Tasmania's (not so) wild west

On my way up through western Tasmania the other week, I called in for lunch at the visitor centre at Lake St Clair. I know the area quite well, having visited several times in the past, and having even completed a Cradle Mountain - Lake St Clair full adventure once.

It's been smartened up a lot in recent years. Here's the new official start/end point of the 5-10 day epic.





Here's a view of part of the King William range, which I remember conquering about 25 years ago.

The Franklin River used to be a very distant destination. You walked for a day or two to get a glimpse of it, or you rafted down it, at risk of life and limb, for a week or more. Now you can peruse the upper reaches at least, via a very comfortable, well-made walking track off the Lyell Highway. It was magnificently green.



And here's Frenchmans Cap, a particularly iconic South-West Tasmanian wilderness destination, glimpsed in the distance from a highway car-park. It's typically a 5-day walk into Frenchmans. I did it once, when it involved days of trudging across the muddy 'Sodden Lodden' Plains. I understand they've built boardwalks recently that take most of the challenge out of the Sodden Lodden, but it's probably still a good hike.

I stayed the night in good old Queenstown. 'Queenie' was once a busy mining mecca, with its massive copper mine, whose smelters denuded and poisoned the surrounding hillsides. While I was there I don't think I saw any locals on the streets at all. Just a few tourists. There's talk of the Mt Lyell mine opening again soon maybe.


Upper reaches of the Franklin River

Another Queenstown crazy thing

"Why the #$@* would anyone want to ride in that?" I rather undiplomatically asked.

"Why the #$@* wouldn't they?" was the rather obvious retort, from the driver of the thing.

We were talking to the 'Hydro Attack' sharknado* man on Queenstown's Lake Wakatipu. He was just closing up for the day, having put his shark machine to bed for the night, underwater maybe, as we couldn't quite see it.

We'd met him through our Irish mafia connection, and I think he was rather proud of his machine, and of the business. It's a very Kiwi  creation - a thing you ride around the lake in at breakneck speed, on but sometimes under the surface too. It rears up out of the water at times, dancing on its tail like no shark I've ever seen.

Like bungy jumping, it's rather expensive, and definitely not for all tastes. I gave this one a miss too, but perhaps I was a little curious, and a little harsh in my initial judgement. Maybe next time!


* My term, not theirs.

Bungy!

We called in at the original home of bungy jumping, the Kawarau Bridge over the Shotover River near Queenstown.





When I was last in the area the bus I was on stopped on the nearby road bridge. We watched a young chap standing on the edge, about to jump. Watched him for several minutes in fact, before he chickened out and retreated.
















This time there was no anticlimax. The young lady went ahead and did it.

She swung and dangled for a bit, while the retrieval dinghy came out to get her.

Nearly retrieved now.







And probably feeling glad to be alive!

Fern Burn

Here we are heading off up the Fern Burn valley, at the start of the Fern Burn Track, which is the first stage of the Motatapu Track, from Wanaka to Arrowtown, near Queenstown, in New Zealand's South Island last week. It's easy and level walking to start with.

Bùrn: Scottish Gaelic for fresh water (English equivalent - Bourne)

We then entered the antarctic beech forest of the Stack Conservation  Area, and it was a bit more up and downy. In all the ascent is about 500m, and the walk takes three hours or so each way.

Up above the tree line now, and after a few more ups and downs, the Fern Burn hut is sighted.

It's a great spot for lunch, and then it's off down again through that rather photogenic beech forest and bùrn.