The South Coast Track – A detailed account

Palawa country

John Chapman’s guide for South West Tasmania has been tucked on my bookshelf for over a decade. I’ve been busy doing life. Every now and then I would take it down, flick the pages and long for windswept beaches and peaks where pandani grow by pristine mountain tarns.

Accompanied by my adventurous 10 year old son, it was finally our privilege to venture to this majestic part of the world.

This is our experience walking the South Coast Track over 8 days in January 2022, from Cockle Creek to Melaleuca (east to west).

For a shorter read see: https://mountainsmudandmemories.com/the-south-coast-track-an-obstacle-course-in-the-wilderness/

Day 1 Cockle Creek to South Cape Rivulet

The adventure began with a leisurely morning in our hotel awaiting our bus. We called home, some trepidation knowing we would have no contact with the rest of our family for over a week.

The bags were packed – mine weighed around 25kg, Jason’s around 10kg.

The bus arrived and we drove through verdant hills and apple orchards, passing alongside the Huon River.

At Recherche Bay the crystal blue water glistened in the sun. Many, many campers were enjoying summer holidays as it should be – playing on the beach, fishing, boating, walking and relaxing.

We ate lunch by the bay, then wandered along the sand to view the whale sculpture. I would have loved to linger and plunge into the water, but we had to get moving. We shouldered our packs, took the obligatory start of the track photo, and took the first steps on our 85km adventure.

The walk began in shady coastal eucalypt forest, before emerging into open plains with wildflowers and scratchy heath plants.

We continued on the well-benched track, in and out of forest, frequently passing day walkers. The first day enthusiasm soon replaced by sore shoulders, the reality of this hermit crab existence. Wondering whether to take a brief rest, a passerby said we had about 15 minutes to South Cape Bay. 45 minutes later, utterly exhausted, we reached the lookout!

The lookout was a fascinating geological feature. A grey, crumbly cliff with expansive views of the bay and stately Lion Rock to the west. We dropped packs, dug out the Thermos and soaked up the views for a good half hour.

From the lookout we descended onto our first section of beach and approached Lion Rock. There is a campsite nearby, but we wanted to push on for South Cape Rivulet, since Day 2 would be a long and hard walk.

After Lion Rock, the track climbed over Coal Bluff, where we had our first introduction to sword grass and sticky mud. We decided that one of our South Coast sayings would be ‘sword grass sucks!’ This was a tough section, but spirits lifted on reaching the lookout and seeing our destination in the distance.

We traipsed along, passing briefly through forest, until we reached the far end of the bay. The tannin coloured rivulet snaked around and flowed out to sea. It was New Year’s Eve, and the campsite was busy with families, friends and fellow SCT walkers.

It was still light at 9pm as I wrote my journal, contemplating the reflections in the calm waters of the lagooon. We slept to the sound of waves, awoken briefly to cheers as our young neighbours welcomed the new year. In the midst of the night I peered out of the tent to see chandeliers of stars twinkling above.

• Distance: 11.4 km
• Total time on track including breaks: 5 hrs 45
  • Cockle Creek to South Cape Bay: 3 hrs
  • South Cape Bay to South Cape Rivulet: 2 hrs 15
• Dinner: Burritos

Day 2 South Cape Rivulet to Granite Beach

Tough day in the bush. In the words of John Chapman: “There are no views from the South Cape Range, but there is a lot of mud.”

Before I regale you with tales of bog-holes of doom and sloughs of despond, it is worth remembering that any tough day is usually bookended by better experiences. In this case, my day started with sunrise stroll by the rivulet. It would end by a pretty waterfall. Between those two delights, the rest was rather brutal.

Once we were up and packed, we first had to wade the rivulet. This turned out to be no problem at all, with the water level only up to our knees. (I have read accounts of people having to swim this crossing, so nature was good to us).

We donned our boots and started the first ascent. The first part of the day was OK – steep at times, and the weather was humid with no breeze. One glimpse of the ocean, then on through dense forest.

Around mid-morning there was a slight reprieve from the forest. The heat was oppressive, so we were glad to be soon back beneath the canopy. We rested briefly at the edge of the forest until we noticed jack jumper ants were also fond of the same spot.

Up, down, up, down, up – we finally reached Trackcutters Campsite where we stopped for lunch. A cup soup was very welcome to replenish our fluids. In dry weather, Trackcutters is a fairly pleasant spot. However, I believe when the weather is wet it is leech paradise.

At a creek not far from Trackcutters we took the opportunity to discard our brackish water from South Cape Rivulet and refill with more refreshing water. Then it was uphill again to the South Cape Range. This was steep and muddy. Seemingly never ending. There were no views – not even a minute glimpse of the ocean or a distant mountain. It was just mud, mud, more mud. Then sword grass.

When we reached the top of the South Cape Range, the terrain flattened out and we expected some relief. No, this is where the bog-holes are treacherous, wide, black pits of doom. You test them with your poles and realise that you have the choice of either swimming through a bog, or trying to fight the scrubby banksia to cautiously edge along the side. One wrong step and, as Jason found out, you end up in sticky black gunk up to your waist. Really, really tedious tramping.

Eventually the final descent came. We were so tired and this was a long, steep section. More mud. Limited glimpses of the ocean, which was more than the rest of the day at least.

Finally we reached the campsite, just inland from Granite Beach. Being the last group to arrive, we had limited options and had to contend with a site that, while flat, contained a number of tree roots. My thick down jacket proved a very handy cushion to ensure a decent nights sleep in the circumstances.

Once the tent was up, we went straight down to Granite Beach and washed off as much of the mud as we could beneath the icy drips of the waterfall. Tired feet welcomed a brief paddle in the ocean.

It was late. We ate dinner and shortly afterwards were in bed.

• Total distance: 9.1 km
• Total time on track: 10 hrs 30
  • South Cape Rivulet to Trackcutters Camp: 4 hrs
  • Trackcutters to Granite Beach: 6 hrs
• Dinner: Salami pasta

Day 3 Granite Beach to Osmiridian Beach

Our third day on the track was easier. We were tired from the ordeal over the South Cape Range, such that our sentiment was that we would never do this walk again. (Don’t fear, dear reader, by the end of the walk I was positively itching to make my way back to the South West again…) We really wanted to get to camp early and have time to chill and enjoy the beach, so we aimed for Osmiridian Beach rather than the campsite at Prion Boat Crossing.

We awoke to overcast skies and light drizzle that steadily increased as we went about our morning routine. The campsite was soon almost all ours, as the west to east walkers were up and away to tackle the South Cape Range.

We clambered carefully down the slippery rocks to Granite Beach. We explored caves to the east of the waterfall, then traversed the boulder field along the beach. Care was required to avoid rolling ankles on the round rocks. Sadly the mist was obscuring fluted capes, but the views were no less pretty.

A steep climb with the aid of a rope, and we found ourselves in familiar forest terrain, with mud, vines, tree roots and sword grass to contend with. After some time we emerged at Surprise Bay, tucked at the foothills of lush green peaks.

We sheltered as best we could by some rocks and ate our lunch. The rain eased to light drizzle again. Two fellow east to west walkers came along and we had a nice chat. They told us about a cave at the other end of the bay, so after a bit of rock pool exploring, we joined them for a cuppa.

Surprise Bay is lovely, with jagged black rocks that have been upended by geological forces to create fascinating rows that resemble spiky backbones.

After our extended lunch and tea break, we returned to more forest. Perhaps we were becoming accustomed to the mud, tree roots and sword grass, as this section seemed less taxing. Pleasantly, on the descent we emerged into open coastal heath, with views of mist-shrouded mountains.

We stopped at Tylers Creek to fill our water just before the junction to Osmiridan Beach. The track was not great with big boggy patches, but it was only a short distance to the campsite. An early arrival meant choice of sites for a change. We pitched the tent, hung up our wet gear, and headed to the beach to frolic and explore.

At the west end of the beach are interesting nooks and crannies among the rocks. Twisted rocks, conglomerate, a cave and green mossy gullies. This was a pleasant way to rejuvenate.

After dinner we returned to the beach to breath the salty air, watch the sunset and write in our journals. Places like this are the reason we bushwalk. A beautiful beach, almost all to ourselves.

• Distance: 7.2 km
• Total time on track including breaks: 6 hrs 45
  • Granite Beach to Surprise Bay: 2 hrs 30
  • Surprise Bay to Osmiridian Beach: 2 hrs 30
• Dinner: Satay tofu, veg and rice

Day 4 Osmiridian Beach to Turua Beach

Day 4 was a super awesome day. We had good weather, beautiful scenery and lots of fun.

The first good omen was spying a curious quoll at our campsite, something we’d really been hoping to see on this walk.

Once on the trail, we had a short climb through buttongrass and were greeted with wondrous views of mountains. The Ironbound Range was an imposing lump in the distance, while the mighty Precipitous Bluff stood to the north, wisps of cloud enveloping its rocky summit.

We walked onwards through heath, some mud, but generally better terrain compared to the last few days. The track then entered dry open forest and soon we reached East Prion Campsite.

From East Prion to Prion Boat Crossing the track differs to the current edition of the John Chapman guide. It is no longer a walk over sand dunes. Rather it follows the ridge above the lagoon, going up and down about a hundred times. Branches from sturdy little gum trees frequently invade the track, along with more sword grass and other obstacles that required a fair bit of effort (including giving the branches a rugby-style shoulder charge to pass at times).

At Prion Boat Crossing campsite we enjoyed our morning cuppa and relaxed in the hammock that someone had strung up from netting. The site is lovely and shady, and a very pleasant spot.

It was time for us to row across New River Lagoon. We watched a guided group coming across (all three boats were on the other side) and enjoyed the views of Precipitous Bluff over the lagoon. Rowing was fun, though the oar-lockers on our boat were a bit dodgy. The water was calm and we made it across easily. Hauling the boat out to secure it on the other side was the bigger challenge, as these tinnies are heavy beasts to drag across the sand.

Tempted to stay and have a swim, but since we’d just stopped for morning tea we decided to head on along Prion Beach.

Prion Beach stretches 4 km along the south coast, with golden sand, turquoise waters and bookended by mountains. We lunched about two thirds of the way along, beneath a miniscule amount of shade at the edge of the sand dunes. I splashed in the ocean and Jason clambered on the tall sand dunes. There was not a soul in sight. I felt so incredibly relaxed and carefree.

After our long rest we made our way to Grotto Creek. There is evidence here of indigenous habitation, and it was very sombering to think that thousands of years ago, proud first nations people looked out over this bay, their home and country. Please, if you do come across indigenous artefacts, treat with respect and do not disturb or remove anything.

The final leg of the day was a steep ascent over a headland to Deadmans Bay and Turua Beach. There were many sword grass alleys along this stretch. By now this was par for the course.

Our camp at Turua Beach was lovely. Water was sourced from a small stream, trickling between round rocks as it made its way down to the ocean.

Along the beach were rock pools to explore, with starfish, little fish, cunjevoi, kelp and sea anemones. Copious sea lettuce and tough brown kelp coats the rocks, creating colour and movement. Trying to pry some kelp from the rocks, Jason was impressed at the solid foundations that cement it to withstand all that mother nature may throw at it.

On the beach we also found a piece of machinery of some sort and a rope spool standing as a monument on the sand.

We felt refreshed and happy after a day of fun and frolicking. The next day would be our Ironbounds day – we were a little daunted as we sat in the shadow of this mighty mountain range.

• Distance: 12.7 kms
• Total time on track: 8hr 45mins
  • Osmiridian to Prion Boat Crossing: 3 hrs
  • Boat crossing: 30 mins (only one crossing required – otherwise allow an hour to make 3 crossings to ensure there is one boat on either side)
  • Boat Crossing to Turua Beach: 4 hrs
• Dinner: Shepherds pie (yummo!)

Day 5 Turua Beach to Ironbound Summit

Waking at sunrise, I made the disheartening discovery that a cheeky animal had scaled the tree and managed to get into our food bag. Thankfully the only casualties were a tea bag and a few nuts and raisins from my scroggin mix.

We started the day in sandals to walk along the beach. Then, with boots on, we headed inland to Little Deadmans Bay via some board walk with a daunting view of the imposing Ironbound Range.

We reached the pebbly shores of Little Deadmans Bay as one brave soul was preparing for a brisk dip. We passed through the campsite, groups stirring and many looking rather fatigued from their ‘Ironbounds day’.

After Little Deadmans Bay the track skirts around a headland for quite a while. Finally we started heading up into the Ironbounds, with a steady ascent, conscious that this would continue for many hours.

Near Ironbounds Low camp we rested by some cascades, a most welcome spot for morning tea. We topped up our water, as there would be no further reliable water source until Ironbound High camp.

After morning tea the gauntlet of tree roots, low branches, mud and slippery rocks began in earnest. We made our long, long climb up the 900m behemoth of the Ironbounds.

We lunched at Ironbound mid-camp. Though lacking any permanent water source, this was a pleasant spot, with a few flat tent sites between moss carpeted logs. We hadn’t seen anyone since Little Deadmans Bay, and truly felt the peacefulness of being alone in a vast expanse of deep Tasmanian rainforest.

We noticed vegetation changes as we continued to climb. Alpine shrubs, pandani, Tasmanian waratah and orchids started to replace the thick, almost impassable green forest. An opening in the canopy revealed views of Havelock Bluff to the south and glimpses of Prion Beach to the east. We took our time to enjoy a cuppa and rest our legs.

Finally out of the trees, the walking became much easier with boardwalk to protect the fragile alpine plants. The air was cooler at the higher altitude.

We stopped for water at Ironbound High camp. We had originally been planning to make camp here, but as warned by fellow walkers, the tent sites were muddy quagmires. We drank our fill from the refreshing mountain stream and filled all our containers. We then pushed on towards the summit with the aim to find the sheltered informal camp that a fellow walker had suggested.

Mist had descended on the summit, and the wind was picking up. There were views, but certainly plenty of atmosphere to leave us in no doubt that we had left the coast and were now in an alpine environment.

Though there was still plenty of time until the sunset, the mist cast a dim light and we were eager to find this promised spot. There were a few spots we thought ‘maybe’, but kept pushing on until finally we reached a saddle. Though I would not encourage people to camp outside the official camsites, we could not have pushed on to Louisa River. We had a good tent and warm gear, and were well prepared for a night in alpine conditions.

The mist cleared momentarily, providing our first view of the majestic mountains of the South West. We huddled beneath our Batwing tarp for a quick dinner, before slipping into our sleeping bags, the wind rustling against our tent.

The Ironbounds had been a long, tough, but rewarding day. We struggled at times, but also had fun clambering over the obstacle course. I am glad we walked east to west, as I would much prefer tackling the forested side of the Ironbounds as an ascent. Descending this terrain, after a long climb up, would be pretty taxing. We both agreed that we liked the Ironbounds much more than the South Cape Range – at least it has views!

• Distance: 9.3 km
• Total time on track: 11 hours
  • Turua Beach to Little Deadmans Bay:1 hr
  • Little Deadmans Bay Ironbounds mid-camp: 4 hrs
  • Ironbounds mid-camp to saddle: 5 hrs 30
• Dinner: Butter tofu curry and rice

Day 6 Ironbounds Summit to Louisa Bay

I awoke in our alpine camp to mist with intermittent views over the South West. Leaving Jason to recuperate with a sleep in, I was treated to delightful panoramas between wafts of mist.

The mist became heavier, and again we were appreciative of our trusty tarp set up to keep the gear dry as we packed up. Keen west to east hikers were already passing as we made our final preparations for the descent. Eating muesli bars, we perched on our rocky outcrop overlooking the surrounding mountains and Louisa Bay in the distance.

On the descent we enjoyed even more splendid views, the mist deigning to part to reveal the iconic outline of Federation Peak and the Western Arthurs on the horizon. We could also see the track sprawling out across the plains below, giving us a sense of what lay ahead. The mountains of the South West truly are magnificent. They are on such a scale that photos rarely do justice.

The descent from the Ironbounds was steep, but rocky and without mud and obstacles that cover the south-east face. We reached the cool forest surrounding Louisa River by lunchtime. An invitingly deep swimming hole on the river bend was the spot for a cooling dip, though it proved a bit chilly for full submersion.

After our break, we waded across the river, then began our trek across exposed buttongrass plains beneath Mt Louisa and along to Spica Hills. We passed only two other groups and could really appreciate the remoteness of the area.

The turn off to Louisa Bay crossed a small, swampy creek, where we had to fill our night’s supply of water, as there is no reliable source at Louisa Bay itself. We continued through endless buttongrass plains, baking in the hot sun, until we finally entered some tea tree forest and descended steeply to Louisa Bay.

At Louisa Bay we discovered a pretty headland and caves to explore at low tide. The sheltered campsite felt a little dark due to being in the shadow of the cliffs. We were the only people there, and given the late hour of the day, expected it to remain this way (it did).

After dinner, we took a long stroll down the beach to the mouth of Louisa River. Louisa Island sits just offshore, with Mt Louisa standing as a backdrop to the north.

We enjoyed exploring the labyrinth of sand dunes, the fine white powdery sand soft between our toes. Shore plovers and oyster catchers pottered along. We even saw pipis poking out of the sand, sticking their tongues out at low tide.

The sun gradually lowered, setting over the ocean. As it dipped low, it cast pink reflections into the sky, illuminating the Ironbounds and Mt Louisa for one last celebration of their magnificence before nightfall.

• Distance: 11.7 km
• Total time on track: 7 hrs 30
  • Ironbound saddle to Louisa River: 2 hr 45
  • Louisa River to Louisa Bay: 3 hrs 15
• Dinner: Spicy noodles

Day 7 Louisa Bay to Buoy Creek

I started my morning with a coffee in hand and sea breeze in my hair as I sat, watching the waves at our peaceful beach. Another leisurely start, taking the opportunity to stroll along the sand and play among the dunes.

The weather was cooler, so the walk back along the plains was more enjoyable. We chatted to a large group heading out on a side trip to Louisa Bay.

From the junction we walked over brown buttongrass and banksia covered hills. Patches of green forest marked the paths of gullies and streams.

We lunched by the bend of Louisa Creek, listening to the sound of water over stones. Other groups arrived. One kind woman offered a supportive arm so Jason could cross the creek by balancing on a log, saving us messing around with taking boots off.

Soon we reached Faraway Creek, which also required fording. The water here was also shallow enough that with careful foot placement and good balance, we were able to leave our boots on and avoid wet feet.

After the creeks we had a 250m climb up to Red Point Hills. In general the walking was fairly easy, though it was a climb with a false summit, so we had to really push ourselves on for the last stretch to the summit. As we rested, we took our last look at the Ironbounds before the descent to Cox Bight.

We descended steeply into a peaceful valley. The trees were exceptionally green and lush, and there were songbirds twittering everywhere. A flock of black cockatoos flew over – some would say this signals a number of days of impending rain.

We walked through more buttongrass plains. Long stretches of the track were on boardwalk to protect the environment and save us from more bogs. The boardwalk was the metal grate variety, and after six days of tramping on the earth it felt oddly disconnected from the environment, like we were walking on a weird footpath through the wilderness. Wooden boardwalk, though requiring more maintenance, feels and looks more natural.

We arrived at Buoy Creek, undecided as to whether to camp there or continue to Point Eric. A family with two children (10 and 12) were camped at Buoy Creek, and after a quick look around at the beach and pretty creek we made our decision to join them.

An afternoon frolicking in the creek and ocean. So refreshing. The sea was surprisingly warm (by Tasmanian standards), warmed by the afternoon sun.

We strolled along the beach after dinner, exploring caves and rock pools as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two boats were moored further out, and as night fell one headed out of the cove for some night fishing.

• Distance: 12.6 km
• Total time on track: 7 hrs
• Dinner: Spag bol

Day 8 Buoy Creek to Melaleuca

Our last morning waking in the tent by the ocean. Rain had fallen overnight, but cleared by morning. We skimmed rocks and built sandcastles.

Barefooted, we walked along the beach, savouring every last moment of our South Coast adventure. At Black Cliffs the tide was a little on the high side, and we probably should have taken the inland route, but it was so pleasant without boots. We were pretty safe, sticking to the cliff edges, but did cop a few splashes as the waves rolled in.

Safely on the other side, we continued bare foot tramping along the sand until Point Eric, where we stopped for a late morning tea. Point Eric campsite overlooks the bay, which was very inviting. However, conscious of much distance still to cover, we continued on our walk. We kept our sandals on for the short walk across Point Eric and continued barefoot along the next stretch of sand.

Freney Lagoon was our next stop for lunch and what a beauty! Nestled behind the dunes, the lagoon lies beneath tall mountains at the end of a glacial u-shaped valley. The waters were warm, so we waded in for a frolic and swim. Such a fun way to spend our last day.

After lunch, the dark clouds that had been threatening finally opened, so we hurriedly put on raincoats and boots for our final stretch of the walk.

The rain didn’t last long, and soon we were sweating in our raincoats. We saw a solitary rock ahead on the sand. I was about to say it was shaped like a dolphin, then realised it actually was a dead dolphin that had washed up on the shore. A bit gross, but a unique and slightly fascinating sight.

We said our goodbyes to the southern ocean and headed inland.

The walk to Melaleuca is a long stretch with boardwalk and stony paths making the terrain fairly easy walking. I am always awed to walk where glaciers once filled the valleys, carving the surrounding rocks and peaks. Lord of the Rings fans might half expect the riders of Rohan to appear over the crest of a mountain in this landscape.

Pretty flowers filled the buttongrass plains. Our feet and shoulders were getting tired. At the junction to New Harbour we knew we had around 6 km to go. The next point of excitement was seeing the airstrip in the distance. Then…finally, seeing it much closer as we came over the crest of a hill.

In patches of lush green forest around we noticed nesting boxes as part of the program to help the critically endangered orange bellied parrots.

At last we reached the airstrip, took our end of track selfie, and signed into the log book. Walk complete.

A number of walkers were waiting out the weather at Melaleuca, with no planes having been able to land that day. There were mumbles that ‘hopefully’ the weather would be OK for flights the next day. Fingers crossed.

We reached the bushwalkers huts and had a pleasant evening chatting with fellow walkers. A quick walk to the peaceful shores of Melaleuca lagoon before bed.

• Distance: 16.4 km
• Total time on track: 7 hrs 30
  • Buoy Creek to Freney Lagoon: 2 hrs 30
  • Freney Lagoon to Melaleuca: 4 hrs
• Dinner: Tom yum noodles

A final reflection

The South Coast Track was a challenging, magical, peaceful and fun eight days. There are talks of commercial operators moving in and potentially building huts to accommodate the growing popularity of this walk. I sincerely hope it remains largely free of human infrastructure. It is a special place, and if it is to retain its majestic appeal, that should mean it has to remain out of reach for some.

We cannot expect or demand to set foot on every inch of this earth. May we find enough joy and inspiration from the images and words of those who do walk in the wilds to know that these few places must remain wild.