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Cradle Mountain

Hiking Tasmania's 5th highest peak

Por Tommy Nagle

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Cradle Mountain, the fifth highest mountain in Tasmania and one of its most popular tourist sites, is nestled in the north end of a national park that spans an area of over six hundred square miles.

⇡ Cradle Mountain, from the Overland Track ⇡

Barn Bluff peeking over the bushes on the right

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Depending on which direction you're coming from, there are various places to kip, from the famous Waldheim Cabins which are inside the park, to lodges and hotels on the outskirts. We chose Discovery Parks' Cradle Mountain location, because it was reasonably priced and just on the edge of the park.

⇡ The River Forth, on the way to Cradle Mountain from Launceston ⇡

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As we approached in our car from the east, the roads evolved from flat and straight to snaking erratically up the mountainside. Now, I’m no rally driver, but I’m no Captain Slow either. Thus, while driving at a fair old clip, a behemoth of a truck appearing in my rear view mirror as if by magic was rather unsettling.

Logic would dictate one pulls over as soon as one is able in such a situation. A more accurate description would be that I pulled over as soon as I realised he was going to run me off the road, à la Spielberg’s Duel.

The truck disappeared as quickly as it had materialised, leaving me to ponder the existence of ghost juggernauts and their suitability for a movie franchise.

The lady at the Discovery Parks reception desk was dealing with some rather sullen, uncommunicative German girls when we arrived. From what we could overhear, they hadn't booked any accommodation for that night, and baulked at the prices there (even though they were reasonable).

She told them that unless they wanted to sleep in their car, they didn’t really have any cheaper options. As the girls pondered their future next to a chest freezer full of ice cream, the lady waved us over. She sighed with relief when we said we had a reservation, provided us with all the maps and brochures we could ever need, and sent us on our way.

The campsite, shower blocks and camp kitchen were convenient and clean, but nothing more. No views to speak of, the tent pitches being small areas surrounded on three sides by trees and bushes, but everyone was pleasant and respectful of each other’s space. One notable feature was a combination unisex/disabled bathroom, which as far as we could tell was frequented by far more unisex couples than disabled folks. Proof being the giggles we often heard emanating from the bathroom as we walked past, unless disabled folks found their ablutions particularly funny.

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DOVE LAKE

In the early evening, we drove down into the park with the intention of walking the two hour loop around Dove Lake, which is the poster boy for the park, a beautiful calm body of water at the base of Cradle Mountain...

...but the weather was crap. Drizzly and generally unpleasant, we decided to decamp.

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RONNY CREEK

We drove north instead to Ronny Creek, the start of the famous Overland Track (a fifty mile hike across the Tasmanian Wilderness) where the rain hadn't yet begun.

The Discovery Parks reception lady had assured us that we could mooch around at this time of the early evening (5:30pm) and see “Fifteen wombats, no problem.”

We dismissed this as hyperbole, but after Lucy rounded the first corner and gasped loud enough to give me a heart attack, we determined it wasn’t.

The wombats were just hanging out, munching on the grass literally a meter away from us, generally uninterested in our presence. To a local, this is no big deal, but to a Pom, we don't have these things! Way more exciting than sheep.

Thus the situation was worthy of gasps. Possibly.

Happy with our little mini safari, we went back 'home' to our wee tent, determined to get a decent sleep before the next day's hike.

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Cradle Mountain SUMMIT HIKE

VIA OVERLAND TRACK, CRATER LAKE AND MARION'S LOOKOUT

14.9KM / 9.25 MILES long

1,545m / 5,069 ft high

MAX GRADE: ⓸

Bushwalking experience recommended. Tracks may be long, rough and very steep. Directional signage may be limited.

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After a late breakfast of sausage, scrambled eggs and baked beans rustled up in the camp kitchen - a large building replete with log fires, stoves, sinks and barbecues - we made our way into the park via the complimentary (with park pass) 20 minute shuttle bus. If you're early enough, and have a car, you can drive yourself into the park, but it was already past 10am.

We knew that the lower car parks would be full, but out of interest, Lucy asked the wizened old witch lady at the information centre desk what time they usually filled up. "Well it's a bit late now isn't it?" she replied. Thanks for that. Very helpful.

⇡ Route map ⇡

We decamped at Ronny Creek again, but unlike the prior evening, we were greeted with clear blue skies and glorious sunshine.

⇡ Those little mounds are 'buttongrass' ⇡

We began atop well-maintained boardwalks that meandered through verdant grasslands flecked with birdlife and the occasional insomniac wombat...

...onward onto forest-sheltered paths beside waterfalls...

...emerging along the shores of a mountain lake:

⇡ Crater Lake, to be exact ⇡

⇡ It's actually named 'Wombat Pool' But people keep stealing the 'L' ...⇡

Before the big stuff, there are sections with steps and chains to help you haul yourself up, but not for long!

As we scaled the mountain, we began climbing past increasing numbers of Asian tourists dressed in ridiculously inappropriate clothing. This is totally an old man rant, but screw it.

What possesses people to tackle a mountain (seriously, this thing is no joke as you get higher up) wearing clothes whose suitability for a walk to the supermarket are dubious at best? They looked like they'd been teleported from a photoshoot for a dystopian future BMX fashion magazine. #OldManRantOver.

⇡ Crater Lake, from above ⇡

According to the Tasmania Parks and Wildlife Service:

"The dark colour of [Crater Lake's]... water, like so many lakes and streams throughout western Tasmania, is the result of tannins leached from buttongrass and tea tree vegetation."

⇡ Further up the path, Crater Lake again on the left, Dove Lake on the right ⇡

The lakes were all formed in this amphitheatre-like valley by glacial erosion.

⇡ The Historic Kitchen Hut ⇡

Built in the late 1930's, now used as an emergency shelter.

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Fear not, intrepid hiker! You don't have to do a poo on the exposed face of the mountain prior to summiting.

You can use the facilities in a little hut (not far from the kitchen hut) at the base of the hill, replete with a couple of humourous signs to get you through your bowel movement.

⇡ I always have great respect for the poor buggers that have to carry these signs halfway (or all the way) up the mountain so the rest of us can find our way. Lucy insists they're flown up by helicopter... ⇡

⇡ Looking down at the intersecting tracks that traverse the landscape ⇡

PRO-TIP: DON'T GRAB THE POLES*

Towards the top of the mountain we were hauling ourselves up over properly large boulders, eight feet or so across. See the photos below.

Occasionally, in order to facilitate my clambering, I’d grab onto to the base of a metal marker pole that looked to all intents and purposes like it should be sunk deep into the rock and then sealed up so it wouldn’t move. That would make sense, right?

A marker pole with a flag atop it (long since gone now) that couldn’t be blown over or lost, so intrepid hikers to tell which way to go? Yeah, that would make sense.

*That's what she said

But every single time, I’d end up almost toppling down the mountain because I’d entrusted my life to a metal pole that was only recessed into the rock a couple of inches, so naturally it would come out of the rock when you grabbed it. Fool!

It was a beautiful, clear, sunburny day, and the views from the top were satisfying, if not incredible. This isn't the Alps, after all.

If it the weather were misty I'd certainly think twice about going all the way to the top.

⇡ The view of Barn Bluff from the Cradle Mountain summit ⇡

Barn Bluff is actually the fourth highest mountain in Tasmania, exceeding the more famous Cradle Mountain by a massive 14 metres / 46 feet, and looks like something you'd sculpt out of mashed potato.

⇡ One of said offending poles on the left. Also a pretty nice view. ⇡

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The last bus from the Dove Lake car park, returning to the park entrance where everyone parks their vehicles, is at 6pm.

Because we'd started so late, we only left the top of the mountain at around 4:45pm.

They say it's a two and a half hour walk back down.

Thus (quick maths face) we had an hour and a quarter to complete a walk that usually takes... two and a half hours.

Bonus Pro Tip: If you want a stressful and tiring end to your days hiking, I thoroughly recommend this approach.

We began descending the mountain in an orderly fashion. I had time to take photos, to marvel at nature, etc etc.

I even had time to photograph some details, interesting tree bark formations, pretty mountain flowers and so on.

But as the minutes slipped away, we eventually found ourselves literally running back to make it on time.

Happily, we arrived at the car park just in time for the last bus... (Triumph!)

... which we couldn't get on... (Disaster!)

...because there were too many dystopian Asian BMX supermodels already waiting.

But don't fret, the park folks don't leave you stranded, there are extra buses put on to pick up any stragglers.

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Halfway down the mountain, we committed the unforgivable sin of running out of drinking water. Thus we arrived at the car park as parched as the proverbial pharaoh's sock / nun's vagina etc. Erected next to the bus stop (which is actually a small building where you can enter your details into a leger before and after your walk, should you get lost in the wilderness and need people to rescue you) there was a huge black barrel filled with untreated rainwater. At it's base was a tap, and affixed to it a small sign warning of the possibility of contracting various ailments should one consume the contents.

I was on the fence (literally, I was sitting on the fence at the time) about drinking it. I was so thirsty I could drink milk, and I fucking hate milk, but equally I didn't fancy getting ill. Then a strapping older Crocodile Dundee type pitched up, filled his bottle and without hesitation downed the contents in one go. I asked him how it tasted. "Bonza mate! No worries."

Screw it, I thought. I was too thirsty, and also Lucy had reassured me that if I did ingest any parasites, it'd take about a week for them to rear their teeny parasitical heads, so to speak. By which time I wouldn't be on holiday any more. Any theoretical bowel explosions were no match for my very real thirst. I can confirm the water did indeed taste bonza, and no bowel explosions, beyond the normal, were had.

⇡ A black currawong, or black jay. Much like a crow. Always looking for snacks. ⇡

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Given that Cradle Mountain is in one the areas of Australia where the light pollution is incredibly low, and thus the night sky is at its brightest, I was desperate to take advantage of this and take some photos of the stars.

We drove back into the park at 10:30pm, crossing our fingers and hoping that the automatic gate would let us in. Thankfully it did. I left Lucy and the car at the Dove Lake car park, and walked the two minutes down to the shore.