Tasmania - Frenchmans Cap - Exploration

Let's go to a place in the Highlands of Tasmania. What picture comes to your mind as you think of these words? Maybe, thoughts of green and cold. You - dear friends and family from places far and wide - I’d love to share the story of a nature fix. Possibly in the palm of your hand you may grasp a new experience, for variety is the spice of life they say.

Waking in the comfort of my bed, an early alarm marks a new day. Backpack already prepared with food and supplies for the coming days. Dried - compact and light as possible, knowing physical exertion is ahead and the weather may or may not smile on us. The feeling of excitement as drive deep into the heart of Tasmania - we unload packs, smiling at ourselves as we eat lunches even before the journey on foot begins.

Each step, placed on wooden boardwalk, over earthen muddy path, rocky rubble the shardy remnants of landslides from mountain sides, through gnarled tree roots, over swinging bridges, footsteps chiseled into rock who’s age to me is unidentifiable - as I wish to myself I hiked with one of my geologist friends who could tell me the story of this part of the worlds formation.

The sights a woman’s eyes get to see - flowers small and vast, rock white, snow bright, lines of friends in formation - backpacks on backs taking the steady migration towards the summit of Frenchmans Cap. Vegetation changing with each hour hiked - autumn hues of sedge and peaty damp grounds, climbing up and through mountain ranges with patience - fuelled by nuts and seeds, jelly snakes, sacred portions of dark chocolate. Packs feeling lighter after the sweet reprieve of well earned breaks - sitting on logs and discussing the merits of merino vs silk.

Deep greens of forrest giants hugging rivers, tea tree and rushes surrounding icy cold lakes filled by snow melt and moisture delivered from the sky who over several days provide clean skin and a rejuvenated sense of life after many strenuous steps. Mosses and ferns, dripping cliff faces, exposed saddles between mountains where the wind whips and the shrubs clinging low the the ground with leaves of bright deep greens, sharp and small - resilient to the icy temperatures bathing this place on days before and after. Trails first cut by great adventurers, tended to diligently by rangers who’s role is to live deep within the range - watching weather, maintaining this 22kms of trail across all terrain and many other miles in the mountains surrounding by hand and foot.

To summit this mountain on a day where the clouds parted and the sun shined clear - casting light onto distant mountains we breathed the fresh air and truly felt waves of gratitude. Some of the very blessed humans on the planet we are. Farewelling the mountain, we reluctantly turned on our heals to head for home. In welcome introversion our small team separated along the trail. We each walked silently and alone. The process of my friends during this time I do not know, though for me - sights, smells and sounds of the previous days washed over me through the steady repetition of purposeful steps.

It is possible these words and images take you to a place you may not yet have seen. It is my hope that we now share the felt sense of clear crisp air at the top of a mountain. May you be happy and very healthy. With love xo