'The Monarch of Tasmania's west' - Frenchmans Cap

Picture this: a large rock midstream in a fast flowing river. The rock protrudes above the water. A swift current races around it and on the downstream side is a pocket of calm water. The current causes the sides of this calm to change and swirl with movement. But immediately behind the rock is complete stillness. 

Now imagine the protruding rock is Frenchman’s Cap. The river's current is the wind and the water is dense cloud. The mountain’s bare, white quartzite peak holds firm above it all. Picture two little bushwalkers, sitting in that calm spot on the downstream side, sheltered from the howling south-westerly wind. A tongue of clear, still air stretches away before them while either side, the dense clouds whip past, whirling on the edge of the eddy in a dance of mesmerising flurries. Then the sun rises above this streaming world. The light is crystalline but diffuse. Picture the two bushwalkers sitting in the morning sun completely entranced, watching this wild show of streaming clouds, backs leaning against the bulk of the mountain. Sudden pirouettes of cloud rise and fall on either side. They are alone, for more than 4 hours, bewitched. The day warms. The flood of streaming cloud slowly disperses, swept away across the world.

“It is an illusion to believe that Frenchmans Cap stands unchanged, for this is a region where the forces of nature are constantly at work as surely and inevitably in the present as in the past. The relentless action of rain, wind, ice and snow slowly weather its slopes. Fire too plays its part. Though one thing will remain: Frenchmans Cap will always stand as Australia’s most majestic mountain - the monarch of Tasmania’s west - in the centre of a perfect primordial wilderness.”

— Frenchmans Cap: the story of a mountain (Kleinig 2012)

Everyone blogs about Frenchmans Cap. I didn’t want to. Already there is this and this and this to name just a few. But then the mountain (and Caz’s photos) took my breath away. What a unique, distinctive peak. Places like Frenchmans remind me why awildland is so rapt with the beauty and variety of the Australian landscape.  Why fly around the world looking outwards for rugged, jagged mountain scenery with luxurious huts en-route and well formed walking trails. 

I can also write about it because we opted to do the walk in a uniquely awildland way. Most people take 3-5 days to complete the 46km return walk. Many people advocate walking it in 2 days. We packed supplies for 6 days. 

“If there be an Elysium on earth, it is this. Poets and artists would feast with enraptured eyes on its glories, and immortalise its splendour with pen and brush.” 

— Thomas Bather Moore, Lake Tahune 1887

It took three days before I even found time to write in my journal on this walk. Day 1 was a late start and a late-ish finish, the packs felt heavy, but the walk was pretty. Swathes of flowering honey myrtle - purple, cream, pink - lined the track. There was a strenuous but beautiful climb through a dim, moss covered rainforest. Lyre birds called. Currawongs spied on us as we walked.  By the time we reached Lake Vera Hut and scrambled to find a tent site it was a matter of cooking dinner then straight to bed.

Day 2, then, was jammed packed with walking, taking videos and photos, admiring more lush rainforest, concentrating on the uneven track laced with trees roots and rocks, climbing and climbing some more until we stood transfixed on Barron Pass with Frenchmans Cap looming ahead and the rugged spires of Sharlands Peak, White Needle and Phillips Peak on either side. Then pushing on around the base of cliffs, constantly distracted by the view to the lake strewn valleys below. Flowering red waratahs stopped us, the rattle of pandani leaves as my pack brushed past their towering trunks. There was time to stop at Lake Tahune but no room at the inn. Have I mentioned yet the glorious weather? The first hint of summer in Tasmania brought out hordes of bushwalkers. We pushed past the over-crowded hut to find a remote campsite that was windy, exposed, tent-less and beautiful. So cold it forced us to huddle into our sleeping bags two hours before sunset.

Day 3, after a dark and early start there was that unforgettable sunrise in the lee of the Frenchmans’ summit, described in the opening paragraphs. Sitting for hours in that sheltered refuge was so beautiful I had no inclination to write.  I simply watched. When we left the mountain, we found our own route to a high lake and arrived about 2pm. I finally made time to relax, slideshow my thoughts and memories, chat to Caz, listen to nature (crescent honeyeaters calling, green rosellas coming and going, the wind on the water). Then we pitched the tent (in a lumpy, flawed location but there was little choice).  Three hours later I picked up my pen.

“If one could spend a night on the knees of the monarch beside those quiet lakes and watch the moon gradually light up the regal symmetry of the marble heights the scene would form a vision of sublimity to remain in the mind for evermore”

— Charles Whitman, Lake Gwendolen, 1914

Day 4 was all about exploration and spending more time with the sublime vistas that can be had from atop the ridges and hills, and even in the lake filled hanging valleys surrounding Frenchmans Cap. We took a side trip along the track to Irenabyss on the Franklin River. It is a worthy diversion - just out along the ridgeline for about 40 minutes and back again, weaving in and out of rocky turrets and rolling gently across the bare ridgetops where nothing but herbs an inch high can grow. There are stunning views: the Franklin River valley far below meandering in a great horseshoe around the immovable stone of Frenchmans Cap. We returned for a night at Tahune Hut, all the crowds gone now as the window of good weather closed. Rain was forecast for the morrow.

The new hut at Lake Tahune was surprising. Built in 2018, it has a micro hydro generator which provides heating for the hut and lighting. There are USB charging points. It sleeps 24 and there are several tent platforms. Its loo has a stunning wilderness view and poo poetry on the walls. There is oodles of reading material in the hut - copies of the original log books, stories about the early Tasmanians who pioneered access to the area.

All the short quotes in this blog are found in the hut, either in books or carved into the huts interior wooden walls, which are lined with Tasmanian hardwood. I found the sentiment a bit overwrought at the time, grandiose and flowery. But in hindsight, probably not. 

“We have pitched our tent on the lip of the valley above the lake...we turn in at 9:30pm on a bed of pandani leaves and use the growth of centuries to rest our weary bones.”

— Jack Thwaites, Lake Tahune, 1934

1822 

An account taken from an escaped convict Alexander Pearce records the first mention of the name Frenchmans Cap

1853 

James Sprents party makes first recorded ascent of Frenchmans Cap.

1914 

Robert C Eyes takes first known photograph of a party on the summit of Frenchmans Cap.

1937 

The Fauna Board sends two parties into the Frenchmans Cap region over the next two years in search of the Thylacine.

1952 

First rock climbers at Frenchmans Cap

1966 

Bushfire devastates northern part of Frenchmans Cap National Park.

1975 

James Sprent’s summit cairn dismantled.

1983 

Franklin River saved.

1986 

Fist BASE jumpers parachute from Frenchmans Cap.

2008 

Dick Smith funds a 10-year upgrade to the Frenchmans Cap track including repair of the Lodden Plains (known colloquially as the Sodden Loddens), a new track along Laughtons Lead and part funding of a new hut at Lake Tahune. 

With 2 days of food still on board we also took it slowly back to the car - loathe to leave that wild landscape behind. Really loathe. To break the long walk out, we camped beside the Lodden River. Its ink black, tannin stained water flowed unceasingly. A sweet Pink Robin dropped in for a visit, as did Grey Fantails. Strong-billed honeyeaters sang and darted through the tree tops. The campsites were hidden among moss covered banksia. Flowering wiry bauera formed a wall of scrub behind us. All other walkers seemed to have vanished. Light rain began to fall at the same pace as darkness. 

“We need, for every pair of feet and legs, about ten leagues of naked nature, crags to leap from, mountains to measure, desert to finally die in when the heart fails...what makes life in our cities at once still tolerable, exciting and stimulating is the existence of an alternative option...of a radically different mode of being out there in the forests, on the lakes and rivers, in the deserts, up in the mountains.”

This final quote was not in any of the huts on the Frenchmans Cap walk. It came from the book I picked up to read immediately on my return. Serendipity. The quote is by Edward Abbey and appears in the book ‘In Search of Space: Journeys in Wild Places’ by Ross Brownscombe.

All images and words on this site are copyright of Craig Fardell and Christina Armstrong. It is illegal to sell, copy, or distribute images and text without permission. We thank you for your help in respecting the copyright of our work.

We would like to acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the lands we walk through and pay our respects to Aboriginal Elders past and present. Thank you, for enduring our presence in these special places.