Where there is no time and nothing matters.

We were slow to start, because the spring-like atmosphere was very pleasing to our senses.  The Cradle Mountain’s snowy heights glimmered under the gentle sunlight.  The scene was absorbing, and we took our time.  We also made every detour possible to see the lake shore and the glacier rock.  It was late morning already and we had our hearty packed lunch by the lake.  Our roast chicken and avocado sandwich attracted the attention of hungry currawongs, waiting ever so patiently for our leftovers.

It seemed to have come from nowhere, but a strong wind blew over us suddenly.  We could feel the chill immediately.  The temperature must have dropped five degrees just like that.  It then rained down snowflakes that melted away before it landed the ground as misty drops from heaven.

After lunch we hiked at a more consistent pace for about an hour or so.  We had to keep time, as we did not want to join the group late.  We must have advanced about 1/3 of the total trail in this hour.  The circuit was curved around toward the home direction in the second third of the way.  We decided to take a short break.  There was overcast then.  For some time we simply could not see the snowy mountaintop that revealed so unabashedly under the gentle sunlight of a winter morning, perhaps just about an hour ago.

The colors of Cradle Mountain was that of the autumn.  The pencil pine is a common inhabitant of the Cradle Mountain.  It grows at a pace of 2cm a year, and we saw many of them.  They were so tall, as if they could reach the very roof of the earth.  I thought these trees were at least 2,000 years old.  Graham told us that the oldest tree around was 4,000 years, about 85km away from where we were.

To my untrained eye it seemed as if there were only a few kinds of shrubs and bushes along the circuit.  They formed a neutral color tone consisting of green, brown and chestnut.  The green formation near the ground were called “button grass.”  The chestnut littering amidst a pine, nutty green was very soothing to the eye.  There did not seem to be a wide variety of growth and vegetation, but the consistency of that evergreen and brown made an impression that lasted way beyond the hike itself.  It was winter time, and yet these colors breathed a gentle but firm spirit of life.  One could only imagine what spring might look like in this mountainous region.

We noticed what Graham told us earlier was true.  The Palawa Aborigines had 12 seasons probably due to the fact that nature at the Cradle Mountain had an unusually unpredictable temperament.  The weather could change in a matter of minutes.  As we embarked on the most strenuous part of the trail, the climb became very difficult.  We were under time pressure, just about an hour more to go before we must meet the group.  It started snowing, and rather heavily too.

At every step upward I asked myself, “when is this going to end?”  It seemed like we were climbing a never-ending set of steps up.  We had no time to lose and both my aunt and I were completely silent for a good forty-five minutes.  Both of us knew that we must only focus on climbing.  I felt a strange sensation: the snow kept the surroundings very cold, but we were rushing in a pace that kept us too warm inside.  Graham gave us each an extra layer of wind coat before we headed off.  The snow was making it wet and heavy, too heavy for an ascending hike.  I decided to keep the coat on, despite feeling too warm inside.  Any extra weight on my arms would make the hike impossible.

My aunt’s face turned sanguine, it looked as if she has had too much to drink.  I knew she was feeling too warm inside as well.  But there was no time to waste, we must climb on.  Although we had been climbing upward for more than ten minutes we were still at the foot of the mountain.  We looked ahead but the view did not allow us to see very far.  There was no way for me to assess how much more we would have to go like this.  We came across no one else on this part of the hike.

When we were done climbing up, the view opened up immediately.  We could see that we were descending, and we did continuously for another fifteen to twenty minutes.  It was an incredible relief when we were back on the shore level of the lake.  The road sign said, “Dove Lake Car Park, 10 minutes.”  We saw the boat shed and we could relax and take some photographs.  “We survived!” I meant it literally.

Gustav Weindorfer was an Australian botanist that advocated strongly for the Cradle Mountain area to be designated a national park.  Once at the summit, he said, “where there is no time and nothing matters.” This quote made a deep impression when I was doing research on the Cradle Mountain.  It must have been near-spiritual up there at the top.  Although at the last third of the trail my aunt and I struggled through the severe weather and the rigorousness of the trail, the calm and wonder that we felt at our completion did bring a sense of timelessness to the whole experience.

Even though we were the last to show, we did make it before the scheduled departure.  At the car park we looked back at Cradle Mountain one more time. The snowy mountaintop was again glimmering under the afternoon sun.  Sunlight turned the now dissipated snow into a rainbow.  Immediately, it reminded me of God’s promise to Noah.

That afternoon, God’s promise to me was the wombats.  It was once commented that wombats lead an ideal life: they spend half the time eating and the other half sleeping.  They probably spend considerable time pooping too, as that is how they guard their territory.  We saw a few large, wild wombats that made large burrows on the ground.

The tour concluded with honey and cheese tasting.  I bought some leatherwood honey, which comes from a species of trees native in Tasmania.  The day ended on a sweet note.

Works cited:

Biography – Weindorfer, Gustav, Australian Dictionary of Biography.