cradle mountain-lake st.clair national park, cradle mountain lodge, linda lee rathbun

Cradle Mountain-Lake St.Clair National Park:
Cradle Mountain Lullaby
Natural Wanders…
exploring the natural world through writing

CRADLED IN GOD'S HAND

Wandering through Tasmania's wilderness reminds one how ancient the Earth is. Plants which grew 55 million years ago may still be found, along with rainforest fern species once trampled by dinosaurs. The high mountain peaks and deep glacial lakes of the Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair area were formed during the last Ice Age, 20,000 years ago.
It is only in the last half of this century that people have grown to value wild places and this is reflected in efforts to preserve the precious bits of wilderness still left. In Tasmania, there is a World Heritage area that encompasses three national parks and close to 800,000 hectares of land. The northerly park is Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair which spreads over 161,000 hectares.
Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair is perhaps best known for its famous Overland Track. During the summer months about 30 hikers set off each day to meet its challenge - some never make it. A sunny day can turn bitterly cold, trapping unprepared walkers in snowstorm conditions. However, even rough weather cannot mar the timeless beauty of this area created by the movements of glaciers grinding across the land.
The Lake St. Clair end of the park is close to Derwent Bridge on the Lyell Highway. There are boat tours of the lake, and many hikers save themselves a day of walking by taking this boat to the southern end of the Overland Track. There are camping facilities and cabins for those wanting to take day walks. Just outside the park, the rustic Derwent Bridge Hotel with its massive open fireplace has been an apparition come true to many a hiker lusting for a hot steak and a cold beer after eight days of freeze-dried food.
Lake St. Clair shimmers amongst the green forests that surround it. The boat ride across it is serene and lovely. In autumn some of the trees turn silver with splashes of red inflaming the bush. The spinifex turns to gold making the ground glow softly. A self-guided track, the Watersmeet Nature Walk, is ideal for those with only a little time. There are day walks to Shadow Lake, or one can take the boat to the end of Lake St. Clair and then walk back. All visitors are greeted by Bennetts Wallabies, gazing at you with long-lashed brown eyes and sniffing for bits of fruit or handfuls of special wallaby food. (other foods will kill them). I was enchanted as they ate right out of my hand, holding their human 'plate' still with their paws. In the evenings the sunset over the lake is luminous, with pink and orange clouds slowly drifting by. In our hotel room, we were awakened each night by a stampede of possums thundering across the roof like Ben Hur's chariot race. However it never bothers me to be disturbed by nature.
The Cradle Mountain end of the park is a three-hour drive from Lake St. Clair. Just outside the boundary of the national park is a superb camping facility. There are tent sites, bunkrooms, cooking shelters with open fireplaces, and hot showers in clean toilet blocks. A bus operates several times a day to the shore of Lake Dove and to the Waldheim Chalet at the northerly end of the Overland Track, where there are also backpackers' facilities.
When we arrived at Cradle Mountain, an autumn snowstorm proved we had made the right decision to stay at Cradle Mountain Lodge. Located just outside the park, the massive timber and stone building is surrounded by charming cabins with kitchens and wood-burning heaters. We drove out to Lake Dove, but Cradle Mountain was hidden behind a white wall of cloud. A pademelon rushed to our car, hiding under it to try to steal some warmth from the engine. The snow continued for the rest of the day and after lunch we walked along the Enchanted Trail by the lodge. It bordered the engorged Pencil Pine River, winding beneath a tree canopy that made me feel like a gnome in a verdant green kingdom. By now we were quite cold so we returned to the cozy warmth of our cabin.
It snowed most of the night and the next morning it cleared. We rushed along the icy, unsealed road to Lake Dove for my husband, Steve, wanted desperately to photograph Cradle Mountain with snow on it. A numbing wind swept across the lake and waves crashed on the shore. The ragged peaks of Cradle Mountain were softened by an icing of white. Steve's hands froze as he held the cold metal of the camera, always ready to suffer any agony to get 'the shot'.
We spent the rest of the day exploring the area. A stream ran through a meadow of snow-covered grasses. A weathered cabin looked quaint and homey. Wallabies seem only barely protected from the cold in their long thick fur. A group of Native Hens fled across a picnic area, terrified by Goretex suited giants who approached them for a photo. A magnificent Yellow Wattlebird taunted Steve from a wooded area, calling out like an ancient rusty door on grinding hinges, then flying off just as we finally got close. Smoke poured from chimneys of the cabins surrounding Cradle Mountain Lodge, giving it the look of a small village in a pioneering wilderness.
Homemade scones and hot chocolate by a roaring fire in the lodge finally brought the feeling back to our toes and fingers. A saner couple might have headed to their cabin for a nap, but we set out to find wombats coming out to feed in the late afternoon. Steve approached them carefully, surprised at how quickly they could gallop off on their short legs like furry Volkswagens dashing for cover. Finally, after several hours, we found a mother and baby wombat. Perhaps feeling protected by the darkening evening, they let Steve photograph them to his heart's content.
The next morning the weather was clear, giving us a perfect day for a long walk. We set off from the Waldheim Chalet along the track leading to Crater Lake. The ground was saturated with moisture. Rain water, with no place else to go, ran down the path. Crater Falls was nestled in a pocket of deciduous beech trees turning yellow. Crater Lake was magnificent, reflecting 200 meter cliffs draped in golden foliage. Pandani trees, looking like subtropical ferns seemed entirely out of place, giving the lake a surreal, prehistoric look.
We climbed up further to Marions Lookout along an almost vertical path of rocks. The view was as breathtaking as the climb. This was the first and hardest part of the Overland Track. Lake Dove was below us, Cradle Mountain in front. Other lakes were nestled into the high plains, other peaks soared up like monoliths.
The sun started its afternoon descent, taking its warmth with it. By the time we got back to Waldheim, the air was still so like two demented rallycross drivers, we raced down to Lake Dove just in time to capture the mountain perfectly mirrored in water. Suddenly that magical moment vanished and the valley sank into darkness. A delicious dinner back at the lodge was our end to a perfect day.
Night time also offered remarkable sights at Cradle Mountain Lodge. Heavily coated possums came out for their special dinner in front of the verandah, grabbing pieces of apple in well manicured little hands. Wallabies and pademelons waited in the shadows for their turn. Shy Spotted-tailed Quolls zoomed about like over revved wind-up toys, their delicate bodies quivering with alertness. A Tasmanian Devil came to feed on leftover meat and stayed to kill and eat an injured possum. An amazed child cried out to his parents: 'Come quickly, come and see the murder!'. The guests watched in horror, their stomachs still digesting the steak and trout they had just eaten.
On our last day we were surrounded by low clouds and steady rain - not surprising given that Cradle Mountain gets 200 days and 260 cm of rain each year. The National Park Visitors Center had a well marked walk leading through a section of rainforest and ending by Pencil Pine Falls. We wandered about, Steve taking photos of flowers, fungus, lichen and mosses, then walked near the lodge through King Billy Pine trees over 1,000 years old. To reach out and touch them gave me a feeling of satisfaction.
The human spirit needs places like Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair National Park. Mother Nature sculpted the land, she carved it with a river of ice. To spend some time in the path of that glacier is to be linked to our Earth, and to actually feel one has a tiny place in time.

THE END