About an hours walk from the Lyell Hwy,
the Frenchmans Cap track crests the south shoulder of Mount Mullens
and across the button grass plains and the Lodden River, the
castellated towers of Sharlands and Philps Peaks rise to either side
of precipitous Barron Pass. All the land to the south and most to
the west, is wilderness. Every craggy peak and deep bush filled
valley, every winding river, every dark hued lake and tiny alpine
tarn. All the small storm tossed islands, sheltered bays, windswept
beaches, all the wild land and water. Standing on the edge of this
magnificent wilderness something takes your breath away and leaves
you struck in awe at the beauty of the untamed landscape.
Barrons Pass tucked snugly between Sharlands and Philps Peaks
I have wanted to walk up Frenchmans Cap
since my first days bushwalking in Tasmania when I first heard
whispers of the arduous (much harder then than now) journey through
thick bush, deep mud, and over high passes to the stunning white
quartzite dome that is a prominent feature of the southwest corner of
Tasmania. Back in those days we wore wool pants and shirts, dressed
in heavy oil skins, and the track to Frenchmans Cap was rough, ready,
and infamous for the six kilometres across the floodplains of the
Lodden River, humorously referred to as the "sodden Loddons"
where mud was only knee deep, if you were lucky. Now, the track is
walked by 800 people a year, there are two huts, three campsites, two
toilets, wooden ladders, bridges and duck-boarding and the rigours of
the track are a shadow of what they were thirty years ago. But,
while the track has been tamed, the wilderness has not and this is
still a wonderful wild walk into the heart of the Franklin-Gordon
Wild Rivers National Park.
Lakes of Livingstone Rivulet
There are all sorts of different
schedules for walking Frenchmans Cap. Most people probably take
three days, although many seem to have a relaxed five day schedule
and I believe ultra-runners have done the entire trip in a day. We
decided to have two nights at Lake Vera rather than lugging our
overnight packs all the way up to Lake Tahune simply to hump them
back down again. As old, retired alpine climbers our motto "don't
carry your big pack higher than you need to" originally
conceived in Canada remains every bit as appropriate in Australia.
It is a very pleasant and remarkably
easy walk into Lake Vera, a far cry from the old sodden Loddon days.
Starting out in rain-forest, the track descends to cross the Franklin
River on a suspension bridge, climbs out of the river valley and
travels south and west across scattered button grass plains to climb
just over 150 metres to the shoulder of Mount Mullens where a first
view of Frenchmans Cap, Barron Pass, Sharlands and Philps Peak offers
a tantalising view of the next days walk.
First views into the high country
Descending through more green tinged
rain-forest, a second suspension bridge over the Loddon River (small
campsite on the north side) leads out to the Loddon Plains. The
track has been rerouted from Philps Lead and is now alternately
raised track and board-walk across all the minor creeks, melaleuca
and button grass of the Loddon Valley. A gradual climb leads up
through more rain-forest to open plains and the final descent to Lake
Vera. The Lake Vera hut stands back from the eastern shores of Lake
Vera and there are several good campsites further along the track on
the north side of Lake Vera. We swam in the refreshingly cool dark
waters of Lake Vera (walk along the lakeshore about 5 minutes past
the reed beds and campsites to find a good spot between trees where
you can swim into the centre of the lake) before settling in for an
afternoons' relaxation. It's about a four hour walk into Lake Vera
from the Lyell Hwy.
Doug near Artichoke Valley
We were away shortly before 8 am the
next morning after having spent the night in the unusually empty (we
were the only occupants) Lake Vera Hut. It is about a 14 km/1200
metre (elevation gain) return trip (rough estimates) to Frenchmans
Cap, and, in our usual Canadian alpine style we kept up a steady pace
all day (a round trip of about 8 hours for us including stops). The
first kilometre around the shore of Lake Vera has many minor ups and
downs, over tree roots, around boulders, up and down steps cleverly
carved into leaning logs. At the southwestern end of Lake Vera the
track follows the inlet stream and begins climbing steadily past
small cliff bands, dark treacly creeks, caves, bluffs and boulders
until, about 1.5 hours from Lake Vera, you suddenly stand atop Barron
Pass and look out over the Livingstone Valley with Livingstone
Rivulet creating several small lakes surrounded by dense forest. The
crags of Clytemnestra face you across the valley, Frenchmans Cap
floats in the clouds, and the towers of Philps and Sharlands Peak
provide a spectacular background.
Doug on the final climb to Frenchmans Cap
For the next two kilometres the track
tackles an improbable route under the west face of Sharlands Peak
traversing between 900 and 950 metres (ASL) across to Artichoke
Valley to reach a small pass south of Pine Knob. This is all scenic
walking and it is hard to keep an eye on your feet when you are
goggling at the views in all directions. The track enters some
denser bush and then descends steeply on ladders and steps down to
Lake Tahune and the smaller hut. Lake Tahune lies in a deep cirque
under the east face of Frenchmans Cap and can only really be seen
from above.
A steep climb up a rain-forested gully
on the west side of Lake Tahune leads to the cleverly routed track
which winds up slabs, and small rock bands to emerge on the big broad
summit plateau where, all around you, is this magnificent wilderness
country. We stayed a half hour on the summit, dressed in our warmest
clothes (a similar experience to Canadian summits) before scurrying
back down to Lake Vera hut.
Doug on the expansive summit of Frenchmans Cap
Here we met Terry, the ranger, who,
while friendly enough, has perhaps been banished to this far flung
outpost as he seemed to regard the Tasmanian wilderness as a place to
be kept sacrosanct from walkers and climbers, the less visited the
better. Doug and I have seen more walkers in Tasmania in two weeks
than we have in two years in the rest of Australia and have been
gratified by the number of ordinary people actually getting some
exercise that does not consist solely of bending the elbow joint. In
truth, it would not be hard to imagine Terry as some kind of walkers
version of the climbing bolt chopper, heading out under cover of
darkness to pull-up duck-boarding to restore the track to its
original state.
Back at Lake Vera hut, a large group
was in residence, six Sydneysider's, a garrulous American, and a
quieter German. We spent the evening out on the heli-pad where a
weak sun shone through the drifting clouds, enjoying the quiet of the
evening away from the jostle of the hut.
Looking down on Lake Tahune
The predicted rain began overnight,
but, around 6.30 am, it tapered to a slight drizzle and gave us the
opportunity to quickly pack our gear away and scuttle into the hut
for breakfast. I thought walking out would take us a little longer
than the way in with slippery ground to negotiate, but we were right
on about four hours, and, as we walked up the last hill from the
Franklin River crossing, a few patches of blue drifted across the sky
behind us. The parking lot and track were busy with the next batch
of hikers walking out into the wild, all looking forward to their own
adventures in the expansive and alluring Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers
National Park.
Go somewhere wild.
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