Waiting On The Weather: Windy Days In Tasmania

Our first couple of weeks in Tasmania were marked by incredible weather - light to moderate winds and only occasional rainy days. We were out doing as many trips as possible, and then, the inevitable happened and the weather became, what I imagine, is much more "normal" for Tasmania. In other words, rainy days became frequent, not just one here and there but many days of continuous rain strung together, and the wind rose to (literally) a fever pitch. Although we had plans to climb many more mountains, staggering up mountains in rain, fog and wind seemed silly, futile, potentially hazardous, so we left the west (wet?) coast area and drove the windy roads to the north coast of the country with plans of great sea kayak trips along this beautiful coast. So far, the kayaks have been most useful as rain water collection devices. 

The last few days, we have had gale force (really, the winds at Cape Grim today reached 50 knots) so the kayaks have continued to sit on the roof of the car gathering rain. We don't do "waiting for weather" well, although we should as we have had over 30 years practice. Somehow, waiting for weather just does not get any easier. I still feel as if my life, still precious (maybe more precious) after 50 years is slipping away if I am not kayaking, climbing or walking. The enthusiasm of youth seems to have been scarcely mollified by age. I still feel, as Dylan Thomas wrote, that we should "rage, rage against the dying of the light." 

Stormy morning at The Nut, Stanley

The Coast To The Hills: Sisters Hills and the Coastal Route in Rocky Cape National Park

Rocky Cape National Park is a small coastal park halfway between Stanley and Wynyard with bare rolling hills, rocky islets, sheltered coves, and prominent peninsulas. One main inland track runs along Sisters Hills, and a series of other shorter tracks lead out to various beaches, bays and coves. You can combine the inland track with a coastal route and do a loop walk covering virtually the length of the park from Sisters Beach to Rocky Cape and back in a reasonable length day. 

 Doug on the coastal route

We started from the west end of Sisters Beach (at the boat ramp) and ambled along a pebbly beach to a track sign where you leave the beach to climb over a headland. The track climbs up about 50 metres through banksia trees to "wet cave" a deep cave with a big pool of water in it - the name seems appropriate.

Continuing on, there is a side trip to Leearcher Cave and we took this track down to the rather unimpressive slot in the cliffs. Instead of hiking back up to the track, we scrambled around the vertically tilted quartzite rocks along the shore to reach the next bay north (Anniversary Bay) where the main track also reaches the beach. 

 Anniversary Point and Rocky Cape

Anniversary Bay is a mix of pebbles, rocky quartzite sections and sandy beach and we walked along this to where a track cuts across the headland at Anniversary Point. This track was a little hard to find as the trail sign had fallen down and the beach in front was piled with sea-weed blown in during storms. There is an optional 3.5 km (return) side trip to Doone Falls which can't be too impressive as the creek is quite small and the surrounding topography quite mellow. 

On the far side of Anniversary Point the route continues along the beach with occasional (and largely unnecessary) pink flagging on faded posts. Basically, amble along the pebbly beach over various small quartzite shelves until you reach the head of the bay where the track moves away from the coast. We had a brief stop beside a sheltered little gulch in which I had a swim before we started walking up the track. 

 Looking back towards Table Cape and Sisters Beach

A short distance up the track there is another side trip down to Cathedral Bay, a beautiful little cove visible from the track. In another 200 metres we came to the junction with Blandfordia Spur. Our original plan was to follow the main track up to Postmans Pass and come back along the inland track, but Blandfordia Spur promised a more interesting route and so we followed this track up to the main inland track instead. This is a very scenic section of the walk up a spur ridge with views back along the coast to Sisters Beach and Table Cape, and even sheets of driving rain did not detract from our enjoyment of this section of the walk. The vegetation is low coastal heath and with the rolling green hills and misty weather it was all reminiscent of walking along the Scottish moors except that the beaches are way nicer. 

 The Sisters Hills from the Blandfordia Spur

At the top of Blandfordia Spur, the trig station on Tinkers Hill is visible and we backtracked along Sisters Hills to take in the view of Stanley and the Nut from the top. We were lucky as the rain and cloud cleared when we got to the trig station so, although it was frightfully windy, the view was wonderful. 

 Doug on Tinkers Lookout

The rest of the walk is an easy ramble along Sisters Hills passing over the top of Spicers Lookout along the way. The vegetation is all low coastal heath so it is very pleasant striding along the winding track, mostly down, but there are a few short climbs. About half an hour from Sisters Beach you pass the Doone Falls track junction that leads back down to Anniversary Bay. There is also another short side track up Broadview Hill, but the rain was moving in again so we carried on down to Sisters Beach after a very enjoyable days walk. 

 Wandering along the Sisters Hills on the Inland Track

A Meander From Mount Murchison to Lake Sandra in the Tyndall Range

The Tyndall Range continues north of the Anthony Road culminating in the turretted Mount Murchison at 1278 metres at the very northern end of the range. We had seen Mount Murchison from our first Tasmanian hike up Mount Farrell a few weeks before, and, in the meantime, I had found out about two tracks into the area, one to the summit of Mount Murchison, the other to Lake Sandra (my namesake) about 3 km to the southwest along the spine of Mount Murchison. This, of course, allows for a through walk from the Anthony Road, hiking to the top of Mount Murchison then ambling along the impressive ridge that encircles Shaded Lake and creates a narrow cirque, descending to Lake Sandra and taking the track back down to the Anthony Road. 

 Shaded Lake and Murchison Cirque

On through walks such as this Doug and I usually start at opposite ends, meet in the middle, then continue on, but, as much of this walk was off-track and we had no real idea where the Lake Sandra track actually was (few tracks are marked on Tasmanian topographic maps) we decided to walk this one together thereby adding about five kilometres of road walking at the end of the day.

 Gaining elevation quickly on the Mount Murchison track

The Mount Murchison track starts at pole D15 on the Anthony Lake Road and is well signed with a log book at the start of the track. It appears to be a, rightfully, popular walk. The track is gentle by Tasmanian standards (!) and begins up a forested spur ridge. Within half an hour, you emerge from the forest into lower bush and the views begin. There is an un-named lake (shaped much like Australia minus Tasmania) in a narrow valley to your left, above this, some falls guard the narrow entrance to Shaded Lake cirque, which is very impressive viewed from above. Higher up, the track climbs more steeply to a little pass on the ridge and sidles around the east side of the mountain high above another unnamed lake. At this point, the trig station is clearly visible to the north. 

You pass through another small notch on the ridge this time to the west side of the mountain above Shaded Lake, some small unnamed tarns, and the impressive cirque enfolding Shaded Lake. The track then sidles up below low angle slabs to the summit where Roseberry lies off to the west, Tullah to the north, Mount Tyndall virtually due south, and the peaks of Cradle Mountain - Lake St Clair National Park to the east. We were about two hours to this point and as we are still (perhaps always will be) in Canadian alpine climbing mindset did not stay long on the summit before beginning the traverse. 

 Doug where the track crosses to the cirque above Shaded Lake

The ridge ahead appears to be bristling with gendarmes and we made the rookie mistake of assuming the route did not lie along the ridge line so we followed the track back down below the slabs and attempted to traverse west below all the pinnacles on the ridge. This put us into thick bush, slippery slabs, and general unpleasantness. Back up we went to the summit and I ducked down the ridge from the summit heading west and immediately noted a faint foot pad and a few cairns. Duh! 

Off we went again, sticking to the ridge (which we would have done in Canada) and scrambling up and down a series of small little rock steps. One section required sidling along a narrow ledge above a short cliff band then a YDS class 3/4 downclimb (I have no idea what the Ewbank grade would be) to easier terrain below. This is the "crux" of the traverse and if you can do this, the rest of the route will be a doddle. There is some more fun ridge scrambling along tilted slabs, a climb up to another little summit, a bit more easier scrambling and then the ridge broadens out and all difficulties (such as they are) are at an end. 

 Mount Tyndall to the south

It is very pleasant walking over talus and alpine meadow above Shaded Lake down to a first broad saddle. The next minor bump on the ridge can be sidled on the north to another narrower saddle above a narrow cliff-lined valley. Finally, up about 50 metres to another small highpoint on the ridge. It is worth scoping out your route down to Lake Sandra so you do not get mired in dense bush before you descend. Generally, what looks best on the map, a broad gently curving spur ridge is best and with judicious route finding there is minimal spiky bush. Down among the creeks that drain into Lake Gaye, you'll want to stay on the higher ground (obvious from above) and climb gently up to the 950 metre mini-ridge to the southeast of Lake Sandra. The track emerges onto this ridge and we walked right to the last cairn marking the faint foot pad. 

 Doug ridge-walking

The Lake Sandra track is not nearly so good as the Mount Murchison track but it is serviceable. Follow the foot pad up to the high point of the little ridge east of Lake Sandra to an elevation of about 950 metres and then descend in a very windy fashion down the spur ridge that runs east, then south. The track is easy to loose up high so keep your eye on the many cairns and red paint splotches. We had to backtrack a couple of times when we wandered off the track as it seems to wander around in quite a circuitous fashion. Lower down, as the track descends into thicker forest there really is only one way to go and there are no more cairns or splashes of red paint. But, you could barely penetrate the forest down here were you to wander off the track so no difficulties should be encountered. 

 Looking down on Lakes Gaye and Sandra

Eventually you'll come out at pole D55 on the Anthony Lake Road and will have about a five kilometre walk back to your vehicle. You could try hitch-hiking but we didn't bother as the walk takes only about 40 minutes. All up, the day is around 17 km with about 800 to 900 metres of elevation gain and is a really excellent day out. 

 Doug on Lake Sandra track

Getting All Taswegian: Mount Tyndall

Our first two weeks in Tasmania we had outstanding weather, especially considering we were in the wet southwestern area of the state, so, when the rains arrived, we greeted them with a sense of inevitability. Tasmania is, after all, a lot like British Columbia in Canada, cool and wet.  After sitting out one wet day in Queenstown, I figured that if you want to travel in Tasmania, perhaps it is as well to get used to getting damp, wet even, and, possibly miserable. Doug did not share this philosophy, so while I set off to hike up to Lake Tyndall, he stayed dry and comparatively warm in the caravan at the parking area. 

To find the Tyndall Range track, I assume you have to somehow know where it is, as it is unmarked on any map, not advertised on any official website, and hidden down a gated road with signage and a register box only once you have reached the trail head. I found out about the track the way I find out about most things. I noted an extensive area of alpine terrain on the map - the Tyndall Range extends for some 35 km between Roseberry and Queenstown - and Googled "Tyndall Range track." This brought up a few trip reports with enough detail to allow me to pinpoint the trail head on the map. 

If you take the B38 (Anthony Road) north from Queenstown, about 10.4 km from the junction of the A10 and the B38 (south or Queenstown end) you will find a gravel road heading off to the east. On my 100K map, a gravel pit is indicated but no such pit appears to exist. Park snappily as a locked gate is just ahead. Walk around the gate and cross a sturdy bridge over Tyndall Creek. Shortly thereafter you will reach a T intersection with the gravel road that services the power-line. Go left and in a couple of hundred metres you'll come to a sign and registration box marking the start of the track.

 Somewhere in there a track exists

I left Doug cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast in the caravan and headed out kitted out in all my wet weather gear and wearing a warm pair of not at all waterproof gloves. Soon after I turned left at the T intersection, I came to a good sized creek running over the road. I thought for two seconds about taking my boots off to wade through and then just splashed on through the ankle deep water, boots and all. This was tremendously liberating as I now did not have to worry about keeping my feet dry any longer. Which, as it turns out, was a good thing as the track was awash with water. 

The first 100 metres of elevation gain is through thick scraggly timber. There is a good enough foot pad, but the bush is thick on either side and overhead. Take a look at the picture of this part of the track to see what I mean. You can't get lost, as there really is no where else you can go in this section.  At around 630 metres ASL, the track emerges onto a little spur ridge and is pretty good all the way to about 1100 metres where it peters out. You'll be well into low alpine vegetation by this then and a track is unnecessary. As Tasmanian tracks go, this one is not really steep at all. It heads steadily up the west side of the range through button grass and other low shrubbery but is never really steep (not because there are switchbacks or anything so civilised but simply because the western side of the Tyndall Range is not that steep in this location). 

 Somewhere near the top of Mount Tyndall

The higher I climbed the colder, windier and whiter it got. I kept expecting to come out at Lake Tyndall but the track actually goes to the top of Mount Tyndall. About 40 metres (elevation) and perhaps 0.4 km from the summit, the track disappeared and the route to the summit was marked only by sporadic and, in the weather I had, widely spaced cairns. Now, on a clear day, or even if you had a compass, you could easily stroll across to the summit as the terrain is easy but I found myself squinting through the gloom to find the next cairn, and, when I turned back to see where I had come from everything looked very much the same - white - and the last cairns were barely visible. 

At this point I realised I had neglected to bring a compass and had only the GPS on our mobile telephone (which I do not trust as it frequently stops working). Suddenly, it seemed all too easy to get lost on this high plateau in this cold, wet, windy and white weather, so I turned about and groped my way past the last few cairns until I found the track again and headed quickly down. I am sure the whole alpine plateau from Mount Tyndall down to Mount Sedgwick is quite delightful but all I saw was the inside of a very full and very wet milk bottle. 

 Lake Julia peeks out of the fog

Once A Peak-Bagger: Mount Owen

We were back in Queenstown, doing laundry and drying gear after our three day trip into Frenchmans Cap, but, all the time I was fussing with gear, I was aware of the barren slopes of Mount Owen hulking 1000 metres above the township. In the afternoon, with darkening clouds over most of the sky, we drove the windy Lyell Hwy east from Queenstown to Karlsons Gap just before the tiny hamlet of Gormanston. Here, a steep 4 WD road climbs up Owens Spur to some towers at 1000 metres about one kilometre and 200 metres below the boulder strewn alpine plateau of Mount Owen.

 Doug almost at the trig station on Mount Owen

It's a quick walk to roads end and a poled route that rambles up blocks and boulders to a sub-summit of Mount Owen. A tiny alpine tarn is perched in a cirque to the south, and, a quick descent down boulders (some scrambling), a scamper across the plateau, and one last scramble up some massive conglomerate boulders and you are on top of Mount Owen. 

 Doug scrambling up to the trig point

On a clearer day, the view would be fantastic as you can see the ocean to the west, Macquarie Harbour to the southwest, and across to the high peaks of the inland plateau to the east. For us, the weather was a little hazy and cloudy and we could not even see Frenchmans Cap. 

 Lake Burbury and small tarn

To Cap It All: Frenchmans Cap, Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park

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.

Into The Ducane Range: The Acropolis and The Labyrinth

Day One: Lake St Clair to Pine Valley:

It's about 14 km to paddle from the south end of Lake St Clair to the north versus an 18 km walk along a deep forest track to reach the same destination. Opting to paddle our kayaks up the lake, particularly with a northerly wind forecast for the day we came out, was the obvious choice. We launched from the boat ramp and parked at the main visitor parking area (a short walk from the boat ramp), although there is a small amount of parking at the boat ramp. Alternatively, you could launch from Frankland Beaches where there is parking and a sandy beach. 

The wind must have been swirling a little down in Cynthia Bay because we actually managed to get a little help from the sails for the first two kilometres but the wind was so gusty it wasn't that effective. The rest of the way the wind was light, occasionally in our faces, but over all, not a steady headwind. We reached Echo Point, where a couple of hikers were lounging on the jetty, and, in another 45 minutes, paddled into Narcissus Bay. The boat that shuttles walkers up and down the lake passed us twice as we paddled north. 

 The Acropolis from the track along the plateau

All our gear was quickly moved from our kayaks to our backpacks and we headed off along the jetty track to the Narcissus Hut. There were many unhappy looking hikers at the hut, either the Overland Track was not what they thought or the fact that they were locked out of the hut (renovations) until 5.30 pm was the cause. The first four kilometres was along the Overland Track which is extensively duckboarded in this area but still has some rooty sections and is buried deep in bush with scant views. We stopped for a break at the Pine Valley junction and had a delightful chat with three passing hikers (part of a group of five) who had come down from Cairns and walked in via the Walls of Jerusalem over seven days. This is a bit of a hard slog as there is no track and the bush is dense, but these folks (all easily in their 60's) were having a great time. It was just what I needed to stop being a princess and get up and walk the last four kilometres into Pine Valley. 

Again the track is deep in the forest, some times on duckboards, often in rooty dark rain forest, but all the time running northish up Cephissus Creek. There are three or four campsites scattered around the Pine Valley Hut, all in very dark locations, as is the hut, and the mosquitoes are bad. We stripped off for a dip in the creek first thing as it had been a sweaty walk in, and then spent the rest of the evening on the deck of the hut where the mosquitoes were slightly less ferocious. Pine Valley and The Acropolis are popular side trips with Overland Track walkers and there were four other walkers detouring off the Overland Track staying either in the hut or camping. 

Mount Gould and The Minotaur from The Acropolis

Day Two: The Acropolis and The Labyrinth:

Even deep in the forest we could tell it was going to be a gloriously sunny day as we set off up the track to The Acropolis. The track continues up Cephissus Creek for half a kilometre, passing the small Cephissus Falls, then climbs steeply (200 metres in 700 metres distance) to the south ridge of The Acropolis. This is the typical Tasmanian track, steep, rooty, and direct. There is a big sub-alpine plateau running south from The Acropolis and a half a kilometre of flat walking, mostly on duckboards along this delightful section. The views, all of a sudden, are tremendous and there are groves of unusual palm trees in patches of mossy greenery. 

Soon, however, the track resumes its steep ascent climbing up the south shoulder of The Acropolis until you are right under the characteristic dolerite columns. There's another half kilometre or so of up and down on a rocky rooty track as the track heads northeast along the base of the cliffs before a gully leads very steeply up to the summit plateau. There are one or two scrambly sections on this last bit, but no exposure. Once on the summit plateau it's a simple talus walk to the (not quite) summit. The actual high point is about a metre higher on a narrow stand alone tower, difficult to climb and very exposed. 

 Doug on The Acropolis

We hung out here for quite a while in glorious sunshine watching as clouds boiled and spilled over Mount Massif and Falling Mountain due north across the Narcissus River Valley. Mount Geryon, the next and slightly higher peak to the north is impressive and there are some infrequently climbed rock routes on the steep faces. Through Big Gun Pass, we could see Mount Ossa (Tasmania's highest peak), while to the east lies the lake studded Walls of Jerusalem plateau, and to the west, The Labyrinth and the peaks and lakes surrounding that smaller plateau. Mount Olympus is prominent on the west side of Lake St Clair and pyramidal, Mount Ida on the east. 

Delightful as the scenery was, we also wanted to walk up to The Labyrinth so we scuttled back down the steep, ladder like track to the hut where we had lunch and then walked up the only slightly less steep track to The Labyrinth. 

This track begins climbing just beyond Pine Valley Hut heading pretty much due west for a pass between The Minotaur and The Parthenon. It's about 400 metres pretty much straight up, until the track emerges into bright sunshine on the south shoulder of The Parthenon. The cairned track continues north along the west slopes of The Parthenon until you are overlooking the myriad tiny lakes of The Labyrinth. Mount Geryon and The Acropolis come strikingly into view and, a short steep descent leads to the Cyane Lake, the first small tarn on this plateau. The cairned track continues to Lake Elysia, a kilometre to the north, but we stopped at Cyane Lake and swam in the warm shallow waters. 

This whole plateau is reminiscent of the high Eastern Sierra's of California, except you are about 2000 metres lower. There are rock slabs, small lakes, gnarled white trunks of King Billy Pine and low alpine vegetation. Back at the hut, the Overland Track walkers had all left but two other couples had arrived to explore the area. 

Cyane Lake

Day Three: Pine Valley to Lake St Clair:

A warm northerly wind blew through the trees all night and it was hot first thing as we marched down the track, past the Narcissus Hut and out to our waiting boats. The first thing we did was swim in the lake, then pack up and launch for the journey back. We could hear the wind whistling through the trees, but we must have been sheltered in Narcissus Bay for the first kilometre as our sails were hanging limply from the mast. That didn't last, and the wind (or perhaps our exposure to it) steadily built until we were rocking along in a steep following sea with a strong wind behind. 

Doug was surfing on the tops of waves, but I seemed to spend most of my time wallowing in the troughs behind. After about half an hour, we pulled the tops off our sails reducing the volume as we were yawing about too much. This worked well all the way down to where the lake narrows near Fergies Hill, where we reduced the sail volume a little more as the waves were getting steeper confined by the lake shore. Beyond the narrowing, the waves diminished, but not the wind. Our greatest difficulty was trying to see where the boat ramp was before we got blown onto the rocks at the end of the lake. 

 Mount Geryon from The Acropolis

While Doug went off to get the car, another couple of kayakers arrived sailing in (Flat Earth sails) from Mount Ida which they had climbed the day before. Apparently the route was hard to find, the rock quality poor, but, nevertheless they had a rollicking grand adventure. And, although our trip was considerably less technically difficult, we too had a rollicking good time.