This is the story of an Overland Track trip that went terribly wrong, continued to go wrong, and became one of the most memorable trips Explorer Frazer ever had.

February couldn’t come fast enough.

We’d bought our tickets for the Overland Track in May 2024. It didn’t seem real. When December rolled around, I realised with a start that I needed a week’s worth of dehydrated food, wet weather gear, a tent, sleeping bag, hiking boots, a trowel, portable stove – the list went on. On February 5th, 2025, we‘d be on the trail of one of the most popular multi-day hikes in the world.

Read more: The Overland Track: A Guide to Hiking Hut-to-Hut on Tasmania’s Most Famous Hike

So, in a last-minute scramble, I somehow got everything in order and boarded a plane to Launceston. After a 1.5-hour flight, an hour wait for a taxi at the airport, an overnight Airbnb stay, and a two-hour bus ride to Cradle Mountain, our epic adventure was finally about to begin.

We stepped off the bus, swung on our packs, and lathered up in sunscreen. The noise of the city far behind us, replaced by the quiet of true wilderness. Nine months of waiting, preparation, and anticipation had led to this. It took all our willpower not to run to the check-in point.

Inside the visitor centre, one of my friends who’d run ahead looked pale.

‘I think there’s a fire.’

Read more: How To Explore Safely In Bushfire Season

We were ushered into what felt like a holding cell, where we were told that dry lightning strikes had started fires across Tassie’s West Coast.

One such fire was steadily growing out of control and was getting dangerously close to the Overland. So, the track had been closed. No one would be allowed to leave today, or likely at all.

It was a gut-punch with nine months of force behind it. There hadn’t been wildfires like this in five years. We hugged each other and mourned the loss of our adventure. As much as we wanted to blame the fires on some cosmic force of trickery delighting in our misfortune, the truth was much simpler. The land didn’t want us there, and we had to respect that.

After we’d dried our eyes, the planners among us got to work. We were in Tasmania with seven days’ worth of supplies and time. We’d figure something out.

This is the story of how things went wrong – and continued to go wrong – on a holiday I’ll never forget. A journey filled with strange encounters, stunning landscapes, bug bites, car troubles, and resilience.

 

We still managed to keep our smiles

Change of Plans

It was already past midday and none of us felt like another two hours on a bus, so we decided to spend the night in the national park and booked a public campsite with hot water and electricity.

The pristine amenities felt like a letdown. I was ready for total wilderness, not showers and electric kettles.

After we set up camp, we had a few hours of daylight to spend so we decided to explore what we could of the national park before we left the next day. We set off on a half-day hike through Dove Canyon.

The moss-covered trees and brightly coloured fungi gradually softened my disappointment. It would be a waste not to appreciate where we were.

Halfway along the trail, we passed a woman wearing a flowing black dress, a wide-brimmed hat, and silk gloves – a ghostly, elegant figure walking alone.

She nodded and passed us without a word.

We exchanged a few inquisitive looks and nervous chuckles, all of us thinking the same thing: had we just encountered the witch of the woods?

That evening, I seriously considered setting off on the Overland alone, despite the enormous danger. I wanted the adventure so badly – fires be damned. But it was too cold to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag, and by morning, the feeling had (mostly) passed.

Farewell, Overland

We woke, bleary-eyed after a poor night’s sleep, thanks to our neighbours playing music until 2am. One of us had developed a flu overnight and would be out of action for most of the trip. That supposed cosmic force of trickery was becoming more convincing. At least, we relented, we weren’t committed to a six-day hike.

With time to kill before our bus back to Launceston, we went to summit Marions Lookout in a safe section of the park, leaving our sick friend behind to rest.

 

The Overland Track: A Guide to Tasmania’s Famously Beautiful Mountain Hike, Bree Furlong, Marions lookout, view of dover lake, alpine lake surrounded by jagged mountains

A beautiful example of the views we did NOT see | Photo by Bree Furlong

It’s hard to describe the feeling of being in a place that feels truly wild. There’s something profoundly hopeful about wilderness that has been given the respect it deserves; a final bastion against our world of spreading concrete and wires.

Having your breath taken away by a not-so-distant mountain peak or a wombat ambling across pristine button grass moorlands is a reminder that we are indeed still citizens of the Animal Kingdom, no matter how much we may insist otherwise.

On the way up Marions Lookout, we met a group of Overland hikers who had set out on the trail a couple of days ago and been turned back by the fires. They’d made it a short distance in and remarked on how beautiful it was.

‘Next time’, they said with the usual optimism of folks who spend a lot of time outdoors.

Hello, Three Capes

Even that small taste of wild beauty rekindled some hope in us. As we waited for the bus, I pitched a new plan: the Three Capes Track. It was expensive, but a workaround existed.

Emma Abberton’s article, The Budget-Friendly Way to Hike the Three Capes Track Tasmania, laid out a simple method: You camp at Fortescue Bay, hike to Bare Knoll campsite to set up a base, and then explore two of the three capes over a few days. Thanks, Emma.

We boarded the bus with the other Overland hopefuls. ‘See you next year’, we said as we parted ways at Launceston Airport. I’m certain we will.

After some quick paperwork, we had two hire cars and a few hundred kilometres of road ahead of us. We opted not to drive straight to Fortescue Bay – it was late, and one of us was still sick. Instead, we headed to Tooms Lake to spend the night.

 

Had the lake all to ourselves

A Brief Trip to Tooms Lake

Tooms Lake was described online as a busy summer fishing spot. The drive there took us through sleepy rural towns and golden paddocks filled with sheep.

As we rounded a bend in the road, a Wedge-tailed eagle took flight from a roadkill snack, soaring above us and landing in a tree. A good omen, perhaps?

We arrived to find the campground eerily quiet – there was no one but a single caravan playing tinny music through a radio.

Joking about serial killers, I decided to introduce myself to our neighbours, just to be sure. I crept around their campsite and waved when I saw movement inside. An older man appeared at the door.

‘What’s up, cob?’

‘Hi, I’m Frazer. We’re just staying in the site across from –’

‘Righto.’ Slam.

Well, if he was a serial killer, he wasn’t interested in us. We made dinner, slept under the stars, and completely forgot to check that the car lights were off.

The next morning: click. Click, click. Dead battery. No jumper leads. No reception. No roadside assistance. I decided to take a walk whilst the others paced in frustration, considering whether it was time to book a plane ticket home.

I followed a dirt road to a strange off-grid township. Sheds and caravans with hand-painted signs marking them as bars and cafes. It felt deserted but I had the odd sensation I was being watched.

Eventually, I found a shack with a beat-up 4WD out front. A man named Steve answered the door. His dog, Jim, greeted me.

After some explanation, Steve nodded. ‘Just trying to remember where I put them’, he said.

Ten minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of an ancient ute with Jim on my lap. Steve jump-started our car.

‘I was worried you were a cop’, he said as we shook hands and said goodbye. ‘They don’t usually come out this way.’

A New Adventure

We made our way south, stopping at a small general store that sold us six chips in a box labelled ‘Large’.

Fortescue Bay Campground is stunning. Right on a white sand beach, blue water, rainforest covered cliffs. This time, I appreciated the clean toilets.

 

the Free Capes – A Self-sufficient Guide to Camping The Three Capes Track, Emma Abberton,

It can only get better from here, right?! | Photo by @emmaregan

 

We said goodbye to our sick friend, who’d miraculously found a spot to recover on Bruny Island and drove away with one of the cars.

Just as we began setting up camp, six families arrived and turned the quiet into chaos with gas stoves, eskies, and at least 20 kids.

But even then, even with every plan bent and broken, Tasmania was still showing us something rare: a holiday that went totally wrong and somehow still felt absolutely right.

And we hadn’t even reached the Capes yet.

 

Eventually got there!

In the End

Whilst the Overland Track certainly would’ve had its own incredible story, the responses I get when telling this story are far more varied.

It’s hard to part with something you’ve planned for so long and been so excited about, yes, but there’s opportunity in the uncertainty. And usually a pretty good story, too.

 

More Tassie Adventures to Do When You Can’t Do the Overland

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