Tag Archives: Hilary Webster

Hobart to Lake St Clair in 1850; mostly by foot.

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Another of the stories published in Hilary Webster’s compilation: The Tasmanian Traveller A Nineteenth Century Companion For Modern Traveller, recorded the Journey of F.J. Cockburn who on foot travelled ‘From Hobart to Lake St Clair and Return’ in 1850.

The Tasmanian Traveller

Cockburn seems to have been the butt of nonsense advice when he asked around for the best time of year to walk from Hobart to the remote inland Lake St Clair, which is located roughly in the centre of Tasmania. He tells ‘I received replies which induced me to start on May-day.’  By that time of year, temperatures are plummeting and the further you progress away from the coast of Tasmania the more the rain settles in.

He took a steamer to New Norfolk and then it rained for 4 days.  On one of these early walking days he found an essential bridge had been washed away with the deluge. His crossing was memorable. ‘The river remained impassable until 7th, when by letting a long ladder down from the remnant of the bridge onto the ruins of one of the piers, I was able to cross, like a monkey, before an admiring audience’.

Miles later he ‘stopped at a little eating house, in a damp situation surrounded with wet fields …” What was wrong with F.J. Cockburn’s powers of perception?  All the weather signs indicated that proceeding further at that time of the year was a bad idea.  Then came more reasons for abandoning the walk; ‘the last six or seven miles of my day’s journey was along a regular wild bush road, affording admirable opportunities for murder and robbery.’

Despite these factors, F.J. Cockburn persisted with his journey. After losing his way at one point he came across a hut with two shepherds who fed him mutton chops, damper and tea. “My bed was formed on the floor near the fire, of sheepskins, and I was very thankful that it was too cold for fleas.”

When he reached Lake St Clair, his appreciation of the lake was stymied. ‘The sides of the lake being covered with dense forest, almost impenetrable, it cannot be seen to advantage without a boat, and boat there was none.’

Cockburn summed up his experience of Lake St Clair as ‘certainly a gem in its own way. It is as fine as any Scotch lake of its size, excepting in the beauty of the foliage on the banks. It was a wild and striking scene.’

F.J. Cockburn carried a satchel weighing ‘about twelve pounds: one shooting coat, waistcoat and trousers; one pair of shoes; three shirts; three flannel waistcoats; three pairs of socks; three handkerchiefs; one pair of braces; one neck-tie; one travelling dressing case – and when I started, half a pound of “nailrod” tobacco.’  I can’t help wondering how small this man was – these days the clothes on this list would weigh much more for the average sized walker.

He concluded ‘on the whole I was pleased with my trip; the roads were bad, the country wet and the air cold, but on the other hand, the grass was more vividly green than at any other time, the air was clear and crisp, there were no fleas, and walking was pleasant in the cold.’

Long-term followers of this blog know that I found the start of my last walk (in April) from Bridgewater/Granton to New Norfolk way too cold. This led me to the decision to put on hold any further walking towards Lake St Clair until Springtime when the temperature starts to climb towards summer.  I am in awe of walkers around the world who like being cold and wet and find pleasure in achieving walking goals in such environments.  Perhaps I am too soft!

A story of a walk in 19th century Tasmania

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In the late 1980s, Hilary Webster compiled a book of short stories written by people who travelled around Tasmania by foot and by horse and carriage in the nineteenth century; The Tasmanian Traveller A Nineteenth Century Companion For Modern Travellers.   Thanks to blog follower Ma, I was alerted to this publication.

The Tasmanian Traveller

These stories helped me to understand the difficulty of travel in early colonial Tasmania when roads were not always developed. Some stories surprised me so that I feel inspired to visit Tasmania’s State Archives in order to discover more.

A standout was the story of a walk from ‘Trial Harbour to the Ouse” because the journey relates to some of the area over which I may walk later this year when I restart my walk along the Derwent River.

Trial Harbour is an isolated tiny community on the west coast north of Queenstown where, these days, the few shacks are built with the strangest chimneys to cope with the weight of the westerly winds which blow fiercely from across the Indian Ocean. The Ouse refers to a small town, then hamlet, somewhat south of the centre of Tasmania and situated most remotely from civilisation.  Back then, it took a day’s coach and train ride to reach Hobart. These areas and the land between is an exceptionally rugged environment today and I have difficulty imagining the situation in the 19th century when the walk in the story was taken.

The subtitle of the 1890s story was ’A Lady’s Walking Tour on the West Coast’. A woman (no name) walked with her husband and a dog through ‘untamed’ wilderness, along mining and forestry tracks and the occasional muddy rutted roads.  They climbed mountains, crossed button grass plains and walked through valleys.  She recorded “More than once we were asked our business, the notion of travelling on foot for pleasure in these regions appeared preposterous.” I would say such a walk is extraordinary in this day and age, and totally amazing 125 years ago.  Innovative means were taken to cross rivers. Overnight accommodation was found in out of the way tiny remote mining shops, shacks, huts and the occasional Inn. Telegraph wires were often their only guide for a way forward. Through the rugged wilderness, routinely they walked 17 or more miles (27+kilometres) each day and on one day they walked 33 miles (53 kilometres). I am staggered.  I know the challenging environment in which they walked.  The mountains are many and very steep with ravine and river gullies that are cut into the rock deeply.

Her pack of provisions weighed 7 pounds while her husband carried 21 pounds.  This makes me wonder if contemporary bushwalkers aren’t tough enough – or are we trying to be prepared for every eventuality. The good will of people they met and the willingness of others to share their meagre food supplies, and help with sleeping arrangements, was perhaps something that could be taken for granted in 19th century Tasmania. Generous hospitality as a given.  ‘We got some bread here, and at a house a mile further on the track, some milk, the first fresh milk we had tasted since Waratah.’  This comment indicates she was walking across Tasmania before Trial Harbour – the significant mining town of Waratah is quite a distance north east of Trial Harbour.  So I suspect there may be earlier stories of her walking across other parts of Tasmania – I look forward to conducting research to find records of these.