Walking the Frankland Range
The Serpentine Dam to Scotts Peak, Southwest, Tasmania.
December 2021 – January 2022
I tweak a hamstring coming off Sprent and turn the first day’s walk into two. A deep sleep at Islet Lake. My lockdown-soft body comes good by the third afternoon, as I cross the southern end of the Wilmot Range to find Tribulation Ridge thankfully uncommitted to its name.
From this point I feel stronger. Crispy clear evenings. The clag and mizzle embeds itself at dawn to hide the range ahead, the erasing heat burns through strong by noon.
For near nine days the solitude is total, there’s no one else sharing the range. Approaching Double Peak a pair of screaming currawongs battle a wedgie close overhead, beaks snapping.
Wandering around some jumble, the sculpted Dragon surprises with its sudden presence and charisma.
Pads wind through the dense scrub enclosing the knobs and bumps of the range. From above Citadel shelf, Frankland Peak appears a distant prospect yet progress is swift to Greycap. Pushing over the decrepit Frankland Saddle, water is scarce and the yabby holes are dry. The high camping beyond is my pick of the walk’s wild pitches.
Next morning the view from the range’s eponymous summit is blanket grey nothing. A tense foggy wander to find the pad to Jones Pass. A puzzling descent through a sodden rainforest.
Up and over Giblin under the sun, I sidle Jim Brown to the north and descend thirsty to a sheltered rocky beach stark white in the now ozone blue dusk. The gentle walk out along the shoreline of the impoundment is briefly interrupted by a wide muddy delta.
Fangs and horns break the range crest.
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A wet morning in a high valley southeast of Koruna Peak.
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The Dragon
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Cupola Shelf moods.
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Watching the sun set behind Double Peak and Coronation.
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The Citadel.
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Walking above the clouds, playful atmospherics whirling over the crest.
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High camping below Frankland Peak.
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2022 marks the 50th anniversary of the pointless, contemptible drowning of Lake Pedder.
The original lake, its singular beach and dunes still intact, lies 15 metres beneath the surface of the Huon-Serpentine impoundment, near the middle of the above photo.
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Hunting for the critical lead to Pebbly Creek on a thickly clagged morning, this felt like the most reassuring cairn in the Southwest.
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