# 6/9/24: Day 4 – Return to the baking hot Valley

- Snow Creek to Yosemite Valley via Snow Creek Trail
- 5km 
- 3 hours

It was a steep switchback riddled 1000-meter descent to the Valley all of which I was molested by gnats but after a few hours of walking, I was following the flat Valley loop trail all the way to the backpackers campground. I spent the rest of the day and night there, exploring the Valley, eating food, conversing with fellow backpackers and sharing stories. In the end, it was an awesome way to finish a very difficult but rewarding backpacking trip. 

I had only covered 45km but with 2300m of climbing, hot temperatures and not enough food, I was satisfied and had seen a lot that the park had to offer. Vernal and Nevada Falls, LYV, Clouds Rest, Sunrise Lakes, Tenaya Lake, Olmsted Point and Snow Creek was a solid list of things done. Yosemite – what a place! Hard to describe the true scale and beauty of the park and after feeling inspired when back in the Valley I picked up the John Muir Trail National Geographic guide... Who knows what that means… until next time.


# 3/9/24 – Day 1: Heat, waterfalls and leisure 

- Yosemite Valley to Little Yosemite Valley (LYV) Campground via John Muir Trail (JMT) and Mist Trail
- 6.3km, 630m up
- 4 hours

The park has made it very easy for hikers by offering a hikers-only campground for a small fee, available before and after your trip. 

Yosemite is also unique in that majority of the National Park is designated wilderness and that dispersed camping is allowed pretty much anywhere as long as you’re at least 6.5km (4 miles) from the trailhead and 30 odd meters away from a trail or water.

This was very new to me as in the past I’ve only camped at designated campsites in the past. Yosemite is also enormous at over 750,000 acres or roughly 3000km (squared)  and to put it into scale – driving from the park boundary tollbooth to Yosemite Village took me almost an hour. Shuttles that go around the park to places like Tenaya Lake or Tuolumne Medows take 45 minutes at least.

There was also a new set of dangers in the park – bears. Hundreds of black bears roam Yosemite and while they are not as aggressive as a Grizzly, you do not want to interact with them even if they’re only after your food. That’s why it’s required for all hikers to carry a bear canister – a big plastic drum that can only be opened by something as small as a coin.

Still jetlagged and tired from a long and stressful drive from San Francisco, I was up at sunrise among many other hikers who were staying at the backpackers campground. The night before was spent frantically packing my bear canister, which I quickly began to hate as after repacking it multiple times I realized all my food would not fit for the trip. Great. So right from the get-go, my trip was shortened from 4 nights to 3. Can’t say I was feeling too great about that.

My mood quickly changed as I made my way to the Happy Isles trailhead. The sun had only just come up, the Valley was cool, and the Merced River was flowing. It was an ethereal and tranquil few kilometers of walking up the Mist Trail. But it was steep though, step after step after step. The scale of Yosemite slowly revealing itself as I climbed up. Sheer granite blocks thousands of meters high dominated by pine trees was all I could see. Beautiful.

I’d arrived in Yosemite in the middle of a heatwave. And a hot heatwave even by Australian standards. The valley floor itself was hovering around 35 degrees Celsius which is way too hot for walking. Getting up and out of the Valley was the primary goal for today.

I’d made good time on the trail as within a few hours I was at the top of Nevada falls, occasionally stopping to chat to other hikers and take photos.

I eventually made it to my destination for the day of Little Yosemite Valley campground. A backpacker’s campground 600 meters above the valley with the Merced River running along side it. The time was 1pm and it was hot, so of course I had a swim and ate some food here. 

I don’t like setting up camp so early in the day. I felt like I had more hiking in me, but the heat was incredibly taxing and the thought of pushing through to find a campsite beyond LYV wasn’t that enticing. I had a permit to climb Half Dome and I aborted the idea after thinking about it for a long time. I was due to go up Clouds Rest the next day and wanted to preserve my hiking legs and avoid putting myself in a dangerous situation climbing up Half Dome in the afternoon with temperatures of 35 degrees plus. Perhaps I could have done it during sunset, or not – I’ll never know.

So, feeling slightly defeated, I settled into LYV, found a good spot to camp and read my Kindle by the Merced, periodically taking a dip before I hopped into bed in preparation for one of the biggest days of hiking yet. A 1300 meter climb up and over Cloud’s Rest.


# 5/9/24: Day 3 – Tenaya Lake and Snow Creek Magic

- Sunrise Lakes to Snow Creek via Tenaya Lake and Snow Creek Trail
- 17km ~250m up
- 8 hours

The sunrise at Sunrise Lakes was surprisingly lack-luster compared to the sunset from the night before. I woke up after a patchy sleep and hit the trail, foregoing breakfast (again), nibbling on a couple bars and an electrolyte drink. My plan was to have breakfast at Tenaya Lake and assess from there.

It was all downhill to Tenaya Lake, and a popular trail too. I passed dozens of day-hikers, all of which were going to Clouds Rest. I couldn't help but feel like my ascent of Clouds Rest from LYV the day prior was sweeter and more earnt than simply day-hiking it from Tenaya Lake as it was a shorter climb up and most people had no heavy backpacks to carry.

I arrived at Tenaya Lake after a rocky 400m descent where I found a quiet spot by the water to cook up some oats. I’d realized I’d only been eating around ~2200 calories a day as the bear canister was full of bulky dehydrated meals, not enough snacks and basically no lunch apart from plain tortillas. I was surprised by my poor approach to food on this trip.

I was feeling the hunger bad at this point. I felt fatigued, sore, and was in a bit of a negative state of mind. Looking back, its amazing  how much your sleep and food can impact your mood. I hadn’t had a full night sleep since arriving to America almost a week ago. Jetlag, stress and general unease about being in a new country alone was beginning to accumulate in some serious fatigue. I was having oats in the most beautiful spot ever, but my mind was thinking of other things.

On the map, Snow Creek looked like a boring spot. Densely wooded forest with a footbridge to cross the stream. That is what I thought until I had a peculiar encounter while having breakfast by the water. A paddleboarder, sipping whiskey at 9am paddled by me and we began chatting. I explained my journey, my plan for today and he told me Snow Creek had some beautiful campsites very close to the edge with great views of Half Dome. He also told me about waterholes deep enough you could jump into and urged me to stay there.

So, I packed up and headed on my way to Snow Creek. From this point onwards, I was travelling back to wards the valley. I descended into what felt like a new biome – gone were the dotted pine trees and huge granite blocks, and hello deep, dark and thick forests. It felt like prime bear territory, later confirmed by some very big bear prints!

It was a slow going 3 or 4 hours trapesing along the trail. It was hot, I was tired, hungry and fatigued. Even a small 100m climb took it out of me as I needed to rest more frequently. I’d finished the last of my favorite fig-blueberry bars and was ready to give up and go home.

But the views kept me going, as the last cleared section of trail before descending to Snow Creek provided me with fantastic views of Clouds Rest all the way to Half Dome.

Descending 400 or so meters to Snow Creek was long, tiring and very hot. This was really a theme of the trip – tiring, hot, not enough food. All of these snowballed into a bad mental state that when I arrived to Snow Creek, I wasn’t even that excited. The sun was baking me alive as I walked around finding a good camp spot. I eventually found a flat enough spot to pitch my tent, right in front of the view of Half Dome. As I walked closer to the edge, it felt like I could touch the side of Half Dome itself. It was a magical place to camp.

The Tenaya Lake whiskey man was right about the waterholes. Freezing cold waterhole that was deep enough to fully submerge in. It was cold, refreshing, but I was alone and wished I had someone to share this beautiful campsite with. 

I set up my tent, and watched the sun go down over Half Dome and the Valley. The wind picked up as well and battered my tent and made for a truly awful night’s sleep. I had picked the spot for the aesthetic photos rather than being sheltered from the elements, so very little sleep was had that night.


# 4/9/24 – Day 2: The highest on-trail point in Yosemite
- LYV to Sunrise Lakes via Clouds Rest Trail and JMT
- ~14km
- 9 hours, 1300m up

The alarm went at 4:30am. I wasn’t the only one up at this hour – many people were getting ready to climb Half Dome for sunrise or get an early start on the day to beat the heat. It was forecasted to be mid-30s (Celsius) again.

I set off from LYV up the trail towards the JMT junction and eventually the Clouds Rest trail. The first hour and a half were in pitch black, guided only by torch light. I had set off without consuming any food, only a liter of electrolytes as my plan was to snack on the climb up. I turned around and could see the moonlight illuminating Half Dome, and the torches of the hikers climbing the cables. Eventually the Milky Way (which was so bright and clear at that time it was unbelievable) faded and the sun began to shine. Another day in Yosemite, another day in paradise.

I passed by some tents close to the JMT junction with Half Dome – a good camping spot I thought, but I wondered where they would source their water from.

I was climbing at a reasonable rate of 400m an hour, which put me on track for a summit at 9am-ish. However, the climbing was tough, very tough. I would rest at every switchback (for which there were quite a few), soak in the landscape and snack on a bar or some trail mix. Witnessing sunrise on Half Dome and the surrounding areas was awesome. I even had a wild deer encounter about half-way up to the summit.

After a few more switchbacks, I had climbed a good 700 meters and the landscape had changed dramatically. I had climbed past the dense tree line that opened to huge granite pieces with beautiful views of Half Dome.

At this point I was the highest I’d ever been. The altitude in Australia is nothing compared to anything in America. 3028m (Clouds Rest) isn’t exactly a Himalayan mountain or a 14er (a ‘14 thousand footer’), but the air was noticeably thinner up here. And it got thinner and thinner the closer I got to the summit. I came down with a stomachache (that I wouldn’t shake for the rest of the day), shortness of breath and a dry cough as I slowly trudged up the trail. 

I was overtaken on the trail by an ultrarunner who had started 3 hours ago from the valley floor. I couldn’t quite believe he had run all the way up to Clouds Rest… on his way down, he told me the summit was empty and the views were beautiful. So, I kept on pushing.

After 1200 meters of switchbacks and 5 hours of climbing, I reached the top and was greeted with clear blue skies and an empty summit. The air thin and my breath shallow as I stood before one of the finest views I’d ever seen. I was at the top in more ways than one. 360-degree views of the Sierras and the highest on-trail point in Yosemite. 

My reverie was short-lived as the first of the day-hikers joined me on the summit coming from Tenaya Lake. It was nice to share stories and the view with others. I even met an Aussie girl from Sydney and a girl who I chatted to the day before at Nevada falls.

A wave of fatigue hit me as I came down from Clouds Rest. I’d not eaten or drank enough (I didn’t for the whole trip), and the altitude and heat were affecting me. After a mini siesta out of the sun, I made my way down and along the Snow Creek Trail passing through huge granite boulders and tightly packed trees before a gradual climb up to the junction for Sunrise Lakes. 

I ran into a couple of hikers and walked with them to Sunrise Lakes. One of them gave me a ginger sweet that apparently was good for altitude sickness and it definitely helped.

I made it to Sunrise Lakes at about 3pm and set up camp and had a swim. An ethereal spot for the night as I watched a beautiful sunset over the lake, listening to distant chatter of other hikers. It was a long and tough day but incredibly rewarding. Sunrise Lakes was the perfect place to finish for the day.


In September 2024, I hiked 3 nights in the Yosemite backcountry. The sheer scale and beauty of Yosemite made it one of my best backpacking trips yet.

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Half Dome from the walk towards the backpackers camp. 

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Mr Squirrel who had his eye on my bag of peanuts...

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A semi-waterless, yet still very beautiful, Vernal Falls

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Yosemite in all its glory from Clouds Rest. Perhaps my favourite photo of the trip.

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Clouds Rest looking towards Tenaya Lake and beyond.

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Beautiful early morning light from somewhere up near Clouds Rest

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Early morning light on Half Dome after just passing the JMT/Half Dome junction

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Deer! Somewhere on the climb up to Clouds Rest

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Yep... thats people on the Half Dome cables.

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Clouds Rest and Half Dome near Olmstead Point

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Half Dome from Snow Creek. The flat, open area made for a beautiful camp.

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The lush green valley before heading out. El Cap on the left, Bridalveil Falls on the right. 

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Snow Creek trailhead signaling the end of back country endeavors.

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Unsuspecting deer from my room in Mariposa outside the park.

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# Preface

In September 2024, I hiked 3 nights in the Yosemite backcountry. The sheer scale and beauty of Yosemite made it one of my best backpacking trips yet.

It was time for another backpacking trip. After a full year of very little hiking and backpacking, I made my way across the world to America a 3-week trip where I spent 3 nights hiking a loop around the Yosemite Valley. 

As I’ve gradually ticked off hikes in Australia, I realized there was very little left in the country that interested me. A crazy statement at first, or perhaps a natural step in progression after all these years. Yosemite has been on the radar for very long time and I knew if I were to travel across the globe for a hiking trip, the destination better be worth it… and it was.

The reservation system works quite differently in America. You need a permit for camping and overnight hiking in most National Parks. Majority of the permits are available 24 weeks in advance through a lottery system, the rest available as walk-in permits. When I won a permit for Happy Isles/Little Yosemite Valley in March this year, it was game on.

I hiked a relatively short 45km loop with 2300m elevation gain, and despite only spending 3 nights in the wilderness, it was 3 nights of beauty and solitude.

All photos were taken with my iPhone or my Fujifilm camera. 


The Cathedral of Stone

# About & General Notes

This is Australia's hardest trail. Hands down, no exception nor debates. You might see the photos of the picturesque Lake Oberon and think this is a walk in the park. I can assure you, it is not. At times, the trail is a scramble rather than a hike. At times, a misstep could result in death. I would highly suggest you need a handful of multiday hikes under your belt before you consider this.

Some more 2 cents on various topics that pop up online:
- Buy [Chapman's South West Tasmania](https://www.wildearth.com.au/buy/books-south-west-tasmania/Books-SouthWTas). It's essentially the source of truth for notes and maps. Photograph, laminate and take copies.
- Take rope if you don't have experience scrambling. Pulling the packs up from Oberon and down the Tilted Chasm was required. A handful of other sections required packs to be passed down (no rope).
- Warm spells of weather increase the probability of the water soak drying up at High Moor. Be prepared to extra water.
- Water is generally not available between campsites in the ranges. Aim to carry 2-3 liters or more. Plenty of water sources on the plains, so the amount carried will be less. 
- An extra days food doesn't hurt in the event of bad weather. 
- You must be prepared for all 4 seasons. Good rain gear, thermals, tent and sleeping bag are essential for the Arthurs.
- Don't go beyond Lake Oberon on your own. It would be reckless and dangerous given the step-up in difficulty from this point onwards. Plenty of people hike to Oberon, then back. People *say* that the descent to Oberon is the acid test for whats to come. Any freak out, turn around and go home. I'd agree with that, despite it sounding like a rumour going round a tiny village. 
- The [W&EAT facebook group](https://www.facebook.com/groups/1596353140411912/). A good source of information, but be wary of what you read. Some may inadvertently undersell the difficulty of this hike and with all hiking groups its a bit of an echo chamber.
- I haven't tried hitchhiking in Tasmania, but I know people do and have done it to Scotts Peak but I wouldn't bother. Work an extra day, don't be stingy and spend money on transport for this hike. You'll be grateful for a speedy shuttle to Hobart after you're done. Trust me!

And the obvious:
- Register [yourself](https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/western-arthur-range-traverse-walker-registration-registration-170392360136), purchase a [Parks Pass](https://passes.parks.tas.gov.au/) and make sure to Leave No Trace.
- Take plenty of photos and relish your time traversing along the most spectacular mountain range down under. 

# 28/12 | Day 5 – An exposed march across the plains

- Kappa Moraine Base to Junction Creek
- 23km
- 8 hours

Getting ahead of the weather, camp was quickly packed up and we made a beeline for 7-mile creek. 7 mile creek has a few campsites either side of the creek, but crossing in high water can be difficult. 7-mile creek is a connector campsite between Junction Creek and Cracroft Crossing, which leads to the Eastern Arthurs. You can also take the Kappa Moraine Junction track and camp at Promontory Lake before beginning the Eastern Arthurs too. Quickly pushing through the first two kilometers to the creek, the rain and wind started to set in. We crossed the creek in bare feet, keen to keep our boots dry for as long as possible. But for now, the march across the Arthur Plains to Junction Creek began along the overgrown and eroded McKays Track. Not much to report here, except slogging through button grass. It was tiring and it'd been a mammoth trip until that point. The wind and rain picked up significantly. About 5km out from Junction Creek, the full belly of the beast unleashed.

100 km/h winds turning the rain into horizontal bullets pounded the group on the track, rendering us immobile. I turned to face the rain at one point, and it genuinely hurt. The only thing keeping us from being swept away were the trekking poles firmly lodged in the muddy marsh. After 15 minutes, the wind died down – we could walk again. What an incredible event.

My rain gear had soaked through. It’d also been ripped extensively on the ascent of Alpha Moraine, and the rain had soaked through all my layers. Running low on energy, still recovering from the herculean 15-hour day before, it was a slow trek into Junction Creek, where we arrived soaked, shivering, and longing to be out of the elements. Almost selfishly, I pushed on ahead of the group. Keen to get the final 7km from Junction Creek to Huon Campground done as quick as possible.

I didn’t care about the mud bogs. I walked straight through, marching towards the finish line. Genuinely I wanted to be done, to never do this track again, to be dry and have a hot meal. The events of the last few days had pushed me to the limits. Physically and mentally.

The last forest of the trip appeared, and I descended the final short slope that led to the car park.

I had made it. The Western Arthurs Traverse complete. And thank God for that. I said goodbye to Craig and Royston and the other members of the group, as they had arranged a lift to a nearby town. I meandered up the dirt track to Huon Campground, where I set up the tent for the final night.

I was back in Hobart the following morning thanks to an early shuttle pick up. Back in civilization, warm, dry and still couldn't believe it was over. What a trip.

Looking back already (a few weeks after coming home), there is something deep down thats keen to experience the Arthurs again. A sense of adventure and difficulty that I've struggled to find in my 22 years of existence. Who knows what that will be?

Thanks for reading.


# 26/12 | Day 4 - Hell and Haven on the Range

- High Moor to Kappa Moraine Base
- 8.7km
- 15 hours

I rose early at High Moor to catch the sunrise and make a start on the day with the other hikers. The air already had a hint of warmth and I knew it was going to be a long day. I made the poor choice of only drinking a few gulps of water before leaving camp, with two liters water on me. In hindsight, I would have had at least a liter of water before setting off - there is no water between campsites when you're high up on the range. 

I was the first awake and packed up, so I spurred on ahead, leading in front over what promised to be one of the most difficult sections of the trip – the Beggary Bumps.

Things didn't go to plan though. Descending the first steep gully from High Moor, I missed the cairn and continued to the bottom of the gully, with everyone following me. It was steep and exposed.

I found someone’s water bottle which reaffirmed in my mind that this indeed was the trail. But there was no trail to be seen, the scrub went down the banks towards Lake Ganymede. Six of us, stuck at the bottom of a gully, not sure where to go. After trying to find the trail by weaving through thick, mossy and slippery mud, another member of our group shouted at us, saying we’d missed the cairn for the turn off, and had gone way further down the gully.

This was problematic – in order to get back up the gully, we had to push the bags up, as it was too steep, slippery and wet. By the time everyone had their bags on, and on the trail, we’d burnt at least an hour. Which was a lot, considering the day we had planned. This would cost us the final hour of light to push to the campsite.

The track eventually led to the Beggary Bumps. This was a section of exposed, steep rocky outcrops that you must go over, around, up and down. Nestled between the bumps, the infamous tilted chasm (the unfortunately blurry photo below). A good 30-40 meter nearly vertical chasm that descends to a ridge before the next bump known as Lovers Leap.

Eager to avoid an accident, we lowered the packs down using spare rope provided by Craig. Before slowly moving down like a crab, which came to be one of the more popular methods of descending.

I had pretty much run out of water at this point. The taste of electrolytes made me drink faster as I was yearning for the fizzy, fruity elixir of life. The remaining beggary bumps were a full-body workout. Narrow trails, thick scrub, big drops – this was difficult, especially in the heat. Being nestled in the scrub only amplified the heat. Sections of the trail so steep I was holding onto tree branches and swinging down to ledges. 

Eventually, the bumps ended, and the trail contoured along a ridge to Mt Taurus. But I was seriously dehydrated and was having thoughts about quitting and was close to breaking down on the climb up Mt Taurus. I felt like I couldn’t do it, it was just too much. The heat, the climbing, no water, the exposure - damn it was difficult. But there was no way out, no one coming to save us - we had to make it to Haven Lake and I could not jeopardize the trip, especially walking with others. My thoughts of water and dehydration unfortunately impeded upon my ability to soak in the surroundings with the entire Beggary Bumps section becoming a bit of a blur.

I tried to take a piss and had to do a double take to check I wasn’t urinating blood; it was *that* amber. I was having pain in my lower abdomen, everything was burning and hurting. This was the worst physical state I’ve been in. 

Slowly, careful of not becoming a heat casualty, I made my way down Mt Taurus and was well behind the other hikers, before arriving at the final obstacle before Haven Lake. A cliff, with a slit down the middle that required you to crab walk/hold down. One foot down, then the other, then the hands and so on. Its difficult to explain, and technically it isn’t difficult. But in the current state of exhaustion and dehydration, it was tough. Lowering the pack was the only option.

I rolled into Haven Lake, near absolute physical exhaustion and drank from the cool alpine lake. The feeling of drinking water after being really dehydrated is the best feeling ever. Nothing can beat it. After sculling water, cold chocolate powder, electrolytes, I stripped off and had a swim. The most rejuvenating thing ever. I was saved, I felt. But we still had 6+ more hours of walking. 

The weather forecast for the next day (28/12) was bad. 100km/h winds starting in the morning with heavy rain. 

Eager not to be caught descending the range in severe wind and rain, the decision was made to walk to Lake Sirona to check out the campsite. If there were spots to camp, that weren’t exposed, we’d go for it.

Putting the pack on after a swim was hard. I was in relaxation mode, but the job was far from over. Slowly climbing up and along the ridge to Lake Sirona, there was a technical descent to the Lake. One poorly marked, full of loose rocks, and damn dangerous.

Lake Sirona was not good. A beautiful lake but exposed to the elements. We could not stay there. Not with the incoming weather. Our decision was reaffirmed when a small thunderstorm broke out along the Eastern Arthurs. Sitting back from the Western Arthurs looking over thinking, “yep, its time to get out of here”. 

Slogging across the ridge to Mount Scorpio, we bypassed the summit and began the descent down Kappa Moraine. It was getting late at this point. 

The narrow descent down Kappa Moraine provided me with one of my favorite views of the trip. The vast expanse of the Arthur Plains with the beginnings of the Eastern Arthurs to the right. Promontory Lake and the West Portal were visible. The setting sun blessing the landscape. All thoughts and feelings of dehydration and exhaustion stopped for a second. We were saying goodbye to the range, the glistening reflection of Promontory Lake smiling back at me. 

The major difficulties of the range ended at the Kappa Moraine Junction. Descending Kappa Moraine felt like hours, but eventually, we made it onto flat ground of the plains. The clock hit 9:45pm, almost 15 hours since we set off. Exhausted, physically unable to walk no more, I pitched the tent on the nearest flat piece of ground, which was hard to find due to the spiky button grass and rocks. Conceding a flat pitch, I set up on an awkward angle, in a dried-up mud patch. The button grass plains had retained their heat from the day. The soil, still warm to the touch. I couldn’t cool off, except strip naked and lie in what felt like a vegetative state of exhaustion hoping to get a few hours’ sleep. I was in a bad state, and I wasn't the only one. Royston, Craig and an American couple we walked with were struggling as well. But we had made it. The traverse in its majority, completed. And it was the most god damn difficult thing I've ever done. 

# 24/12 | Day 1: Witness the Cygnus

- Huon Campground to Lake Cygnus
- 16.2km
- 7.5 to 8 hours

I watched the rain and cloud slowly set in as the shuttle drove us from Hobert up north towards the Arthurs. We arrived at the trailhead at 10:30am, ready for a big day to Lake Cygnus. 

I walked through beautiful, small forests with luscious greenery and streams providing seclusion from the rain before emerging onto the button grass plains. The track following boardwalks for the first few hundred meters before being replaced by a rocky but well-trodden track. I headed quickly in the direction for Junction Creek, the first campsite of the trip. 

I encountered my first section of mud. It had been raining only the last day, meaning the bogs hadn’t fully soaked through and wasn’t as bad as I expected. I noticed many other tracks that skirted the boggy sections but decided to walk straight through to a) save time, b) test my waterproofs and gaiters and c) avoid trampling and destroying vegetation where possible.

The mud wasn’t too bad, but my socks and shoes eventually soaked through with the water from the low-hanging grass and general shrubbery. There were some deep sections – easily mid-calf to knee height mud. The trekking pole provided stability and was a good depth-checker. 

It was getting cold, and the wind picked up before eventually rolling into Junction Creek, where I walked through the creek to cleanse my lower half of the mud. The gaiters performed well at keeping the mud out. An essential item, I would later categorize them. 

I met Craig and Royston at Junction Creek, an adventurous and experienced father son duo from Sydney who I chatted to briefly on the bus. They agreed to let me walk behind them to Cygnus. In and among the rain and wind, we took a wrong turn and followed a false lead out of Junction Creek, and after crossing a creek, the trail quickly fizzled out. Using the GPS, we bushwhacked across the button grass until we met up with the McKays Track, before slogging through the plains until the base of Alpha Moraine. A small, flattened pad for enough space for one tent was visible.

In the rain and wind, we slowly pushed ourselves along the 4km climb up Alpha Moraine with about 900m of elevation. I was exhausted. This had been the hardest physical activity I’d done in a long time and was really feeling it. The little sleep the night before didn’t help either, but what was I thinking - I had days of this!

We crested the Moraine and saw nothing but clouds and had limited visibility of the range. We stopped for a quick break, then miraculously a gust of wind cleared the clouds and we got our first view of the beautiful rocky knolls, Lake Fortuna and Pluto and a view all the way to Port Davey.

Slowly we meandered along the track, passing just below the summit of Mount Hesperus, before descending into the relatively sheltered wooden platforms of Lake Cygnus. 

I sat down in sheer exhaustion, managing to burn my mac and cheese dinner. But the long day was complete, and this crazy plan of walking the Western Arthurs was beginning to take shape. 

# 26/12 | Day 3: Serrated edges, ascents and exposure

- Lake Oberon to High Moor
- 4.2km
- 7 hours

I joined forces with Craig and Royston again, and we began the trek up and out of Lake Oberon towards Mt Pegasus. Almost immediately, the climb out of Oberon was proving to be tricky. A 5-meter slab of rock stood between us and the trail above, with little crimps along a serrated edge to the left, with just enough room to force your feet between, to push yourself up. I attempted the climb but could not pull myself up with the pack.

Fortunately, Craig had a rope and we quickly fastened it to my pack, and I helped pull the pack up, over the slab. This was an exposed climb and set the tone for the day. 

Shortly after that, the track continued almost vertically up. Using knees and roots on either side, we clambered our way up and continued along the pad until the trail completely stopped. Below us was a 50-meter drop and to the right a 4-meter rock that looked climbable, but not great, and incredibly exposed. Turns out, we'd missed the cairn to the right and backtracked to find it. What a relief. 

Pushing towards the summit of Mt Pegasus, we found the ‘hole’ in the rock, where the packs had to be pushed through, before slowly descending Pegasus. It was awkward, but doable. Somewhere along here, the rope fell out of Craigs bag. Which we discovered on the coming down Pegasus, where we wanted to use the rope to lower packs through another hole/awkward down climb, just before descending. 

The trail was now entering the roughest part of the range. Walking along the ridge between Pegasus and Capricorn was stunning. The rubbly, scree path descended and plateaued along the slanted ridge between Mt Capricorn, with even more magnificent views of Lake Uranus and Mt Capricorn, which we would later ascend and descend. 

The sun was out, and it was hot. My body was starting to get used to scrambling/sharp ascents/descents with a pack, but the physical energy spent doing this meant I was drinking more and more water, something that was in short supply between campsites. The sun was hot, especially on exposed ridges with little cover. 

We summited Capricorn and began the descent. This is probably the most nerve-wracking part of the whole trip. The incredibly steep and exposed descent required not only great physical attention, but laser focus. A fall here would be bad, and with no hint of exaggeration, potentially deadly. 

The path was well trodden, and each foothold was well defined. Roots for handholds miraculously appeared when needed.

I had well run out of water, and it was hot. Hot and exposed, and we still had the saddle of Mt Columbia to reach before High Moor. Note to self – carry more than two liters of water and don't skull it. This was a mistake I made on other days too.

Climbing up and around Columbia, we reached the boardwalks of High Moor, and gently descended to the platforms. Reaching for the nearest water source, I drank and drank and drank - quenching the thirst of a difficult day. 

I've read that in warm weather the little water source at High Moor can dry up. We just got lucky.

High Moor was a campsite out of a movie. Exposed, huge rocky knolls and grand views. But you wouldn’t want to stay there in bad weather, that’s for sure. 

After setting up the tent and having dinner, I pushed along the trail a little bit with my camera, before finding a slight dip in the landscape that gave magnificent views of Lake Ganymede in the foreground, and the Eastern Arthurs in the background. The sky was clear, and the distinct notch of Federation Peak didn't seem far away. Maybe one day I'll climb it. 

Reflecting on the day, it had taken over 7 hours to traverse a measly 4.2km. A testament to the difficulty of the track.


# 25/12 | Day 2 - Lake Oberon. No words needed

- Lake Cygnus to Lake Oberon
- 5.1km
- 4.5 hours

It was a relatively short day, and by comparison to other days, quite leisurely.

Climbing back up the access track, legs burning from the exertions of day one, I slowly traversed the slopes of Mt Hayes before descending its sketchy scree gully. Grand sweeping views of what lay ahead were dominated by howling wind and gentle spots of rain. Passing below Procyon Peak, the trail contoured around to Square Lake. A beautiful deep lake surrounded by more sheer quartzite faces. The track rough, with thick shrub surrounding the east side of the Lake with a runoff crossing nestled in between. 

Emerging from the scrub, I slowly made my way up the ridge between Mt Sirius and Mt Orion, before skirting left to avoid false leads over the ridge. Out of breath, tired, cold and hungry I crested the ridge and saw the first view of Lake Oberon. 

Lake Oberon - the stunning, large glacial lake that is the cornerstone of the Western Arthurs. Of all the photos I'd seen of the Arthurs, Lake Oberon stood out like a sore thumb. And I see why.

I sat down on the ground and just stared in awe and soaked in the view. The beautiful Pandani plants dotting the landscape down to Oberon. A core memory was saved. You could see other peaks in the distance almost looking like teeth sticking up from the ground with the glacial lakes looking like cavities - The Teeth of the World.

I descended the relatively well-worn track to Oberon, going slow and steady. I eventually made my way down to the boardwalks for easier walking before descending right down to the campsite. There was one section I had to lower my pack over a small ledge, as I didn’t trust myself / the momentum of the pack swinging over the edge to get a firm footing. Better be safe than sorry. 

Arriving at the campsite, the sun appeared for the first time on the trip. Quickly unpacking and stripping my clothes off, I let them dry on the platform. What a treat to be dry. Feeling grateful and happy to have made it to Oberon, I sat and soaked up the rays. It was a great day and the view of Lake Oberon was spectacular. 

I climbed back up the ridge in the later hours of the evening and sat, staring at the lake and its surroundings. Lost in thought, mesmerized by what lay before me. After what felt like hours, I scrambled down in the last remaining light and went to bed. The first goalpost of Lake Oberon was completed. 


In December 2022, I hiked the Western Arthurs Traverse via Alpha and Kappa Moraine. The extensive rugged topography of the range made for the most difficult and rewarding hiking yet.

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Slogging through the buttongrass plains. Alpha Moraine track just visible.

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The first glacial lake of the range - Lake Neptune or Pluto (not sure which)

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A quick rest after a gruelling 900m climb up Alpha Moraine. Lake Fortuna in the background. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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A questionable outfit (that kept me pretty dry in the end).

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The Arthur Plains - somewhere on the climb up Alpha Moraine. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce 

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Lake Cygnus from the East, after climbing up the access track.

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Gazing ahead, the track descends below Procyon Peak. In the dip, lies Square Lake, and Oberon, over the next next saddle between Mount Orion and Mount Sirius

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The sketchy descent into Oberon - the acid test for whats to come.

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Beautiful planks, lakes and fauna. Unreal. 

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Beautiful Precambrian quartzite unnamed knolls. Lake Cygnus tucked to the left across the saddle.

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Federation Peak just after sunrise with Lake Ganymede in the foreground.

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The climb out of Lake Oberon proving too difficult with heavy packs for some people (including me). Photo Credit - Craig Pearce 

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Lake Uranus just below the ridge of Capricorn. To the left and right, twin summits of Pegasus. Center - Mount Sirius.

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Descending Mount Pegasus, overlooking Lake Uranus. Mount Capricorn on the left. 

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Saddling between Dorado Peak and Mount Columbia, before descending to High Moor.

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"The track goes off the edge here" - Royston. We missed the cairn 10 meters back (fortunately!)

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Descending Mt Pegasus. Crumbly scree and steep descents were a theme of the trip. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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Descending Capricorn - the trail just visible. Exposed, rocky, technical and exhausting. 

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Resting after a hot and tiring day at High Moor. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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Sunrise overlooking Federation Peak. The distinct hook of the peak makes it unmistakable. 

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Descending the range from Mount Scorpio. Kappa Moraine trail just visible as it descends over 1km in elevation. 

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Uneven, spiky, warm buttongrass camp that was my bed for a few hours. 

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Slowly descending the Tilted Chasm by passing packs. Some opted to keep their packs on when descending. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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Haven Lake looking back at Mount Taurus. Trail saddles the right, before descending via a cleft. 

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Haven Lake. Truly a haven in the blistering sun. 

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Beautiful creek and windswept trees from the viscous winds

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The vast sweeping Arthur Plains, with the beginning of the Eastern Arthurs on the right. Promontory Lake just visible. 

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The final sweeping view of the Arthurs. Kappa Moraine to the right, roots of the Eastern Arthurs to the left. 

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The water gods smiling upon us with the water crossing at 7 mile creek - only above ankle height. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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Scooting across Wullyawa creek. The heavy rain made walking on it too slippery. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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Looking back at Kappa Moraine. A huge descent.

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Tired, cold, soaked but all smiles. We made it... in one piece. Photo Credit - Craig Pearce

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# Preface 
In December 2022 I hiked the Western Arthurs Traverse (WAT). It’s rough, exposed, has plenty of steep slopes and is dominated by beautiful moorlands, glacial lakes, button grass heath and alpine scrub vegetation. This hike has everything and thats why its my favourite to date. 

The full traverse (linking up with the Eastern Arthurs) can take between 10 and 12 days, but the most popular route is Alpha Moraine to Kappa Moraine (known as A-K) which takes 5 to 7 days and starts/finishes at Scotts Peak Dam. 

The events described here are purely anecdotal and the notes included on this hike should not be used as a source of truth. People have died in the Western Arthurs so it goes without saying to properly do your research and plan for all possible outcomes. The Tasmanian bush cannot be underestimated!

** The gps track displayed on this page is inaccurate - don't use it to guide you!

The Teeth of the World

# Travel

The trailhead is at Scotts Peak Dam, about 3 hours from Hobart. Pass west through the towns of New Norfolk and Maydena. Don't forget a bakery stop at Banjo's in New Norfolk.

Scotts Peak Dam adjoins Huon Campground - a secluded car/tent campground with toilets, running water and a beautiful rain forest surrounding it. No booking required. 

Trailhead is next to carpark. Many people leave their cars there during the hike. Rangers do check for Parks Passes on the dashboard and there was a ranger there when we finished.

The shuttle bus run by [Tasmanian Wilderness Experiences](https://www.twe.travel/) is (in my opinion), an essential booking for the trip. It's $110 each way, worth every penny (see below for notes on hitchhiking). 

# Maps 
Aside from [John Chapman's South West Tasmania](https://www.wildearth.com.au/buy/books-south-west-tasmania/Books-SouthWTas) notes and maps (*__essential__*), I'd recommend a combination of the following:
- GPS with the loaded GPX track (whether this be your phone or garmin inReach, for example). Downloadable track above. 
- [TASMAP 1:25,000 topographic maps](https://www.tasmap.tas.gov.au/do/category/25000TOPO). They cover the whole range, but are split into their own section. Look for Crossing, Razorback and Glovers. They can be electronic or physical.
- Phone for reference (if using GPS), with downloaded maps of the trail. Look for Alltrails Premium or Avenza Maps


# About 

I mentioned earlier at how the Walls of Jerusalem is a remote and mountainous alpine landscape – but the cultural heritage of the area is equally important and interesting. 

The Tasmanian Aboriginal people have had, and will continue to have, a connection to the country and the Walls of Jerusalem National Park. Aboriginal people used this land to build shelters, hunt, and survive in the hostile and alpine environment. When Europeans arrived in the early 1800s, the Central Highlands became a staging post for bushrangers and when grazing licenses were granted, the area became the domain of stock keepers. In the end, the Aboriginal people were driven from the Walls of Jerusalem and were never to return. From the mid-1850s, the region was used for cattle grazing and bush huts like Trappers Hut and Dixons Kingdom hut, were built. 

Knowing the history of the area makes me very grateful for the opportunity to explore the alpine Walls of Jerusalem on foot and honored to have walked on land where indigenous hunted, lived and ultimately survived in a beautiful, serene but unforgiving environment. 

It is only now when I have completed this trip (and writing this many months after), I am reminded of the beauty of this National Park and I have promised myself that I will return to experience its glory again.

Until then, see you on the trail.

# 03/2/22 | Day 1: Steep and spectacular climb to the plataeu 

- Wild Dogs Campground
- 6.1km
- 2.5 to 3 hours

After almost 4 hours of driving from Hobart, I reached the trailhead deep within the mersey forest. Following the C171 road down from Mole Creek, the road went through the national park and offered incredible views of the dense forest and hydroelectric Rowallan Dam. There were multiple bridge crossings that showcased the complexity and size of the man-made dam and also the park itself.

The first three kilometers were the toughest section of trail I had ever experienced. With a full pack and two liters of water, it took 1.5 hours to traverse the steep, 1200m climb to Trappers hut, which provided a unique insight into how the tough bush men of the past operated and hunted animals. The hut itself is not made for camping, with the only exception as an emergency shelter. The trail was well maintained, but the steep and crumbly rocks that littered the trail required careful navigation and the use of a trekking pole was greatly appreciated. After reaching Trappers Hut, it was only 300 or so meters from there until the track began to open up into a vast expanse of plains scattered with small pools. There was plenty of evidence of wildlife, with echidnas, wombats and wallabies spotted on route to Wild Dogs campground.

It is difficult for me to describe the scenery and landscape, as it is something completely foreign and almost alien. A kaleidoscope pallet of colours; dolerite peaks, ancient pencil pines and ground-hugging alpine plants and large rocks were everywhere. It felt like I was submersed in the savanna plains with great mountains surrounding everything I knew – it was a completely new and beautiful experience. 

Eventually the trail descended onto remarkably flatter ground and boarded planks lined the trail until Wild Dogs Campground, which is nestled in below King Davids Peak (1500m). The campground had 10 tent platforms, but depending on platform location, could be subject to serious wind coming from the Northeast, as it is exposed to the elements. Running water and toilets were greatly appreciated after a long day of driving and hiking. But I had made it! And I was excited as the biggest hurdle of the day to be completed. After a dreadful and disappointing dehydrated meal, I tucked in for the night, I felt exhausted but accomplished and excited for the remainder of the trip.

# 05/3/21 | Day 3: Leaving the plateau and return to civilisation

- Trailhead
- 6.1km
- 2.5 to 3 hours

My sleep was much better than the night before, with the temperature only dropping to 8-10 degrees Celsius. I had prepared myself with extra layers and gloves plus beanie, so I was much warmer initially going to bed which allowed me to basically sleep through the night. I rose early, intending to reach the carpark by 10:30 am. Overnight, fog had rolled in through the park and resulted in a beautiful and mysterious (but eerie) low covering of the track that made for a spectacular sight and short walk back to the campsite. 

I had made my way out of Wild Dogs Campground early in the morning, on the trail by 8am and continued along the flat plains until Trappers Hut. This time, I was truly tested going down the steep track to the car park, and once again, the trekking pole was a luxury and helped descend safely. On the way down, I saw 15-20 people heading into the park as it was a Saturday – it struck me how wild and remote a location can be, people will always find it and visit it. In a sense, humans will always seek and explore their surroundings and nature.

I reached the car park at 10:30 am, and reflected on what was a relatively short, but impactful and beautiful hike through a foreign environment. Part of me filled with regret I didn’t push myself hard enough to complete the summit of Mount Jerusalem, but also satisfied that I had completed the route I set out to do.

# 04/2/22 | Day 2: Frosty conditions and stunning summits

- Day trips from Wild Dogs Campground
- 15km
- 4.5 to 5 hours

I woke up past midnight to a bitter breeze. After donning my puffer jacket, half-zip fleece and three layers with a beanie and gloves, I was still cold. A perfect example of the conditions in Tasmania turning bitter during the night. Thermal layers and a warm sleeping bag were unnegotiable and potentially lifesaving. Realizing it would be a cold and fitful night, I settled in and tried to get a few hours rest.

I woke find the campground covered in frost, indicating the temperature must have gone down to 5 degrees Celsius or below – my first real test in sleeping outdoors in such temperatures and some gear definitely will be revised for the next trip. Luckily my water filter did not freeze overnight.

I’d been thinking about the trail ahead of me, and how I might deviate from my original plan. I spoke to some hikers returning from the Walls that evening, and they warned me that the trail from Lake Ball back to the carpark was overgrown and very boggy, which was something I considered avoiding. If I avoided this, it would mean the trail would be cut shorter, with the walk to Dixons Kingdom only 6-7 kilometers away and over relatively flat ground.

I pondered what I might do over breakfast, but my immediate attention was drawn to my freezing cold hands and condensation-soaked outer tent wall. Eventually I packed up my gear and soldiered onwards towards Herods Gate into the Central Walls of the park – it was spectacular.

I passed a group of six hikers just after Herods Gate, who informed me that there was a T-junction further up with tracks leading up to The Temple (1446m) and Solomons Throne (1446m), and that I could drop my bag off and do those two summits. 

Before that, I had reached a small sidetrack that led to the mesmerizing pool of Bethesda, a small alpine pool dotted with trees, moss and hidden overshadowed by The Temple. Here I stopped for the day but had only been walking 90 minutes. The walk so far was much shorter than I anticipated. I had made my way to the T-junction on the track, and dumped my bag, and headed for the summit of The Temple and Solomons Throne.

The track to The Temple was underwhelming, but I could move at a lightning-fast pace without the weight of my pack, all I could think of was the view from Solomons Throne, which was significantly higher than The Temple and the quintessential pictures that I had seen from that location. It only took me 15 minutes to reach the top of The Temple, but I was eager to get down and start the scramble up to Solomons Throne. 

I was expecting the scramble to Solomons Throne to be much more technical and challenging, but I was proven wrong – the trail was man-made and easy to traverse, with the only thing weighing against you is a fear of heights or slipping from the rocks that could cause you to doubt your ability to complete this relatively easy climb. The views from Solomons Throne were spectacular with a beautiful blue-sky with not a cloud in sight.

Solomons Throne provided views of the trail I had just traversed and a 360 degrees perspective of surrounding national parks and peaks. It was simply stunning and was the highlight of the trip. After spending 20 minutes at the top, I descended and retrieved my bag and meandered my way down to Dixons Kingdom campground. It was only midday and I had already reached my intended camp spot for the day. 

I won’t lie – I felt a bit defeated because I had achieved the days itinerary in merely 3 hours, I was almost expecting something to be more difficult and not have the rest of the day to sit around at the campgrounds. I had lunch at Dixons Kingdom and then decided to head back to Wild Dogs Campground, completely forgetting that Mount Jerusalem was only 3-4 hours return from Dixons Kingdom. Regrettably, I chose not to do this sidetrack as I had felt like I had achieved everything I wanted to that day and sitting in the comfort of home made me realize I should have pushed myself more and completed that summit. Something to remember for my next trip. I returned to Wild Dogs Campground by 2pm, settled into my tent and took it easy for the rest of the day, I even found myself quite bored and longing to be off the trail, but eventually I settled down, had a much better dinner and went to bed.

As part of a six-day solo road trip across Tasmania, I hiked the wild and inspiring alpine Walls of Jerusalem linear trail over two nights in February 2022.

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Trail leading towards Wild Dogs Campground, nestled under King Davids peak. Can you spot the tents?

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# Preface

As part of a six-day road trip across Tasmania, I hiked through the Walls of Jerusalem National Park and explored what it had to offer over two nights. The Walls of Jerusalem is a remote and mountainous alpine landscape within the Central Plateau region of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area and can only be explored on foot due to no road access to its boundary.

Most walkers take 3-4 days to explore the Walls of Jerusalem, undertaking the 23km circuit track that goes through Wild Dog Campground, to Lake Adelaide Campground. I opted for a linear track, staying at Wild Dogs Campground for two nights. In hindsight, I could have done this walk as an overnighter or stretched it to three nights staying at Lake Adelaide, but my schedule with needing to be in other places in Tasmania did not allow for much modification in my plans. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful few days in an alpine setting. 

An Alpine Wonderland 

# Travel

As part of a six-day road trip, I took a flight to Hobart in the afternoon and arrived late evening, where I wild camped near the airport and waited until I could pick up the car from the rental place - it was relatively cheap at $400 AUD for 6 days, including insurance through Discover Cars. However, if this was my only hike planned for the trip, it would have made more sense to fly to Launceston and drive to the national park which would only take a few hours, rather than a four-hour drive from Hobart travelling north on the A1 highway. Mole Creek, Chudleigh and Deloraine are the nearest towns from the trail head, which all offer motels for relatively cheap, but a car is non-negotiable as public transport is extremely poor all across Tasmania. Mole Creek was 50 minutes from the national park, which in itself was a spectacular drive through gorges and hydroelectric dams. The nearest town for supplies was Deloraine with a reasonably sized Woolworths and newsagent, Mole Creek and Chudleigh were towns with a pub and that’s it. 

# About

The Heysen Trail is a 1200km walking trail that passes through some of South Australia’s diverse and breathtaking landscapes and towns. The walking trail starts at the small coastal town of Cape Jervis, and winds its way through rugged bushland, gorges, pine forests, vineyards, private farmland, and historic towns, all the way to the Flinders Rangers. It passes through numerous internationally recognised heritage sites and tourist destinations alongside national parks and state forests. Notable places of interest include the Barossa Valley and Wilpena Pound.

The Heysen Trail is a Class 5 trail which requires hikers to be adequately prepared for all possible scenarios and are skilled in navigation and first aid. The track conditions are distinct, with minimal modifications or debris removal along the trail. The gradient is limited to the environment and many steep sections of the trail are unmodified. The same can be said for the signage of the trail. In parts, the signage was so vague I was relying on GPS and printed out maps for guidance. However, this is to be expected given the classification of the trail. The Heysen Trail is maintained by volunteers of the Friends of Heysen and the Department of Environment and Water. Without their support, and the help of farmers and landowners – the Wild South Coast Way would not be possible.

You can find more information about the Heysen Trail [here](https://heysentrail.asn.au/heysen-trail/).

Or you can find more information about The Wild South Coast Way (not up to date website though) found [here](https://www.walkingsa.org.au/walk/find-a-place-to-walk/heysen-trail-south-coast/).

If you’ve made it this far, thanks a lot. I thoroughly enjoyed documenting my experience on The Wild South Coast Way. You can get in touch with me through social media or the contact page on this website. Until then, see you on the trail.


# 13/6/22 | Secluded retreats, relentless wind and unforgiving landscapes

- Trig Campground to Cape Jervis
- 22km
- 9 hours (over 2 days)

I returned to Deep Creek 6 months later to complete the trail from Trig Campground to Cape Jervis. The trail from Trig Campground to Eagle Waterhole is some of the steepest and roughest trail along the Wild South Coast Way. I'd visited Deep Creek Cove on a day walk before getting on route to Eagle Waterhole, and the trail here was much steeper than the trail to the cove. After some exceptional care traversing the steep and muddy track, I made it to Eagle Waterhole campground. The large sweeping valleys dotted with deadtrees poking out of the undergrowth made for some incredible views, especially with Kangaroo Island in the background.  

I met some fellow hikers, by the name of Julian and his daughter who's french name I simply cannot remember. They invited me to  dinner in the cooking shelter, and I had a great time sharing stories and hearing about their outlook on activities like hiking, walking and general life perspectives. We  all agreed that the recent construction that was completed was incredible.

The campground was fitted with 10 tent platforms, a generously sized cooking shelther and two toilets. However the location of the campground was a fantastic wind funnel, as the nights rest was dominated by defeaning winds and creaking trees. I was also graced with a full moon that gazed in my tent, plus a solid wind chill that I could not get rid of regardless of wearing all my clothes. Safe to say, not much sleep was had that night.

I rose early at Eagle Waterhole and made good pace towards the coast. I was aiming to be in Cape Jervis by the end of the day. The trail was tough. Steep ascents, followed by steep descents until reading Blowhole Beach, where the trail flattened out and improved in quality. What a stunning place to have lunch, and provided a well needed break from the wind.

It was around this time I caught up with Julian again, who invited me to walk with him until Cape Jervis. I graciously accepted the offer, and we began chatting about camping gear and discussing all sorts of things. Meeting him and his daughter turned out to be a great addition to the trip. 

The trail followed the coast for many kilometers, and at times the wind was so strong you could not walk, only stop and hold on to the trekking pole for support. It was easily 50km/h wind - simply incredible to be caught up in. What a weird sense of fun. 

The trail passed the unique Naiko Retreat, an eco luxury home for those wanting an expensive, but special digital detox from the modern world. The 1970s UFO is a bizarre building and not something you'd expect nestled in by the coast, especially in Deep Creek of all places.

The trail continued along the coast, cutting through scrub land obscuring the view of the coast before eventually opening up for the final few hundred meters. The wind did not stop from the minute I reached the coast, almost 4 hours of solid walking, to the Cape Jervis carpark. Very strong wind, and a very strong wind chill.

I felt a great sense of accomplishment once I reached Cape Jervis, especially given the tough walking conditions and relentless wind for the entire trip. The Wild South Coast Way completed, even if not in one continious go. 

It also changed my perspective on walking alone. I enjoy the solitude that comes with hiking, but having someone to talk to on the trail provides a great sense of companionship. Julian went above and beyond to drop me back in the city and buy me lunch at a bakery. An incredibly generous gesture - thank you for that Julian, maybe we'll see eachother again some day. 

Until then, see you on the trail. 

# 7/12/21 | Day 1: Rocky outcrops & sandy beaches

- Tappanapp Campground to Balquidder Campground
- 17.23km
- 6.5 to 7 hours

The views from Tapanappa Campground were stunning. The views of the coast, the waves crashing against the rocks, and the dense impenetrable scrub that consumed the coastline was something magnificent to behold. The trail actually started off a small fire track called Pages Lookout, a lookout that provided spectacular views of the coastline and offered glimpses into some of the terrain that I was about to walk. The first few kilometres were easy going, a well-kept and wide trail offered little resistance as I stumbled my way down to Boat Harbor beach. The trail wrapped around a large gorge which in the middle, lay a small stream that ran all the way down to the sea – this stream provided me with the first water source of the trip, one of many to come. The trail emerges on an embankment that was removed of foliage, allowing prime views of the coast and Boat Harbor beach. The sharp 200-meter descent filled with slippery rocks and an uneven trail required some steady feet and a keen eye to avoid any injuries so early on in the trip.

Boat Harbor Beach is a small beach, approximately 15-20 meters in length. Completely covered in stones and surrounded by rocky outcrops and foliage provided some beautiful views. The sharp embankment on the other side of the beach was the first uphill of the trip, and a beautifully placed bench allowed for some dolphin and whale spotting. During some months of the year, Southern Right and Humpback Whales can be seen from anywhere along the coast in Deep Creek and New Headland National Parks. There was a strange sound in the water, it sounded like popping or creaking. Turning back to face the beach and very close the shoreline was a pod of dolphins! Maybe 10 or so, making dolphin noises before disappearing underneath the water to be never seen again. What a start to the trip.

The trail continued along the coast for a further 1.5 kilometres. The trail narrowed in width to the point animals as dexterous as sheep or goats would have trouble walking along these paths. Eventually, the trail descended the shores of Tunkalilla beach. The longest stretch of beach for the trip, and ended up being 8 kilometres of windswept, thick, and deep sand that was the bane of my existence of this trip. Every footstep requiring two footsteps worth of energy due to the pack weight pushing me into the sand – it was exhausting, but the view was spectacular. Surrounded by white horses, a sea breeze and rolling hills, I continued along for 6 kilometres, stopping for lunch behind the sand dunes to escape the wind.

At the end of Tunkalilla beach, I had reached what turned out to be the most difficult climb of the trip – a 237-meter, vertical (almost) hill that only by the grace of a well-placed fence, allowed me to climb to the top without falling down and injuring myself. It was exhausting, but the view of the beach and the surrounding hills was worth it. That being said, the picture of the climb did not do it justice as to how steep it was. After spending 15 to 25 minutes resting and admiring the steep slope I had just climbed up, I continued onwards to the camp for the day. The trail continued up a smaller set of undulating hills, before eventually coming to a dirt road that led down to Balquhidder Campground. The road continued for a further 4-5 kilometres before eventually winding its way down the valley into Balquhidder Campground, only to be greeted with signage that said the campsite was closed until works had been completed, and that a temporary campsite had been constructed 500 meters down the track.

The temporary campsite was nothing more than an untouched field with a fence surrounding it, the water tank was minute, and capacity was at 20%. The grass in the field was almost waist height, not ideal for pitching. But I made do anyway, flattening the grass with my pack and tent footprint. It was an exhausting day, and I was relieved to have made it to camp alive put the longest day (distance wise) behind me. I quickly consumed an electrolyte drink before unpacking my gear and setting up for the night. A pretty demanding but enjoyable and worthwhile day.

# 9/12/21 | Day 3: Searing heat and the Bench with a view

- Waitpinga Campground to Victor Harbor
- 15km
- 6.5 to 7 hours

I woke up 5am completely drenched in sweat. The temperature had not died down over night and I was overheating in my -2 degrees Celsius sleeping bag. I realised that I had to get up and moving as soon as possible to avoid the worst of the heat. The final stretch to Kent Reserve was supposedly the most beautiful part of the trail – following along the cliffs before winding down steep hills and meandering across beaches until the end of the trail.

Almost frantically I started packing up my gear. It was only 5am, a time that I’m not usually up at, but I was already completely awake and aiming to be on the trail by 6. The mosquitoes were everywhere, and my body was sweating simply from packing my gear up – I knew it would be a hot day. I skipped breakfast and decided to snack whilst walking. I remember specifically, it was 6:03am when I stepped on the trail. Feeling slightly refreshed from the nights rest, the first section of the trail from Waitpinga, cutting through the heart of New Headland Conservation Park was all sand…again. Atleast I was tackling the hardest surface to walk on, first thing in the morning. The sandy trail continued for about 4 kilometres before emerging at the top of the cliffs, where the sunrise gleamed across the rocks. The photos don’t do it justice.

I continued the trail along the cliffs before eventually ducking back into the headland where I followed an ATV trail for 5 kilometres in a straight line. At this point I didn’t realise I had left the trail, and unbeknownst to me, I followed a small rabbit trail (which I assumed was the actual trail), that miraculously crossed over the actual trail which I then followed. I had no PLB, but getting lost was something I didn't want to happen. Eventually I came across the crown jewel of the Wild South Coast Way – the bench with a view. This is the name of the spot and was a small park bench on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the coast until Victor Harbor. The view was spectacular, and just behind the bench, was a small area that could definitely fit a tent – something to keep in mind for the next time. I rested here and had my first proper bite to eat of the day, plus a generous swig of water. There were no water streams that I could fill up from until I got to Victor Harbor, so I had to be careful with my supply.

It was at this point where the wind turned really bad. Constantly getting blown around and navigating these thin, rocky trails near the edge of cliffs was (at times) nerve racking. Eventually, I descended off the cliffs and followed a small sheep trail that led down to flat land. I was officially out of New Headland Conservation Park, and on common ground which led through Encounter Bay to Victor Harbor. The trailhead turned north and followed along a dirt road with a steep hill. At the top of this hill, was an excellent view of Encounter Bay and my destination, Kent Reserve in Victor Harbor.

I had to rest at this point, I’d already been walking for about 5 hours and I was low on water. I descended down into Encounter Bay and followed the tarmac road – the first one in three days. Eventually, I reached Franklin Parade and wandered along the beach front for a further 3 kilometres till Kent Reserve. Exhausted and dehydrated after 7 hours of walking in 30+ degree heat, I forgot to take a photo of the end point. But I had completed what I set out to do, and that’s all that matters. I'm pretty sure I deserved a shower now.

# 8/12/21 | Day 2: Fitful rest, steep hills and sinking sand 

- Balquidder Campground to Waitpinga Campground
- 11.5km
- 4.5 to 5 hours

The nights rest was fitful and cold. I woke up at 2 am and wandered around outside my tent, the air was cold, and the night sky was beautiful and bright. Never in my life had I seen stars of this calibre, especially since there was no cloud covering them. The beaches along the Fleurieu peninsula are some of the darkest in the world, and attract numerous photographers to capture the Milky Way from the very beaches I had walked across. I wished at the time I had a camera that could have captured the night sky in all its glory – maybe another time.

I woke up to condensation on the tent seeping in through the first wall and onto my sleeping bag. Undoing the zips saw water drip everywhere on my food and boots but was quickly dried off. This presented another problem; my cooking equipment had gotten wet overnight. Usually this isn’t a big deal as you can dry the pots with a towel, but the matches used to light the stove had been soaked and took me 7-10 matches just to get a flame strong enough to light the gas to make coffee and oats. Eventually though, I was well and truly satiated and ready to tackle the imposing beach fronts that lay ahead. After spending 15 minutes packing my gear and filling my water for the day, I made my way out of the campsite. You might recall that I mentioned the campsite was a field of uncut grass – and yes, that is essentially what it was. Combined with the overnight dew meant the grass was soaked, and before I had even gotten onto the trail, my shoes and socks had become wet, and I could even hear/feel the water squishing around in my boots. This turned out to be a pivotal moment in the trip, as the blisters I developed from this point onwards impeded upon my performance significantly for the remainder of the trip.

Enough about that – I was on the trail. It started off following the dirt track before taking a sharp right turn onto farmers’ fields. The rolling, undulating hills littered with sheep was all I could see for miles. The trail followed along the ridge before dipping down into the valley, following the creek that led me all the way to Coolawang Beach. 

After stopping briefly to take in the morning sun and fill up from the creek that passed through the valley, I continued along the trail, going up and down hills following the cliffs and rocks that eventually led me to Parsons Beach - A beautiful beach sprawling with rocks, a gentle breeze from the ocean and stunning views of the coastline.

Again, I encountered the problem of walking on sand, constantly sinking into the wet and soft sand which caked my shoes. It was a difficult stretch of beach but made up for it with a short climb off the beach to Parsons Beach lookout, which provided exceptional views of both Parsons and Waitpinga beach.

At the lookout, I rested. I noticed I had phone reception for the first time that trip. I decided to book a small cabin in Victor Harbor as a reward for completing the hike, and a place for me to rest, recuperate and sleep on a nice soft bed. After having a quick bite to eat, I descended down the rocky slopes onto Waitpinga Beach. It was only 11:30 and I was a mere 4-5 kilometres away from the campground I intended to stay at. Much the same as Parsons Beach, Waitpinga provided exceptional views of the coast and soft sand that took approximately 40 minutes to traverse. The climb up from Waitpinga beach to Waitpinga Campground was exceptionally difficult – the heat and sandy track was seriously taking its toll on my body – and it was only midday and I’d only walked 8-9 kilometres! Mentally and physically draining, sinking into the sand with a pack on your back. The novelty of long beach walks had definitely worn off.

I eventually made it to camp and quickly filled up my water bottles from the tank there. The water there, and at most campsites these days, is untreated and must be filtered. I was paranoid about catching a bug from the water, so I used Aquatabs to treat the water, then my Katadyn Be Free to filter that water – just to be 100% sure it was safe to drink. Some campers I met only filtered it and didn’t treat it but were fine and experienced no problems at all. I pitched my tent outside of the campground, opting for seclusion rather than being surrounded by other campers. This felt cheeky, and almost like a stealth camp, as I was just perched in the bushes behind the main road leading into the grounds. I quickly consumed some tinned soup and a hot chocolate before settling in for the night and had a few hours to kill before the sun went down. I’d arrived at camp at roughly 2pm and had six hours until dark. I filled this time by watching a movie on my phone, and then walking back into camp to chat with other campers about the day, some of which had walked the same route as I did. It was a warm evening, and the temperature didn’t drop until the morning, where I mentally prepared myself for the final stretch to Kent Reserve in the searing heat. A relatively short day in the end. Long beaches, soft sand and stunning views of the coastline - can't really ask for more.


In November 2021, I solo hiked 45 kilometers along The Wild South Coast Way, following the Fleurieu Peninsula through Deep Creek and New Headland Conservation Park.

The Wild South Coast Way Image Thumbnail

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# Preface

The first record for my website. I wouldn't call it a blog, or itinerary but more of a logbook. Some photos, a bit of writing, trip details and whatever else I'm interested in - mainly hiking, photography and adventuring.

The Heysen Trail is split into sections that span 1200km across South Australia. I focussed on the southern section of the trail which runs along the Fleurieu Peninsula and offers arguably the most spectacular scenery with the exception of the Flinders Ranges, almost 1100km away. The trail is known as The Wild South Coast Way and technically starts at Cape Jervis and follows along the coast towards Encounter Bay/Victor Harbor, but I opted to start walking from Tapanappa Campground, effectively cutting out 25-30km of trail and 1-2 days of walking. I will return one day to complete the full 73km trail, and maybe an extended trip spanning the entire Heysen Trail. 

But for now, my first multi-day hike in the South Australian wilderness, alone with all my gear on my back.


The Crown Jewel of South Australia

# Travel

Deep Creek Conservation Park can be found 1.5 to 2 hours south of Adelaide. I was fortunate enough to have a family member drop me off at the trailhead, but for a hiker coming from Adelaide would need a taxi or friend (if you have one) for a lift. 

Once you enter Victor Harbor, transport options are slightly better. LinkSA offer bus services from Goolwa to Adelaide via Victor Harbor. Depending on the bus route, the times vary drastically. I took the only bus (number 1251) from Victor Harbor that day, which was at 9am and arrived in Adelaide CBD at 10:45am. 

The bus timetable can be found [here](https://www.linksa.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/TT-Route-1251-1254-GWA-ADL-1.pdf)