While we slept warm and dry in Windermere Hut on the second night of our adventure there was rain and snow falling outside all night.  We had been told that today would be the worst weather day of the week but we were battle-hardened and ready to take on all the elements no matter what is thrown at us.  And we had adopted a catchcry that summed up our approach to the Overland Track – Embrace the weather!  And so we did.

Considering the evil forecast for the day Anna and Sheena wisely chose to join us again and so our team of six headed off on the trail in the cold, drizzly, slushy weather.  For most of the morning we crossed open moors and grasslands with the trail just a long series of deep black muddy areas between large unavoidable flooded areas.  The trail left quite a deep and permanent scar across these beautiful open plains with little effort to avoid the damage.  I had already started coming to the conclusion that Tasmania National Parks were not heavily focused on track maintenance for the sake of the walkers or the environment.  They either wanted walkers to experience the rawness of nature or they were underfunded for such projects.  Either way, it was a cold, soggy and muddy morning.

We stopped at a lookout for good views of the valley formed by the River Forth and then trudged through the pine forests down to Frog Flats where we crossed the River Forth itself.  This part of the walk exposed us to more of this very rough track with extensive exposed tree roots, loose rock, running water down the track and of course mud – don’t forget the mud – to carefully negotiate with each step.

Though it rained and slushy snowed all afternoon the weather wasn’t nearly as bad as we expected but the poor quality of the track made every step a careful negotiation.  We took a detour to check out the old Pelion Hut which was built for those intrepid explorers in 1917 and then after 16.8 kilometres of trail slog we pulled into the New Pelion Hut where we dried off, warmed up, enjoyed another cold dinner and slept like babies while it snowed outside.

The promise of better weather the next day proved a false promise but we did wake to a beautiful blanket of thick fresh snow across the valley and covering all the trees.  Having abandoned our vague plans to climb a few of the nearby peaks our new plan was to ‘double hut’ which means to walk past one hut and stay the night at the next hut called Windy Ridge, a walk of about 17 kilometres.  We also knew this day involved climbing up and over two high gaps which promised more bad weather.

It started to snow again as we followed the trail up towards the ridge at Pelion Gap.  The snow was thick on the trail and the tree branches overhanging the trail were heavily laden with snow.  When there was a narrow boardwalk we learned quickly one false step could send us sliding off the edge and into the slushy muddy water below.  When there was no boardwalk, which was usually the case, we had no choice but to walk through the slushy muddy water anyway.

As we reached the gap the wind was howling and snow drifts obliterated any sign of the trail.  Walking poles were once again an essential tool to keep us upright regardless of where we stepped.  Relying again on the snow poles to ensure we didn’t become a statistic we slowly made it across the exposed gap and down the other side.  Sometimes the trail took on the look of a roaring stream, complete with slippery rocks, little waterfalls and deep holes to step in.  It was a long miserable trek to Kia Ora Hut, where we stopped under shelter for lunch before pushing on. 

We spent the afternoon largely like the morning, up and over another pass, rain and sleety snow, deep water alternating with slushy black mud, our trail runners and poor feet no match for this treatment.  We enjoyed the brief respite at picturesque and historic DuCane Hut before passing down the other side and finding the Windy Ridge hut. 

It was packed with over 30 walkers, there was nowhere to sit in the communal room and sleeping was shoulder to shoulder with strangers on the large sleeping platforms.  This was not the experience we were hoping for and Zach upheld the family honour by putting up his tent on a nearby tent platform and having a peaceful sleep in the rain and snow. 

On Day Five our plan was to take the detour trail off to beautiful Pine Valley so we could explore some of the treasures this area had to offer and sleep in the modest Pine Valley Hut that night.  So the next morning we changed from our set of dry clothes to our set of wet clothes again and trekked off into the cold rainy morning.  And it was more of the same, cold, wet and muddy, a constantly flooded track, very slow going. 

The Pine Valley trail featured two long suspension bridges across the Cephissus River, filling its banks to the brim and dramatically racing below us.   This section of the trail was quite beautiful despite the long sections that required us to basically walk through running water that was up to our ankles.  Thick green mosses grew over all the trees and the swampy flood plains added quite a surreal touch to this forest walk. 

The Pine Valley Hut was small with just enough room for the ten intrepid walkers that made it our home that night, all totally exhausted and feeling dismal.  The coal heater was fired up (yes, the Tasmanian National Parks helicopters in coal imported from Queensland to keep us warm at night!) and we had a warm chummy night with our fellow explorers. 

Amongst us was a father and daughter from western Sydney, two girls who were cousins from Brisbane (one of which had slipped off the boardwalk and fallen over her head into the icy water, pack and all) and a young couple from Sydney’s northern beaches of Manly, Rick and Gabby, who we had seen on and off for a few days and were destined to be with us for the remainder of the trek. 

It was on these nights that Zach’s experience and stories of ultra-light solo hiking became a fun talking point.  People were amazed that despite these miserable conditions we were eating cold food with no tea or coffee, had absolute minimal clothes and equipment and were carrying uber-light packs.  Will and Zach’s entire pack starting the seven day trek each weighed around 13kg (about 28 pounds) including water for the day while Carl and I were slightly heavier.  In turn we couldn’t believe how much unnecessary stuff people jammed into their packs, including big books, clean clothes for each day and in Rick’s case an amazing 4kg of trail mix! (Sorry Rick).  Everyone’s different!

The next morning the weather was still foul and we abandoned any idea of exploring any of the side tracks that climb some of the impressive peaks nearby.  Our plan with Rick and Gabby was to ‘double hut’ past Narcissus Hut and spend the night together at the rarely used little Echo Point Hut on the shores of Lake St. Clair.  This would give us an easy walk the following morning to the Lake St. Clair Lodge where we would pick up our bus for our triumphal return to civilisation.

But the heavy overnight rain immediately presented a challenge for us.  The rivers and streams we had crossed the day before were now flooding out of their banks and the trail became more like a running river.  At one point the water was up to our knees and the dangers of falling in or being swept away were very real.  But trudge on we did, through another miserable morning, reaching Narcissus Hut on the banks of the Narcissus River where we paused for a few energy bars.

After another three hours of hard dreary walking through the mud, negotiating endless exposed tree roots, river streams and fallen trees we finally made it to Echo Point Hut.  What we found shocked us – a very old hut with room for eight to sleep, no place to sit, no coal, full of cob webs and warnings on the walls of rats that invade each night.  We were absolutely buggered beyond belief but we couldn’t stay here, no way.  Miraculously Will got phone reception and booked us into the basic bunk bed backpackers accommodation at the lodge that night. 

Ten kilometres later, through continued rain and along a very inhospitable track, the fun of the walk long since behind us, we trudged into the lodge, having completed the Overland Track.  It was a fabulous feeling to have tackled and achieved such a spectacular walk under such difficult circumstances but we did feel a bit cheated by the weather.  We didn’t get to enjoy any of the majestic views these mountains are famous for, completed almost none of the side tracks to explore the hidden gems of the range and never significantly saw the blue skies or warm sun that would have made the whole experience much more pleasant. 

We finished the walk with a few extra energy bars, some sore knees, infected leech bites, wet and muddy clothes and absolutely trashed feet.  But the overall experience – as dismal as it was most of the time – was irreplaceable.

That night over cold beers and hot food (yes, hot food!) we celebrated with Rick and Gabby, glowed in our success and promised to do it again sometime when they can guarantee better weather.  For me, quietly, it didn’t really matter about the weather, I was just loving the chance to have such a rich and memorable experience with Will, Carl and Zach, made even more so by the shyte weather. 

The next day we caught our bus back to Launceston and spent another night on the town celebrating our success.  Then it was back to Sydney, back to the real world, back to family, back to jobs and other pressures of life.  But we now own the Overland Track – we took it on at its worst and we triumphed – a once in a lifetime experience.

Finally, thanks to Carl, Will and Zach for contributing many of these photos and a special nod to the many new friends we met on the trail who made the whole experience even more memorable.