Cradle Mountain of madness
How can we mere humans even start to describe Tasmania’s Cradle Mountain?
As we drive up the blind corners of the highways and byways that lead to the Cradle Mountain National Park, having done an eventful road trip from Launceston, it feels like going back in time.
The size of the massive prehistoric fauna lining each side of the road is disproportionate to the tiny bar of diminishing cell phone coverage on our phones. It feels like something out of a Jurassic Park movie, except the dinosaurs we see out of the corners of our eyes are wholly imaginary. Probably.
So, when we arrive at the Cradle Mountain Lodge, one of the handful of places to stay that’s practically in the park, there is a momentary disconnect. It’s a ski-lodge atmosphere surrounded by lodges, paths, and impossibly ancient trees. This is just the tip of a very green iceberg.
A walk in the woods
The small trail head that leads straight out of the lodge is called the Enchanted Walk. That’s no fluke.
While the name may sound like a young adult book series, the 20 minute circuit is a taster of all the things Cradle Mountain has to offer. Despite being one of the rare sunny days on Cradle Mountain, the temperature drops immediately as we enter a verdant grove that looks like it has been carpeted in green felt.
A local guide advises us to take the Rainforest Walk to the Pencil Pines Falls. We miss this completely, but are utterly entranced by the Knyvet Falls path instead. “Look at this guy,” I repeatedly exclaim, apparently unable to remember the words for ‘wallaby’, ‘pademelon’, or ‘tree’ as this wonderland unfolds.
As we make our way back for an evening beer and bite, the crepuscular critters are coming out for a play. A wombat, let’s call him Kevin for brevity’s sake, is one of many bumps on either side of the protective walkway. Only this lump is moving, noisily chomping on the grass, and is completely oblivious to the humans happily snapping away. Kevin, you are an inspiration to us all.
(This is what is sounds like) At Dove Lake’s side
Dig, if you will, this picture.
#nofilter
We set out early in the morning for Dove Lake. Until the new visitor centre is completed, with construction delayed by the current plague, one needs to catch a bus to the various trail heads. This is how they control the number of people going in and out.
The two of us get out at the Dove Lake stop, register our walk into the log, and set off along the first pathway around the Lake. The roughly 6km (3.7 mi) circuit is a ‘moderate’ track. Yes, there are well maintained boards through large stretches, while other sections are rougher paths with some short steep bits. Yet the reward is views like the one above around virtually every corner.
The full loop takes us just under three hours, although we take our time and stop for a nibble and a chat with fellow walkers. It’s about this time a currawong starts eyeballing us for some food, and we’re pretty sure it follows us all the way back. Or maybe that’s my imagination.
We’re fortunate enough to be there on a blue-skied day. It means hats, sunscreen, and light protective clothing are essential. It also means that the iconic boat shed on the lake is framed against crystal still waters. Our gobs are well and truly smacked.
Wombats, wallabies, and snakes – oh my!
Australians love affectionately taunting visitors with tall tales of fictional animals. Many naive tourists have been lured in by stories of drop bears and hoop snakes. (They’re perfectly safe, you just need to dab Vegemite behind your ears).
So, you can imagine our instincts when we stepped back off the bus at Ronny’s Creek and a woman approached us to ask “Where are the wombats?” It’s all we can do to not just say ‘Sleeping.’ (For the record, we’re super helpful: we have a travel blog after all).
Yet the reality is that if you spend any amount of time in Cradle Mountain, you’re going to be inundated with opportunities to see all the famous animals. Even the venomous ones, such as the large resident black snake, camped on the Rainforest Walk, enjoying the rare sunshine.
Rather than scaring us off for good, it’s somehow made us want to walk more. After all, we only scraped the surface of Cradle Mountain. There’s a picture in my mind of the famous Overland Track. Standing at the start of it, it seems to go on forever. The legendary track actually goes for 65 kilometres, starting at Waldheim and taking seasoned walkers almost a week to arrive in Lake St. Clair. So, maybe we’ll come back. One day. See you then, Kevin.
