The Western Arthurs are one of Tasmania’s iconic, epic and challenging multi-day hikes. Over the New Year period Justin and I decided to run the full K-A traverse from the carpark in one push. Little did we know, what started as an ambitious day trip would morph into the most grueling test of my physical and mental limits, a brutal battle for survival against my own body’s rebellion. This is the unfiltered story of that journey across the jagged quartzite peaks that became the hardest thing I have ever done.
The Stats
| Date | 31 Dec 2023 |
| Dist | 61.43km |
| Elevation | 3567m |
| Total Time | 17:43 |
| Strava | Strava Activity |
Disclaimer: The Western Arthurs are an extremely difficult and exposed multi-day walk. Justin and I are experienced hikers and trail runners that know our limits. Do not attempt to replicate what we have done unless you have a similar level of experience, fitness and the correct gear to do it safely. Definitely do not attempt a full traverse if you think you are sick.
Route Map
Planning and Preparations
With a few weeks off work for Christmas and some residual fitness from the 100 miler I craved an epic. The Western Arthurs beckoned. I enlist Justin for a new year’s eve mission to round out a big year of running. We put it in out calendars and convince our partners to come along for a camping trip.
Three days before I was drawn to a music festival and had a monstrous drinking sesh. After over 300 days of abstinence in the past year I finally let the hedonistic urge to binge get the better of me. I was still suffering from the deleterious effects of alcohol two days later while frantically preparing for the run. I had a busy day of packing then picking up my partner Lauren and her sister Jemma from the airport. They were both coming camping too. I rapidly did the groceries while they packed. I drove out to Scotts Peak dam all the while feeling horrendous and hoping for improvement.
We settle into camp for the night, cooking dinner and discussing the following days plans with Justin and his partner Sam. The girls decide to walk Mt Anne while Justin and I are out running. I go to bed hoping that a good night sleep would retore my vitality. These hopes are dashed by a restless night with a blocked nose and a headache. My physical state is making me anxious further impeding my ability to sleep.
The Morning of Trepidation
After finally getting a little sleep I wake again 3am feeling even worse. I lay considering my options and entertaining thoughts of bailing out. Fumbling around I find some panadol which eases my aching head and I nod off for another hour of sleep before the dreaded alarm barks it’s wretched call.
I still feel rough but force myself out of bed to begin preparing myself. Lauren wakes from my alarm and is also feeling anxious about my imminent adventure. I fight the urge to lay down and go back to sleep. I tell myself that I can always turn around and head back if I am not up for it.
Justin is awake and I tell him of my condition. We both agree that it’s common for us to think we are getting sick before these big days and it’s probably nothing to worry about. Out of bed and prepared I am less anxious but still not certain of my body. But once the shoes are on there’s no turning back and we make our way towards the trail head.
Across the Plains
We look for friends in the sign in book and see that local running legend John Cannell has signed in that morning and is running to Oberon return. We realise he must have left just before us and we wonder if we will catch him. Officially signed in stating we are doing the K-A traverse in one day we head off onto trails that are suspiciously nice and runnable.
The track soon degrades to classic South-West Tassie knee deep mud. We run and try to move efficiently but the mud holes are either a few centimetres deep or knee deep and there’s no way of knowing. Establishing a rhythm is hard when there are holes that swallow your legs and try to steal your shoes. Warmed up and moving I am feeling a lot better. The cool breeze and movement flush out the sinuses and ease the jitters.
I’m feeling much better but deep down I am not feeling as good as I should. There is something not quite right but I attribute it to the alcohol still wreaking havoc on my body. The early kilometres pass by quickly and we get to Junction Creek campsite in good time. At the junction we take a non-traditional left hand turn and run along the plains. We decided to run the traverse K-A so we have less distance to run at the end once the mountain range spits us out.
The plains track is crushed quartzite which is conducive with a good running pace. We cruise along getting a few relatively quick splits in. Snot rockets are flying at a rate far higher than usual. I am also feeling less inclined for conversation. Typically in the early stages of a big day I am chatty and energised.
Ascending into the Cloud
At seven mile creek we cross then turn right and start heading towards the mountains. They remain covered in cloud. This is the point where I told myself I could turn around. Still feeling good enough, I don’t give it much thought and continue following Justin into an extremely challenging adventure.
We soon arrived at the base of Moraine K and begin our ascent into the clouds. Climbing is a nice change from the plains and we both fall into silence as we hike up the steep slope. Behind us is a nice view out over the plains which soon disappears as we move above the clouds. As we climb the temperature drops, the wind increases and there is a misty mizzle in the air. We are saturated and I’m feeling cold. I am feeling anxious about the conditions we might encounter throughout the day. The Western Arthurs are notorious for wild and unpredictable weather.
I hold out hope that the high pressure system over the state will be merciful. The climb is long and arduous. We can’t see far ahead so have no idea how much further we have to go. Eventually we encounter more quartzite features. It feels like we have finally arrived and the traverse can begin.
The Traverse Begins
The novelty of the terrain raises our spirits and we scamper across the rocks with joy. Nestled in the clouds I lose all sense of direction and it feels to me as if we are going the wrong direction. The low visibility and my lack of situational awareness makes me disoriented. Justin knows the way but I still occasionally look at the map as a sanity check.
The visibility is so low that I am startled by a lake appearancing beside me. Justin tells me it is Lake Sirona, surprising me with his knowledge of the geography and giving me confidence that I am with someone who knows their way around. Unlike me who keeps thinking he’s going backwards.
The track is turning into a low grade rock climb. Our pace is slowing as expected. The scrambling and scampering is fun with a light pack on. I am grateful that I’m not lugging a 20kg+ pack through this terrain. What feels like slow movement for us is significantly faster than a typical overnight walker. The distance from Haven lake to High Moor campsite is only 4km and this is a full day for most walkers.
Upon reaching a high point we can see Haven Lake below and the cloud seems to be thinning. At Haven lake I decide to use to toilet which takes some time to find. Slowing down allows my body to cool down and my fingers are losing their ability to work. I decide it’s time to rug up and stay warm and put gloves and rain jacket on. I make a mental note to pack hand warmers on my next mountainous outing.
It’s nice to tick off the first section along the range but I know there is still plenty to come. We are heading towards the Beggary Bumps which have a reputation for being relentless. Part of the reason for running the route in reverse was to take on the Beggary Bumps with less fatigue. I try to regain function of my fingers but everything I touch is wet and risks soaking my gloves. It makes me avoid using my hands which is a dangerous tactic in such terrain.
Thankfully my hands warm quickly so I can ditch the gloves and put my hands to use. A lot of the time is spent walking on all fours clambering up and down the rooty rocky terrain. I put all of my faith in small roots, using them as hand and foot holds.
The Beggary Bumps live up to their reputation. The ups and downs go on forever and it is tough. Rocky with a topping of scrub. When the bumps finally seem to end it is time to climb up tilted chasm. I find it quite easy to go up and I am glad I am going up and not downclimbing. It one of the many sections that I contemplate how difficult it must be with a large pack.
On the track approaching High Moor campsite I hear Justin exclaim something but I can’t hear. He repeats himself a couple of times and he is saying ‘Tiger Snake’. There is a large tiger snake right on the track with it’s neck flattened looking displeased with our presence. I wouldn’t be happy either if I were a snake living in such cold wet conditions. I decide to let the snake hold it’s ground and give it a wide berth veering off the track to pass.
Up till this point we haven’t seen a single walker since Junction Creek hours earlier. We both wonder why there aren’t any walkers at Haven Lake or Seven Mile creek in peak season. At High Moor we finally see some walkers setting up camp. They ask us where we’re headed and we say ‘to the car park’. They are impressed. I am wondering about the water source at High Moor but decide to push on thinking I should have enough water to get to Lake Oberon.
High Moor to Lake Oberon – Getting Lost then Found
I am starting to feel depleted and mildly nauseous. The climbs that should be easy are extremely laborious. I think to my nutrition and hydration and wonder if I have messed up. I continue on behind Justin feeling as if I am the weakest link. Justin and I start using what little resources we have to motivate ourselves. We promise ourselves two of Justin’s cinnamon Oreos each when we arrive at Lake Oberon. A useful carrot to dangle in front of ourselves. Noticing my condition slipping I tell Justin I need to have a sit down and employ some self care.
Sitting on an appropriate rock I implement an aggressive debonkification protocol. This involves taking panadol, eating a gel and some food, putting electrolytes in my drink, applying sunscreen and putting on sunglasses. I use pretty much every trick in the book and pray for resurrection. I start to worry about my water situation. A long and windy road still lies ahead.
Miraculously I begin to improve. The weather follows suit and clear views of the mountains are revealed. I am enjoying myself and taking in the glorious surroundings. It is truly an epic trail. Throughout the day I would look ahead at the mountains and struggle to conceptualise a route forwards. Yet the trail always seems to find a way. Often heading up impossibly steep seeming inclines. We manage to find trickles of water running off rocks to refill our flasks. Thankfully recent rains provided us with much needed water.
Passing over a rise we think we see Lake Oberon only to realise it is Lake Uranus. Ahead we can see the white outline of the quartzite track snaking it’s way over another incredibly steep incline. I like seeing where we are heading even if it is up an enormous climb.
At the top of the climb I look back to where we have been. I am in awe of the mountains. They are different to any other Tasmanian mountains I have been on. More aggressive, jagged and imposing. We pass over a rise and Lake Oberon comes into view. The view is a worthy reward for our efforts and we still have Oreos to look forward too.
With Oberon tantalisingly close we follow the rock cairns to what seems like a dead end. Justin recalls having difficulty in the same section when he walked it a few years ago. So begins our back and forth exercise looking for the way forwards. Justin goes ahead and tells me it looks like a sketchy downclimb. The mere mention of the word sketchy downclimb steals my steadfast confidence on the rock. After a whole day of climbing exposed rock with confidence the prospect of a dodgy climb has brought me unstuck.
Justin has a distant memory or maybe hope of an alternative easier option. So we back track to no avail. Then follow the cairns to the dead end again. I look at the map on my watch then my phone and it shows us directly on the track. Then the GPS plays tricks as it does in the mountains and jumps a few metres to either side of the track. Back and forth we go searching for an escape. The longer we search the more trapped we feel. The track that we need to be on is mere metres away and within sight but metres down sheer rock faces.
We are both starting to worry. Our options are to remain stranded, which isn’t really an option or take a risk climbing down a dodgy descent. Justin makes one last ditch attempt at following the rock cairns towards the seemingly dead end. He finds a tight hole in the rocks and maneuvers his body down. I follow his lead and with some guidance on foot holds I make it through to the track below. The euphoric feeling of relief at finding our way makes the whole ordeal seem worthwhile.
Looking up to where we came from the track is clear to see, directing walkers straight to the hole in the rock. Since we were going the less travelled K-A route the path is a lot less clear. The rock cairn just before the hole on the upper side seemingly leads to no where. I lead the charge down towards Oberon feeling the best I have all day. I check my phone for reception, we have been keeping the girls updated on our status when reception permits. There’s a message from Lauren saying ‘I love you’. It’s enough to crack through my shell of mental toughness and make me cry. Tears of gratitude are a common occurrence for me when I explore the depths of my physical capabilities.
I ride the emotional waves of euphoria all the way down to the small lake near Oberon. Here we reward ourselves with Oreos, refill our bottles and enjoy the sights. I tell Justin how the text from Lauren made me cry and he responds saying ‘I love you too man’, this nearly makes me crack again but I hold it together. I tell Justin how I am finally feeling good, just took 12 hours to warm up. From this point onwards things start going downhill slowly, then rapidly both figuratively and literally.
Lake Oberon to Moraine A – My Demise
We continue past Oberon rather than heading down to the lake. Stocked with water and a long way to go there’s no need for the detour. It’s amazing how well sound travels in still conditions. We can see many campers setup way down at the Lake and we can hear them talking from far above. I cannot stop turning around to look at the view while we climb.
We run into a couple of hikers who have just made the big walk all the way in from Junction Creek. They tell us how they walked in a few days earlier and the weather was so bad they turned around, walked out, drove back to Hobart and bought better gear. Loaded with better gear and weather they are back for a second attempt. The question of why we saw no walkers further along the range was answered. They said that the rescue helicopter evacuated 6 people with hypothermia and more were assisted out by SES. The reason we saw no one is that the weather evicted everyone from the mountains.
We bid farewell to out talkative hikers and forge onwards. The track condition is much improved and we run strong past Square Lake and beyond. Our pace increases and so too does the levels of exertion. I am still riding high but I can feel my life force gradually depleting. I should have known that my earlier emotional vulnerability meant that the good times may be fleeting.
Each climb is gets harder, almost as though there is a compounding effect. I sip water and eat food continuously hoping to fend off a further bonk. Consistent movement is my focus while moderating pace to keep the nausea at bay. My demise is gradual and each hill chips away at my condition. At every high point I pray to see Lake Cygnus but am continually disappointed to see more jagged peaks and climbing ahead.
At long last Lake Cygnus appears ahead, I should feel elated but I feel deflated. I tell Justin that I am struggling and he makes me lead to prevent me further overdoing it. Reduced to a snails pace I start the climb from Cygnus. I tentatively take each step and ride the associated intense waves on nausea. I continue to slow to the point that I need to sit down and let the nausea subside.
In my state of extreme decrepitude I struggle to grapple with the prospect of nearly 20km further to go till the end. Justin patiently waits allowing me to face my demons. I think he knows that asking me how I am only reminds me of how bad I feel. Disassociation is my best course of action. Knowing that my only option is to keep going I get up and focus on consistent movement. The forward progress gives me hope of an eventual end to my suffering.
Even the slightest uphill is my enemy. The energy required to fight gravity depletes me. I walk a tight rope with a pool of nausea either side. If I conserve myself on the uphills I am able to muster the energy for a slow run on the flats and downs. My next milestone is the top of Moraine A. My sense of achievement upon reaching this milestone is dashed by the expansive view ahead showing great lengths we still have to travel.
Descending back to the Plains – Temporary Resurrection
I find solace in the knowledge that it’s mostly all downhill from here. Downhills are my friend and I use this newfound potential energy to fling myself down the hill. In a lull of nausea I am able to get a decent way down before it emerges to gradually consume me. My thoughts are venturing into extremely dark places. I wonder if I will ever enjoy trail running again. If I can suffer so much without explanation it makes me hesitant to head out on such a mission ever again.
The nausea eventually takes hold and I have to stop and sit down. The only thing keeping me going in the thought of a panadol. I was watching the clock waiting till it was long enough since my last dose. I find the pills in my bag, drink some water and Justin films an interview of me at rock bottom. Behind me is a glorious view of the Arthurs in dusk light. He says turn around and look behind you. I turn around I nearly vomit then collapse further to the ground.
The healing properties of paracetamol take hold almost immediately. Placebo effect paired with a short rest are working wonders. I sip at fluids and begin nibbling pizza shapes. Each subsequent Pizza Shape brings new life and I go from wanting to quit trail running to loving it again. When we reach the bottom of Moraine A I am talkative and happy. Justin and I are both impressed with my resurgence from the depths of hell.
The conditions on the plains are glorious. The evening is warm, the skies are clear and we can look back to see the mountains in all their glory. I keep thinking, ‘this is such a beautiful place to suffer’. We are both relieved to be on the home stretch and that I am able to move well again. It would have been an extremely long march out if I hadn’t improved. The ordeal has left me emotionally wrecked. Almost anything I think of brings me close to tears. Thinking of how supportive Justin has been brings me unstuck again. The past few hours of trauma have emotionally drained me. The waves of emotion are interesting to ride. The extreme lows are accompanied by euphoric highs.
We reach Junction Creek at sunset. We are well and truly on the home stretch. Feeling the draw of the finish I lead the way and push the pace more than I should. I just want to get it done. Things go well and we make decent progress. When the trail conditions improve and we get onto duck board I know we are so close to the end. The duck board allows me to consistently run and I take advantage of this. Consistent running is too much for my compromised body and the nausea returns. Less than 2km from the end I am reduced to a slow walk again.
I am annoyed that I let myself slip again. But we are so close now that I am just happy to be nearly done. The mission is rounded out with a short death march to the end. Finishing is such a relief, mostly because I was desperate to use the toilet.
The Aftermath
When I emerge from the toilet I see Lauren has come to find me. She walks me back to camp where I find Dan and Joel and the girls sitting around a campfire. Dan and Joel finished a 10 day hiking pack rafting mission of the Crossing River earlier that evening. It was such a lovely setup for New Years eve, and we arrived at 11pm just in time to see in the new year.
I sat around the fire and chatted while I shivered and shook violently. Dan is perplexed at my state of ruin, he can’t believe I am so cooked. Lauren cooked me a burger that looked amazing. After two bites I could handle no more and had to lay down. I took myself to the tent and flopped in there fully clothed and muddy with my filthy shoes out the door.
This is where I stay for the next 9 hours whimpering and feverish. Joel and Lauren helped remove my shoes. The laces are on so tight that Joel valiantly uses his teeth on the filthy shoe to get it undone. I was so apathetic that I said just to cut the laces. I hoped a good night sleep would restore me but I woke early in the morning feeling worse. It was my worst new years hangover and I didn’t even drink.
Looking at my watch my heart rate and stress levels are through the roof. My body is seriously freaking out. I eventually dragged myself from the tent so we could pack up and go but I was useless for the entire day. Lauren and Jemma drove me home and I spent the night at Lauren’s house being too unwell to drive myself home.
When I eventually made it home I found a RAT test to check if Covid was to blame for my infirmity. Initially it looked negative so I set a 15 minute timer and left it. When I came back a faint line had revealed itself. I felt weirdly relieved to know that I had Covid. It finally provided an explanation for all of my struggles.
Recovery and Beyond
The following week was dedicated to recovery. I just slept and rested hoping that I hadn’t given myself extreme long Covid from my exertions. In the final stretches of the run I pledged not to return to the Western Arthurs for a long time. But as the days drew on I felt the urge to go back and re-write some memories. I mentioned this to Justin and he said ‘just say a date and I’ll be there’.
It is now a few weeks on and I have seemingly recovered to full health. My symptoms were extreme but thankfully short lived. I am frustrated that I put myself through such an ordeal but I also feel somewhat accomplished to have been able to conquer the Western Arthurs with Covid. This one will be deeply engrained in my memory. I am certain that it is the hardest thing I have ever done.
I am eternally grateful for all of the support that got me through. Without Justin I would still be out there under a rock. His gentle support and company got me through to the end. Afterwards the support of Lauren, Jemma, Dan, Joel and Sam helped me to survive and make it back to civilisation. I am so grateful for supportive friends that help me get out and do epic things.
The Western Arthurs shattered me. Now that I have pieced myself back together I have pledged to return. Not to conquer but to reconcile. Even after my destruction a love for trail running has re-emerged from dust to motivate me for future endeavors.