Why I’m Thankful I Didn’t Finish My Multi-Day Hike in Tassie

The Western Arthurs Traverse in Tasmania was Lisa’s bucket list hike. It was meticulously planned, and she was prepared for anything. But reality set in just a few kilometres into the hike when she sprained her knee and ankle on a submerged tree root walking through waist-deep mud, and it became clear this real-life adventure was only just beginning.

 

We Are Explorers acknowledges the Traditional Custodians of the Country on which this adventure takes place, who have occupied and cared for the lands, waters, and their inhabitants for thousands of years. We pay our respects to them and recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.

After a year of anticipation I was on the Western Arthurs Traverse in remote South West Tasmania. I was halfway up a mountain during the second day of the hike, water rushing onto my face on a trail that was more like a creek, pulling myself up using branches and rock holds, snow and sleet stinging my cheeks, hands and feet frozen…and all I could think was: ‘What the hell am I doing here? I have no business being on this mountain.’

I’m 45. I’ve got two kids. I run a PR company. I spent 20 years working in TV news. I’ve sent reporters to cover countless mountain rescues. And I hike a lot. But this was not hiking – this felt like mountaineering, especially in these conditions.

Humbled, cooked, and possibly crying a bit, I hauled myself up the mountain, one frozen step at a time. My knee was as big as a football and my ankle was taped within an inch of its life, after I injured it on the first day.

My ever-patient guide, Mat Young (I did this hike with Climbing Mountains because shock, horror, no one wanted to go with me) headed towards me, as the freezing rain hammered us.

We’d been wet for hours, battered by rain and strong wind from when we packed up camp. Our only reprieve was a hot drink in a cave Mat found.

‘We need to move fast’, he said. ‘This isn’t safe anymore, and we’re both literally freezing.’

I admit, the mountain overwhelmed me that day. And that’s something I’ve never experienced in my years of hiking.

The Lure of Remote Mountains

I’ve cursed mountains (I’m talking to you, Mt Bogong staircase), struggled to breathe on steep ascents, and fallen on my arse plenty of times – but this was different. It felt real.

People like me make the pilgrimage from the mainland to Tasmania, drawn by its remote beauty, unique craggy mountains, and pristine glacial lakes.

Outdoor travel has surged in popularity with hutted trails like the Overland Track and Three Capes booking out months in advance, with a concert-like ballot to secure a spot.

These hikes are beautiful, and while the weather can be unpredictable, the South West is a different beast. It’s remote and volatile, and it’s exactly what Explorers like me seek out for fun.

In 2025, there were at least eight rescues on Tasmanian tracks, including three separate incidents on the Overland Track. Sadly, two people also died – with a female hiker overcome by extreme weather near Cradle Mountain, and a young man found dead at Federation Peak, one of the state’s most extreme mountains.

Unseasonably bad weather and injury played a part in many of these rescues, others were for hikers unprepared for Tasmanian conditions, which can rapidly change from sunshine to snow in minutes.

Read more: When’s the Right Time to Turn Around on an Adventure?

The Western Arthurs Traverse

The Western Arthurs Traverse is an 8-9 day hike, or around 4-5 nights for the shorter A-K route. It’s a Grade 5 hike with short distances (6km) becoming an all-day event due to extremely challenging terrain, with exposure and pack hauling required in parts, volatile weather (it rains for 70% of the year and regularly snows in summer) and lots of mud – more on that later.

It’s difficult in clear weather, punishing in bad.

The Western Arthurs Range experiences the full force of the Roaring Forties, powerful wind gusts that blow up to 100km/h from the west with very little to slow them down before they hit land.

I’ve hiked solo plenty of times, but I wasn’t about to tackle this one alone.

Aside from the navigation skills my guide provided, he had access to changing weather forecasts and was incredibly experienced in the Tasmanian wilderness. We both carried PLBs, first aid, and emergency blankets, and had more than enough food to sustain us if we got stuck.

Read more: Navigating With a Map and Compass

Prepared for… Almost Anything

All my gear was field tested and chosen for the conditions. I deliberately took myself out in diabolical weather on Mt Baw Baw in winter and overnight to the Grampians in torrential rain to test my gear, and my resolve.

Read more: 7 Tips for Rainy Day Hiking

As well as being fit and strong, I thought I was prepared for extreme weather. But the conditions we encountered forced us to turn back after two nights, and spend an extra day bunkered down, copping 100km/h winds, snow, and more rain.

Snow is OK, but extreme wind and exposed ledges don’t mix, and days of relentless rain make climbing down slick rock walls unsafe for almost all hikers.

On day one we had perfect weather, so we doubled up the day going from the trailhead to Lake Cygnus.

We walked about 16.5km, through 8km of deep mud (another cute trademark of the South West), passing through the iconic Port Davey track and boggy buttongrass plains, before we ascended Alpha Moraine, a heart-pumping climb that leads to the start of the range.

It was during that mud bath that I sprained my ankle and knee in a particularly deep mud pit. Turns out I tore my meniscus in two places and bruised my femur, resulting in massive swelling. Every rocky step up Alpha Moraine, my ankle screamed at me, and my knee was so fat, I had to lift my leg with my hands at times. It wasn’t bad enough to turn around, but it slowed us down.

The trek from Lake Cygnus to Lake Oberon is where the fun begins, with climbs up and down slippery quartzite cliffs and exposure to wind strong enough to knock you over (I speak from firsthand experience).

Humbled by the Mountains

But back to that mountain. It was here the weather situation we faced dawned on me. I hate heights, but I found myself descending the quartzite chute to Lake Oberon without thought. At this stage more water torrent than trail (I use that term very loosely. It was a sheet of rock with some well-placed hand holds).

Once Mat determined I wasn’t going to fall to my death, he gladly hot-footed it to camp with promises of setting up our tarp fort and getting water.

As I descended the trail to Lake Oberon – the stunning glacial lake I’d fawned over countless times reading hiking guru John Chapman’s books – I felt excited but overwhelmed.

The weather was forecast for 100km/h winds, which would hit us on the most technically difficult section of the traverse if we pressed on past Oberon. With the ever-worsening weather, and the window we had to complete the hike, it wasn’t going to happen.

Feeling Like a Failure

That day I experienced everything the Western Arthurs is famous for, but that didn’t stop the stinging burn of failure I felt as I realised we had to turn back. For a moment, I forgot to respect the mountains, and was focused on wanting to complete the hike and the feeling that it was partly my fault we couldn’t.

After a rest in our tents, we woke to more snow and rain. The weather was so bad that, while we could get back to Lake Cygnus, we’d need to camp there two nights before we could tackle the exposed descent of Alpha Moraine.

As we headed out, the wind was so strong I felt like I was crawling up to the range, the sheltered campsite of Lake Oberon fading into clouds so dense it was no longer visible.

We traversed down the mountain that’d broken me the day before, when wind had blown me into scoparia bushes, and I literally slid down rocks into thick mud.

Safety First, Always

We’d made the smart and safe decision, confirmed when we arrived at the camp, packed with hikers waiting out the weather, surprised we’d got to Oberon without blowing back to Hobart.

In remote locations like this, if you get hurt or overcome by the conditions, even if you have a PLB, you’re not getting rescued in a hurry. Choppers can’t land in weather that bad. The most likely scenario in weather like this, is pitching a tent where you can, applying first aid, and waiting. Not fun.

Read more: How to Use a PLB

The Roaring Forties

The promised weather hit us like a freight train that night – the wind so strong it knocked a pile of heavy quartz rocks I’d secured a tie line with off the platform. I was outside, barefoot in the snow and rain, at least eight times, retying lines to secure the tent. (A solid 10/10 for the MSR Hubba Hubba 2, which survived unscathed, 2/10 for my knot tying skills).

After another day and night, cabin fever upon us, we headed off.

The previous four days of unrelenting rain transformed the mud pits into swamps so deep they reached my chest in parts, and rocky trails became kilometres of knee-high creeks.

Read more: Remember to Leave No Trace

Junction Creek was well above my chest, and while Mat didn’t offer to piggyback me, he did take my pack.

The Homecoming

We arrived back at dusk, tipping water from our boots and finally removing the beanie I’d worn day and night for five days.

Week-old chips never tasted so good, as we crunched and reflected on the trip during our drive back.

While I didn’t complete the traverse, I can’t say I didn’t have an adventure – an experience that both changed me, and reminded me that to love the mountains, is to respect them, because that’s what will get you home safe.

(Postscript: I will be returning to the Western Arthurs next summer to complete the hike – obviously.)

Tassie Hiking Isn’t for the Fainthearted or Inexperienced

• Our Group Hike on the Overland Track Didn’t Go To Plan at All
• Hiking Safety & Preparation Tips for Tasmania’s Lesser-Known Trails
• The Overland Track is Free in Winter – But There’s a Good Reason Why
• 9 Things You Oughta Know Before Walking Tasmania’s Western Arthurs Range