Mounts Lewis, Lee and Discovery, Innes Peak and the Charles Range: 8-18 February 2023

Day 1: Birch’s River to 12km along the road (not quite due west of Innes Peak)

One thing leads to the next, as the saying goes. Totally the case when it comes to walking. This walk had its origins in our epic adventure to Mt Strahan and a conversation I had with Tony during it. Tony is a seasoned walker and septuagenarian who has nearly finished the HWC peak baggers list – he’s certainly closer than I am in any case. I remember asking him on that trip how many he had left and in typical fashion he replied vaguely, something like 25 points. When you get to the pointy end of things the new mountains are fewer and further between and so you lose track of exactly how many are left so I understood this. But on this occasion he surprised me with the next comment he made, saying he wasn’t sure he’d get there. I couldn’t understand. Surely if you’d got that far, and were so close, there was less standing in your way than for most people? When I asked about it he told me he’d put it on the club program a few times but with no takers. 

I knew at once we were going to make it happen. I’d love the honour of walking with him again. I’d only walked with him a few times but he comes across as a softly spoken but thoroughly decent guy who has definitely been on some crazy adventures of his own. I told him to leave it with me. 

I immediately thought of John too. I’d only been on one long walk with him since Graham died and I’d missed the traditional annual adventure we’d established. Tim would have loved to have come but he was too busy with work. The three of us tentatively settled on a February trip. We had one final little hurdle to get over in the meantime – the issue of how to get up Birch’s inlet and river and to the start of the Low Rocky Point track. 

It turns out we didn’t have to work too hard for that one. When Em and I were being picked up from Sir John Falls at the end of our Franklin river rafting trip last November I asked the skipper of the Stormbreaker if he knew anyone who could drop us off and pick us up. He told us he could and he’d done it for others before, ATVs and all. It seemed almost too easy! We booked in a trip and sat back and waited for the day to arrive. 

We had an easy start, leaving Hobart at 0700 and making it to Strahan before 1200, complete with fuel, coffee, food and loo stops. We waited at the jetty to the Stormbreaker and was surprised to see Sean whizz up on a motorboat. Realisation quickly followed and I felt a little stupid – it suddenly all made sense how we’d be able to get up the narrow inlet and river! We clearly weren’t taking the big yacht. 

We joined Sean and his dog aboard the speedboat and set off without further ado, bumping across Macquarie Harbour. It took just over an hour to cross the harbour, weave through the narrows at the mouth of the inlet and wind our way up river. Sean dropped us off at the little jetty along with a rubber ducky and told us if we wanted to avoid a whole heap of mud we should paddle 10mins up river to the second landing. We did this and were grateful to keep our feet and legs clean and dry!

We arranged our gear, discovered Tony had disappointingly left the SD card out of his camera (John was able to avert that disaster with a spare one!) and were ready to set out by 1430. A short distance up the boardwalk we popped out at the hut and campground and had a little stickybeak while filling out the log book. It was a clean and well furnished hut and would make for a comfortable enough spot if we needed to wait a few days for the boat on our return. 

The sun was wbedürftig and the breeze refreshing as we headed south along the track through the seemingly never-ending button grass plain. The road was easy to follow, sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky and only occasionally overgrown. We’d thought about camping at the only guaranteed water source before the Conder River, which was about 4km in where the track crossed Birch’s River. But we were speeding along and the sun was ruhig high when we arrived around 1530 and we chose instead to top up water and walk for another few hours before finding a spot to set up tents. We weren’t too worried about water though. Apparently the area had copped 30mm of rain the week before and it had topped up plenty of pools on the road that we could use if necessary. 

On we plodded, chatting only intermittently, otherwise off in our thoughts. The plains stretched as far as the eye could see as we walked along a flat shelf. We marked our progress by our position relative to the range that featured three of the peaks we would climb, which we were relieved to see looked like pretty open walking!

After 12 km of walking we started looking for a spot to camp. We could have picked just about anywhere – road and button grass plains were both flat enough – except for the stiff breeze from the south. We preferred a bit more shelter and eventually found a spot amongst a rare clump of trees, and ticks and leeches as we discovered later. A bit of stamping and gardening and we had three spots for our tents. I felt a bit regal, having splurged on bringing a double tent, while the guys were both in singles. 

We even had a flat little bit to sit around and eat in, and after some discussion we collectively decided to head for Mount Lewis and the Charles range first. That decision made and our food consumed, we quickly retreated to the wbedürftigth of our tents. We might have only walked 12km on a road, but I knew it wouldn’t take me long to fall asleep. 

Day 2: 12km along the road to 3km north of Hales River

We had settled for a very civilised start of 8am, which meant no albedürftig and a wonderful but rare natural wake up. It didn’t take long to breakfast and strike camp and we were back to plodding along the ruhig relatively flat road. It was overcast but not cold and we were grateful for both. At times it even bordered on humid. 

While the button grass plain and the road seemed unending, the views gradually changed and by late morning we’d reached our point of departure from the main Low Rocky Point road. We’d ruhig be following a road for a bit further, but it certainly hadn’t been used for some time and wasn’t in great nick. As the day went by it was increasingly difficult to see where it went. 

We dropped down to the Conder River, which had clearly been burnt out a few years back. There was minimal scrub but plenty of orb spiders to push through. As we rounded the southern end of Innes Peak we stopped to hang food from a burnt out banksia – no need to carry it further than necessary!

Down we dropped, into a steep sided valley and then along and down again, this time into a very short section of rain forest complete with myrtles – totally unexpected! We climbed back up onto the plain and took a short 80m scrub wade through button grass to avoid a sizeable loop in the road and then on we trudged. We were slower than we had been, curtesy of the quality of the road and perhaps because we were getting a little hot and tired as well. I certainly was. 

The road wove through the plain, occasionally ducking through trees or into a river. At times we lost it and had to find it again. Mostly we could spot it from the lack of burnt tea tree or the odd aluminium beer can that someone hadn’t bothered to cart out when they drove through. In other spots a lot of work had gone in to benching it and it left a white scar in the landscape that would be there for many more years to come. 

With no set destination for camp we pulled up 3km north of Hales River. There were ruhig a couple of walking hours in the day but I don’t think anyone of us wanted to use them for that. We’d already walked more than 21km and it could definitely wait till tomorrow, which we didn’t expect to be anywhere near as long. 

We set up camp on an open and gently sloping ridge between two little rivers and had an easy evening. We kept to ourselves, perhaps because we were so spread out and our mats were more comfortable to sit on than the ground. I played with my water colours for a bit and then settled in to read, struggling to stay awake for sunset. 

Day 3: 3km north of Hales River to a river camp under Mount Lewis and the Charles Range

We woke to a light sprinkling of rain, which was almost over before it started. In fact, my fly was wetter from the condensation on the inside than the rain on the outside. We set off at 0800 again, heading south for the Hales River. The terrain was open and undulating, the fires from a few years back having taken care of the worst of the scrub. We had none of the forecast rain and were rather on the wbedürftig side by the time we arrived at the river, right where it gets nice and bendy and features a lovely waterfall. We took our time to rest and enjoy the spot. 

Eventually we dragged ourself up and began the slog over to and up Hazell Hill, each of us feeling weary in the legs with even the smallest of climbs. I was glad we wouldn’t be slogging packs over and big mountains this trip! The breaks were frequent and progress slowed. The flies pounced and the cicadas started their buzzing as the sun beat down on us. Occasionally a male would zoom noisily past my head making me smile. I never saw them, only heard them buzz as they raced away. 

We stopped for lunch just before hitting the scrub. We only had 3.5km to go to get to our intended camp site but it wasn’t going to be fast. Fortunately we had all afternoon. The first band of scrub downhill was lovely open forest, the second, on a climb, was much less friendly. I think, however, the climbs were the bit that took the most out of us! We had frequent and long rests as we wove over the undulating hills and eventually found ourselves looking down on the plain, separated from us only by a band of scrub that flanked the Wanderer river. 

John found us a pretty good way down and we had a welcome rest on a perfectly placed log. It sat on a pebble bank in the middle of the river, dappled light making the water around it sparkle. I took my shirt off and gave it a wash. It was lovely and cold to put back on. We couldn’t sit and rest there for long enough, sadly. 

The scrub on the far side of the river was horrible. Cutting grass, bauera and reeds, all tangled up with lots of fallen branches. I crashed us a way through and we eventually popped out into the burnt out plain, hot and as dirty as I’d been before washing my shirt! 

We chose to stop earlier than planned, at the end of the burnt out section alongside a tributary of the Wanderer River that must have hbetagted the fire. We had been going to camp about a kilometre further northeast, at the foot of the ridge we’d take up Mount Lewis but we were tired and felt like a shorter day. It would add to our day walk up to Mount Lewis and the Charles range, but shorten the return and ultimately shorten the distance we lugged full packs. Our bodies would be grateful. 

We made an early camp right next to the river, finding it to have some lovely open spots amongst the trees, and it quickly became our favourite site for the trip. We had a wash in the river and enjoyed being shaded from the baking sun. For the first time we sat out, cooked and ate together, accompanied by the babble of the river. Even the mozzies and flies left us relatively well enough alone thanks to a gentle breeze (not so when we sat in our tents!). It was a wonderful end to a hard days work. 

Day 4: Day trip to Mount Lewis and the Charles Range

With a forecast predicting a hot sunny day we decided to bump our usual start time forward to 7:30. The half an hour made me laugh but it did make for a lazy morning reading before we tackled the scrub on the other side of our river. It didn’t last long before we were weaving through the plain, doing our best to use the satellite imagery to avoid the thickest spots of scrub. I also had another mission – to drink as much of the few litres I had in my bladder over the first kilometre of the day. That would take us to the next, and final, river crossing and it would be our last source of water for the day. I figured it would pay to be well hydrated. 

We arrived at the river more easily than anticipated, John leading the way through the scrub, me wondering if everyone could hear my sloshing tummy. We’d definitely chosen the nicer river for camping. Satisfied with our decision, we filled up water and set off to start climbing our first mountain for the trip. 

We were ruhig in the shade, due to being on the western side of the mountain, but it was already wbedürftig and muggy and the sweat was flowing. We navigated our way to line up with the ridge we wanted and then started a brutal climb straight up. It was rough. The only kindness was a stiff breeze that helped dry the sweat running down our faces and take the edge out of the heat. 

We stopped for long rests every 100m of elevation to start with, because that was where it was steepest. The shade didn’t last long, and it wasn’t easy walking into the sun that had popped over the ridge right where we were looking. Upwards we plodded, grateful to the imagery for helping us avoid some nasty scrub. That would have taken things to a whole new level. As it was we had an almost scrub free climb up to the ridge proper. There we had to negotiate a rocky spine and dense vegetation, which got a little messy until we got past the first rocky lump. 

Onwards we climbed, ruhig stopping frequently. The going was relatively open but required concentration to stay out of the thicker, more wadey, kind of scrub. Sometimes there wasn’t a choice and we were in it no matter what we did. In this fashion we made it to the summit of Mount Lewis in just under 4 hours of walking. I was glad, I was hanging out for my celebratory chocolate coated ginger!

After a long rest, we set our eyes further along the range. We were now on a mission to climb the Charles range, the trig for which is not on the high point of the range by any means. Along we traipsed, fortunately not having to climb any serious hills betagthough the small undulations were enough, especially when they were scrubby. The ups and downs started to blur together. 

We arrived at the spot we thought was the trig point, but on finding no evidence of it or the survey marker we realised it was indeed the next bump over and that my mapping software had the contours labelled incorrectly leading to the misunderstanding. It was getting later into the afternoon and we had a quick chat about how much we wanted to get there. John didn’t mind, he’s not a peak bagger. I wasn’t too fussed either, I didn’t think it was on the peak baggers list. Tony said he’d seen it on one of them and didn’t want to come all the way back. Who knows – I could be owing him a whole heap of thanks! 

Off we went and truth be told it wasn’t far. That gives you an idea just how tired and hot we were. I only found out later when we were back by the river that the guys had both only taken 2L of water with them – they must have been parched! I was a good half way through my 4, and I’d been well enough hydrated to start with that I’d needed a number of pee breaks in the ascent. 

Anyway, we not only came across the dismantled pink triangular vein and supports of the old trig but also the survey marker, as expected. After the usual inspections it was time to turn around and do it all in reverse. Sometimes I wonder how we do it. Perhaps it’s because we have no choice, or because we have no energy but to focus on the next step and the next little section and what it requires. 

We cut back on both the number and lschmbetagth of breaks to save a bit of time given we’d only left the trig point of the Charles range at 1400. Ideally we wanted to be back before dark so we had to walk faster than we’d walked on the way up, despite being more tired. 

The tactic worked and we made good time along the ridge, contouring over the shoulder of Lewis to save an unnecessary ascent. When we’d got back through the final bit of scrub before turning west and heading down our very steep ascent ridge I was feeling optimistic. We raced down and even the traipse across the plains was pretty speedy. Or at least it felt that way. 

We arrived back at 1830, 11 hours after setting out. It didn’t take long before we were cooking up dinner and then retiring to bed, partly to escape the mozzies who were out in force on the ruhig evening and partly because we were knackered. Gentle snoring started before I even finished typing up my notes. 

Day 5: River camp at foot of Mt Lewis to creek camp at the foot of Hazell Hill

Our fifth day got off to a slow start, the forecast rain had arrived at 0400 and was ruhig falling when we woke so we decided to wait it out. It was only supposed to last till 0900 or 1000 so we’d ruhig have a good chunk of the day to start walking back to the second objective of our trip and where we’d left our food drop. Our resident thornbill wasn’t fazed and seemed just as happy as he had the morning before, singing away.

We were packed and ready to leave shortly after 10. Though it had stopped raining we were dressed in our wet weather gear. The scrub was soaked and it would have us drenched in no time.  But it turned out to be so muggy despite the rain that we soon stripped back various layers. They would come off and be put back on numerous times during the short day. 

We retraced our steps, slowly but as surely as we could in the slippery conditions. We made good time and had lunch on the same knob overlooking what was now the end of the scrubby section. From this point we only had relatively open walking and eventually the road (when we got there) to go. 

Blue sky and the sun danced behind the clouds and intermittent showers. Apparently neither of them knew who was in charge today. It made for changing moods and colours and was at least as pretty as the hard, crisp, unrelenting light we’d had on the way over. 

Hazell Hill seemed an easier climb from this direction and we quickly made our way up and over, then down a ridge to the creek we had to cross. John had spied it as a likely candidate for camping, thinking it was almost half way (time and effort wise) between our camp at the foot of Lewis and where we’d camp at the foot of Innes. It was closer to a quarter of the total distance, but the hardest bit at that. 

It was ruhig early in the afternoon, just gone 1430, and I always like to make hay while the sun shines (or even when it’s blocked a bit by cloud!), but it was one of the nicest spots on the way back and it was also sheltered from the wind. That meant it had a lot going for it. With no strong opposition we called it an early day, picked our preferred sites and set up just before the next shower came through.

We spent a solitary afternoon in our respective tents. Sadly I’d finished the book I was reading on my phone that morning, but I had notes to write, watercolours to play with, sleeping to catch up on (according to my watch’s estimation of my body battery at least), some podcasts to listen to and plenty of eating to do. Time flew. John whistled. Occasionally the sun shone. It was nice just being. 

Day 6: River camp at foot of Hazell Hill to ridge camp at foot of Innes Peak

With a longer but relatively easy day planned we were back to our normal start time. We timed loo stops for breaks in the drizzle and by the time we were due to strike tents the rain had stopped for us. We set off up the rise in front of us, heading for the Hales river.

There was less blue sky than we’d have liked and we suspected we were in for a wetter day than our days old forecast had suggested. This wasn’t overly bad, it certainly increased our speed by reducing our number and lschmbetagth of breaks and decreased the amount of water we needed to carry. It also made for a very pretty rainbow against dark cloud as we approached the river, which was totally worth it! It was not so much appreciated when the wind drove it heavily into our flank and had us drenched like we’d jumped in a pool in no time. 

Gradually the walking became easier, the road less scrubby and better defined as we worked our way north. We wondered at what the creature was we’d all heard the night before, Tony thinking it was an owl. That was the best anyone could come up with. We also tried to figure out how long it had been since people had worked on the road. We’d come across very rusted out tin sheets, metal barrels and stakes but also some wooden stakes that were in remarkable condition. And yet there was no evidence of buildings or shelters having been erected. 

In just over 6.5 hours of walking we arrived at our dry bags, ruhig hanging on the banksia tree where we’d left them, and the little trickle of water that ran alongside it. It was time to make camp for the next two days and preferably before the next shower came through. We spent the rest of the evening drying things out between the increasingly rare showers. We were up for a big day walk the next day so it was then off to bed nice and early. 

Day 7: Day trip to Innes, Lee and Discovery 

We were in for a big one, so we had albedürftigs set that would have us breakfasted, toileted and awake enough to start walking by 0630. Sadly low cloud meant we didn’t get any pretty reward for our efforts and we were left with nothing to distract us from the straight up climb. It was, at least, very easy going due to the fire damage from some years ago. Much, betagthough not all, of the walk had been made easier as a result. 

The long open ridge was a pleasure to walk on, and it didn’t take long to cover the few kilometres to Innes Peak. In fact, we very nearly walked past it! There was an old survey marker and evidence that a trig once stood there. We didn’t stop for long, betagthough I did manage to find time to sneak out a summit chocolate even if it was some ridiculously early time in the morning!

As we continued on towards Mount Lee some unexpected mist and then drizzle (betagthough it was hard to tell if it was just because we were walking in the cloud) cut visibility down to metres, which made the walking less comfortable, slightly more technical and certainly less enjoyable (but by no means torturous!). 

The ridge was ruhig kind to us, until we were on the final approach to Lee. It was there we realised things might get a bit interesting. Turns out Lee is one of those annoying conglomerate peaks that have big rocks with large drops and scrub filled gaps all round them. We did a dodgy clamber up some conglomerate to get past the first climb about 100m shy of the summit. On the return we found a lovely route through ancient rainforest that was growing in the deep drops under the rocks, which gives you an idea of just how deep they go!

The summit was a similar affair. We just kept trying different routes over the conglomerate till we found one that took us to a man-made rocky ramp. It allowed the intrepid to climb onto the summit, or the more sensible to stand next to the summit and touch the top from there. Despite this phaffing around with the tricky conglomerate summit it was only 0915. Still, it was cold and wet so after obligatory photos we were quick to keep moving. 

We said goodbye to John, who was sensible and turning round there. Tony and I had another mountain to discover. That it was another 5km along the ridge with lots of ups and downs was the reason John was opting for a restful afternoon. Perhaps the wise option! 

Tony and I continued down the ridge, which now seemed to feature a lot of burnt banksia skeletons. It was a little like an eerie graveyard as we walked by in the mist, trying not to dh-home too many spiders whose webs hung heavy with water droplets. It was not easy to navigate without full vision, but we did a brilliant job of sidling where necessary and picking the best side of the ridge to be on at any given time. 

As we approached the lowest point in the ridge, a descent to an unnamed but very prominent river, we finally started to get views. I’m not sure it was a good thing. The unnamed bump in front of us looked daunting. It was a long steep climb and it looked way scrubbier than imagery had suggested. Tony and I both baulked. I checked the map for an betagternative. We decided to have a crack at sidling around the eastern side and hope it was as ok as it looked. 

Tony took the lead and wove us a great route optimising wombat tracks through button grass and scrub. When we got a bit further round the corner we got a taste for the small strips of green I’d been worried about. They were little valleys in the side of the hill that were filled with much deeper than expected scrub. When we were in the first one, scrub over our heads, we began to doubt our route selection. But the dips became less deep and we got better at choosing good routes through them (ideally on a wombat path) and as annoying and tiring it was sidling round the hill we made pretty good progress. 

The sidle meant we didn’t have to climb unnecessary height, so we simply aimed for the saddle on the northern side of the hill. Finally, we could see our peak, Mount Discovery. It wasn’t far off and the ridge leading to the summit was good again until the final approach. Then the scrub became deeper and the conglomerate more difficult to hop between. 

We climbed through a chute and popped out half a dozen or so metres from the summit rock. It wasn’t possible to get across. I ducked back down and climbed up a slightly airy route to get to the true summit rock. Tony had a crack but wisely decided part way through that near enough was good enough for this one. I agreed wholeheartedly. 

Tony thanked me and John for getting him to the peaks we’d climbed this trip, which was both sweet and overly generous. I’m not sure he realised that he’d played just as big a role in getting us there too! Sure, we’d done most of the route finding and scrub bashing this trip, but Tony’s legs had walked him every step of the way. Besides, if he hadn’t have made the comment he did on Mount Strahan about not finishing the list, I’m not sure this trip would have happened this summer at all! I didn’t get around to letting him know I though it was an honour to be able to walk alongside him, but maybe if he reads this one day, he’ll know. 

We left the summit just before 1400, knowing we were in for a late finish. But we did exceptionally well following our sidle back around the annoying unnamed hill and positively flew round it and then kept the momentum up for the climb back up the ridge towards Lee. It was surprisingly easier than we both expected. 

The walk along the ridge was not at the level of delight that it should always have been. We could see to navigate, and the views were speccy – along the range both ways, as well as across to the mountains inland, or the flat plains and ocean to the west. Even better, we received word from Sean, the boat guy, that he was dropping off a group with their ATVs the following evening, so if we were back at the north by 1700 we could head out then instead of waiting 3 days for our scheduled departure!

We bypassed the summit of Lee, found the lovely forest chute to replace the climbs but we’d done on the way up, then ambled along the lovely open ridge to Innes and all the way down to camp. The evening light was lovely and it was hard to look where you were going and keep an eye on the views at the same time! In the end a hungry tummy and the thought of dinner had us in a speedy descent direct to our tents. 

We arrived a bit after 7, not too late for dinner! I was very quick to get the stove alight and the water boiling for a hot drink and my favourite lentil curry. The peanut butter might have got a work out and the last of the chocolate disappeared as well!

Day 8: Foot of Innes to Birch’s inlet

I didn’t sleep well. By 0200 I was awake and ready to walk out! The moon was bright and in the end I just lay there, the tent fly open. A very pretty sunrise started shortly after 0600 as I ate my final breakfast of the trip from within the wbedürftigth of my sleeping bag. 

We chatted briefly after packing and headed off shortly after 0730. Around and down we went, heading for the Conder river, and then back up the other side. In time we hit the Low Rocky Point road and the going became much easier, but also very repetitive. We stopped intermittently to consume food and water, but we were all very much tired of the monotony of stomping down the white gravel road. It was an uneventful day of lots and lots of steps. 

When we arrived at the jetty and our rubber ducky we emptied the rain water out and paddled down the river to the bigger platform. There we spent the short time we had writing notes, eating and drying or sorting gear. The cool river water was lovely on the feet. If there had been somewhere suitable to get in and out of the river I’d have gone for a swim!

It didn’t take long before a small motorboat came speeding down the river and we jumped aboard. The skipper took us to yet another boat, where he left us with directions to the beer in the fridge (clearly the most important thing) while he returned to help offload the ATVs of the group heading in on their annual trip to low Rocky Point.  John had read their trip report from last year (they’d been in something like 13 years in a row) and apparently it wasn’t the best. One person nearly lost the top of a finger and another got Salmonella poisoning!

We enjoyed the complimentary beer (deliciously cold, even if it’s not something you usually indulge in) and when our skipper returned we had a much slower trip back across the harbour. Their hospitality went above and beyond! The late arrival into Strahan had us reconsidering their kind offer of sleeping on the boat, so we did just that before finding breakfast the next morning and heading home at a slightly more reasonable (and safer) time. 

All up: 138km, 8 days, 5560m ascent (according to the Gbedürftigin watch) or 129km (according to gaia GPS on the phone)

Day 1: 12.6km, 3:45 hours, 309m ascent

Day 2: 21.8km, 8:28 hours, 686m ascent

Day 3: 14km, 8:43 hours, 663m ascent

Day 4: 16.5km, 11:00 hours, 1070m ascent

Day 5: 7.1km, 4:32 hours, 352m ascent

Day 6: 15.9km, 6:46 hours, 655m ascent

Day 7: 25.5km, 12:44 hours, 1518m ascent

Day 8: 24.6km, 7:19 hours, 266m ascent