Cheyne Range 2000

Cheyne Range

13-15 July 2000

slides 129

I had been to the Cheyne Range several times over the years and often wondered how reasonable it would be to veer off at the optimum height from near Shadow Lake and walk through the forest below Little Hugel. This would avoid climbing higher over the range then dropping back down to Lake Hermoine. The opportunity came to try this approach with Dave Tucker, Pat Barret, Alan Cross and Clive Jackson all interested in going there in mid July for three days.

A couple of days prior to departure the weather forecast was not very promising, especially for the first day which was a Thursday, with a few showers predicted for the following two days. Dave was the one who was first to say give it a go, with Pat reminding us that often it was better weather than expected. So soon after 6 AM we commenced the drive to Lake St.Clair and although a shower had fallen that night in Hobart it was now fine and clear.

As Lake St.Clair approached it was still clear and sunny and after Pat set our grid in his GPS we were off, with the plateau before Shadow Lake our first stop. North west from here proved to be easy and pleasant walking over heathy country with small ridges interspersed with plains, that is until reaching the ridge top where we got into some regrowth from an early fire with a multitude of fallen eucalypt trunks to negotiate. Pat consulted his GPS and advised that we were 100 metres too far north and once this was remedied we decided to stick to the high ground and gradually continued upwards on a ridge leading directly towards Little Hugel. Debate followed as to the best course, with some favouring continuing over the range and some for heading lower in accord with the original plan. The latter prevailed and quite old myrtle forest was our reward for a while. This however was interspersed with scrubby sections, logs and rocks but in general was not too bad, even though Alan fell through a hidden gap and knocked his thigh.

A small opening was reached and it looked like lunch could be enjoyed in the sunshine. No sooner had we settled down than snowflakes began falling from a cloud that had now arrived and stopped again just as lunch was completed. More rainforest awaited, eventually some small creeks, slightly scrubby hillsides then quite open forest with low heathy bushes. This gradually sloped down in the westerly direction required until an open valley, although there was a small area of chest high scoparia to negotiate, and finally out into the wide expanse of the Lake Hermoine valley where camp was made on a hillock.

The wind had been blowing fairly gently from the south for most of the day but by evening the strength had diminished considerably and it was not very long into the night that I had the need to put on long johns, zip over the fly screen to just leave a small opening and pull in my sleeping bag hood. Although there was no doubt that frost was about it was quite a surprise on opening my eyes in the morning to see frost all over the inside walls of the inner tent with the only space free of it being the small opening left in the fly screen. On opening the tent, with some difficulty I might add, a scene of white bushes and ground with a pure blue sky presented itself. However it was closer to hand that attention had next to paid, for everything was frozen. Boots were solid and brought up earth when lifted and the socks inside almost unmovable, my water kept for breakfast was just ice and the coldness of the air making getting out of the sleeping bag require serious consideration.

Alan was already outside cooking and was soon off with his camera to make the most of the conditions; Clive was not all that far behind with the same objective. Dave and Pat seemed content to take their time getting breakfast, which with the big vestibule of Dave’s tent allowed them to easily cook in comfort. For me in a small tent things were more cramped but the real problem was thawing the water then, whilst cooking breakfast, attempting to unfreeze socks. The boots remained very stiff so I had to heat them up in order to open them out and even then it was quite a serious struggle to get each foot inside. That done, and needless to say with frigid feet, I was out to take a photo or two. Incredibly Dave who is normally an early riser had still not appeared from his tent.

It was 10:30 before we got underway for a day of walking about in the Cheyne Range, but no one seemed the least bit disappointed at such a leisurely start. Our first obstacle was the infant Franklin River followed by a small creek as we strolled over the wide valley floor. Lake Hermoine looked quite pretty from the side we were on, whereas I had always thought it looked fairly ordinary when viewed from the opposite direction. With such calm sunny weather we had already warmed up and got even more so during a short climb to a small ridge at the end of the valley. Beyond this we discovered absolute delights and the next couple of hours provided one of those spellbinding times that make bushwalking such an immense pleasure. Small valleys, tarns, pines, snow gums, little creeks, open scrub free expanses and pleasantly warming winter sun made for a privileged experience and plentiful photo opportunities.

Surprisingly, just as lunch was finished a bank of cloud rolled in from the northwest and it did not take long for the scene to change from tranquil sunshine to white world of falling snow. Mt.Hugel which had been a constant backdrop suddenly becoming a looming giant on the horizon and the small tarns in sheltered spots had mysterious looking lines of snow drift forming patterns on their iced-over surfaces. The snow passed fairly quickly and by the time we reached a lake just above the wide valley of our tent site pleasant sunshine had returned.

The recrossing of the modest stream that eventually becomes the mighty Franklin River caused a minor hiccup. Clive and I arrived at a section that was a bit wide for jumping, but on spotting a large rock on the far bank, I decided to make the leap but Clive declined as he reckoned it would be too hard a landing for his back. Well he was right, because it did place a bit of stress on my back and limbs, and although everything soon felt OK, I think it may have contributed to a back problem that developed over the next few days. The lesson really is to take the cautious approach.

We prepared for another frosty night and secured boots, socks and water away from the worst of the cold as best we could. Well before midnight, however, cloud again rolled in and the lowering temperatures went into reverse then somewhat later rain began. We had been blessed with good weather, against the forecast, so not too much complaint could be levelled at the change, but as the morning light arrived the rain departed and although tents were still pretty wet we commenced the walk out under an improving sky.

Debate took place as to the route to take; either over Little Hugel or circle via the forest to the Cuvier Valley. Allan suggested the latter and it provided easy walking until a narrow south-facing valley was reached. We followed this to the end but then had to contend with a bit of scrub in between rainforest. It would have been easier to continue our original course, but that is the way things go sometimes. Lunch was just up from the banks of the Cuvier River, amongst plenty of leeches, and then we were to follow the west bank along as far as practical to avoid the button grass on the eastern side. Dave started off but I thought I could cut off a bit of distance by keeping more westerly, which proved to be the case but to my surprise Dave and the rest just crossed over the river when they met it. I either had to turn back to join them or continue on by myself; and it was the latter action that I took.

I had previously been along the west bank before, but this time I think I stayed up too high and consequently met several patches of scrub. This slowed progress somewhat and it seemed most likely that the others would be back to the cars well ahead of myself. Nevertheless once out into the open it was good walking over grassy country where I came upon four wombats grazing and eventually reached what seemed the most appropriate place to ford the river. To my surprise I saw a walker a little way ahead and judging by the pack and hair, assumed it to be Alan and that perhaps he had waited to see that I had reappeared. I made up a bit of ground and concluded that it couldn’t be Alan after all, and the person stopped realised that it was Pat. He was surprised that I was behind him and hadn’t even realised I came down the other side of the river; he also informed me that the others, particularly Clive and Dave had bolted in order to be sure to get back before I did. Well they were certainly successful in achieving that aim.

Just as we finished changing it started to rain, so the weather had been most graceful during our time in the bush.