AppetiteRummaging through the shed in my parent’s backyard looking for a gas bottle I thought we owned, I had to accept that no matter how many times I looked, it just wasn’t there. Similar to the fridge paradox in which you think something new might appear next time you open the doors, there comes a point when we accept our fate. Continue reading

It Doesn’t Have to be Fun to be Fun

4:14 AM and my phone buzzed, “If the weather is shit when you get there don’t risk it!”
…Thanks to M for the love and support but they say fortune favours the brave.

First photo of the trip, I’d picked J, J and T up, and hit the road before this was taken.

Even at 9:30 AM when the woman at Merimbula National Parks and Wildlife Office told me that they weren’t even going to bother opening any roads for the next 48 hours because there was so much rainfall predicted, we went for it anyway. We found a road that wasn’t closed, planned a different route and got cracking, thinking that in four days there would have to be at least a few minutes of sunshine. We were kinda right.

Beach caves.

J the action model.

“Is this edible?”

Tradition, throw wood off a cliff whenever you’re at the coast, we’ve done this since we first got our own cars and started coming down here.

Fresh meet Salty, Salty meet Fresh.

Nadgee is one of my favourite places to go and just disconnect for a few days, catching fish and hanging out by the campfire are just bonuses. Jack took photos when I wasn’t bothered, or wanted to be in one.

The view.

The swell was running through the river mouth, normally you can wade through here and you won’t get your knees wet. I’ve never seen it like this.

Nature is your bathroom.

Normally the water’s edge is at the sand here, it was all submerged this time.

J the Fire Lord, he’s always in charge of the blaze.

The swell was also the biggest I’d ever seen it here, the waves were spraying everywhere as they smashed against the cliffs.

J and I looking for a bite to eat.

The Heavens!

“I’ve never been to Nadgee and not caught a fish.”

Straight to the kitchen with his spoils.

Prep, sometimes when we come here we catch too many fish to bother with and just let them free, this time there was a single flathead.

J drying off, those UC socks have been everywhere.

On the third day we just gave in and came home early, probably because these were waiting for us back at the car.

Thankful that it wasn’t hell, but just high water, we had all had a good trip. Eating as much as possible and loving every second that we had no phone reception. All of these photos were taken with the Canon 550D and link through to flickr.


Car camping in Tasmania was one of the best experiences of this last summer, but in the end the smell was unbearable. Ben did most of the driving, I did a little and Nick did none. Luckily for Nick he’s a good cook, or we might have figured out he was no help to any of us. Overall Tasmania treated us pretty nicely, mind the fires and the rain and the cold and the wind and the snow.

First sighting of land from the Spirit of Tasmania. That boat was a mental game, and I was close to cracking.

Rainbow in Hobart.

Awesome truck at the Taste Festival in Hobart.

A big boat and a little boat in Hobart.


Fires in forty two degree heat. This was a little uncomfortable and we came across some closed roads.

Camping at Lake St Clair.

The Lake.

Breakfast of champions, I have eaten this so so many times.

At the beach near where we camped in Strahan. We were advised to drive down a dirt logging road until we found a campsite at the end, we thought it was a wild goose chase after a while but we eventually got there. Paid six dollars between us for the night I think, not bad.

Ferry crossing in the northwest.

Routine coffee.

Old seaweed farm.

A lonely house on the west coast.

Empty roads.

Portrait of Ben and I, middle of nowhere if I recall. This is what we were wearing in the middle of summer.

Summer of Ginger Beer.

The steed and the quarters.

The north coast.

Fires over a pulp mill.

Celebrating the end of an awesome trip.

I’d do it all again. All of these photos were taken with my iPhone 4s, and link through to Flickr.

Frenchmans Cap

Convicts were known to use Frenchmans Cap as a guiding beacon when escaping their imprisonment at Macquarie Harbour Penal Station, but we just wanted to climb it. Even though it was forty two degrees in Hobart the day before, we had some of the best weather Tasmania has just about ever seen on our three day hike. Although the weather was perfect, the conditions still weren’t amazing.

Getting to the peak and back can be done in two days, the first and third of which are half spent in either waist high mud, if you have the luck of the devil, or knee high mud if no one is doing a rain dance on the island of Tasmania. The middle day was just as much of a punish, we spent around 10 hours that day walking on our return trip to the summit. Some parties we came across were doing the whole thing in 5 days, and in inclement weather it is necessary to take this long.

Nick on the suspension bridge across the Franklin River.

Our first sighting of the cap, brutally obvious as to where it was we were going, we were psyched.

Dick Smith, of electronics fame has donated a lot of money to creating and maintaining tracks on the walk. Cheers Dick.

After a long day, we sat by the hut at Lake Vera and stretched it out in the afternoon sun. Little known fact, wearing a bandanna aids stretching.

Day two and we were headed for the cap. Here’s a taste of what morning threw at us.

We reached this saddle and we were literally breathtaken, we didn’t say much more than “woahhhh” “dude wooooooah” “oh maaan” for a few minutes. You can see the cap on the right of the picture, ever closer.

Ben and Nick posing on one of the steep sections, we didn’t count the stairs but I estimate about ten squillion.

Lake Tahune! The base of the cap. Nick had a skinny dip here on the way back, but I’m going to keep it G rated.

In a grim turn of events, Ben had some troubles with his knee and we had to slow it down. He wasn’t to be held back though, and soldiered on like a boss.

The cap was momentus up close, this is what the view was like for about three of four hours.

Another saddle and another lake, Tasmania has some epic scenery.

Part time male model, part time cyclist, full time bro, Nick Wilson at the summit. Seen here wearing a shirt the wrong way, most likely delirious from the altitude.

The view to the south, the saddle on the far left is where we were lost for words, we had come a long way, but had to head back to camp. It was me who made the predictable joke about the Lord of the Rings at this point.

To the north and it was just mountains as far as I could see, to the west we could just see the ocean. Pretty sure Isengard was in the east.

As a rad reward for making it to the top, there was a prize of snow for the first 1,000,000 visitors, or until climate change gets to it, whichever comes first. Tasmania has it all.

Back to camp just in time for Couscous around the world before the sun set. Absolutely exhausted.

The cabin at lake Vera was awesome, but full on the only two nights that we were there. It emptied out as soon as we were leaving of course, great timing.

Day three was rough with Ben’s knee and his pack, but we soldiered back through the mud to the Franklin River for a bath. When we got there of course there was a party of seven retirees using the bridge one at a time, they couldn’t believe their eyes when three sweaty, muddy boys emerged out of the bush like wild animals. They took roughly twenty eight years to finish crossing the bridge before we could race across it all at once, rip our packs and shoes off faster than the speed of light, and jump straight in. It was so so so good, and I won the skipping stones comp.

We had an excellent time and met some interesting people along the way. In this case interesting meant a naked bearded man, neck deep in mud and filth, kilometers away from the nearest clean water source. He was later referred by another group as “Oh was it that crazy dude with the red beard? Yeah him and his mate were so weird”. I think our swim was nicer, if only because we came out cleaner than when we went in.

Tasmania is unreal, we had no idea what we were getting into when we took the HMAS Grimboat, aka the Spirit of Tasmania, but in the end we were blown away. Photos were taken with my iPhone 4s and click through to Flickr!

Where am I?

This trip was going to be tough but we didn’t know just how tough… Of course Nick was chief planner and navigator, Ben was sick (of health and of overwhelming uni work) and Jack needed to work more than he did go camping so the party was down to two. The plan was to camp at the Wog Wog carpark, then set off bright and early to Yurnga Lookout the next day. Day two was going to be Yurnga to The Castle return. Because we were doing a return walk, day three was the same as the first.

Lets just say that we got 2/3 days right, and as Meatloaf said: “Don’t be sad, two out of three ain’t bad”

(The perfect accompaniment for this post)

Heading down to Bungendore.

Caravaners enjoying all the luxuries of home life, their generator was noisy a gift from the devil for the rest of us. What’s the point?

The list is always a work in progress.

Endless #summerofgingerbeer.

Campfire enthusiast.


A common morning scene, Muesli with Peaches & Coffee.

My friends Karla & Jake turned up at the same carpark, to do a similar walk! Crazy timing to meet up in the middle of nowhere.

Mr. Agility.

The first of many good views.

Rock formations that were once riverbeds.

Nice enough day for it.


Pensive Wilson at our camp, day one was a success.

The view from dinner with long shadows.

Chick Peas & Zucchini (Cous cous not pictured).

Male Model enjoying dinner.

Daybreak on the big day, we needed to get cracking.

From the tent door, peeking into Nick’s, wondering where my coffee is.

The kitchen hung out to dry.

The peak on the left of the saddle is where our tents were, not a bad spot.

Back into the forest.


At this point we missed a turn that we needed to take. The plan was to go on a known path between Mt Owen and Mt Cole but instead we missed this path and ended up finding ourselves on one of the four pillars of Donjon Mountain. They weren’t as tall as the other mountains, and were easy enough to summit, the trick was getting down.

The view was good but we soon realized that this was not the pass that we were looking for. We scouted out the area for a way around to find the trail that we were after, which led between those two cliffs in this picture. We had climbed the mountain on the westward side but wanted to descend on the east, to meet the trail again.

What we found however was an abandoned set of packs and a torn shelter, we were pretty spooked but we decided to rummage through the belongings. They had been out in the elements for 15 months, the pack on the right went from green to white. These were absolutely RIDDLED with spiders and ants and other stuff that isn’t your mate.

I found this note saying that they had been rescued by chopper, crazy! I got in contact with Malcolm when I got home, he had been with a mate and his mate’s son and a friend of the son. These guys also got lost, but similarly to us figured out pretty quickly where they were, however the friend of the son couldn’t handle the heat and they had to pull the plug and use their emergency beacon. Humbling stuff. He had even tried to return to the spot to find his bags and recover his camera (which we didn’t find) but said he failed due to the weather, but is going again soon!

On the way down from the (wrong) mountain, Nick and I found this nest of eggs, Happy Easter indeed! We found the path after about 4 or 5 hours of extreme struggle in the dense bush. All of the area that we were navigating had no tracks and we wouldn’t have covered more than a kilometer in those hours. A lot of the time we thought we had found a way, but it was a dead end and we had to retrace our steps and find another route. Eventually we reached the trail and were elated but decided to call it quits and head back to camp. We didn’t get to see The Castle in the end, but there’s always next time, at this point we were just happy to be safe.

Daybreak on the final day and it was a bit gloomy. Time to head home.

Just like last time, we drove back to Braidwood for the bakery, and then cruised home to Canberra. This trip was an eye opener for us, we were almost in deep water but we pulled through, full credit to Nick for his awesome navigation skills. Both of us agreed that this would have been way worse if we had another hiker with us who was any less experienced. Photos were taken with my iPhone 4s and click through to Flickr!