Rocking The Cradle
Well, the golfing groundsmaan at Highfields House yesterday was right! Last night and this morning we had rain, rain and more rain. Looking more like Cradle fountain than Cradle Mountain, this was a spanner in the works for sure. These were certainly not ideal conditions for trekking in the mountains.
Everyone has a much needed sleep-in (got to love blockout curtains) and we wandered down to the Whispering Woods for a scrumptious breakfast.
The plan was always to spend the day walking and Sam and Ross were particularly keen on reaching the summit. We would have loved to ask some advice but our hotel seems to be run by teenage girls on work experience.
Toby and Maisy were less than eager for a day of soggy shoes, campaigning to hang out at home and keep cosy by the fire. The temperature was a chilly 12 degrees this morning and we were heading for a top of only 17.
We have to keep reminding ourselves it’s still summer.
Molly and I decided we’d do the drive with Ross and Sam up to the Cradle Mountain National Park, with maybe a quick walk and a glance at the lake, then find a nice coffee shop where would sip hot chocolates and read our books.
So, leaving our two youngest to enjoy the serenity and each other’s company (& the cricket) for the day, we drove 45 minutes to the state-of-the-art Cradle Mountain Visitor’s Centre, where we could get some good advice and form a plan.
Most of us brought a few token items of warm clothing away with us but I don’t think we expected to be this cold. Ross and Sam, however, came fully prepared and were decked out in thermals, waterproof shoes and jackets with so many pockets and functions they needed their own instruction manuals. By contrast Molly and I were wearing a random mismatch of whatever we had in our bags that resembled winter clothing. Sam lent Molly his fluoro green parka (with a warning not to change any of the “settings”) to round out her outfit and we were sincerely hoping not to run into the Fashion Police.
The park ranger at the Visitor’s Centre nearly fell off her chair when the boys told her they were planning to go to the summit. It would be a 6 hour trek, “extremely sodden underfoot” and they’d be returning in fading light. Safe to say she was not a fan of the plan. We looked at a few other options and bought our park tickets. They talked us into joining them on a 6km round trip hike to ‘Marion’s Peak’; supposedly not too hard; Sam assuring us: “It’ll be fun guys!!” and the ranger agreeing it was doable today. We agreed somewhat reluctantly (still in recovery from our Cape hike…a week ago!) and lined up for a shuttle bus.
The buses come every 5 minutes to drop mountain enthusiasts at the starting points for all the walks. After a mandatory bath for our shoes at the Shoe Washing Station, we climbed aboard. Over the PA, the bus driver gave us a quick rundown of each of the walks available at the various stops. The Enchanted Walk sounded enchanting and Waterfall Walk sounded pretty but you could hear a pin drop when she said: “does anyone want to get off at Snake Hill?” There were no takers.
Molly and I had started to get cold feet - physically and metaphorically - thinking this walk might be a bit ambitious, especially since we’d dressed far more appropriately for hot chocolates than trekking. By the time we got off the bus, we’d made up our minds that we’d skip the 3 hour walk and aim for a couple of shorter walks instead. Sam continued trying to convince us we’d love it and as we stood and weighed the pros and cons aloud, a lady overheard us, chipping in that her son-in-law had set off on that very same walk at 9am this morning and still wasn’t back. It was now 2pm. That sealed the deal. Without any mobile reception, we made an old-fashioned plan to meet at 5pm in the carpark and set-off on our respective journeys.
Dove Lake was absolutely stunning! Dodging puddles, we made our way to Glacier Rock for incredible mountain vistas. Shrouded in cloud when we arrived, the mountain tops went in and out of visibility as the day unfolded. What they tell you about the possibility of experiencing 4 seasons in a day (or even an hour) at Cradle Mountain, rang true for us. I started off feeling chilly in 3 layers and drizzle and half an hour later the sun was shining and I was sweating in just a long-sleeved tee.
We also did a little walk around the lake to the Boathouse, down paths lined with bushy foliage, absolutely covered in the prettiest little white wildflowers. The whole valley was dotted with craggy, speckled rocks and an abundance of these gorgeous white flowers. Little streams were trickling here and there - the sound of rushing water and chirping birds all we could hear. It was like one of those forest-sounds-to-put-you-to-sleep CDs. Talk about tranquil. We’d hoped to spot a platypus in the wild but sadly they remained tucked away, hidden from prying eyes.
Feeling like we had immersed ourselves in nature enough for the day, Molly and I made our way back to ground zero (aka the car) to warm up and do some reading, while we waited for our intrepid trekkers to return.
Return they did, right at our designated spot and right on time, smashing it out in only 2 and a half hours. They were beaming (& a bit soggy), after a glorious climb featuring a hanging lake, a rainbow and a lake inside a crater, not to mention exquisite panoramas all across the national park. They did both agree that Molly and I might have struggled if we’d come, conceding some sections had been a “little tricky”, like where you had to hang onto a chain to help haul you up the steep sections. Bullet dodged.
It poured with rain as we left the park and the car heater was a welcome friend. Maisy and Tobes had enjoyed a lovely day of lolling around and watching movies, not regretting their decision to rest up one iota.
Home made burritos were on the menu tonight and we continued soaking in this incredibly beautiful little corner of the earth we are grateful to have found ourselves in.
