Calm Before the Mud – Frames from the Eastern Arthurs

We Are Explorers acknowledges that the Arthur Range is located on the traditional Country of South-West Nation Palawa people, who named it, Loinnekumme. We pay our respects to them as the Traditional Custodians and recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.

Sweet buttongrass fields, lush Myrtle forest, boardwalk, loamy winding trail, what a delight!

But not for long… soon we were welcomed into the Wild Wild West in the most iconically Tasmanian way, with bogs galore, icy creek crossings, and paths that had become small rivers.

Avoiding a bog is not recommended, as it widens the trail and causes harm to the surrounding vegetation. Honestly trudging through a bog is perhaps one of the most freeing things you can do. 

Once you’re thigh deep in mud, you can’t get any muddier unless you fall in! So it becomes a fun game of, how deep is this one?… and um… who wants to go first? 

Plus, it makes for plenty of childlike giggles and funny pictures. 

Just make sure your gear is up for the challenge…

Time To Ascend – From Mud to Mountains

With back to back 40mm downpours predicted in two days’ time it was important that we moved swiftly and safely if we were to get off the range in time. Luckily we’d re-waterproofed our jackets, but Jamie’s shoe needed some love having just had its sole fall off after a repair in Nepal last year.

We took the short cut track up to Moraine K, although after getting lost (ish) along the way, we found ourselves off track for a good portion of it. A deep creek crossing and some solid bush bashing later and we were through, a great warm up for what was coming next. 

Promontory Lake was our stop for the night, We’d all earnt a cold swim and a sit down.

12 Hour Days and Trench Foot

The track along to West Portal and down to Pass Creek is less trafficked than its neighbours, and it showed. 

As someone who loves pushing through scrub and fighting off spider webs from their eyeballs, it was a delight. For others, it could be relenting. It was thick, slow moving, but gosh darn was it fun. 

Spending hours pushing through sharp scrub and Pandanis really gives you time to think about your choices. How fun is it going to be to put on wet toe socks the next day and should we have really brought a set of fairy lights?

Rain, Repairs and Ramen

After a long afternoon of off track slog, slip, and stumble off the ridge from Lake Rosanne, fuelled by Jamie’s silly stories and not much else, it was time to bunker down, the rain was here.

40mm of rain in the Arthur Range can mean anything… snow, hail, rain coming from above, rain coming from the west, getting drenched while you sit on the open air drop dunny (nature’s bidet?).

And that’s what we got. But we were ready. 

Bunked in our sturdy Mont Dragonfly, were Jamie and I. Marcello and Matt were one tent pad over. I didn’t realise how lovely two days in a tent could be, with nothing else to do but read, talk about life, snooze and, of course, glue Jamie’s shoe back together. One thing I continually learn is to always carry Aqua-Seal in your first aid kit. 

Having two days out of the elements was critical for the glue’s drying time, as the shoes wouldn’t stand a chance out there. We even tried drying out the sole foam with our pocket stove, which maybe helped more mentally than physically. A whole tube of Aqua-Seal, a hefty wrap with sports tape and a couple of hopes and dreams later, it could only go right… right? 

Tent time also meant all of us piling into the roomy Dragonfly for dinner parties, strategy meetings, and debriefs. I guess it was worth bringing the fairy lights, thanks Jamie. 

The first night we even got a small break in the rain, which meant a hot Ramen dinner outside of our tents, what a treat! 

Snow Way!

The Arthurs ain’t no stranger to heavy rain, wind, and unpredictable conditions, so we were pretty stoked when the weather prediction was actually correct and it eased up. 

Back into the mountains we went. 

The ridgeline was windy, wet, and exposed. We climbed Pandani ladders, descended rock scrambles that had turned to waterfalls, walked in creeks and even saw snow. walking in creeks and SNOW! 

The next few days were mostly this, we spent a good portion in the clouds, but here and there we’d get a little window, where the range would reveal its beauty.

Wet Scrambles, Quoll Spotting and the Best Poo With a View (Ever)

We were in scramble territory now, but that was why we were there. For the adventure, for the ‘Shit we’re going down there?!’ moment, for the sideways, bellowing wind, the mud, and the mountains. 

We stayed at Goon Moor and I’ll tell you what, I’ve seen some pretty good toilet views… but Goon Moor loo was an 11/10.

It was also our first night hearing quolls. I’d hung my food, as I did most nights, and was woken at about 2am by the patter of little quoll feet, followed by a loud thudding noise when they failed to grab onto the food bag. After it happened a few times I couldn’t resist, so I slowly zipped open the tent… and poof, they scampered off. Dang it! The Quoll search continues. 

From Goon Moor we followed the trail across beautiful saddles with views that make you wonder if maybe you’ve wandered into a dream, and of course – more rock scrambles.

A short rope came in handy to lower packs on some of the more slippery, sketchy sections.

To Fed Peak or Not to Fed Peak?

On our minds for the whole trek was the possibility of summiting Federation Peak, the tallest peak in the range, and one of the most striking. The days leading up were wet and windy, so we decided to get to the base before making our decision. 

Leaving Hanging Lake towards Fed Peak, as predicted, was no easy feat. With one of our team members feeling insecure on their feet, it was a slow and intentional morning. Pack shuttling, comforting words, and exposure were common themes. 

With all the rain, the trail was even more slippery than usual, and we quickly decided that today was not the day.

It was the right choice. 

Anyway, we had Geeves Gully waiting for us around the corner. 

We’d been warned about Geeves many times in the lead up to our departure. Sentences like; ‘are you sure you know what you’re getting into’ and ‘It’s where people fall’, always seemed to accompany this section. 

And for good reason. 

I definitely pooped my pants a little. It was wet, it was slippery, the start was proper steep, and with words of warning circling around my little skull (I have a notoriously small head) I was definitely in overthinking mode. Matt shuttled up some packs, followed by Marcello and Jamie. That left me sitting, looking at the intense drop off for half an hour, trying to envision myself not dying. 

After a few curse words and some pack passing team work, we got to the top.

Phew.

The Nalgene Graveyard

Heading down off the range was beautiful. 

Lots of soggy, lush scrambles, mostly down loamy soil steps held together by root systems, tree trunks, and strong branches. 

One in particular merely had a wooden plank to walk across, then a forked tree to climb down. It had us wondering ;who the heck carried that in?!’.

Below was a Nalgene graveyard. Where all the drink bottles that weren’t locked in, got swallowed up by the deep, dark depths of the forest. And of course, my drink bottle wasn’t secure enough and swiftly fell into the abyss. 

But it was my favourite drink bottle, so you better believe we spent over half an hour trying to get to it. Turns out you could get to it from further down the track. A few branches to the face and foot slips later it was back in my hands, along with a two litre bottle who had met the same fate. Probably a while ago too, the inside was a flourishing ecosystem.

Don’t forget to look behind you!

It’s marvellous where our legs can take us, and there’s perhaps nothing more rad than looking back into the mountain range you were just so deeply immersed in and thinking ‘Damn…. I did that.’ 

But it wasn’t over yet.

The lowlands meant more bogs, more creeks, and Myrtle forests filled with glowing orange fungi – but it was by far faster moving. 

We got a pace on. 

Until we hit the forests. 

Due to fire and wind, the trees had really taken a beating, track finding was hard. Over, under, this way? No, this way! It was fun, but it was exhausting. 

And, as I’m sure you know, nothing speeds up time more than four people bellowing out Jolene by Dolly Parton and 500 Miles by the Proclaimers, so that’s what we did…. for the next three days. 

Homeward

For me, the last day on the trail was emotional. 

I was feeling grateful for legs that can carry me, a body that can climb mountains, and for the deep beauty of the forest.

Not everyone has access to this, for a multitude of different reasons, and it had me wishing that I could wave a magic wand and show everyone how incredible this place is. The trail was muddy and beautiful until the end, with logs to climb over, and wrangled branches to duck under. It kept us on our toes.

The Arthurs is something else. Brutal, magical, unpredictable, mesmerising, and character building.

I’ll be back.