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On arrival at the Cradle Mountain visitor centre, the feeling was more like a ski resort than a parks office at the start of our planned nine-day trek. We found out later the road to the visitor centre closed shortly after we came through and quite a number of the 34 starters booked to start with us had abandoned. Sorted and geared up we were dropped at Ronny Creek to sign-in for the trek and take a final photo before heading off on some wide duckboard and the gentle slopes up to Crater Lake. In lovely old forest and relatively sheltered conditions, we made good time and were happily easing into the track. But as we climbed up to the exposed saddle between Crater Lake and Dove Lake ahead of the final push to Marion’s Lookout, this was all about to change. At the saddle we received our introduction to the conditions, somewhat worse than forecast, that would hammer us for the rest of the day. Gales, with gusts to 100km/h and a mix of horizontal sleet turning to snow and blizzard as we climbed higher. It was here on the exposed plateau and ridges that we faced the full force of the storm. The trail, non-existent was followed from pole to pole, constantly falling off the side of the narrow duckboard (where it existed) and into deep drifts of snow. Battered and a little less enthusiastic we were pleased when the historic Kitchen Hut emerged from the bleak whiteness. Arriving at the hut around 1.30pm after about three hours on the trail, we found it full of trekkers sheltering and as it turned out, considering their options. With effectively no room in the hut and with three hours left to Waterfall Hut, we decided to push on. We did get some respite from the weather for a short time, but before long we were on the very exposed Cradle Cirque and taking the full force of the weather. We passed an emergency (ex-Antarctic) shelter, before pressing on and sometimes pausing to wait while white-out conditions passed. More falls from duckboard and stumbles through snow drifts and we gratefully reached the downhill and less exposed run into Waterfall hut. Trudging on downhill for what seemed much longer than it was, we finally reached the signposted turn-off to Waterfall Hut. The ranger advised that including us 16 had arrived but he was expecting around 14 more trekkers… of which only three more ultimately arrived. Turned out that quite a number had pulled out or had decided to stay in Kitchen Hut and we were glad we did not take that option. We grabbed a sleeping spot and did our best to get some warm food and drinks into us and to dry off some gear and be ready for the next day, with the weather not tipped to change much. Thanking ourselves for packing the plunger coffee we wolfed down a freeze dried dinner and snuggled down early in our sleeping bags listening to the fierce winds and snow continue to batter the little hut until morning. Day 1: 13.2km, 6hrs. 500m+ ascent (420m of ascent from Ronny Creek to Marion’s Lookout)

After such a hectic day the day before and with the wind, snow and sleet still howling we took our time getting away. Plainly the side trip to Lake Will would not be on the cards and it would be another day of just surviving. A big warm bowl of porridge and cup of coffee, gear packed and zipped up in our storm gear, we headed out about 9am to face the day: a “short” walk to Windermere Hut. But after climbing out of the valley and back up onto some very exposed plains – which would no doubt afford stunning views in good weather – we were belted again by high winds and horizontal sleet and rain. The trail was now a combination of knee deep sludgy wet snow and running creeks and while we managed to stay mostly dry yesterday in the snow, today would be a very wet and very cold day. Despite very good Gore-Tex leather boots, gaiters and rain pants the water still seeps in and wet feet are the order of the day. Excellent rain jackets keep rain out but also keep much sweat in and so shirts are also damp and then cold. And while duckboard can be a saviour for both the flora and the hikers, we spent the day slipping off it and stumbling often, in a replay of the previous day. Lingering just momentarily at the turn-off to Lake Will, thinking about what might have been, we put our heads down and just kept trudging and well, there was nothing to see in any event. Finally, Lake Windermere appeared out of the gloom and gave some hope of a reprieve and the hut, but it would take another 45 mins before we arrived at just after 12.30pm. Most everyone had arrived before us and the small gas heater was covered in under around and above with wet clothes, boots and every kind of other personal paraphernalia – the Tas Parks signs suggesting wet boots and clothes should be accepted and to share the heat with all was lost on most. We did thankfully find a large upper platform on which we could spread out our gear and fashioned a bit of a clothes line for our damp shirts (never trek without cord and pegs) and when we got into our warm dry clothes we finally felt just a little bit human again. We spent the afternoon drinking coffee, chatting and napping before dinner and an early to bed. (Day 2: 8.1km, 3.5hrs, 324m of ascent.)

After much clatter from the 6am early risers pre-dawn, we emerged at first light around 7am from our warm cocoons and began the ritual of dressing in our mostly damp trek gear, packing up, then having brekky. The resident ranger advised the weather for our long hike today would be more of the same strong winds but having descended to some lower altitudes the snow was now replaced by rain. At least, we figured, the track would be clearer and easier to traverse – but how terribly wrong we would be. Letting the masses go before starting our packing proved a good move, giving us lots of room in the otherwise small confines of the hut to sort our gear and importantly, make sure we didn’t leave anything behind – something we found regularly happening to those packing and leaving in the dark. And even on long days there was still plenty of light to get to the next hut. We left Windermere around 9am and the open grasslands, while from time to time being more visible, still allowed the strong winds to regularly pummel us sideways on (and off) the duckboard. When not trying to stay on the duckboard that had now become bridges over shin deep water, we were picking our way through the best of the worst of the mud in an effort to keep the dampness level of our boots manageable. On entering the forest in the shadow of Mt Pelion West our next trial began. The trail became a mix of slippery tree roots, rocks, creeks and waterfalls that for the most part only vaguely resembled something of a trail. Many falls slips and close calls with heavy packs required maximum concentration on the feet, much assistance from trekking poles and therefore minimal chance to enjoy anything that might have been remotely interesting or enjoyable. Our moods had turned very dark after three days of this and of having not enjoyed so much as simply survived many of the kilometres that had so far passed us by. We did finally fall out of this bad place at Frog Flats at around 1.30pm, which is the lowest part of the Overland and with the River Forth and some very pretty scenery that could finally be enjoyed, our spirits were just a little restored. A necessary respite given the two hours of uphill on a mix of duckboard and muddy rocky trail that awaited us before we could de-pack at Pelion Hut. After enduring some 6.5 hours of challenging trail over 17.5km, the trail levelled out and the lovely Pelion Plains and the even lovelier Pelion Hut appeared before us. Pelion Hut is large and with packs off, coffee on the go and having found a room (almost to ourselves) where we could spread out and collect our frazzled thoughts, we were quickly renewed. An early dinner and some time strolling around the wide verandah of the hut spotting wildlife and we were done and snuggled in our warm sleeping bags looking forward to a rest day in Pelion. (Day 3: 17.5km, 6.5hrs, 671m ascent, 857m descent.)

A sleep in! With no particular goal for the day we lay in our snug beds and listened to (almost) all the others busily packing up their bags and having brekky before heading off to the next hut. We finally ventured out as things quieted down and had the whole place to ourselves, save for one other couple who were also having a break in Pelion today. Pelion Hut comprises eight small separate bedrooms with bunks that can accommodate at a pinch, a total of 64. There is a large long dining room which has eight dining tables and benches. All surrounded with a large verandah, perfect for drying the wet clothes packs and gear. Even more perfect was the fact that with no wind we finally had some blue sky and sunshine. We had originally planned to tackle Mt Oakleigh however after the first three days we decided just to take the day to recover. So we started out with a short stroll down some lovely duckboard to Old Pelion Hut, built in 1916 to accommodate workers in nearby copper mines. Strolling back to the main hut over the soggy, boggy plains (protected by duckboard) we headed down to Douglas Creek, just beyond the hut and discovered a deep green forest of ferns and faery things – and a couple of pademelons. It was a delight to stroll along without 20kg on your back and without having to watch every step. Returning to the hut we had a cuppa on the verandah and enjoyed lunch of a Clif Bar. The Clif bars are super dense and full of calories and provide a really easy to pack and filling lunch on the go. After lunch we headed down the Arm River Track and then up toward Mt Oakleigh across the grass plains. Crossing a couple of streams we headed into the forest at the base of Mt Oakleigh and started up the early part of the climb through some lovely forest, but super muddy track. About a third of the way up we decided we had been strenuous enough for the day and wandered back to the hut, taking in the lovely views back over the hut of Mt Ossa (still with a little snow) which would be our midpoint goal and side trip the next day. Arriving back at the hut it was starting to get busy with walkers beginning to arrive from their long day walking in from Windermere hut. The afternoon passed and we sorted our now dry gear and generally felt much better about heading back out on the trail tomorrow. A Backcountry freeze dried chicken tikka was on the dinner menu followed by a small piece of chocolate and we were living like kings and queens. Some wildlife spotting, paddy’s, wombats and possums followed on dusk and we found the rumours from the previous night of a Tassie Devil to be greatly exaggerated. We returned to what was our own private bedroom this night and enjoyed the best night sleep yet – until about 11pm - when just about everyone in the hut (except us) got up to go to the toilet. Oddly this had not been a thing until we joined this new group and we vowed if tomorrow was fine we would be tenting overnight.

Another fine day dawned, and rested and relaxed we decided we would get moving early, particularly with a side trip to Mt Ossa (tallest mountain in Tassie) on the cards. Heading out about 8.30am we climbed steadily through some lovely forest, beside some creeks and waterfalls for about 4km to Pelion Gap. A boarded platform marks Pelion Gap and a crossroads with trails heading out either side to Mt Pelion East (1,433m) and Mt Ossa (1,617m). From here were decided we would leave our big packs, take our day packs and head up to the saddle between Mt Ossa and Mt Doris, where we understood some lovely views were to be had. We heeded the numerous warning about currawongs and crows that can take off loose pack covers and unzip and otherwise dismantle packs and secured our packs together with some cord and pack covers making them as hard to access as we could. The track up to the saddle is really well maintained and was a lovely doddle with some spectacular 360 degree views to Mt Pelion East, north to Mt Oakleigh and south down the Pinestone Valley toward our final destination at Kia Ora hut. Reaching the saddle and looking almost straight up to the final climb to the peak of Mt Ossa, we could appreciate the effort that would take and decided against it this time. A young couple who headed out just before us from Pelion had said they were going to attempt the climb, but we could not spot them on the slopes among the jumble of rocks and pinnacles that is Mt Ossa. Arriving back at the Gap we noted our packs were still securely tied together and untouched, however the same could not be said for another two packs that had been somewhat carelessly left lying with loose pack covers only protecting them. Crows had pulled the covers off, unzipped all of the zippers and were in the process of pulling out everything they could in search of food. A lesson for the owners of those packs, no doubt, to heed the warnings in future. The rest of the trek was spent in lovely sunshine and all downhill on the trek into Kia Ora hut, capping off what had been our first truly enjoyable day on the trail where we could enjoy the sights and sounds and smells. Arriving around 2pm we picked out a great little tent platform and pitched our tent in no time at all, looking forward to a peaceful nights sleep. We of course kept all of our food in our packs in the hut as again, stories were rife of marauding possums demolishing tents to get to food. We made a cuppa and headed down to a little bridge over Kia Ora Creek where we sat and dangled our legs over the edge watching as the water rushed incessantly under our feet. After the usual organising and sorting of gear for tomorrow and hanging of our trek gear to organise and dry a little, followed by some dinner, we retired to our little red Hilleberg Nallo tent after a lovely day of trekking and enjoyed a peaceful nights sleep. (Day 5: 13km, 5.5hrs, 700m ascent, 650m descent)

Day six on the track dawned grey and although not raining, the threat would hang around all day and cast a gloom over the track. After our usual steady start, we were on the trail by 9am for what would be a pretty long day of 15km plus, including side trips to D’Alton, Fergusson and Hartnett Falls and a 2km climb to the Du Cane Gap before a final downhill into Burt Nicholls hut. Not long out of Kia Ora, we came to the historic Du Cane Hut, built by Paddy Hartnett in 1910 where he lived and worked as a trapper and mountain guide with his wife Lucy. The hut was restored in the 1990’s and provides only emergency accommodation now. We then entered some faery forest, full of green and damp and boggy, rooty trail and soon reached the first of our side trips to D’Alton and Fergusson Falls. With all of the recent rain, the falls were running hard and were therefore not easy to approach but they were lovely and certainly worth the diversion. Back on the main trail we continued further on until we reached the track to Hartnett Falls, by far the largest of all of the falls and a 1.5km round trip from the main trail to visit. It seemed most people had skipped one or all of the falls and we were the last on the gloomy trail into Burt Nicholls Hut. The slog up to the Du Cane Gap was through some very uninspiring scrub and on trails that took us back to day three and the slog to Frog Flats. And to top off the misery it had started to rain. Again, we entered auto-pilot, survival mode with nothing to see but our feet making one muddy step after another. Mercifully the hut arrived in view around 3pm and it turned out to be a very modern and large hut that would host only a very small group of nine of us for the night. The hut has three large bedrooms that have platforms sleeping 12 in each (six top and six bottom) and we had a whole room and top platform to ourselves. Otherwise the hut seemed to have quite a bit of wasted space, but it was warm and pleasant and in the rain provided a dry place to again gather ourselves up. The hut looked directly across at the Du Cane Range which includes the Acropolis – one of the side trips from our destination at Pine Valley, tomorrow. The night passed, dinner was consumed and we retired to our beds to listen to the wind and rain on the tin roof of the hut. (Day 6: 15.5km, 6.5hrs, ascent 600m, descent 600m)

As has mostly been our way, we were in no hurry to get away this morning. With just 10km of “mostly” downhill walk into Pine Valley we would have plenty of time to trudge there in the cold and rain. All the others were off early to catch their ferry at Narcissus Hut to Lake St Clair and freedom. As the rain continued to tumble down we finally pulled on our wet weather gear and said our goodbyes to the ranger around 10am. So much for the gentle downhill. There was downhill, but also plenty of uphill through the same sort of scrubby rubbishy forest we had come through heading up to Du Cane Gap and the track was every bit as boggy and a mass of slippery roots as we had on our worst days. The turnoff from the main track seemed to take forever to come and once it did we quickly crossed the Narcissus River via a large swing bridge and slogged on through more of the same track in the rainy, grey, cold day. A new foe arose today – leeches – dropping off bushes as you brush past them they latch on with a vengeance and take some serious encouragement to dislodge. Adding to the things we had to watch out for. We finally reached some lengthy stretches of duckboard and faery forest which signalled we were closing in on the hut. And finally around 1.30pm we dragged ourselves into the hut, cold, wet and very weary from what should have been a short, downhill day on good track (according to the ranger). We met up again with the couple we spent the day at Pelion Hut with who it turned out had braved the rainy day and headed up to the Labyrinth. We quickly got changed into some warm dry clothes and despite the early hour fired up the coal stove to dry our gear. A couple of cups of hot coffee (turns out we had extra coffee) and we were feeling much better. And soon the hut was warm and dry, but due to it being buried in the forest was very dark. And still the rain continued… but we hoped for a break tomorrow when we too hoped to head up to the Labyrinth. Dinner was, as usual, very welcome and some chocolate even more so. Mice it turns out plague this hut and so we hung all of our gear and tried to secure our packs and food as best we could to avoid invasion. During the night you could feel the little buggers skittering around – despite being on a top platform and hear them going to work on anything that remotely resembled food. We hoped our gear would be intact in the morning. (Day 7: 11.5km, 4hrs, ascent 300m, descent 300m)

We went to sleep to rain and woke to rain the next morning and after so much rain and cold we simply weren’t up to putting on wet cold gear to trudge, clamber and struggle up to the Labyrinth in the hope there would be some sort of views. So we dug in at the hut, in the hope the rain would clear by late morning and still give us time to make the trek. We saw off the couple who we shared the hut with the previous night and whose packs had been given a thorough going over by the mice. They had variously chewed packs and bags, but did not seem to have done too much damage. Our packs and food, it seemed, were untouched. One small mercy perhaps. Soon after a young chap on his own and a young couple arrived. The chap was planning to hike up to the Labyrinth and camp there overnight for a day or so to take photo’s and the couple were keen to get up to the Labyrinth. Despite no let-up in the rain and clearly low cloud, they headed up. As the rain eased just a little after lunch we did go for a walk back through the lovely faery forest we passed through coming in that held no interest for us at that time and thoroughly enjoyed the relaxed, warm, dry stroll through the lovely green forest. We did go a short way up the track toward the Acropolis to the Cephissus Falls and then called it a day as the rain came back in. Sitting in the hut another lone walker arrived, an American who had walked in from Lake St Clair, so the hut would be quite busy for our last night. The very wet and disappointed couple returned a little later in the afternoon having made it to the Labyrinth but with very limited visibility the return on the effort was certainly questionable. Darkness fell pretty early in the dark little hut, but the coal fire had kept us warm all day and we tucked into the last of our supplies, save for a final Clif bar and brekky for our last day on the track. Settling into our top platform beds we had warned the others of the mice and had taken all of the same precautions again to secure our gear. Others did the same, except the American. Turns out during the night the young chap fled his lower sleeping platform to the higher one as he could hear the mice running around him and he tied up nearly everything he had in places he thought the mice would not reach. But as it turned out they got into every pack (except ours) and demolished most of the food the careless American chap had failed to secure. Given how long these mice have been in the hut and problem they now pose and damage they do to gear, there must surely be some humane solution to dealing with them.

Our last day dawned just as grey as the one before and the one before that. Fortunately the rain held off for most of the walk out. We were booked on the 1pm Ferry out of Narcissus Hut and so woke early at 6am, packed and had a final brekky before heading off at 7.30am. We made surprisingly good time back to the main Overland Track and were also pleasantly surprised to find most of the final part of the track was downhill, albeit the same rubbishy scrubby bush and with the same boggy, root ridden track that we hoped we might just get a reprieve from today. Eyes down again, the rain blew in and out and after a final swing bridge over the Narcissus River we arrived at the final hut at 10.30am – this time used only to radio the ferry and confirm our 1pm booking. With a couple of hours to spare we drank our last, wonderful Ona (Raspberry Candy) plunger coffees and savoured that caffeine moment and our last little bit of time on the track. The ferry dock was a short walk from the hut and on the way we spotted a rainbow ending at the dock which we thought was some kind of message - we were just unclear what that message was: well done, good riddance, it’s still raining, it might get sunny or your pot of gold awaits. A short ferry ride took us to the Tasmanian Parks Information Centre at Lake St Clair where our Overland Track Transport bus was waiting to take us back to Launceston. But first, we just had to enjoy a bag of $7 potato chips each from the Lake St Clair Lodge (a convenient, but seriously overpriced place). We arrived back at our hotel in Launceston at 5.30pm on Saturday 4 May 2019. Some really long hot showers and clean clothes welcomed us back after nine days and around 95km on (and off) the Overland Track. We had for much of it simply endured and survived. The pictures I took along the way of course tell a very different story of beautiful scenery and epic mountains and forests but to quote an elderly Rose from the movie Titanic: “the experience of it was quite different”.