The Lost World

With the recent defeat on the Mount Anne Circuit still fresh in our minds Pete, Tim and I were keen to get out and acquit ourselves by conquering another trail. Tim, as our Tasmanian guide, had recommended Mount Wellington which looms over Hobart and is only a short walk from his house. Our ears perked up as he told us about a little-known hike up to a place called the Lost World which Tim was interested to explore.

So the next morning we kitted out with an ample supply of snacks and water and set out on foot along the road towards Mount Wellington. It was a stunning day, the sun was hot and there was barely a hint of cloud to be seen. In fact, it was hard to believe that not more than 24 hours ago we had been snowed-in on a mountain side and facing a serious possibility of hypothermia. That was definitely not going to be a problem today.

We passed the Cascade Brewery along our route and Tim explained that a large portion of the surrounding rain forest behind the brewery was privately owned by them but they maintained it for public use. I pondered this new information as we walked, and my thoughts went something like this: If Cascade supports forest conservation with the profits they make from selling beer, then when I drink Cascade beer I am supporting forest conservation. Forest conservation is saving the world and therefore when I drink beer I am saving the world. This seemed like very sound logic to me and it made me very happy indeed. In fact, I swore right then and there that I would do my bit to support this worthy cause that very night.

The initial track began in a cool rain forest with the characteristic flora of moss and ferns. The grade was quite steep but the good conversation made it easy work.

After a while, the trail opened out into very different and dryer terrain dotted with smaller eucalypts . It was also becoming quite warm. At times we could now glimpse a view of Hobart and the great Derwent river below us.

As we rose higher the path disappeared into a fields of boulders, the way marked only by occasional orange direction markers or sometimes rock cairns. It wasn't difficult to navigate but required a lot more concentration when choosing footing. I was actually glad to leave the well-worn path behind because only then do I really begin to feel that I am truly in nature.

We re-joined the trail further on and passed two other hikers, middle-aged gentlemen sporting large cameras and large waists. We stopped for a short chat and they told us they were heading for the historic cabin that we had passed a good 40-minutes earlier. They were under the impression they would find it imminently and none of us had the heart to disillusion them. They continued on their merry way no doubt eagerly expecting to to find the cabin around the very next turn. 

Not long after this encounter we veered off on another track which Tim believed would take us in the direction of the Lost World. It soon brought us to a small waterfall with a trickle of water running down. It looked so inviting we just had to climb it! 

The surface of the rock was treacherously slippery in places so we ascended cautiously. At least I did, it looked rather like Pete somehow fell up the waterfall in a series of rather terrifying and gravity-defying accidents but somehow he made it alive. 

The view was beautiful and the water was cold and refreshing to splash on our faces. After a short rest there we made our way back down the waterfall to the path only to find that the path appeared to dead-end at the waterfall.  There was no obvious way forward. 

We searched around, clambering over fallen limbs and boulders until we stumbled upon a faded, palm-sized, red and yellow dot painted on a rock. Another identical mark was visible on a boulder further on and so we were sure that these marked the intended route, though it looked like no one had been that way for quite some time.  

Clambering over boulders and logs we edged our way forward, our eyes peeled for the painted marks. This part of the trek was a lot of fun as we climbed our way up the side of the mountain on what looked like a giant mound of boulders stacked one on top of another. 

Along the side of the track we discovered the entrance to a cave. There were signs that either animals or people used it as there was a worn appearance to the ground outside. The opening was narrow and steep and the inside was pitch black so it was impossible to know how deep it was. We were all reluctant to venture in but curiosity got the better of me and with Tim holding on to my ankles I slid in head-first to take a look.

Even as my eyes adjusted slowly to the dim interior it was still too dark to make out any hand or footholds so Tim handed me the camera to take some photos with the flash on. In the brief flashes from the camera I could see that there was a sharp drop of about 5-6 feet in front of me with the cave continuing on down at an angle until it was beyond view. I clearly couldn't go any further with only my head to break my fall so I gracefully wriggled my way arse-up out of the cave. Reviewing the photos on the camera as we walked on we discussed the possibility of returning one day, better equipped to explore how far this cave went. 

During one of our many brief pauses to take in the view, a fast growing plume of smoke was spotted in the valley below. Earlier we had discussed the potential for bushfire and our contingency plan in that event. But now we were far from the beaten track with no easy means of escape.  As we continued up we discussed our fire safety plan which at this point involved clambering down one of the deep crevasses between the boulders and hoping our oxygen wouldn't run out. Fortunately the fire was a long way off but we kept a wary eye on it.

The trail continued steeply ascending Mount Wellington until we came up over the edge of a boulder to find ourselves on a sort of plateau beneath a semi-circle of sheer cliff. We had found the Lost World!

For some reason I didn't take many photos in the Lost World, maybe it’s for the best, because the photos don’t do it justice. Perhaps it was also because I was so busy watching my footing. The entire area consisted of fallen boulders of gargantuan size with some truly spectacular chasms between them. One chasm I peered into appeared 20 meters deep and had ferns growing in its depths. It was quite magical really, as if you could imagine a whole miniature fairy kingdom living down there. 

Although we searched everywhere, there was no marking of the trail to be found and we were beginning to think the only way out was to scale the sheer cliffs. We headed off in different directions to explore our options. Tim and Pete went ahead, and I responded to the call of nature and went off to find a decent toilet spot. There was to be no burying of anything up here because it was all rock and so I was forced care of business in the only suitable place available. I am not sure the residents of the fairy kingdom would have appreciated my choice very much and I imagined their joyful singing abruptly replaced by cries of horror and pleas of "Won't someone please think of the children?!". Fanciful you may think, but such is the effect of being in the Lost World.

By now, Pete and Tim were out of sight and I began the arduous process of navigating a route across the giant boulders and around the chasms. I saw Pete ahead as he made an enormous leap between two boulders and figured I would head in that direction. When I got there I realised it was at least a three meter gap to the other boulder with a 15 meter drop straight down.  It would require a running jump with no room for error. Frankly, it was fortunate I had taken the time to relieve myself earlier because otherwise the prospect of this jump could have resulting in an involuntary process. I decided against the running jump as an unnecessary risk and began to think Pete led a charmed existence. I concluded that Pete must be part mountain goat - by all appearances looking like he will fall on his head but is actually as sure-footed a creature as you can find.

At this juncture, Tim called out from a distance to announce that he had found the way ahead. Towards the far right side the cliff became a more graduated slope and there were clear signs of wear and tear indicating that this was the way up. 

There were some great views of the Hobart area as we made the final climb up and out of the Lost World. At the top, we met the winding road that leads to the summit of Mount Wellington and although close to the top, the rest of the way up was on bitumen and it was bloody hot. Tim’s lovely wife Jane was going to be meeting us at the top with the car, so that we didn't need to make the return journey. It really was a hike to remember.

As I trudged that last kilometer, once again my mind turned to the subject of forest conservation and the thought that soon I'd be doing my bit to save the world, one beer at a time.

Attempt on the Mount Anne Circuit: (Pt.5) Escape & Lessons learned

We climbed up to the ridgeline, getting wet and fighting numbness in our feet and hands. 

By the time we had made the ridgeline we were somewhat warmed up by our exertions. Driven by a sense of urgency lest it begin to snow or sleet again, we powered on. 

The view back at the Notch from below Mt Anne

It was rather hair raising crossing the boulder field while snow and ice still remained on the surfaces of the stone. Each footstep and handhold was carefully tested but despite our caution, there were a few near misses. 

After what seemed a long time we reached the safety of the other side. 

With the worst behind us we were able to start enjoying the remainder of the hike.

The views were spectacular.

We planned to stop for a hot lunch at the High Camp hut and the thought of this reward put new energy into us. We began to meet some other adventurers making their way up. We exchanged stories and told of our experience of being snowed in, which they were quite surprised by. Apparently the weather report had made no mention of snow!

When we reached High Camp Hut there were some French hikers there. They were only overnighters staying at the hut and were in the slow process of packing their gear. Because it was rather full, we found a sheltered area on a platform behind the hut and made a hot lunch. By the time we had finished, the loft was vacated and we made ourselves comfortable up stairs, sharing a hot drink, snacks and a nip of Absinthe I had brought with me and of course discussing our adventure.

The downwards journey afforded some wonderful views of Lake Pedder and although we were disappointed that the Mountain had defeated us this time, there was the rousing prospect of returning someday to finish what we had started.

Mount Anne hasn't seen the last of us.

Not by a long shot.

Simon, Tim and Pete.

Lessons learned

There were many lessons learned on this hike which we think worth sharing.

1.       Always carry multiple methods to make fire (e.g. Matches, lighter & flint). You never know when one might fail you. Fire is not a commodity but a necessity and potentially a lifesaver. Carry good quality fire steel – the cheap ones don’t work in difficult conditions.

2.       Always put your sleeping bag in a waterproof bag: A wet sleeping bag is not just uncomfortable, but dangerous. If you are stuck in a storm or snowed in with nowhere to go, your sleeping bag is your safety blanket. Literally.

3.       The importance of gloves: Gloves serve many purposes when hiking, camping and climbing and they hardly take up any space. They protect your hands from abrasive surfaces, creepy crawlies, they insulate against heat and cold and they can provide added grip in certain situations.

4.       Merino thermals are worth their weight in gold: If it hadn’t been for the light merino undershirt and leggings, I would have been extremely uncomfortable and potentially hypothermic. If you are hiking in winter (or in Tasmania) these are a must.

5.       Alcohol Stoves: Alcohol stoves are great in moderate conditions but alcohol does not light well when it is cold and windy. It simply does not evaporate enough to become flammable. I great tip that my doctor passed on to me, is to carry a flask of fuel next to your body which will keep it warm and make it easy to light.

6.       Bring your phone. If you don’t – you will want it.

Attempt on the Mount Anne Circuit: (Pt.4) Snowed In

I was awoken by a startled voice calling out

“Boys, look outside!”

As I unzipped the flap on my bivvy, a white and foreign world came into view. Everything was covered in snow. The puddles of water had turned to ice and a low fog hung eerily across the landscape obscuring most of our surroundings from view.

At first I was in disbelief but this was rapidly replaced with concern. We were not prepared for snow and there would be no chance of getting off the shelf until the snow melted. At this point I uttered something emphatic.

I got up and put on my frozen shoes to attend to urgent business. The air was frigid and my fingers instantly began to numb. I cautiously walked towards the edge of the shelf, unzipped and then began to gracefully slide off the mountain. I instinctively dropped spreadeagle and clutched at anything I could reach. Fortunately some small shrubs halted my fall and I was able to scramble back up and gingerly make my way back to the tent nursing my injured pride.

Yelling between our tents and over the wind we agreed to remain in our tents until the snow began to melt. As if nature was mocking our plans, it then began to snow, sleet, and hail. By now I was beginning to get quite worried. The inside of my tent was full of condensation, my sleeping bag was beginning to get wet and wasn’t providing effective insulation and we had no way of contacting the outside world. One fact that all the reviews agreed upon was the impossibility of climbing the Notch in wet or icy conditions. 

Even if the snow melted and we somehow managed to negotiate the Notch successfully, all our gear was wet and if the foul weather continued there would be no way of drying it. If one of us became injured in the slippery conditions, or started to become hypothermic, we had few options to create heat and the difficulties in lighting our stoves was still fresh in my mind. The remoteness of our location meant that there was no chance of contact with the outside world. I began to pray that we would have an opportunity today to make good our escape.

I woke up to hear one of the boys excitedly announce that the snow was melting and the fog was beginning to lift. It was 10am, meaning that we had been in our tents for nearly 16 hours. We jumped to and quickly packed our tents and equipment away. Tim was having trouble with his fingers and hands becoming numb in the cold. Pete and I had basic gloves that seemed to prevent us losing sensation, so we were able to help out with a few things.

My shoes were full of snow and ice. I knocked out what I could and then devised a plan to put on my dry socks, cover these with plastic bags, and then put on my wet pair. This appeared to work well, keeping my feet dry and warm and adding an extra layer of insulation and grip inside the shoe.

Finally we set out to climb back up to the ridgeline below Mount Anne. 

By now the fog had lifted and the now snow-tipped peak loomed up ahead of us. It was a wet and cold hike but hauntingly beautiful with the melting snow ornamenting the plants and trees.

It was time to make good our escape!

Attempt on the Mount Anne Circuit: (Pt.3) Extreme Weather at Shelf Camp

It was a steep descent to Shelf Camp,

through dwarfed trees and unusual vegetation that appeared almost tropical in its lush foliage.

As we arrived at the Shelf, the rain and wind was now uncomfortably cold and persistent and the idea of trying to set up bivvies and sleeping bags in these conditions seemed foolish. We were confident the weather would clear and so we agreed to climb up towards the cliff face to seek shelter from the driving wind. It was a tough climb, clambering over sharp and slippery boulders with numbing fingers.


When we reached the face, there was no relief and no reward as we found it impossible to find any shelter. The best we could do was to press ourselves against a nook alongside a waterfall and pull our hoods tight.

Eventually the rain slowed and we decided to take the opportunity to make our way back down and begin setting up camp. Tim found that water had leaked into his sleeping bag 
because he had forgotten to put a garbage bag over it, but fortunately it wasn’t too bad. Tim also discovered a decent rip in his shorts which left him pretty exposed. The comic relief was much needed. His face looked pretty battered too.

The tents went up quickly, although there was no way of using tent pegs because of the rock surface.The only way to secure the tent lines was to attach them to rocks. It was quite exposed to the wind and we had all read stories of other hikers losing their tents over the side in the gale-force gusts. I think we all overcompensated by choosing particularly large rocks.

No sooner was the job done, than the wind began to live up to its reputation. It blew. Hard.

By now we were losing hope of the weather clearing today. It was only 4:30pm but compelled by the cold the decision was made to prepare an early hot dinner and retire to our bivvies in the small hope that it would blow over.

Each of us had homemade alcohol stoves – lightweight and effective – at least they were effective in normal conditions. It quickly became apparent that these were not normal conditions. The combination of strong wind and cold made it virtually impossible to light the alcohol or to keep it alight once lit. If you have ever used one of these devices, you know that the stove only begins to operate effectively once it reaches a critical temperature.  Another mistake we had made, which makes me cringe with embarrassment to admit, was that we each had only brought fire steels.

 Pete and I had packed cigarette lighters and matches, but had realised only the day before our flight that we were not permitted to have these even in our checked luggage and we had neglected to purchase any on our arrival. This is a mistake I will never make again.

It took painstaking effort to continue lighting and re-lighting the stove whilst crouching over it to shield the flames from the gusting wind. I began to feel a creeping doubt, a horrible nagging doubt that I might not be able to get this to work. But Pete, good ol' law-breaking Pete, found that he had a box of matches somewhere in his pack after all and with the help of these matches and another 30 minutes or more I was able to get my Mac & Cheese cooked. Pete and Tim had also been successful and were already in their cosy sleeping bags tucking in to some hot food. I quickly did the same and I must say the Mac & Cheese was the best I have ever had.

The weather was unrelenting, and although it was still very light outside we had no option but to bunker down and try to occupy ourselves. I began sorting out the gear in my tent, preparing and organising things. There is only so much organising you can do in such a small tent, and as the wind had only got stronger and the rain was setting in for the evening, I slept fitfully. I was warm enough but the wind was battering our tents and the howling of the wind and the drumming of the rain woke me frequently.

It was a long night.