Sad tidings

Many of you likely know already, but it is with deep regret that we have to announce that Craig ‘Casual’ Fardell, has moved on to adventures in another realm. He succumbed to his battle with cancer on June 5.

Cas was half of the amazing awildland couple (along with Chrissy) who inspired us all with their adventures, eloquent writings and amazing photography. 

Everyone will have their own reflections on the life and legacy of Cas. He was a mentor and friend to so many and his calm, kind, thoughtful, stoked and humorous demeanor is what drew so many to him. 

There are few people on the planet who loved nature more and explored its varied, wild places with so much passion and skill. He was a master of bushcraft and adventure sports. He was also one of the best wildlife and landscape photographers around, capturing beautiful images that will continue to lead viewers to dream, reflect and plan adventures for many years to come. 

In one of Cas’s final emails, he said "No regrets, all things positive. Keep paddling, keep walking, keep exploring because that's what life is all about". He was a true legend. 

Please offer your love and support to Chrissy in this very difficult time. 

Brian C.

The Tyndall Range and its surrounds, located 30 minutes north of Queenstown, has been selected by the Tasmanian government for development as the state’s next “iconic walk”. Since the walk was first announced in 2019, it has been hugely controversial with environmental groups and local bushwalkers questioning the selection process and the walk’s impact on the Tyndalls’s sensitive alpine environments. Now, the final route has been tweaked and released to the public in a series of information sessions held around the state this month, with public viewings of the plan finishing up in Hobart last month.

To read our full story about the future of the Tyndall Range and our experiences hiking there, visit our new website at www.awildland.com.au.

The Long Tarns

A new blog is now live on our website so jump over to awildland.com.au and click on 'Stories' in the top menu to read all about a winter walk to the Long Tarns in Tasmania.

Long Tarns is right on the eastern border of the Walls of Jerusalem National Park, where it abuts The Great Western Tiers. 

This story was written primarily to accompany a new online exhibition of Craig’s photos, themed along our encounters with ice. The exhibition is also live now on our new website. The temporary show is called Pro Tempore - Ice.

What’s it mean? Pro Tempore is Latin for “for the time being”. That’s Ice, right. But also that is the exhibition - the images will only be available to view until the 21st August 2024. To accompany the exhibition is the new story.

Jump straight to the exhibition with this link - https://www.awildland.com.au/pro-tempore

Or straight to the story with this link - https://www.awildland.com.au/stories/the-long-tarns

If you want to be kept up-to-date with future images, stories, products and news then why not subscribe to the awildland website. We won’t bother you with regular emails or newsletters but subscribing does give you early notification of new content. There's a subscription button at the bottom of every page on the website. 

Visit the future of awildland

It all began here at our long-serving, hard working little blog page - a free, open access site detailing our many Australian adventures. But now...we are mixing things up a little and we have (finally) launched our own dedicated website with a changing gallery of never before seen images, new stories and even (possibly) prints and gifts - awildland.com.au. 

But we still love this blog page. It's not going anywhere. Our first blog was published here in 2012. Now the page boasts 137 posts detailing adventures from every state and territory in Australia. It has always been a place for us to hone our crafts and express our love of adventure, exploration and the Australian landscape. 

But, if you have been a regular visitor to this blog or followed our socials, you probably noticed that it all went really quiet in 2020.  

The lapse had many causes - changes in writing motivation and writing time were the main two. Even the simplest of blogs takes many hours of research, writing, and compilation but our commitment to spreading the word about adventure and nature also earnt us nothing. We have always kept this page ad-free and subscription free. And for the blog to continue, we felt we needed something to supplement or supercharge the motivation required to keep blogging. 

So we took a step back, enjoyed our adventures for a while, wrote and photographed for ourselves. Thinking all the time of how to mix things up.  

The end result is a new website! A fresh look and a slightly different approach. 

You can visit us at awildland.com.au

The website gives us greater flexibility and the chance to be more dynamic and varied as well as giving us a platform to promote our professional writing and photography. 

At awildland.com.au our plan is to make the photo gallery ever-changing; with the best on offer and not always tied to a story. We've started small, with themed galleries, but already it contains many never-before-published images. These images stand alone as things of beauty and exploration. The blog posts may be less frequent but still informative with a stronger focus on the story they have to tell, the histories in place and the things we can all do to ensure nature thrives into the future. 

awildland.blogspot.com.au will continue to exist as an archive, as long as blogspot exists. We may move some of the more relevant pieces to the new website and all new blogs will appear there rather than here. 

The idea is to evolve - us and this site; for the blog to evolve with nature and its voice.

Redbank Gorge - Tjoritja National Park, NT

A few months ago we paddled into a mountain - one of our shortest and most accessible adventures yet. But also, one of our most extraordinary. 

Pawenyapeena (Spring); Lake Belton, Tasmania

And winter only just turned over on that man-made bureaucracy known as a calendar as we set off walking for two nights and three days of sanity saving spring sunshine - finally, a three day forecast of no rain; clear skies. It is spring; technically, and, I’ll come back to that later.

The aim of this trip is to introduce two new awildland team members to the world of wild places. Blue and Yella are secondhand packrafts purchased months earlier. They have been waiting patiently in the garage as winter cold fronts have swept, one after the other, over the Tasmanian mountains. They’ve heard rumours of snow camping and frozen boots. They’ve seen the awildland team returning wet to the bones. They’ve glimpsed photos of white-capped mountains and ice-covered tarns. Now it’s spring. This is to be their maiden voyage. We choose something simple for this first adventure, and, it turns out something totally sublime. 

Rumble in the Jagungal - Mt Jagungal, Kosciuszko National Park, NSW

“A lot happened today” is the opening, understated sentence in my journal on Day 3 of an eight day walk in the Jagungal Wilderness of Kosciuszko National Park. 

“Up at 5:30am,” it continues. “The sky east was clear, the sky west dark with clouds. The frontal edge of the approaching storm is drawn in a straight line directly above us. Re-checked the weather and not much change but, hints that the bad weather should be gone by the afternoon.”

So, of course who wouldn’t set off walking into that uncertain sky. We started walking that day at 7:30am, leaving the safety and shelter of O'Keefe's Hut with plans to stick to our Plan A, which was to climb the epic 2,061m high Mt Jagungal and spend a night on its impressive summit; despite the menacing pall, despite the storm warning and with us using the untracked, steep, thick-scrubbed direct approach from the weather station on Grey Mare Fire Trail.

Standing Guard - The Sentinel Range, Tasmania

Kalbarri National Park, Western Australia

We arrived during a wicked thunderstorm; driving headlong into clouds the colour of the bitumen road. Then, torrential rain and the wipers banging madly left to right. The unsettled weather lasted three days. The rainfall meant dirt roads to the Murchison River gorge walks were closed. So, we began our explorations of this national park along the coast. 

We had stumbled into Kalbarri National Park, following a tip-off from a friend who rated this park as their favourite in the entire state of Western Australia. A vast state, in our vast continent, with this astoundingly unsung pocket of country. The coast walks showed us shifts of colour, brilliantly combined. Then we finally got access to the Murchison River gorge and the dramatic, swirling cliffs and flooded Murchison River took this park to a whole new level of scenic. The impressive beauty was deeply surprising and the sense of discovery hugely satisfying. 

Mt Twynam, Mt Tate and the Rolling Grounds - Kosciuszko National Park

The sweeping, grassy hillsides are thick with daisies; their bright, white and yellow faces smiling away as I walk past. There’s an ancient snowgum halfway on the climb to the summit. Its canopy is a storm-swept tangle of twisted branches; its bark has those steely subtle hues of grey and green. As we walk, there are grand views across the range. Ravens are circling distant rocky peaks in huge flocks. Their loud conversation carries on the breeze. The weather is sublime, a sunny day; cool nights are forecast. 

This is how I remember this walk. Sweet memories. I could pour a swirling glass of nostalgia from this walk until I nearly drown in it. The long sunny days and isolated, scenic campsites. 

Seeing is believing - Mt King William I

There is meant to be a mountain above us. I keep looking up in hope. I see nothing but a ceiling of cloud - the sky, overcast and low. It seems, if I stood on tippy toes I could touch it. As we follow the track towards the base of this invisible peak, it is tempting to turn around. I am wondering, what fun could we possibly have on a mountain in grey, wet soup like this? We keep walking, despite. There is, after all, a mountain above us, whether we can see it or not. 

The lure of hidden monoliths...

I love bushwalker log books; but, this one is particularly unforgettable. It is housed in a silver box, attached firmly to a rock on the summit of a little-known mountain. The lid of the box is beautifully engraved with the mountain’s latitude. Due north is marked with a bold arrow. All the surrounding peaks are named and distances to them are also given. The logbook is an unexpected surprise because the walk here is rare, untracked, unlisted (in print or online) and hard, physical work.

“I wonder how I got to the top...how could I let myself be dragged into this adventure...[but] a very beautiful place, superb!” - Stephan Delabre, 4 July 1991 (written in French). 

'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.

Mt Cabre Bald, Barrington Tops National Park, NSW

The Barrington Tops, in NSW, is renowned as the watershed of 14 different rivers including the once mighty Manning, the Karuah River and the Hunter. These rivers flow out of the Tops like arteries. And between each river valley, runs a long finger of forest-clad ridgeline, spreading from the subalpine heights of the wild plateau to the farm land far below. 

Along one of these ridges, sits a peak called Mt Cabre Bald — one of the most unique, ancient and rare landscapes I have ever visited. The view from the top of the mountain should be enough - it is a vast, 360 degree panorama. The Barrington Tops stands in the north like a Great Wall of forest. I can see east down the Hunter Valley to farmland and dams and the nearby peaks of Mt Royal and Mt Allyn loom either side. But it is not for the view that I am lugging an overnight pack and kilos of water up the steep final pinch to the top. At the grassy summit, Caz and I drop our gear to begin searching for the true treasure. 

Revealing Mt Plagyan & The Pinnacles - Mount Kaputar National Park, NSW

This is one of those walks where I cross my fingers and hope the route will 'go'. Especially as we pop out onto the first high point and realise we've tracked a little bit too far north. Which is not surprising as we have no topo map to hand and bugger all pre-trip research that can help us navigate a route.  Even the access road proved so anonymous it took a day to find it. This is becoming one of those walks that we keep re-thinking, on the fly. 

We are trying to find Mt Plagyan - an ancient mountain tucked away in a rarely visited parcel of land at the southern extreme of Mt Kaputar National Park, in north-west NSW. It's one of those spots we have taken a punt on. We spotted it while camping at Camel's Hump in the main section of Mount Kaputar National Park - visible way off in the distance (read here, WAY OFF). But, close enough to entice us on this wild goose chase through the unchanging, sameness of acre after acre of cypress and box woodland. And that first high point, saves us. As we 'pop out' of the woodland onto the rocky hill, Mt Plagyan is visible and close. It also looks spectacular. The punt has already paid off. There is a sweeping wall of rock along its north-west flank. This towers over a deep gully. At the head of the gully is a collection of awesome, rounded, chunky rock pinnacles. Man, I hope our new route goes.

Call of the Wild - Washpool Creek wilderness

Without a second thought, we begin what is now a familiar routine.  We drop our packs, thread our walking sticks through the straps then launch the packs into the long pool of water ahead. We jump in after them, boots and all.

The rainforest creek we are following, has suddenly become gorge-like. Its sides are bare and sloping rock. The water is deep and black. Dense forest lines the steep valley slopes on either side. 



As we swim behind our packs, cicada noise pulsates in deafening crescendos. A flock of wonga pigeons takes flight across the narrow band of sky above. At the end of the pool we drag our water logged packs onto a rocky beach. Ten metres further on, we repeat the entire process, throwing ourselves into the next pool as we struggle our way through day three of our adventure.

***

This blog post is the story of one of our favourite wilderness walks ever - following Washpool Creek, through the middle of Washpool National Park in northern New South Wales, travelling from the creek’s headwaters through remote rainforest to the other end of the park, 35 kilometres away. With no tracks to follow, and just the creek to guide us, it quite literally immersed us in a rugged wilderness experience.

But this is an old story, and an old adventure (we completed the walk in December, 2012). So why post it now?

Mt Gingera, Namadgi National Park, ACT

At the start of this track is a sign - “Very Steep” it reads. I brace myself, but I have done “steep” before. And besides, one of my earliest lessons as a writer was to never use the word ‘very’.  Something is steep. If it is steeper than steep then the writer’s job is to find a better word, not add ‘very’. 

As we begin walking, there is no warm-up. The acclivity starts metres from the carpark as the track begins its climb of 900m in elevation from the wall of Corin Dam outside Canberra, ACT, to the 1,855m summit of Mount Gingeri on the edge of the Bimberi Wilderness. The first 500m in elevation is the boldest and most sudden. Fortunately there are excellently wrought steps. Not too big, not too small. Slowly but surely we gain height as the morning wears on. I have hours, and many steps, ahead of me, to come up with a better word than ‘very’ steep.

Mt Giles, Tjoritja (West MacDonnell National Park), NT

Woke with the alarm at 4am! Walking by 6:15am. Still dark and we use head torches for the first 1-2km before there is enough light to walk by. But, it is a beautiful clear morning - there’s a pink glow in the sky. At the bloodwood tree we stop to put on our gaiters, then, head off track as the first sun hits the peaks around us. Walking through the magnificent bowl of Ormiston Gorge in Tjoritja (West MacDonnell National Park) we are encircled by beauty. Ahead looms our distant destination - Mt Giles, bathed in the light of the day ahead.

The third highest peak in the Northern Territory, Mt Giles, is a well established off-track destination  in the West Macs. It offers vast and spectacular views. There are track notes in print and information online - Chapman, Daly, blogs both old and new. So with all that information out there on the world wide Webber I’m going to let Caz’s photos do the speaking and the inspiring. I’m going to focus on experience and what can be discovered under the surface of the landscape, and the bushwalker.

The Secret Waterfalls of Barrington Tops National Park, NSW

I know, it looks amazing. But, we’re not telling. 

The creek has no name anyway. And, if we told you, well, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.

It is beautiful though, one of the prettiest creeks in the Barrington Tops. The waterfalls are only small but they are immensely scenic, surrounded by ferns and Antarctic Beech cool temperate rainforest. Perhaps someone else has walked into this spot, but there is no evidence of previous explorers - no disturbed soil or footprints, no broken branches, no path. It feels like we are the only visitors in a long, long time. 

Grattai Wilderness - Mount Kaputar National Park, NSW

From atop the rocky cliffs, the views are uninterrupted. The vast, clear sky burns orange at sunset and again at sunrise. But it’s been *@!# hard walking. If I hadn’t experienced this kind of off-track challenge before I would have left after the first night. Instead, I’m leaving after the second.

Just two days of moving through this wilderness and the emotion that spills out can’t be hidden. I try putting a ‘gloss’ on the place. Then decide on honesty - it’s fuckin’ shite off-track walking. Even the good open forest has so many sticks that trip you, poke, slap, scratch, snag in your gaiter strap on each forward step. Then there’s the sections of dense, sticky hop bush, scratching everything. We have had to push through it with our arms and the weight of our whole bodies. There’s the downright evil spikey-leaved shrub on the rocky plateau above Waa Gorge (pronounced War Gorge, appropriately enough). My back aches, my legs are exhausted, my knees and feet ache and my body craves replenishment. I have burnt so much energy - carrying water and tackling the ridiculous terrain - I can feel kilos dropping off me. 

We are in Mount Kaputar National Park, exploring its northernmost reaches around the spectacular Waa Gorge, Mt Waa and Mt Bobbiwaa. It is incredibly scenic country - from a distance.