“Little Eldons”

Part 1 of 4

Bowl Camp

Day 1 - Lyell Highway to camp below Rocky Hill

Date: 15 April 2022

Photo credits: Ben Wells, Tracey Orr, Simon Kendrick, Jess McDonald

If Abel bagging was easy everyone would do it - something I think Ben, Simon, Jess and I would say to ourselves more than once this trip. Invariably almost immediately afterwards we would follow it with “but man look at those views, its totally worth it”! Our four day trip into what has been nicknamed the “Little Eldons” was certainly character building. But for all the moments of struggle, and there were many, there were an equal amount of moments filled with awe and wonder.

Join us as we visit not often seen parts of south west Tasmania. A place where you camp under pencil pines hundreds and hundreds of years old and find fossils 1000m above sea level. Where the sunsets look like the sky is on fire and the scrub is ferocious. A truly majestic place.

Given our Little Eldons trip was a four day adventure I have broken the blog into three parts. Trying to cram the whole experience into one long blog would be detrimental to the beauty and challenges of the area, and tedious to those reading such a long post!

Part 1 - covers our walk into camp. Part 2 - will recount our long walk to Pyramid Hill. Part 3a - a visit to Rocky Hill and finally Part 3b - our trek to the fortress that is Camp Hill.

The four of us arrived late the evening before Good Friday to the Derwent Bridge Hotel at Lake St Clair. The owners of the hotel generously allow cars and caravans to camp on their premises. Simon and Jess had only recently recovered from Covid-19, and both of them still sported remnants of the flu symptoms and fatigue that had plagued them for the week prior. Completing such a difficult bushwalk so soon after Covid-19 is a testament not only to their fitness, but also their tenacity. I too would develop a nice chesty cough over the next few days. Nothing like uphill hiking to clean out the lungs though!

As we had arrived so late, a quick hello was all we really managed before we took cover in our vehicles as gentle rain started to fall. I was hoping the rain would stop overnight so we could at least start off dry! The weather forecast was pretty mixed for the Easter period so I wasn’t expecting to stay dry for most of the weekend, quite the opposite actually.

We left Derwent Bridge a little later than we had planned by the time we were all packed up but it didn’t take too long to drive to the gravel parking space which lies between the Patons and Inkerman Rivers . It was disappointing to see so much rubbish in the parking area. We had mixed feelings about leaving our cars there. With recent break ins to cars on the west coast I was understandably nervous. On one hand I was grateful that the parking space was off road and behind trees, but at the same time the very trees that protected our cars from sight would also allow those with unsavoury intentions to go about their business undisturbed.

With my fingers crossed the car would still have four tyres when I returned we lifted our multiday packs up and headed towards the road. All four of us were wearing various versions of what we would be hiking in blended with clothing we had worn just to cross the Collingwood River. I figured I would wear shorts and wet suit booties and leave them in a dry bag at the river to gather on our return journey a few days later.

Crossing the Lyell Highway it was easy to spot the small pad through the roadside vegetation that others have used previously to access the river. That same pad led through a few hundred meters of button grass into a short lived descent through spindly forest. An ageing piece if pink tape indicated we were indeed where we needed to be to cross the river.

I was relived to see that although the water was flowing quite fast the water level was low. Dropping our packs we changed footwear to our waders, hung our boots around our necks and stepped into the ICY cold water! It was freezing and I was immediately glad i wasnt wading across with my boots and dealing with wet and cold feet for the rest of the day!

Some kind soul had left a rope strung across the crossing. Using the rope and one of my walking poles I nervously completed the crossing the water just over my ankles for the most part. Not being a swimmer I would tackle head high scoparia over water crossings any day! (Our return journey would see the river levels raise to the top of my thighs!)

After drying off, changing and popping our boots back on it was time to start the days hike. With rain still falling all four of us were in head to toe wet weathers. Another piece of ruben tape gave us a lead into the scrub, baurea and cutting grass tangling our feet and hiding boggy sections of mud. This low level vegetation soon gave way to button grass and lots of it.

The pad that had been reasonably obvious until this point morphed into a million less distinct pads weaving steeply up through the button grass hill ahead. No sooner would we find a solid “pad” and it would disappear! Somehow I managed to locate the actual pad in the button grass and we tried to stick to it like glue. We were all huffing and puffing as we slowly climbed up through the button grass aiming to hit the ridge above as centrally as possible.

Ever so slowly the button grass was replaced with taller vegetation which made spotting the pad easier. Once out of the initial section of button grass and into the forest on the ridge sporadically placed tapes and cairns assited us with navigation. The tree canopy blocked most views in all directions while we were ridge walking and what the canopy didn’t steal in views the ever present white mist did!

That said we were all looking at our feet anyway - because the forest was littered with fungi. Some no bigger than a few millimetres wide. Every shade of colour and every conceivable shape. Some smooth and glossy, others textured and almost furry. The sounds of Simon and Ben’s cameras clicking away punctuated the air as did the crys of “OMG check out this one” between our happy little party of fungi enthusiasts!

The going was steep but with our fungi hunting pace being somewhat slow it made the constant climb a little easier. As we moved along the ridgeline the pad would disappear in places, only for us to find it a few minutes later. Sometimes we would be walking through open forest, other times muddy trenches with high button grass mounds either side. Moments later we would enter wet forest again with slippery roots. It was a constantly changing slide show of vegetation.

Nearing Pidgeon House Hill the scrub had reclaimed most of the original pad and we gallantly fought and pushed our way up through dense cutting grass and tea tree. Even my usual hobbit moves were proving fruitless against the pickle of scrub we had landed ourselves in. Dropping a small amount of elevation and erring east proved the right move as we landed smack bang on the most wonderfully distinct pad! Hooray!

Life was good again as the compacted dirt pad led us easily through the worst of the vegetation. Most of the steep climbing was also now behind us. Any rises from here on in would be more minor and the rest of the distance to camp just undulating rather than sweat inducing! That said, the combination of average weather, steep climbs and recent illness for all of us was making the day tougher than anticipated.

Ben had optimistically stated we would lunch at camp on the drive to the car park. That allowed about 4 hours walking. I was firm that given the elevation profile and terrain that it would be at least six hours on foot. We were both wrong - it was a little over 7 hours.

Although it was a relief to reach more open walking it meant we were no longer sheltered from the weather. The wind was blowing, we were wet and we were at a higher elevation. While Ben, Simon and Jess stopped to pop another layer on and have a snack I pushed on a little so I could take a photo of them from afar. They appeared as if mystical figures barely visible in the white out, I imagined how nice it would be to see a dragon flying out of the fog alongside of them.

As had been the case for most of the days walk we had limited visibility of anything really. Now our eyes and faces were cast down not to enjoy the sight of rainbow coloured fungi but rather to avoid the cold winds and to watch our foot placement as we travelled through more button grass fields, minor rocky outcrops or through patches of waist high vegetation.

The plan was to camp in the bowl that lays below Rocky Hill. We have heard stories of its beauty. Of marsupial grazed lawns surrounded by ancient Pencil Pines and fringed with high peaks. In reality with such mist and rain we didn’t hold out much hope of actually seeing this famed loveliness!

But - sometimes the weather gods do decide to favour you and as we descended to the final saddle above our intended home the sun came out! And just in time too as we were “trudging” along at this stage. That sort of walking that just becomes about the end point rather than living in the moment. An easy situation to let your mind get in when the elements around you are less than agreeable.

With the warmth of the sun lightening our moods and opening up the views we could see what lay below us.

Our pace quickened and the spring was back in our sodden steps as we weaved in and around spagnum moss and creek outlets. Multiple animal pads led us down through pineapple grass and tiny patches of scoparia. The bowl, the Pencil Pines, the mountains it was all as striking as promised, in fact more so.

We all started milling around looking for where to pitch our tents finally settling on two sites nestled within a grove of Pencil Pines who would have to have a combined age of over 1000 years. In between the Pencil Pines and skirting the outside of our camp site was head high scoparia which would give us added protection from winds whipping around the bowl. Numerous times over the next few days we would be grateful for the shelter this little alcove offered us and out tents.

It was time to pitch the tents, cook up some food and rest. We had been on the move for most of the day and it was time to prepare ourselves for the next adventure -Pyramid Mountain. That days adventure would start with ominous grey clouds above us and end with the colours of fire in the sky.