It`s afternoon – In the heart of the Tasmanian wilderness. I’m on a sixty-five km trail through the Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park. I take in the view: I am sitting in an elevated region – beneath me is a scene that demonstrates its beauty with modestly colours. The mountain lake, with its deep black colour it seems like all the surroundings get sucked into it. The only texture on the smooth water surface is the reflection of the surrounded summits, which lose their colour by mirroring in the lake and spawn even darker areas on the surface. The trees and bushes reach from the edge of the lake, even from inside the lake until the border where the mountains are not covered from vegetation anymore and disclose their real material. Huge rock faces disposed in an angle, which makes it look like one touch could make them go down into the lake. I feel like I do not belong here, my life in civilization has not equipped me for this journey.
Dark clouds appear on the horizon. In just a few moments, they descend and I am in blizzard. My radius of vision is limited to my fingertips and suddenly it’s only me and a tense fog. The hail is coming directly against me. I feel the power of nature like needle prints in my face. Very carefully, step by step I make my way along the gnarled, muddy, often stony path, which is in sections, by name, not a path anymore.
Suddenly, I see a cliff in front of me. One more step ahead and I would have fallen to my death. Standing still, I feel the wind coming from everywhere. Snow gets thrown in every direction; it seems like there was no gravity anymore. Particles where dancing, accompanied by the whine of the wind. I follow the uneven lines of the cliff. The view is limited, only the next comes through to your eyes, but is even so an incredible number of things. The trees shrouded by the fog, like powerful tribes the trees could be, they are standing there slim like a candle and are staggering in the strong wind. I set up my tent in the clearing of a forest. A Kangaroo is sitting beside the trees. A kitten heaves his head out of the bag of the mother. How cosy it must be, protected by mothers’ skin. I also crawled into my sleeping bag and tried to sleep.
Towards the end of the hike the wind stopped and there was silence. In the deep blue sky was no cloud to see, and the sun shone down. I bettered the blizzard. I felt weak, because I had no proper meal for five days. Time for the last recovery, sitting down for the last time in this nature, since kilometres of walking through this rough mountain path. My feet feel like I am still walking, every muscle every tendon give a signal of exhaustion. Again, I faithful realized the nature around me. How impressive and arousing it becomes, when you consider one thing in detail, is it the life of some animal species or is it only the mosses, which with their different flakes or the thinnest filaments cover the stones. It’s not only health-enhancing, but also calming, when you sit there and take in the impressions of the surrounding. The grassland beside the path with thousands of different flowers, the small rivers in between and the white stone where I am sitting at.
And when I move forward everything is changing slightly, but in some way still staying the same. And in everything sounds the uninterrupted noise of the wildlife. I felt like I was part of that. I felt like I belong here. Years after the hike, thinking about the magnificence about the Tasmanian nature, still brings a smile into my face. While living a life throughout the everyday norm of society, this hike allowed me to detach for a moment. The journey became a form of simultaneous self-improvement and meditation as I pushed myself to the limits. During this hike I felt like I was part of the surrounding nature like never before.
Dominik Eberharter 