Frenchman's Cap and Derwent Bridge

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We caught the first ferry from Bruny Island to the mainland, before making a bee line for the track head of Frenchman's Cap. I knew that there was a long day of walking before us, and I knew it would be tight. Driving towards Derwent Bridge I told myself that we'd be there, walking, at around 12. Well, we got there just after 12, but then we had lunch, organised an EPIRB, and packed our packs. Beth and I had decided that being prepared, and having everything, was the most important consideration. We were both feeling really relaxed about the walk. There was a bit more than a 6 hour walk ahead of us, but we didn't get walking until 3 o'clock. Beth and I had decided that being prepared, and having everything, was the most important consideration.

I had first got the idea of walking Frenchman's Cap into my head after researching possible mutli day walks to do in Tasmania's National Parks as a prelude to the Overland Track. It seemed manageable enough, and the photos from the summit were sensational - a 360 degree panorama of South-West Tasmania, the peaks and lakes, all the way to the sea. It was about 23 kilometres to the summit of Frenchman's Cap from the parking lot on the Lyell Highway. It was to be a 3 day walk; Day 1 to Lake Vera Hut, Day 2 to the summit return to Lake Vera Hut, Day 3 to the carpark.

After reaching the saddle of the hills that border the Loddon Valley, we could see Frenchman's Cap, but first we had to go through the Loddon Plains. Called the Soddon Loddons by decades of bushwalkers, the Loddon Plains are the buttongrass covered floodplains for the Loddon River. Buttongrass thrives in acidic soils, and all that holds the soil together are the small roots of the buttongrass. As soon as the roots are disturbed the ground turns to mud, turning the major track through the Loddon Plains into a mudbath that can reach half way up your thigh. As we were told by a fellow bushwalker, the best you can hope for, in our perfect, dry weather, is for the mud to not go over your gaiters. Most of the afternoon was spent here, in the Loddon Plains, struggling to gain distance. Every step had to be calculated to avoid the worst of the mud, you got stuck when you didn't expect it. Achieiving a solid rhythm was unthinkable. After a few hours in the Loddon Plains we turned West, but were dissapointed to find more buttongrass plains. As the daylight started to fade we had made it into forest. We hiked for about and hour and a half in the dark up a rough rainforest track, which seemed pretty steep at the time. By the time we got to Lake Vera, where there is a bushwalker's hut, we were both rather tired. I knew that the next day wouldn't be any easier. (Beth's note: UNDERSTATEMENT)

The second day was to be a return trip to the summit from Lake Vera. I had based my assumptions on how long it would take from both John Chapman's guide to Tasmania's walks, and also the entries that others had made in the Hut Log. With the good weather, leaving earlyish, I assumed that we'd be able to make it back to the hut by early evening. Beth wasn't too keen on the idea of arriving that late, but we still only started hiking at 9, our bodies both still sore from the previous day's night adventures. The morning was spent hiking up the rainforest valley to Barron Pass. The rainforest section was really steep with lots of stairs and cutout logs on a 60 degree angle to help the ascent. Barron Pass was framed by twin rock spires on either side, and had fantastic views out over the two valleys below. Frenchman's Cap dominated the skyline, though it still seemed a long way up. I asked Beth if she wanted to keep on going, and off we went, with Lake Tahune our destination. We skirted around the base of a rockface, before crossing the saddle known as Artichoke Valley. Around the corner was Lake Tahune, where we had a lunch of mayonaise and corn thins. (Beth's note: Because we'd forgotten to pack real food) Frenchman's Cap was spectacular, looming high above the cliffs that surrounded Lake Tahune. The walk up Frenchman's Cap was longer than I expected - mostly because we took it so slow that we could do it manageably.

The view from the summit was sensational, though in some ways we were too high to appreciate everything, and we were both a bit too tired to get truly excited. It was more sheer relief with a brilliant backdrop. After about 10 minutes we started down again. First to Lake Tahune, and then to Lake Vera Hut. The hardest thing was that from Barron Pass you could see Lake Vera below - it seemed really close, yet walking there took forever. We ended up walking for an hour and a half in the dark, thinking that we'd never get there. In fact, when we did finally arrive we were amazed that we had actually made it after 13 hours on the go. Exhausted, we collapsed into bed without eating much at all - after not eating much all day. Or the previous day.

The third day was the walk out day. The plan was to leave early, walk out, and get something to eat at the takeaway in Derwent Bridge. It was a good plan, except we left at 9am, an hour later than we could have if we weren't both so tired. The Loddon Plains had dried up a little bit after a couple of days of solid sunshine, and Beth and I were feeling good. Until I got us lost.

Despite a slightly drier track, it was still quite muddy in parts (lots of parts). At one point I followed to my left what I thought was one of many other tracks that skirt around the worst of the muddy areas, in the expectation that it would lead back to the main track. In fact there is no single track across the Loddon Plains due to track degredation and the wear and tear on the buttongrass. However, after about 2 minutes on this track, I turned to my right to try and join the main track. It wasn't there. It must be over there, further to my right. It wasn't. We ended up walking back to the start of the loose forest near a creek, in the knowledge that the track comes out of it. Eventually, after 30 minutes, Beth made us sit down. We were lost. It was perhaps testament to our condition that we ended up spending an hour lost in an area not larger than 100 metres in any direction, with a map, compass, in knee height buttongrass, with the track in sight going over a small rise. I still wonder about how it came to be that we got lost, considering that I'm still sure that I turned off the track to the left. In any case, it was Beth who got us out of the predicament - she was the one who looked at the map with a critical eye, and in the end we found the track, fifty metres west of us.
We took an hour rest at the Loddon River, with 6km to go, to try and get some of our condition back. We tried eating, but neither of us were very keen on last night's leftovers. We had some energy gel sachets before we started walking again, which worked perhaps because they didn't resemble food. Neither of us felt well. We took the last stretch as carefully as we had the rest of the walk, slowly, but steady gains. From the saddle we could see the road, but we didn't quite believe it when we made it to the carpark. We hadn't been able to imagine it the entire day.

By the time that we returned to the carpark it was quite late, due to me getting us lost and the vital breaks we took in compensating for not eating for a couple of days. As one of the few options in Derwent Bridge, population 15, we picked the Wilderness Hotel. We had a very lovely meal, one we still look back on as a lingering event, both of us quite bewildered at the contrast of the wooden and mood lit surrounds compared to a few hours prior. Our accomodation, was a different matter altogether. All that was left when we arrived were the budget rooms, which were nothing more than demountables lined up. The room had a musty cigarette smell to it, which worked well with the ripped vinyl headboard, velour mattress covers and missing flyscreens. We were happy however with the hot showers, and it was nice having a bed.

We left early to get to Launceston, to fly to Melbourne and leave the world of haggled bushwalker behind.

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