Chockstone Forum

      Sponsored By
      ROCK
   HARDWARE

Chockstone Photography

Australian Landscape Prints

Chockstone Forum - Trip Reports

Tells Us About Your Latest Trip!

Topic Date User

TR - Frenchmans Cap (not much climbing) 14-Feb-2011 At 2:14:28 PM bones

Message

Sitting in the car park at the start of the 25km track into Frenchmans Cap waiting for the rain to stop, I could tell this was going to be a proper alpine trip. The kind where you dream, plan, prepare and train, then slog in, hang around in bad weather, abandon the summit and slog out again. I wasn’t too put out though, climbing the Sydney Route was only half the reason I was headed to the ‘Cap.

Julie and I had been climbing on the east coast of Tassie for two weeks waiting for the high pressure system we needed to make the trip out west to Frenchmans. The daily drive from Fortesque Bay to get the newspaper weather forecasts was a good excuse for our typical midday starts at the crag. Finally, in our last week before the end of our Christmas break the weatherman was optimistic, so we raced over to Queenstown, paid an exorbitant rate for a shabby motel, spent the night sorting (and discarding) gear and measuring the energy to weight ratio’s of our seven day food supply, and drove back down the Lyell Highway to the start of the track.

We started the walk in once the rain had cleared. Our packs were heavy. Estimates ranged from 15 to 30 kilos depending on how buggered we were, but a rack, double ropes, camping gear and seven days food makes for a decent load, especially as Julie only weighs 45 kilos. 10 minutes in we stopped to repack and discard a bunch of not-quite-as-essentials.
The first few hours of were nice enough, but it wasn’t until we crested a rise and spied the quartzite dome off in the distance that I really started to get excited. We’d passed a few walkers on the way out and asked about the boggyness of the famous Loddon Plains, and were reassured by comments like “not as bad as it used to be, the worst bits have been duck-boarded”. They seemed friendly enough at the time, but it turns out they were lying through their teeth. The Loddens were kilometers of swampy scrub where the easiest path is wading through the knee high mud. Fitter bushwalkers with light packs can jump from dry tussock to dry tussock if they’re lucky but we couldn’t. At one point Julie was submerged to her waist and I’m not sure she could have got out without assistance. You can’t cut off your torso with a pen knife. The worst thing about the Loddens is the false horizons. Every time you think you’re through it you turn a corner and see another kilometer of mud. I passed the time silently cursing the author of the Frenchmans Cap thesarvo guide, who describes the walk in as “somewhat muddy in wet weather”.

As the sun started to set some swearing and crashing revealed two pursuers who were also taking advantage of the good weather for a mudbath, nmonthieth and vwills. We exchanged pleasantries (complaints about the track) then they raced ahead, eventually beating us to the base of the Cap in time to take advantage of the best climbing day all season. We showed up drenched and grumpy to Lake Vera hut about 8pm, rinsed all the mud off and went to sleep.

The second days walk would have been very nice if it wasn’t for the heavy packs. A steep climb through lush moss covered forests interspersed with rustic looking log ladders and bridges. By the time we got to the top I was buggered. Step, step, rest on walking stick. Step, step, rest on walking stick. If I’d known it would be this hard I probably wouldn’t have dragged Julie up here. Then again, if the relationship survives this then it’ll survive anything. After the climb we hit the saddle and were rewarded with the best views I’ve ever experienced in Australia. Peaks, forests and lakes in all directions, with not a sign of “civilization” to be seen.

We reached Lake Tahune in the late afternoon. Like the other three groups there we decided to pitch the tent rather than stay in the mouldy, dark and stuffy Tahune Hut.

There was only one other climbing group there, nmonthieth and vwills as I mentioned had climbed that day: Tierri Le Fronde, the impressive looking four pitcher through the roof on the south east face. There were also a couple of ladies who had conned their way onto a rafting trip to get there, thereby avoiding the mud by way of the rapids on the Franklin River. Apparently a Japanese group were camped in the snow on the summit too, blissfully ignorant that there aren’t many days of the year when you can do that comfortably.

The next morning, alarm set, we woke to the gentle sound of rain. No Sydney route today. We slept in then went up to the hut for breakfast, spending the day chatting to the others, reading the hut logbook (did you know crazy john ran to Frenchmans, soloed Chimes of Freedom and ran out again IN ONE DAY) and drinking jetboil after jetboil of tea. A bit of sun in the afternoon didn’t last long.

The frustrating sound of rain greeted us again early the next morning and continued for most of the day, but during a break in the weather we went up to check suss out the route. The south face of Frenchmans Cap is spectacular. 400 meters of quartzite that looks more like marble. The color and scale (and loose rock) reminded me a lot of the dolomites. The shape looked like photos I have seem of the half dome. We managed to trace the lines of a few of the classics like Tierri Le Fronde(16), Ninth of January(19) and the incredible looking De Gaulles Nose(25). We could also see the top of the Sydney Route(17), the gully finish, the impressive rising traverse pitch, right down to the awkward chimney. Hours of scrambling around and multiple route descriptions wouldn’t reveal the Sydney Route direct start (14) though. The “Obvious Crack” was anything but.

Day three at Tahune, and more rain. Every time the clouds broke we scrambled to get our gear on and head up to the rock. Every time the rain returned before we’d pulled the harnesses out of our packs. Cup of tea after cup of tea. We were entertained by a new arrival, another Japanese guy who was travelling the world surfing and knitting. He’s planning to walk the Tasmanian south coast track with a surfboard. Most of our lightweight food (delicious thanks to camp Chef Julie) supply was gone. The now familiar weather pattern of morning rain, afternoon sun struck again but this time we were ready. We raced up to climb an easy single pitch route on the east side of Frenchmans, Pleasant Dreams (15). It was chossy and inconsistent, but it was lovely to be on the rock, miles from anywhere.
The route topped out halfway up the walkers track to the summit, so I suggested we walk to the top. If the weather didn’t clear up tomorrow we’d have to walk out, so we climbed the white marble staircase to the summit of Frenchmans Cap. The sun came out and illuminated the 360 degree views from the Franklin river to the west coast, and I proposed to Julie, which was the other reason I’d come all the way out here. In an ideal world we would have topped out on the Sydney Route first but you can’t plan for everything, especially in that wilderness. Thankfully she said yes. The slog back through the sodden loddens would been a whole lot worse if she hadn’t.

The 6am alarm the next day revealed clear skies, and we jumped out of bed, inhaled breakfast and raced to the base of the route. Sadly it was one of nature’s cruel pranks, and by early morning the rain was back. Food supply exhausted, we walked out of Frenchmans Cap in two long days.

Along the way my thoughts alternated between marriage and climbing. They’re interconnected for us actually, as we’d met years previously on a climbing trip to the Grampians, and all our “dates”, subsequent holidays and spare time have been climbing together. After this trip I think I know, on a small scale, what it must be like for mountaineers to spend years and bags of money preparing for a summit and being forced to turn back before the top. You can’t guarantee success, but my tip is that if you’re going to fail you might as well do it in good company.