The first trip.

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The first trip.

Postby Old Fart » Fri 20 Oct, 2017 6:09 pm

Hi all,

I was asked to do a Tassie inspired blog that after much work and anguish wasn't ' "the direction they wanted to go" :roll: :roll: :roll: . So after writing several accounts of Tassie's wild places that I visited with some very special people they were left sitting on the hard drive- thought someone might get some enjoyment out of it.

Cheers The old Fart
.
The first trip

The old Fart March 2016

I saw the flyer amongst a thousand other requests for my attention on the main Launceston uni notice board. The usual request for second-hand books, flatmates (preferably normal and sober for 1/2 the week) and some newish, uni pub night band called Powder Finger hid what would be an interesting public lecture. Some famous Australian Mountaineer climbing somewhere in Tibet or Nepal… A few days later I found myself sitting in the aptly named Sir Raymond Feral centre. Two young ladies sat down next to me, both UTAS students, one with long blond hair who was (and still is) a chemistry boffin and her dark-haired friend doing management, HR or some other fluff. As the incredibly famous mountaineer struggled with the presentation technology, we talked. Uni stuff, climbing stuff (as they had recently started indoor climbing) and soon the conversation fell to Bushwalking.


Fast forward a few weeks we found ourselves heading off for the Walls of Jerusalem National Park in the Central Highlands. They hardly appeared to be the violent axe murdering type. Anyhow we set off on what turned into a journey of discovery. Sounds of screeching Currawongs interrupted the climb, with heavy overnight packs through an old eucalypt forest. We paused at the restored Trappers hut, each contemplating the long, lonely winter night’s the early trapper would have spent here in this rustic shelter. The track then passed a series small alpine lakes, each fringed with Pencil Pines; some of which would have emerged as seedlings when the battle of Hastings was fought (1066 AD for the non- history buffs). We sat and we watched the cloud reflections in the majestic alpine tarns. Each one of us silently contemplating their own thoughts, as the weekends chocolate supply quickly dwindled. The silence interrupted by the occasional click of a camera.


In the distance, the Walls rose up inviting us to explore them. So off we set towards the evening campsite. The campsite was idyllic, bordered by Pencil Pines, with views of the central Walls, stretching off to Cradle Mountain in the distance. Tents erected, lunch was taken we soon scampered up the summit of Mount Jerusalem. The conversation flowed about the wonderful space we were in, as it was their first trip into the Walls. They had never before enjoyed the rugged beauty of this area, the sheer cliff lines of the West Wall, the scree piled mountain called the Temple. The quiet waters of the pool of Besdua, the glacially carved tops of Zion Hill held their attention for hours. To the East, the land of 3000 Lakes lay, most filled with wild brown trout in the gin-clear waters. Even the Cushion plants carpeting the ground near our feet were a source of interest. Eventually, we drifted back to camp, the late afternoon's sun lighting up the mountains in an intense yellow then orange hue.
Tea was prepared by head torch, under what seemed like a million stars. If you ever get a chance, away from the cities just to look up into the Tasmanian night’s sky, it is a sight never forgotten. The conversation flowed as did one of my companion's dinner over the ground following a miss-timed bowl placement. After too many tim tams and too many hot chocolates amidst conversations of our hoped-for futures after graduation, the cold eventually forced us to retreat to our tents.


We awoke to frozen tents the next morning, my companions were not early rising. I put the Trangia stove on and enjoyed a cup of earl grey with an extra slosh of condensed milk as the sun slowly lit up the hills. Just sitting, just watching the world go by. No deadlines, no APA referencing system, no stressors. Before long I was joined by the others who were keen to ascend the West Wall, via a scree chute. Having done this before, I admired their intestinal fortitude (determination), as did they when they were near the top. The rounded scree boulders were covered with a glassy veneer of ice, with the chutes steepness becoming increasingly apparent. Many years later as I write this I can recall the ‘oh *&%$#!’ look etched onto one of my companions faces. To her credit, she did not flinch, nor panic, nor stop. Soon the chute ended and we were on the top, soaking in the view while enjoying the exhilaration of the climb. Life is fantastic. After admiring the view we headed south, dropping of the glaciated ridge then circling back to camp to collect our overnight gear.


We took the track, less travelled home past the solitary man’s hut built by a returned Vietnam vet who spent many long, lonely nights there in the early 80’s. Back past Trappers hut with increasingly weary legs the conversation continued. Not about uni and assignments as it had been on the way in, but rather of the beauty we had seen. Such conversations showed our growing connection to this place and the germination of the connections developing between each other. Connections that developed further on our next trip.
Old Fart
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Re: The first trip.

Postby Chris » Fri 20 Oct, 2017 11:40 pm

Thanks OF your memories are well worth recording and sharing.
Certainly not complaining :D but the topic name led me to expect an account of your your first trip - could also be interesting theme to pursue.
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Re: The first trip.

Postby cajun » Sat 21 Oct, 2017 7:52 am

Nice.
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.
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