hiking backwards on the South Coast Track, Tasmania.

I ended 2025 and started 2026 in my favourite way. Camping out at cockle creek on New Years Eve (the southern-most place you can drive to in Australia), I took my journal and kombucha down to the beach for an 11pm solo journaling session under the moonlight. While reflecting on the year that was and setting my intentions for the year ahead, I was so excited that tomorrow I would already be making a start on my next vision board; hiking the infamous South Coast Track.

I had heard about the track for years. My Dad and my brother joined a party of men to complete it in December a decade ago, returning with images of Dad submerged in waist-deep mud, and purporting that summiting the ironbound range with horizontal sleet had made them the coldest they’d ever been in their lives (cold enough to be unable to open a ziplock bag for food). Contrastingly, a Tasmanian ex-boyfriend of mine had done the track about 10 times and claimed it was “easy”. With no research, my only trail preparation was a digital map downloaded on my phone, hard copy maps and guidebook in a waterproof case, a borrowed long trench coat for the potentially-torrential rain, and a water filter packed in response to warnings of gastro. I was feeling pretty blind about what we were going to encounter. Though to say that was my only preparation isn’t true, because of course every bushwalk I’ve done before was also preparation, and I knew that I was capable of handling any challenges I could foresee we might encounter….. first aid, foul weather, rough water crossings, failed gear, leeches and ticks…. nothing I haven’t handled before.

A photo taken by my brother, Sam, of Dad in waist-deep mud on the South Coast Track a decade ago. This photo was in my mind all walk as I wondered when I would make a wrong step into a sinkhole!

Despite recreating and working in Tassie for many Summers, my partner Michael (also a hiking guide), had never done the track, so it was exciting to share a trail that would be new for both of us. With neither of us being the “expert” or leading the other, it felt like we were stepping on common ground in new territory, and something about that felt equitable to me, (which you most likely know I’m a fan of).

On New Years Day we set out from Cockle Creek all clean and naiive; passing by couples finishing that day in the opposite direction covered in bruises, dirt, and scratches with big smiles on their faces and stories of mud and gastro. The usual way to hike the South Coast track is West to East, but due to flight unavailability, we decided to walk in and fly out, which ended up working in our favour for many reasons. I liked leaving the familiar carpark with day hikers and safety close by, knowing we would gradually leave the weekenders behind us as we got more remote, hopefully by then knowing that we hadn’t forgotten anything.

New Years Day with clean clothes and a manicured board walk trail.

Our first night was a breeze. With low tide arriving, we crossed the sometimes-treturous South Cape Rivulet with ease in calf-deep water and made camp on the other side. After a slow morning the next day, I took a visit to the camp long-drop back across the rivulet and encountered a Kiwi guy walking the opposite direction. Assuming he (like us) had enjoyed a sleep in, I said “good to see someone else enjoying the leisurely side of hiking!” to which he replied “I’ve just come from Granites!”, meaning his morning stroll had already covered a day’s worth of ground… some of the muddiest, hilliest grounds of the trail too. “It’s easy! The guides say it’s a 7.5hr walk but it was much quicker than that!”. Feeling relieved about the day ahead of us, I went back to Michael and our packs with a skip in my step about the afternoon of walking ahead. With it only getting dark at 9:30pm, we had heaps of time!

Well what an understatement that Kiwi ultra-light hiker had made. Having just done the Bibbulmun track in Winter last year, I was ok with the discomfort of hills, mud and clambering over fallen trees, but the terrain was bringing Michael down. Maybe it was because of the sleep-in? Maybe not enough food? Maybe It was psychological because his girlfriend was moving fast? Either way, the terrain had us moving sloooow and every obstacle and scramble was wearing on us, and my PMS made me impatient. Stopping at a creek to fill and filter our water, Michael’s filter bladder broke. A little further along, the digital map’s location of a track-cutters campsite proved non-existent (taking us to a mud puddle). It felt like a comedy of errors, so when we passed a flat, dry area just big enough for our tent, I made an executive decision that we would camp there rather than press-on and risk injury or making mistakes by rushing when tired and irritated.

Whilst hills can be tiring, the tiring part of day 2 wasn’t pictured: deep muddy obstacles whilst climbing over, under or around fallen trees.

While the tent only just fit the small patch between mud and trees, it was a great call! The following morning, we were well-slept, well-fed, and well-caffienated when two tour groups came past in the opposite direction! Had we pressed-on to Granites, we would have been surrounded by travellers, guides and guests…. exactly what we were supposed to be on holiday from! Instead we had had our second night of solitute (a theme that would continue for us all-track, despite it being peak season and summer holidays). While camping away from the main designated campsites meant no access to long-drops or rivers, we had enough water carrying capacity and a full toileting kit to be minimal impact, meaning we were free to camp wherever there was flat ground (of course the most minimal impact thing to do is to camp at existing tent sites, which there are many of between the main camps with long-drops).

A Tasmanian couple in the carpark on new years day had given us a tip-off about a secret campsite that you can’t see when walking from west to east, so we decided to make that our goal of the next day. While we weren’t exactly sure what awaited us, they had been adamant that we should check it out, and they did not dissapoint! I won’t give away the location or what we saw, but I WILL say that it should be on the list as a human-made wonder of the world, and it was so beautiful that we decided to spend 2 nights there. We had allowed ourselves 10days to do the track (the average time taken is 7 days) so we had time up our sleeves for bad weather. Seeing as our satellite messages from home of the forecast confirmed that there wasn’t really any bad weather on the way, we decided to take a day here for the fun of it! No regrets. It’s not often you get the opportunity to have a whole day for off-line sleeping, walking, swimming, eating, and watching the sea. What a luxury.

What a luxury to have the time and space to be present in nature without distraction.

By now we were in the swing of walking. My daily non-negotiable evening tasks when on a trail are to wash, to stretch and to journal. I love this simple routine and the lack of other distractions to take me away from these things. At home your shower might be delayed by house chores, your yoga might be delayed by emails to respond to, or journaling can be easily replaced with Netflix or scrolling, but out on the trail there’s no other option but to do the things you say you’re going to do. While washing on the track sometimes meant braving freezing water or needing to quickly roll a hungry leech off your foot, it was always invigorating and always worth it! Another routine I love when hiking by myself (that I suggestively forced upon Michael too) was to walk for 55minutes, then to have a 5minute break. In the 5 minute break I drink water, pee, snack on some trail mix, check the map, and have a kiss (this was a new addition that hadn’t been part of my solo routine!). I like breaking down the day into chunks, and I like that when it feels hard, you’re only ever less than 55mins away from a rest. PLUS it means I don’t forget to do those basic self-care things like eating, drinking and peeing which for some reason (ADHD perhaps?) I can forget to do when I’m working or pushing my body, which had lead to migraines and “hitting-the-wall” back in my sea kayaking days circa 2013.

The infamous ironbound range day was approaching, and after the other supposed challenges of the hike had turned out not-too-challenging at all (river outlet crossings, rowing the lagoon, and the mud), I was weary that perhaps we had had it all too good and our luck was due to run-out. Mum reassured us with a satellite text that the forecast was looking good, so we got up at 5:30am to cross the ironbound range; predicting a 12hour day as experienced by hikers walking the opposite direction. What we hadn’t considered was that climbing up the steep, muddy, tree-root rainforest-covered eastern side would be much quicker than the people who have to lower themselves down it, and we found ourselves in the alpine vegetation near the summit after only 2 hours. We re-filled our water, started singing the songs of the Sound of Music, and got excited for the views we were about to witness of the South West mountains. Where my Dad and brother had been conquering horizontal sleet, we were re-applying sunscreen and taking our shoes off for a 1.5hour picnic break in the sun! I couldn’t believe our luck as we looked out over 360 degree views of where we had come from, where we were headed, as well as the Arthurs mountain ranges and the coastal islands. We didn’t take our luck for granted and felt incredibly grateful to have these conditions.

At almost 1km of elevation, the Ironbound Range is the main crux of the south coast track, so we were glad to have it at the end of our walk with light packs.

The final two days of trail were filled with river crossings, sandy beaches, open buttongrass plains and boggy mud. The final campsite at Point Eric saw the last of our luck when it came to camping by ourselves. Just after having enjoyed a solo bodysurf in the waves and finishing a romantic dinner alone, we were quickly surrounded by 10 matching yellow tents, the sound of rushing and radios as a tour group surrounded us. The guides were so apologetic, and we reassured them that we get it, and we’re guides too. Neither Michael nor I felt any envy of those two women guiding the group! We knew there was rain on the way and we knew the terrain they had ahead of them. Glad it was them, not us! We cheersed our hot chocolates while witnessing a pink sunset sprawling out over the bay and the fabled Maatsuyker Island.

Our walk into Melaleuca was once again blessed with good luck. We were lucky to have calm conditions, lucky to receive free food and leftover gas from the party flying out that afternoon, and lucky to make ourselves at home in a hikers’ hut all to ourselves! Despite the rainy, windy forcast for the next 2 nights, the other hikers and kayakers staying in Melaleuca must have wanted to test their tents, or perhaps they wanted privacy rather than sharing bunk beds with each other, so we got an entire private hut! We swam in the river, drank herbal tea and soups all day, spotted the endangered orange bellied parrots, read about the local history, and enjoyed eating every last bit of the leftover food we no longer needed to hoard as our flight was due to go ahead on the Sunday.

Our last night on the track at Point Eric was accompanied by a pink sunset as we looked out to Maatsuyker Island.

Flying out over the track we had just experienced was the perfect ending. I can’t imagine finishing in Cockle Creek, boarding a stinky shuttle bus with other walkers to rattle back into Hobart. I loved that we had 2 days of solitute in Melaleauca to reflect on our time and photos, and then enjoyed the reward of the flight out; seeing every campsite and bay and mountain from a new perspective. I love that hiking itself brings all of life into a new perspective. When you can survive off little food, sleep on the ground, wash in a cold river, and carry yourself and everything you need on your back, it brings a true sense of self trust, and makes you feel wildly capable and resilient. Returning home, everything in life above and beyond that feels like excess, but it’s an excess that one can now appreciate with more gratitude and more understanding of what the difference is between our needs and wants. One thing’s for sure, I know that hiking is not just a “want” in my life…. it’s a true need. Thanks Lutruwita, Tasmania, for an incredible time and thanks Michael for sharing the adventure with me.

My 2026 visionboard background was a photo of people hiking up the ironbound range. Now I’ve replaced the image with the same shot, but it’s of me!