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  • Logistical shuffling

    April 13 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    Saturday. A day of double checking packs, maccas breakfast, and a lot of car travel. May as well indulge in as much motoring as we can before a week of hoofing it. Lexie would spit.

    Logistics of the OLT are a doozy. Not only do you have to scratch, kick, and bite your way through the rushed shit-fight of securing a booking, you also have to book the ferry that ships you back to civilization at the end (anyone who's dealt with the absolute muffins who run that service will attest to the difficulty), and, crucially, plan all transport from your place of origin to the start line and vice versa from the finish line. When those lines are, practically, on opposite ends of the state, and in the middle of good ol Tasmanian nowhere, it creates a puzzle. If anyone from Metro Tasmania happens to be tuning in, I highly recommend some extended routes.

    Therefore. Saturday consisted of ensuring we had everything needed for 6 days bush; 2 days in Devonport before commencing; and for when we eventually made it back to our car which would be waiting for us at the end. It went like this:

    Drive our car to Lake St Clair (the finish line) on Saturday morning. Leaving a bag with a clean change of clothes, and towel/soap for shower (more on that fucking showstopper later) for when we finish at the end of the week.

    Then, take our packs and a smaller amount of supplies for a two night stay with parents in Devonport. Eg, things I wanted to do last minute before starting: wash my hair. Things I had no need to carry through Cradle: shampoo and conditioner. In hindsight this may have been useful, had I encountered a particularly mangey wombat.

    We took all this and crammed into a privately operated shuttle bus whose business it is to cart walkers from the finish line up to Launceston, where they usually fly out from. As we were Tas locals, and afforded the luxury of leaving our car there to drive home in, we were utilizing this service somewhat backwardly and had the privilege of sharing the (small) bus with ten or so stinky finishers.

    After an absolutely rattling (literally) experience, and a stop at a roadhouse that I truly believe should be bombed, we arrived in Launceston. Here we were greeted by the wonderful cheery waves of Ma and Pa, who lovingly carted us through to Devonport. Here we wait!!
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  • Day 1

    Kick off

    April 15 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 10 °C

    Firstly and formally, shoutout Mum and Dad. Awarded MVPs, from the brekkie spread of porridge and toast (if we know anything we know how to carb load) to the private chauffeur service out to Cradle Mountain visitor centre. Mum even threw in some photography work, free of charge, what a woman.

    We are dorky, we are heavy, we are the cleanest we'll be for a good while. My pack, while a modest humble tiny skinny 13kg at home, somehow tipped the scale here at 15.5kg... No shame, but someone's got some explaining to do. Absolutely couldn't be me. I'm perfect. Ultralight queen.

    We pinky promised the desk ranger that we had all the recommended gear and had absolutely not snuck in any denim or cotton, we know BETTER. Earnestly nodded our heads through our 30 minute safety briefing, and solemnly swore to monitor each other for the Stumbles, Mumbles and Grumbles - apparently the warning signs of hypothermia but I'm not sure if they know anything about my general personality. I think we're safer keeping an eye out for a good old fashioned shiver.

    Before catching the shuttle bus out to the point in the park that the track actually starts, we were informed we were the last people to start today from our group. So, naturally, we fucked around taking selfies in the bathroom mirror. Self declared Speed Demons do not stress about being stranded out on a mountain in the dark, who are we, mortal? I get the zoomies before bed anyway, that'll keep me warm. I'll chase a quoll.
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  • Day 1

    Day One - Ronny Creek to Waterfall Hut

    April 15 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 10 °C

    Day one is generally referred to as the hardest day. It's said to be a bit over 10km, but Mr Garmin, whose word is gospel, puts it at a bit over 12km, still, not a huge distance. The hard part comes from the fact that, a) your pack is at its heaviest and, b) you have to climb up and over Marion's Lookout.

    Being moderately fit little shits, this didn't particularly worry us, and we set out bright eyed and bushy tailed. Tails were soon to be soggied, however, as misty foggy rain set in the second we set foot on the track. Hm. Back into the registration shed we went, and promptly donned all the wet weather gear we had. Bundled up like a pair of walking bin-liners, we marched back out and got on with it.

    In all the careful preparation of exactly how many lolly snakes I could carry and how much sunshine I could optimistically expect, one thing that I had completely overlooked was that we would be venturing out in perfect timing for the turning of the fagus, Tasmania's only native deciduous plant!! As seen in the photos, we truly got a magical display, and politely did much oohing and aahing.

    The rain was persistent, and the wind decided not to let her get all the attention, giggling away to herself I'm sure as she almost succeeded in sending me tumbling down rocks, squawking like a cross hen. Dylan and I are staunch believers, however, in something called Type 2 Fun. That is, activities which, undeniably, have a whiff of misery about them, yet, with hindsight, or merely the right ratio of ego-backed confidence and sense of fun, can actually be extremely enjoyable. Could we see a fucking thing at Marion's so-called Lookout? No, pick a better spot Marion you gumnut. Did we have to climb a vertical section of rock with only a wet slippery chain to keep us attached? Yes. Better luck next time WIND you interfering bitch. Were we wet and cold and falling over rocks the whole time? That's a pretty apt description yes, but I am fueled by spite and a lack of self-preservation so did it dampen my spirit? NO IT DID NOT.

    In all seriousness, we had a whale of a time and felt very adventurous and cool. Between friends, I do feel like this benefitted greatly from occuring on the first day, when energy and excitement were at peak levels. Nevertheless, day one got a big fat happy tick.
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  • Day 1

    Waterfall Valley Hut

    April 15 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 10 °C

    We made it, and even though we were the last people to set off today (as the keen readers may recall), we were not the last to finish, Speed Demon title remains. Phewff.

    After uncomfortably shedding our soggy outer layers and leaving them hanging on the sole remaining hook in the mudroom, I started my aggressive and ferret-like hunt for some good beds.

    All the huts follow a similar format: one enters into a mudroom type setup, with many hooks and racks for leaving gear. From here, there'll usually be 3 or so doors. One will lead into the communal area, filled with tables, a bench, and, more often than not, a group being way too loud. Usually there is also another door leading from this space into a bunk room. This room (off the communal area) typically gains advantage points for being slightly warmer, however loses points for being slightly noisier.

    But back to the mudroom. 3 doors remember. One door is now accounted for, leaving the other two, which each lead straight into a bunk room. For those of us who are the fun personality cocktail of Overthinking, Competitive, and Majorly Introverted, this becomes a real strategy puzzle. The race is on. Full rooms and top bunks are lower on my preference list than throwing myself under a bus, so they're out of the question. We also discovered, around night two, that corner bunks are far superior to wall bunks. Another major thing to consider is the careful weighing of our personal hatred towards particular companions. Solo lady with the loudest sleeping mat in the world, or group of idiots from Canberra who will NOT stop giggling, WHAT IS SO FUNNY - who would be worse to be trapped in a room with for 8 hours... Lots to think about.

    On this first night I was yet to gain familiarity with all of these crucial personality factors, and so was forced to dive in blind. I don't know if all my prayers to Lady MC were heard, or it was simply a classic case of Lucky Girl Syndrome, but we ended up in a mostly empty room, sharing with Jess and Hannah, two friends our age, both also from Tassie. These two quickly earned the creative and groundbreaking nickname of 'The Girls' and we became fast friends. We later learned that we, our meek and humble selves, had also earned a nickname, one that The Girls had coined and passed on to spread rapidly through the troops. This nickname shall now feature on all resumes, bios, and general introductions going forward, and I extend my gracious thanks to The Girls for honouring Dylan and I with the title of 'Elite Athletes'. I wish I was making this up.

    We set up our sleeping quarters, found a spot to settle, and hooked into some cuppas and packet pasta. The night took a bit of a turn when I had to get up FOUR TIMES to pee in the night. This is bad enough at home, but the misery of crawling out of a sleeping bag, putting my warm layers on, finding the toilet paper bag in the dark, trying desperately not to make any noise, and walking outside through the cold FOUR TIMES was enough to absolutely send me. I did see a spotted quoll on one of these trips though, so not all was lost.
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  • Day 2

    Day Two - Waterfall Valley to Windemere

    April 16 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 8 °C

    Time got very simple on the OLT. Go to bed when it's dark, get up when it's not, walk until the next hut and sit around until it's dark again.

    After a night spent laying awake for, no hyperbole, ALL OF IT, I sprung out of bed the second dawn whispered its arrival. Garmin had me down as bagging a sweet 15 min of light sleep and nothing else. Checks out. Spent somewhat of a fragile morning sipping my chai and insisted Dylan draw me an analogue Wordle to do. Which he did, god bless him. I got it in 3, for those curious. Slay.

    We quickly set a routine of No Fucking Around in the mornings, and discovered we belong to the majority camp of 'wake, pee, brush teeth, wash face, have a cuppa and some quick brekky, pack your shit and get going'. I can see the appeal of slow mornings and taking the time to soak up the hut and the peace once everyone's departed, but please do remember the points I made in the previous post about bunk-competition. No time to waste.

    Today's walk was very short. 7.8km from memory. Would perhaps be the most unremarkable day of the trip to be honest if it wasn't for the glorious fact that we experienced a weather shift halfway through. The misty foggy rain from the day before suddenly lifted, the clouds parted and slowly began to drift away, and actual sunshine hit our disbelieving faces. Talk about putting a pep in your step. Insane how much of a luxury some simple sunshine can be when you're spending your days outdoors. Layers came off, phones came out, and shit eating grins were documented. As well as some exceptionally pretty fagus.
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  • Day 2

    Windermere Hut

    April 16 in Australia ⋅ ☁️ 8 °C

    This was the hut in which I'm pretty I earned the other, less public, nickname of 'that bitch who won't stop coughing'. To be fair, I'd hate me too.

    Jokes aside I still had my week long cough at this stage, and yet it hadn't developed into anything worse - I had zero other symptoms, just an incredibly annoying dry cough that was just about as frequent as blinking. Writing this now, I can now upgrade it to a Two Week Cough, but still, no other symptoms. I don't know what's stranger, that, or the fact no one bonked me over the head in the middle of the night.

    Still, another stunning hut. It was here we discovered the joys of the corner bunk arrangement, and also discovered that Dylan is absolutely fucking woeful at remembering where any given one of his possessions is, even if he just touched it, or put it in a 'safe place'. Let's not hold it against him though cause he did make almost all my hot drinks and meals all week. #redemption

    We unwillingly shared a room with the Canberra group. 3 girls 1 boy, early 20s, had attempted to camp the first night and succeeded in getting all their gear, including sleeping bags wet. Send them home immediately. No, they were fine, god bless them. They were a cheery lot - I have never encountered people to be in such a constant state of giggle fits. Six days of something being the funniest thing in the world, it's pretty admirable really. Slay.
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  • Day 3

    Day Three - Windemere to New Pelion

    April 17 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    Wednesday. This was an exciting morning. After the trials of Monday, and a fairly boring day sitting around after Tuesdays short stretch, I cannot tell you how zippy we felt waking up to a crispy clear sky morning, knowing our longest day was waiting ahead for us.

    Today took us just shy of 17km, across a stunning plateau that had us gagging on dopamine, down down down and down some more to Frogg Flats (the tracks lowest point) and then up for a final climb to New Pelion Hut. Today was also the Day of the Fucking Tree Root, which were stepped over, slipped on, and generally mouthed off at for the next few days. One of my biggest tips for the OLT is to take hiking poles. I consider myself a fairly agile and sure-footed little scamp but good lord poles came in handy for the endless pools of mud, tangles of tree roots, and sketchy descents over rock. Plus they make you feel like some kind of human-spider hybrid.

    After enjoying a sunrise, we skipped off into the frosty morning, yapping away like happy rats. The sun was peeking out, we could actually see what was around us, and I had managed to sleep the night before, magic. We turned around to take in the view and were very happy to spot Barn Bluff behind us, the summit we hadn't been able to glimpse for the past two days. You can peep my photo of it through the trees.

    Walking across the plateau, in clear weather, was an absolute trip highlight. We were so blessed with weather this trip, shoutout Lady MC. I should've taken a panoramic pic, as we were surrounded on all sides by mountains. Ossa, Oakleigh, Barn Bluff, Pelion East & West, and some others who didn't tell me their names.

    Coming down onto the plateau was where I also achieved the first and only stack of the week, which greatly entertained both us and the couple walking just ahead of us. We were stepping down big sections of the track, and the step ahead of me had a smooth old log laying across, acting as the edge of the step. As we're all aware, in order to descend a step, one must step on it. Logs, however, are fucking slippery when wet with morning dew. Out flies the foot, down the step I go, landing half in a bush with one leg stretched out in front of me and the other trapped underneath my bag/body. As with 99% of my falls, came out completely and mystifyingly unscathed. I squawked and laughed and garnered a lot of attention as I tried and comically failed to get up. As well as sitting on one of my legs, I also had one of my arms outstretched, hand through the loop of my pole, while the end of the pole was firmly wedged under my arse. In hindsight, anyone who wasn't a fucking idiot would've just slipped their hand out and let go of the pole. Spoiler alert, I didn't. I was helped up like a toddler who's gone 'dead bug' and all was well. The couple nearby were also very impressed with the fact my watch immediately started buzzing and beeping at me that I'd had An Emergency and that it was contacting Dylan Dewhurst at once. How cute, how earnest.
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  • Day 3

    New Pelion Hut

    April 17 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    While it is the 'new' Pelion Hut, this one is still older than the huts of the previous two nights, and it was cool to have a different vibe to the place. Straying from the previously explained hut layout, this one was almost like a big old house, with a verandah deck running all the way around. One half of the building was a long communal area, with 3 or 4 doors leading out into the second half of the building: bunk rooms. Felt a lot more school camp-ish.

    Again, the sun remained an absolute treat, and the deck railings soon became adorned with just about every bit of clothing and gear people had. With insane levels of smugness, the only damp thing I had were my boots, so they went out to get some sunshine. Something you hear over and over about the OLT is "embrace having wet feet, wet socks, wet shoes the whole time, don't fight it, you won't win, just get used to it". Well call me bloody world champ then 'cause I won. Dry socks/feet the whole time. Poles, fairly dry weather, and treating each stretch of mud like a fun ninja warrior course helped greatly.
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  • Day 3

    Safe travels chapstick, safe travels

    April 17 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    A couple extras from Day Three, including the spot by the river where, as I stooped to rinse my hands in the water, my poor precious chapstick tumbled from my chest pocket into the stream 😭😭 "I'm sorry chapstick I'm sorry!!" I cried, feeling like I'd just abandoned a small child at a mall.

    I hope she washed up somewhere safe and sound, invigorated by her adventurous journey and excited to start a new life.
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  • Day 4

    Day Four - New Pelion to Kia Ora

    April 18 in Australia ⋅ 🌫 8 °C

    Those with an eye for patterns will have noticed I've been doing one post for the day's walking portion and one post for that night's hut. This post offers you a rare combo deal, as I only managed to take one picture of the walk...

    My excuse is that it was another rainy day today, meaning the phone stayed safely tucked away in a waterproof pocket. Also, more fog meant we couldn't see shit anyway. To be fair, the rain was forecast to be a downpour and we really only got a constant misty sprinkle, which was preferable.

    Today took us up up up to Pelion Pass, where we (apparently) passed through with two grand mountains either side of us - Ossa and Pelion East. I'll take their word on it. Then we descended the other side. A very simple journey, go up the hill and come back down.

    Kia Ora Hut is another of the new ones, although, a family of mice with an incredible sense of humour have taken up residence in the communal area heater, rendering it inoperable. These terrors are also responsible for venturing out in the night to gnaw through as many food supplies as they possibly can. We read about their exploits repeatedly in the hut journals that walkers leave entries in. I was not to be bested by a mouse, and took the (genius) measure of wrapping my food dry bag up in my stinky shirt. Smell the oat bars through that you whiskered shits. No, I take that back, mice are sweet, but keep your ickle paws off my snacks.

    I can tell you that this measure worked a treat. I should've shared it with The Girls, who were not so fortunate. Poor Hannah was treated to one of the little creatures RUNNING ACROSS HER FACE in the middle of the night, and apparently they lost a day's worth of food to the ferocious nibblers. I'm not sure what's worse, a mouse across your face or the reports in the hut journal of a girl shrieking in the middle of the night "there's a leech in my mouth there's a leech in my mouth!!!!" I think that one's a pretty clear winner actually.

    Anyway, this hut was a delight. The short day's walk meant a long time sitting around daydreaming about snacks we wished we had, but it also allowed time for the weather to clear. From our spot by one of the huge windows, a mountain slowly made its way out from the clouds. Cathedral Mountain, absolutely stunning. By its grand example, the rest of the area began to clear, and high hopes began to form for another fine day tomorrow.

    This hut was also the hut in which I discovered the 'hut selfie', an act I wish I'd made a daily feature. The process of trying to jump for the self timer at exactly the right moment produced results that were as entertaining as anything I could possibly hope for, being without wifi and reception.

    Kind regards,
    Velvet Worm xo
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