Beneath Stars and Stone

The sun rose over the rugged Tasmanian landscape, and with it our hearts quickened with anticipation. Mystery Caves beckoned, a whispered promise from Justin that echoed in our minds. We'd arranged to rendezvous with Andy there, our paths converging after his week-long sojourn along Tasmania's east coast.

The drive was brief, the landscape unfurling before us like a living tapestry. As we pulled up to the trailhead, the earthy scent of damp soil filled our nostrils. Andy's familiar figure greeted us, the aroma of freshly cooked rolled oats wafting invitingly from his temporary campsite.

The path to the cave entrance was a muddy ribbon threading through the forest. Sal's apprehension was palpable, her steps hesitant. But as we crossed the threshold into the yawning cavern, her fears melted away, replaced by awe at the vast expanse before us.

Darkness enveloped us, our headlamps cutting through the gloom like bright knives. The cave breathed around us, alive with the sound of rushing water as a creek carved its way through the heart of the mountain. We ventured deeper, our feet finding purchase on slick rocks, the air growing cooler with each step.

In a moment of shared impulse, we extinguished our lights. As our eyes adjusted, the darkness above us came alive. Thousands of glowworms twinkled like earthbound stars, their cool blue light painting the cavern in an otherworldly glow. The sight was mesmerizing, a secret galaxy hidden within the earth.

Andy's excitement was contagious, his childhood dream of exploring a cave with a living stream finally realized. His voice echoed off the stone walls, filled with wonder and joy. We pressed on until we reached the boundary marked for experienced cavers, reluctantly turning back towards the world above.

Emerging into the sunlight felt like stepping into another realm. The lush Tasmanian bush surrounded us, alive with the complex melodies of lyrebirds. Their songs were a natural symphony, perfectly mimicking the calls of other birds, including the distinctive cry of black cockatoos.

Our journey continued to Hartz Peak, with a brief interlude in Geeveston for a much-needed laundry stop. As darkness fell, we arrived at our campsite near the trailhead. Once again, Andy had outdone himself, a warm meal awaiting us in the day-use area.

Dawn brought steady rain, altering our plans. Instead of tackling Hartz Peak, we opted for the shorter hike to Lake Osborne. The Alpine landscape was a revelation, reminiscent of our time at Ben Lomond months earlier. When we reached the glacial lake, it was a perfect mirror, the cloudy sky and encircling mountains reflected in its still surface. Pencil pines stood sentinel around the shore, their ancient forms a testament to the enduring beauty of this wild place.

The following day, though still overcast, offered a reprieve from the rain. We set out for Hartz Peak, our path a mix of duckboards and rocky terrain through the Alpine heathland. Small streams, born of the recent rains, crisscrossed our path. As we ascended, patches of snow appeared, a crisp white against the muted colors of the landscape.

The trail gave way to a challenging rock scramble as we neared the summit. Antarctic winds whipped around us, their icy fingers seeking any exposed skin. We layered up, bracing ourselves against the cold.

Just as we began our final ascent, a moment of modern intrusion: our phones suddenly sprung to life. Amidst the wild beauty of Tasmania, Sal received news that she'd been accepted into her Masters of Counseling program. The juxtaposition of this life-changing notification against our rugged surroundings was surreal.

The summit of Hartz Peak rewarded us with breathtaking 360-degree views of southwest Tasmania. Bruny Island was visible in the distance, a dark shape against the silver sea. We stood in silent awe, each of us trying to absorb the majesty of the landscape spread out before us. The biting wind eventually drove us back down the mountain, our minds still reeling from the spectacular vistas.

On our descent, we took a detour to an old track overlooking Hartz Lake, before rejoining the main trail. A stop at Lake Esperance, bypassed on our ascent, provided one last moment of Alpine serenity before we returned to the trailhead.

Andy, true to form, had a warm meal waiting for us. As we savored the food and company, a bittersweet mood settled over us. This would be our last meal with Andy, his nomadic journey soon to continue solo on the mainland.

We lingered one more night at the trailhead, our thoughts already turning to our next destination: the Gordon foreshore. It was a place of fond memories, where we had first met Justin. As we drifted off to sleep, the Tasmanian wilderness whispered around us, promising more adventures to come.Leer más