sort of like hakea). At around 4.30pm we decided to make camp eventually settling on some semi-dry ground amongst lots of button grass where we pitched our tents, again, it was difficult to find a spot for a tent in the button grass, but hey, it had been a hard day through the Tassi scrub we would have pitched our tents anywhere. Little did we know that the scrub we’d had on this day was nothing compared with what was ahead.
DAY 4 (Tue): Low cloud and intermittent drizzle. We set off into mostly open country with occasional bands of scrub, most of which could have been avoided, but we bashed through it. Slight disagreement between our fearless leader and the eldest (and most experienced) member of the party, ended up with both walking off in a huff, very uncomfortable. We eventually we reached the banks of the Gell River where we camped in bright sunshine.
DAY 5 (Wed): Bright sunshine, we climbed the hill next to a saddle from which we could look down on Lake Curley (the source of the Gell River). We crossed to Perambulator Ridge, very hot, it’s now 28 – 30 degrees – took plenty of stops to re-hydrate. We walked along Perambulator Ridge and then dropped down into the Gell River again. We rock hopped and waded our way on the river for an hour or two and found a bend where we could camp, not great some on the bank, some on a ledge, I was on the ledge, it was so narrow that when I exited from my door, I dropped down to the bank of the river. There was button grass galore, I don’t know what we would have done if we had more than our 4 tents, if we had, say, 6 people on the trip! Peter went fishing and caught 2 little fish but released them – what was I carrying a lemon for?
Fabulous views once up on the range
The Gell River – imagine walking all day in this!
DAY 6 (Thur): Continued down the Gell River, footing was treacherous, rocky, bouldery and very slippery, we were walking in our boots, not as easy as it would have been in Volleys. From time to time we took to the bank in amongst the button grass but you had to walk around every clump, it wasn’t worth it in the long run. It took 9 hours to cover 7k of the river, we found a less than average spot to camp, 2 of us on the bank, 2 down on a sandbank on the river level. Another altercation between fearless leader and other male member of the group, not as bad as the first one, but still unnecessary, when you’re out in the wilderness, it would be a smart thing to keep your cool.
DAY 7 (Fri): Back in the Gell again where we continued until around lunch time, at this time we exited the river and climbed steeply through dense wet scrub. There was a bit of a track that went up hill, apparently to a disused strip mine site (with airstrip), here we picked up the start of an overgrown track which was to lead us to another equally disused airstrip some 7k away. Following this overgrown track, we had a few hundred metres of button grass and then hit the scrub which varied from medium to dense to impenetrable. Fortunately someone (what were they doing there), had taped the track somewhat with pink tape, occasionally fallen branches or downed trees had obliterated this but when we did pick up the markers we made a little progress. It was slow going and the scrub was horrendous. We would picked up the markers from time to time and then lose them again, this went on for hours and hours, sometimes the scrub was so bad you just had to throw yourself at it to flatten it, horrible. After 8 hours of this, we arrived at the waterhole and the disused airstrip. During the evening we agreed that a rest day was warranted.
Peter and me, still smiling, but only just, we’d had enough!
Our campsite near the airstrip, at sunset – the scene of the abandonment
DAY 8 (Sat): Temperatures during the day soared to 32 degrees and there was no shade so the only place to be was in our tents, the flies caught between the mesh and the fly were dropping dead from the heat. It was at this point that the fearless leader announced that he would be walking out in the morning, with the intention of being at Derwent Bridge on Tuesday. After the last 7 days and based on the terrain and scrub, I didn’t think that it was feasible or smart to try to walk out in two days so I spoke with John and Peter and we agreed that it was an unrealistic goal, and we agreed that we’d continue with the timeframe originally agreed upon. We didn’t have any maps though and the he leader (who supposedly knew where he was going) wouldn’t give us the maps he had, but he allowed us to take note of some important grid references which we put in a GPS. We had a Sat Phone and PLB, and I figured that if Peter and John (mostly John) couldn’t navigate us out of the wilderness, we’d just call 1-800 Helicopter Come and Get Us … I had $10,000 in the bank and was willing to use every cent to get us out if the shit hit the fan!
DAY 9 (Sun): The fearless leader left camp at 7am and headed on his proposed route to King William III, we took our route which was slightly different. It was an incredibly hot day, 36 degrees, humid with no breeze. We were in dense scrub followed by thick dense forest, there was little to admire in the way of scenery. We continued on our bearing to the spur that we’d climb to the top of King William III. We took quite a few breaks for rests and a drink, at one memorable moment, John and Peter (both standing on top of button grass) told me not to move, to stay absolutely still. Apparently there was a tiger snake on the ground in amongst the button grass, they knew how deathly afraid of snakes I was, but I was very brave, I couldn’t see it so stayed still. It, thankfully, went on its way. We entered the forest and the spur and started climbing just after lunch. At 7pm we called it a day, we were not any where near the top and wouldn’t get to the top before dark. So, we just camped on the side of the mountain in amongst pandanus and, we discovered in the morning, in the middle of a little gully, right where the rain would wash down if it rained! It wasn’t easy finding a flat spot but we managed, we pretty much camped on top of each other.
Our campsite on the side of King William III, how did we manage to get 3 tents up?
DAY 10 (Mon): Woke to a heavy mist and started off at 7am, ploughing through dense forest and then dense scrub, all the while climbing steeply, at one point I was on my hands and knees crawling through fagus (like hakea), wasn’t easy. We reached our target, spot on, at the top of King William III at 11.00am. We had lunch and a rest and after a while the mist cleared and we could see the views – magnificent! We scrambled on and camped near a creek at 1.30pm in bright sunlight, albeit a little windy. We were all dozing in our tents when our fearless leader walked into our camp at 5.30pm! Not sure which way he’d come up, he asked what way we’d come and I said “obviously the right way”, wasn’t very gracious I have to say, after all he’d abandoned us! He camped in the same spot that we did but it wasn’t a very sociable evening, we were all cranky with him. During the night the winds increased and it started to rain heavily. John estimated that the winds were 90 – 100kph, and my MSR Hubba was not faring well, it was almost flattened a few times and I spent a lot of time with my legs up in the air trying to brace the tent. By 10pm I figured it wasn’t going to pass over so I called out to John and asked him if he had room in his 1.5 man tent, he said yes and I proceeded to take the Hubba down (it’s profile is just too high for strong winds). Have you ever tried to pack up a tent in gale-force winds, it’s not easy, but necessity is the mother of invention and I managed to get it all put away and wasn’t too wet when I crawled into John’s tent – isn’t as scary when someone is close by!
Our campsite was ok whilst it was sunny, but horrible once the wind came up, like a washing machine
DAY 11 (Tues): We broke camp in the mist, and started walking, the mist made navigation very difficult and at one point there was a serious drop off, the fearless leader wasn’t helping much but we did ask him if we could see the map and he agreed (reluctantly), for some reason he continued walking with us (what happened to his intention to make the Derwent River Bridge in two days?). The mist didn’t clear until 11.30 and once it cleared, the visibility was a little better, but then deteriorated gradually over the next few days, this we found out was due to bushfires on the West Coast and the Victorian fires. We stopped for the night at a great camp site next to a small lake, sheltered by fagus. Our fearless leader didn’t camp with us but continued on, we didn’t see him again for the rest of the trip.
Peter & me, what were we finding so funny up there in the wilderness? – I know, only another 2 days and we were out of the wilderness!
DAY 12 (Wed): Another difficult day, starting at 7.30 and finishing at 5.30. We descended a 300m slope in thick scrub and dense forest to be confronted by an even steeper 300m climb through forest and scrub, followed by a 2k scramble through more thick scrub. We all agreed that the walk didn’t have a lot of redeeming qualities, and there was a lot of muttering about the fearless leader, mostly by Peter who considered the fearless leader a “friend”. In fact both Peter and I had walked with him for over five years, and in fact he was the main reason I was a bushwalker, he just wasn’t the same person that we’d walked with previously, go figure. By the end of the day we were on King William II and had just 3k to go to reach our finish, which was the fire tower on the top of King William I. We made camp and finally with the end in sight, relaxed a little.
Our group of 3, seeking what little shade there was – John set up his camera’s timer
Day 13 (Thurs): Another early start and we were sidling through scrub and across scree slopes to the fire tower. Walking up the slope through boulders to the fire tower (a sort of round ball chained to the top of the mountain). We looked in, no ranger, and went then down the other side on the track, at this point we ran into the ranger and we asked him if he had come across anyone else walking out. He did say that a man had walked out yesterday and we were all relieved to know that the fearless leader wasn’t still blundering his way through the bush. We were absolutely ecstatic to be on the track and finally on the fire trail at the bottom of King William I. But the agony still wasn’t over. The heat was incredible and we were faced with a hot blustery wind, very little shade and heat reflecting off the bitumen. We tried our luck with passing vehicles but had no luck until after an hour of walking (and having tar stick to the bottom of our shoes) a small bus stopped. The young lady driver had been bitten by a bee and she was worried that she would have an allergic reaction and being the only person on the bus, welcomed having some people to keep her company (and watch her for negative bee effects). She was so kind, she took us all the way into the centre of Hobart, how good was that.
I had told the guys when we were on the track that I wasn’t staying at a YHA when we got to Hobart and that if they got me out of the wilderness I’d treat them to a 3 star hotel until we left for Sydney, after what we’d been through we deserved a break, so we got a room and all showered and changed. By 5pm we were in the pub across the road with a bottle of absolutely FANTASTIC Tasmanian wine and had ordered our meals. The bloody lemon that I had carried for all 13 days (now christened Wilson – you’d have to see the movie Castaway to understand the reference), was quartered for our fish dinners.
We had walked approximately 100 to 120k over the 13 days, but that’s immaterial as it was not a realistic measure, we were travelling for 8 to 12 hours most days and at times reduced to covering less than 500m in 2 hours. The average age of our group was 59 years, an amazing feat given that fact! I definitely would never do it again, but, having done it, I’m very proud of the effort, there are not too many other bushwalkers that I know of (other than Geoff S/Marion & Co), who would do this walk! It obviously hasn’t scarred me and, I am sure I will look back on it fondly in the future and say “Wow, that was something else”.