Having spent one of the most unusual weeks of our lives on the Tasmanian Franklin River, I was at a quandary as to how to adequately describe what went on. Rather than a strict narrative, this is a Q and A format. These are what we anticipate are the most FAQ -- frequently asked questions -- about such a trip.
From Feb 22 - 28 we spent 7 days and 6 nights whitewater rafting, camping, and hiking the Franklin River. This wilderness river is a World Heritage Area in central Tasmania. We started at the Collingswood River Bridge (near the junction with the Franklin River) and traveled 128 kilometers via the river down to Mount McCabe.
At 7:15 a.m. a minibus picked us up in front of our respective hostels in Hobart, the capital of Tasmania. We were dressed as told: swimsuit, long polypro (or silk) underwear, shorts and T-shirt, shoes that can get wet. We looked like refugees from a camp for boat people. Our non-river clothes and toiletries were in waterproof (so they said) dry bags.
After a while we stopped at Ouze (pronounce ooze) for sandwiches, pop, and candy (breakfast), later at Dewent Bridge for our last use of flush toilets and taste of pop for a week. When we arrived at the put-in at the bridge on the Collingswood River we had to blow up the two 12 foot rafts with a hand pump, tie the drybags (now double bagged) and barrels containing food on the raft. It was hot, we were tired, and we hadn''t even started. Then we took off down the river and all was well. A short raft down the Collingswood River fed into the Franklin River.
On the river we always wore: swimsuit, long underwear (water was quite cold), wetsuit, socks, shoes that could always be wet but still grip when climbing rocks, windbreaker, lifejacket, helmet, rafting gloves (optional). It reminded me of my mother dressing me up in layers to go play in the snow but having so many layers on it was hard to bend and walk. The layers were usually wet from water and/or sweat for most of the day and only rarely dried out at night. One of the things we will not miss is getting into soggy stuff early each morning. Yeah, well, it didn't smell great either after a while but we were all in the same boat, I mean, raft.
Off the river we wore fleece pants and tops and dry shoes/boots. At night it got quite cold so we wore layers in our sleeping bags. Di perfected a method to completely enclose herself (wearing fleece shirt, pants, socks and a hat) in a mummy bag so that absolutely no skin showed....the human cocoon.
On a typical day we were up by 7:30 a.m., ate breakfast, packed up the tarps, kitchen equipment, our personal dry bags, and food barrels then tied all of this very securely on the two rafts. The dry bags were constantly in water so you took care to seal yours properly. We would be on the river until lunch (about noon) or a necessary portage. After lunch more river time until about 3 or 4 p.m. We would set up the "bedroom" (tarps and sleeping bags), clothes lines to take our clothes from wet to cold and damp, the kitchen (stoves, food, dishwashing), and the Groover (toilet area). Sometimes we'd swim or just collapse on a nearby rock with a cup of wine and some appetizers. After dinner we'd clean up, talk, and get to bed about 9 p.m. On the last night we played charades by moonlight....an interesting game with an international group. Ask Tim to show you his charade for the word "Born" of the movie "Natural Born Killers".
The Franklin River was cold, clean (little detritus), and the color of tea (due to tannin leached from surrounding vegetation). I do mean clean. We used the river water directly for all our drinking and washing needs. It wasn't unusual to untie a cup from the raft, dipping it in the river for a cold refreshing drink as we floated along. Those of you who camp know that in the U.S. this would be impossible due to giardia (a microorganism from wildlife that can make people seriously ill). No such problem here (no moose or deer). It was hard to believe that you could use the water directly. However, strict prohibition of soap products, rules for washing, and very limited people use of the river makes that possible. Also, there are no human settlements (farms, houses, factories) anywhere along the river.
We had no idea what was in the six 5-gallon plastic barrels marked food that we constantly tied and untied on the raft...were we surprised. No mere camp food for us. On two very small camp burners (no fires allowed), using about four pans Kevin cooked the following meals for us during the week:
Did we suffer? Heck no.
Depending on the camp site and the weather we slept on blowup air mattresses (called Lilos): under a huge rock ledge on rocky ground that had a constant light drip of water over (not on) us..called Angel Rain Cavern; under a very large tarp on forest ground in the pouring rain after checking ourselves for leeches and ticks .. called Irenabyss; under a tarp in dry weather surrounded by rainforest vegetation .. called Camp Arcade; in a cave (Tim and Di had a private cave to themselves... Barry had a solo cave with glowworms..Jude and Craig had a double cave that dripped) with a view of the gorge, the river, and the sky (incredible site called Churn Camp but big rocks to climb to get around). Another rainforest site where we located the Southern Cross constellation. Those are the most memorable; not comfortable, but we had the fresh air, sounds of only the wind, the river, and the wild life.
(This may be a delicate subject but usually one of interest, even if people are too polite to ask.) Let me fondly introduce the Groover. It is a metal ammunition box measuring about 18" H x 8" W x 12" L. It is lined with a garbage bag and has a top. It is used for solid human wastes only (liquids belong in bushes) and should be at least 100 meters from any water source. This usually places the Groover at the end of some remote trail festooned with large rocks, mudslides, and/or branches growing at eye level. All trail hazards are especially noticeable at night when using ever-dimming flashlight. Our Groover sites have included magnificent views of mountains and the river, rainforest, rocky outcroppings, and mountain streams. My largest bruises are from Groover trail excursions. At the start of the Groover trail is a roll of toilet paper and a primitive handwashing site. By taking the t.p. with you on the trail, you are indicating that the Groover (or surrounding area) is occupied, so you are not disturbed.
To use the Groover: 1) Inhale; 2) Remove the top; 3) Balance cheap plastic removable toilet seat atop open Groover; 4) Balance yourself atop toilet seat atop Groover (surprisingly comfortable); 5) Contemplate the beauty of nature around you; 6) When done, remove self and seat without you or Groover falling over and without t.p. falling down the hill; 7) Add a sprinkle of lime from nearby jar; 8) Replace Groover lid and put seat upside down on top of Groover; 9) Exhale. It is called the Groover (an international rafting term) because if the seat gets lost or broken, grooves are what you get. Fortunately, the Groover is maintained and transported by guides only.
Who washed? We were usually wet from getting splashed by whitewater. On three occasions we had a chance to strip down to our swimsuits and swim in the river. No soap is allowed on the river and the water was very refreshing (read that very cold) so the dips were short and of minimal cleansing use. At one point we swam across the river and dried in the sun, then bribed someone to bring us back on the raft....what wimps.
We did brush our teeth and comb our hair but personal standards slowly disintegrated. But the flies and ticks and leeches enjoyed our company and after a while it really doesn't matter much. This probably grosses some of you out but with this kind of deprivation, the shower (using soap and shampoo) at the end of the week becomes a near orgasmic experience.
We started our trip with a short lesson on the nine basic rafting commands. These are: easy forward, forward, hard forward, hard left/right, move left/right (don't paddle, just move to that side of the raft), all back (stroke backwards), hold on (or you may fall out), get down (get to bottom of raft or you may fall out) and stop (paddling). After a while we were able to work as a team and follow our guide's instructions. This is crucial when faced with a narrow chute or rocky descent...most of the time the worst that could happen is you could fall out of the raft and have to be dragged back in later downstream. In some situations you were in rapids where falling out could be dangerous (due to rocks and undercurrents) or even fatal. Luckily, even the times when we panicked and forgot our left from right, we stayed in the raft...although our guide had to get out a few times to push us off rocks. The adrenaline flowed and the roar of the water made it hard to hear commands.. and fear was pushed back by excitement. What a rush!
Sometimes the river was quite calm and we would float along or paddle gently as Kevin (our guide) told us about the river and we learned about each other. Before any whitewater, the guides would stop the rafts and plan our approach, then explain to us what we should do to make it through. Most of the time we followed their instructions....sometimes we were just lucky.
After a particularly difficult bit of river (and we were congratulating ourselves), Kevin told us about the much feared tenth command of rafting. He has never had to use it and hopes he never will. It consists of him shouting "Paddle hard you m----- f-----, or we're all gonna die!". We laughed, but the seriousness of what we were doing was brought back to mind.
We were prepared, we thought, for the excitement and work involved in rafting white water but were completely taken unaware by the effort and intensity of the portages. For you non-rafters, portaging is moving the contents of the raft (and sometimes the raft itself) over dry land or river obstacles when actual rafting is impossible or too dangerous. Although our guides had been down the Franklin seven times before that season (including the week before), they had no way of knowing when/if we would be portaging our rafts. There is little topsoil on the rocks surrounding the river so when it rains, the water levels at various river obstacles differ greatly. Sometimes, there is too little water to go over logs or rocks blocking our way. At other times, too much water going too fast made the same obstacle unsafe. So the guides would have to evaluate certain sites as we reached them.
Here are some of the types of portages we used.
When all was said and done, the portages gave us a similar sense of accomplishment as going over whitewater: teamwork and planning accompanied by intense activity.
On our last morning we gladly got into our stinky clothes, had breakfast, cleaned up camp, loaded the rafts, and rafted for a mere 45 minutes. Then we unloaded most of the gear and each of us put on our drybags like backpacks. The guides had been teasing us about the final walk to the pick-up point. Little did we know that it was to be the hardest trek of our lives. Carrying our 40 lb. packs we walked (and climbed and crawled) up the side of McCall Mountain, a trail covering over 1000 feet of vertical over a 2 kilometer distance, wearing our wetsuits and most of our river gear. There were stairs and just rocks to climb, chain handrails drilled into the rock and trees or roots as handholds. We just went up and up and up.....90 minutes of up with a few stops to catch our breath. And you couldn't stumble on the path or you'd fall off the edge. Finishing that climb was like reaching the promised land.
At the top of the mountain we stripped to our swimsuits and dried our stuff as best we could, eating dried fruit and chocolate until the 4WD Land Rover picked us up an hour later. Two hours of true four-wheeling on barely passable road...the only access to this World Heritage area. (We seriously think Tim suffered a mild concussion at this point. He kept bouncing around in the truck and felt out of it for several days afterwards). Then four more hours in the minibus with stops again at Dermont Bridge and Ouze (for our first flush toilers and pop in a week). Needless to say we looked forward to showers and doing our laundry..some our stuff has permanent tea-colored stains from essentially being soaked for a week in river water....souveniers, I guess.
This trip was truly a once in a lifetime experience. Imagine spending a week with only 10 people (8 total strangers). Imagine seeing no sign of other humans and no signs of civilization for 7 days except a few other rafters and one lost boater. Imagine being on a river that is rafted by only 300 people a year. In fact, only 10,000 people so far have been down this river ever. (The rivers in the western U.S. can have that many in a summer.) Whitewater, gorges, mountains, caves, rainforests, waterfalls, wild cockatoos, clear starry nights, absolute silence except for the river, testing your strength and balance and patience. Doing things you never thought or knew you could do. How could we possibly pass up this opportunity?
Back to the mainland. More tales coming. Keep in touch. Di and Tim
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