The track less-travelled

It had been far too long since my last walk at Cradle Mountain - four months since I had been able to wander in my backyard. I needed to go like I needed to breathe.

Monday was a public holiday in northern Tasmania. Regardless of the weather, I decided to go walking at Cradle. God must have smiled upon us for He sent a spring blizzard on Saturday and Sunday, followed by a perfect heavenly day of sunshine and blue skies on Monday. Hallelujah!

 

My walking route was chosen with the intention of avoiding the crowds; to seek solitude and silence, to be alone with my thoughts and to absorb the serenity. I took the steeper, less travelled track to Marion's lookout, where I encountered numerous excited loud people, admiring the truly beautiful view.

I left quickly. A few hundred metres along the snow covered track to Kitchen Hut, where many of those noisy people would inevitably be headed, I checked that no one would see me, and I left the track. I headed off into the snowy wilderness, alone, to find Kathleen's Pool.

I had only ever seen Kathleen's Pool in the distance from the track, and I had long wanted to experience it up close. There is no track to Kathleen's Pool. She is truly beautiful.

Morning tea. Sun warming my back and the sound of lapping water on the shore and against the ice floating on the surface.

I circumnavigated Kathleen and wandered and meandered alone across the plateau for the next three hours, picking my way carefully through the snow.The only sounds were the breeze in my ears and a couple of currawongs calling as they landed nearby.

A solitary pandani, growing alone, higher than any other of its species.

Lunch overlooking Cradle Mountain, far above the people lunching in front of Kitchen Hut at the foot of Cradle.

Most of the lunchers had left by the time I passed Kitchen Hut. There were people up on the side of Cradle coo-ee-ing and urging each other to be careful. I was amazed by how far their voices carried.

 

The cloud lifted off Barn Bluff. I continued wandering.

 

The snow was melting. The morning fog had gone. The sky was stunning. The snow was slushy along the main track where many had trudged. My feet were wet but I was very warm. I had stripped down to my singlet top. (Plus pants and boots, of course!)



 

Sadly, I had to leave. I had to return to the downlands, but I felt uplifted and rejuvenated. Ideas and words had formed in my mind. I was inspired.

 

 

Wilderness wisdom

We do indeed keep meeting ourselves on our journeys. - Allesandro Durantil

Nothing gives me greater delight than to stand on some high land and look out on a wild array of our giant mountains. I am struck dumb, but oh! my soul sings. - John Watt Beattie

When you go out there you don't get away from it all, you get back to it all. You come home to what's important. You come home to yourself. - Peter Dromborvskis

It's a place where sometimes I want to go and sit and be alone or sometimes share. The need is deep and always there. - Gloria Andrews 

The other Queenstown

Last weekend I went to a little town way down south in Tassie for a little festival. The Queenstown Heritage and Arts Festival http://www.qhaf.org  is held every second year on the second weekend of October. It is amazing!!! And not so little - there were way too many things to see and do, most of which were free including art exhibitions and installations, book launches, poetry readings, music and singing and food and ...

The Angel of the West arriving to bring hope to a town struggling with economic problems and recent job losses. She is made from bamboo and tissue paper, and lit up by candles inside.

She had a 'mind blowing experience' when the candles caught her alight and burnt her head off! Pretty sure this was not planned!

 

We started our weekend with a book launch at LARQ Gallery. Brett Martin's novel is based on the life of Marion Oak Sticht, who was born in the US but came to Tasmania when she married Robert Sticht, the mine manager in the late 1890's. They built a rather grand house called Penghana, high on a hill overlooking the town. This was the location for an exhibition of Maxine Brown's beautiful water colours. Penghana is now run as boutique B&B accommodation. http://www.penghana.com.au/

Films and singing at the fabulous art deco Paragon Theatre. http://theparagon.com.au/

Both evenings included a street party under a huge marquee in the main street, various music acts including the Wolfe Brothers, plenty of food, and light shows projected on to the Empire Hotel.

 

This year's festival theme was "The Power of Water" inspired by the 100th Anniversary of Hydro Tasmania and the fact that it all began with the Lake Margaret Power Station just north of Queenstown. Shuttle buses ferried visitors to Lake Margaret all weekend. 100 years old and still producing electricity for Tasmania. The village just visible among the trees is now abandoned. 

 

Originally made from Tasmanian King Billy pine, the pipes have been replaced in recent years with Alaskan yellow cedar. While the last section of pipeline seen in the above picture is steel, most of the pipeline higher up the mountain is still made of wood. Below is a section of the King Billy Pine pipe for display purposes.

Close up of an old machine used for making curved wooden planks for the wooden pipeline.

Joel testing the weight of old tools used for maintaining the power station.

 

Interior of the station - very very loud even though only two of the turbines were operating, apparently to reduce the noise level for us visitors. 

 

 Lake Margaret village in the early to mid 20th century. It was the wettest town in Australia - three metres of rain per year! It would have been a cold, wet and isolated place to bring up a family, but there were many stories of happy childhoods here.

Seven houses and two halls still stand, empty but clinging to existence.

Art installation on the floor of one house. In the shape of a power turbine, it is made from thousands of dead ladybirds. The insects are attracted by the humming of the power station.

Art in the form of rocks arranged where cabbages, carrots, rhubarb, turnips and other vegetables were once grown.

 

 

Back in Queenstown, there were too many art exhibitions to see! We managed to look at several but not all of the many art exhibitions including one in this quirky building which is the former Cascade Brewery Depot.

 

Inside were a series of rooms filled with exquisite prints and etchings portraying the lives of the women and children who lived at Lake Margaret, hence the washing hung up outside as art.

You can buy this historic building for $100,000!

 

The West Coast Wilderness Railway steaming past my house. www.wcwr.com.au

This special train journey through wilderness and along a steep rack and pinion track is on my to do list.

Other tours that were offered over the weekend and which are regular tours, but which we did not have time to do, were the Mt Lyell Mine tours and the Lost Mines and Ancient Pines tours - www.queenstownheritagetours.com/

 

Our weekend ended with a quick helicopter flight over Queenstown. This is not something that is regularly available so we did not want to miss out. Taking off from beside the historic Mt Lyell Mine Managers office with Mt Owen in the background.

Queenstown's heritage listed gravel football oval.

 

 Part of the town looking west toward Strahan and the aerodrome.

Horsetail waterfall on the side of Mt Owen.

Part of the Mt Lyell mine site.

More of the mine site and part of the 99 bends road up Gormie Hill, aka the Lyell Highway heading east from Queenstown to Hobart. It is a potentially hair raising and stomach churning very windy road up out of the valley.

 

Queenstown - a unique landscape, fascinating history, friendly people, interesting architecture and a great attitude.

Writing the old ways

"Stories, like paths, relate in two senses: they recount and they connect...As the pen rises from the page between words, so the walker's feet rise and fall between paces...so writing and wayfaring are continuous activities..." p. 105

Just finished reading this book in which the author walks and sails through parts of Britain, Spain and Palestine, but mostly Britain, following old historical path ways. There are a lot of books around that are about walking but they are not really about walking. They are about wandering and wondering and writing and wisdom.

I do find walking to be very meditative, especially if I am walking alone. Thoughts, ideas, lines of prose and poetry and even solutions to problems can come while walking. The steady physical rhythm of walking seems to calm the thinking processes as the mind falls into the rhythm of the walking, and begins subconsciously to process thoughts into coherence. Walking is the way humans are designed to move through the world. It seems to be a very natural way of being.

Day 6 - The last walk

Pete, Loretta and I were here the week before on the Wayoutback camping tour. Annabelle had decided she did not want to take us on the full circuit walk due to a waist deep water crossing. Oscar, Aran and Shannon did not spare us this week.

 



Like last week, the weather was perfect and we stopped at the lookout over the Pound first.

 

Then we continued through a small valley and out through the bare hills.

We emerge on to the floor of the pound and meandered across it.

We crossed the rocky and sandy river bed twice.

This is my "Albert Namatjira" painting. http://aboriginalart.com.au/gallery/albert_namatjira.html
Albert Namatjira was a  Aboriginal artist who painted in watercolour in western style and became very famous during the mid-twentieth century. His father was born near Ormiston Gorge and Albert lived all his life in this area.

Entering Ormiston Gorge, we navigated our way over many rocks interspersed by sandy beaches around water holes. We marvelled at the high red cliffs, white ghost gums growing out of the rock in a number of places, and the deep purple coloured rocks on the bed of the gorge, worn smooth by the flow of water after rains.

Then we reached the water crossing which was indeed waist deep. Some of our group stripped off down to their undies. Others, including me, opted for modesty and went in fully clothed. We all took our boots off to walk across the sandy bottom. The water was cold as first but quickly felt pleasantly cool.

Loretta's face says it all about the initial cold shock of the water, but she went right back in to stand in the water to take photos.

Aran was Regina's knight in shining armour as he carried her across.

One final full group photo at the Ormiston Gorge lookout.

 

Pete and Loretta looking pleased with themselves.

Me and my 50 year old little brother - the instigator and inspiration for this wonderful experience in central Australia.

The 'famous five' - Marie, Mick, me, Peter and Loretta.

 

After lunch and a real coffee from the kiosk at Ormiston Gorge, we were delivered back to our hotels in Alice Springs. I luxuriated in the shower, washing our the red dust and using copious amounts of shampoo and conditioner. We all met up again for drinks and dinner at Montes and the Overlander restaurant. Great night out to finish off a great week of fun and friendship, and walking in the wildness of the Australian outback.

 

Now - to plan the next wayward wander....where to next?