Tag Archives: tent

I think I can, I think I can

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As I left Cluan and continued on, I recalled the child’s story of The Little Engine that Could. I was the little train on the old rotting tracks. Walking on the sleepers. Walking between the sleepers. That was my routine for the rest of the day.  I thought I could keep going. I know I can I know I can I know I can – was the regular thought that powered me over the irregular surfaces which required total vigilance to prevent a twisted or broken ankle.

In the photos below, the Derwent River is located over the paddocks near the row of trees, and inaccessible.

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Gradually, as the line took me higher and higher, my views of the Derwent River were clearer.

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The sun came out and I watched worried cows racing away from me. Beautiful healthy black cattle in contrast to lush lime-green grass.

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With a rainstorm approaching, finding a suitable camping spot suddenly became very important.

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Obviously my dream to camp near the river could not happen. So I settled near a couple of wattle trees, next to the railway line across from the paddock with the cows.  Surprisingly, the ground was soft dust. I cannot explain in this wet green landscape why the soil where I was pitching my tent would be almost bone dry but I am grateful because the tent pegs slipped in easily and strangely stayed firm.  Magic in the Derwent Valley.

As I opened my backpack, drops of rain were being winded my way with force. Blog followers may remember my tent weighs only a few grams over 1 kilogram.  Trust me; its lightness was not a benefit in that atmosphere. Firstly, I laid the tent out and weighted it to the ground. The next process was to unfold the structural rods and insert them into the tent to create the shape.  But the wind twisted and threw me and the rods at all angles. The cows talked. I said some choice words.

Exasperated and flustered the pieces eventually fitted and stayed together. I withdrew the fly from its sack and out it flew like a large lime green cape.  Into the wattle trees.  Out of the wattle trees. Attached to the tent at one corner. Over me. Off me. Start again. Onto the railway line. More choice words from all the animals. Once the fly was attached to two points, while it was a scramble to attach it at the third point, I was winning. And then the tent and fly were up, taut, holding their own against the wind.  No wine to celebrate. Now there was an oversight!

Thanks to the tent vestibule I was able to cook my dinner with wind protection. Then I settled back, read a little, before dozing and sleeping all night.  Loved it when a toilet break was required under the stars. I smiled to see the velvety black silhouettes of the cows lined up along the fence line, no longer afraid of me.  It was quite wonderful being out in the fresh clean country air and I was immensely pleased that I had persevered through the day and arrived at this magical spot.

Tent practice

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I have slept in tents but not for many years. Over the past days I realised that I have never camped in a tent without a car nearby, except for my overnighters on the Overland Track (during which I stayed in huts). That is, all my bushwalking experiences have been day walks not requiring the carrying of a tent.

Recently I set out to practice sleeping in my new tent in order to accustom myself to the noises of the night (at home I have double glazed windows so that sleep time is a silent time).  In order to complete my record of all aspects of my trek along the Derwent, I am including this post – but you will recognise a nincompoop in capital letters when you read about my first experience.

Last week I was tired when I put on shoes and socks (trying to be a little authentic), slipped on my headlamp and treked off into the night from my home’s front door. A few metres down the hill into my backyard, where I had pitched my tent earlier in the day, I unzipped the rain-dropped tent fly, fumbled with the tent zip, and quickly fell through the hole created, into the tent. Twisting around, I was immediately sitting comfortably on my borrowed mattress (thanks Ju) all the while slipping around on the new sleeping bag, reaching out and rezipping my tent fly, and untying my shoe laces. Off came the shoes and I was really pleased with the way one side of the tent fly makes a little vestibule. The shoes could sit there on the grass protected from the rain. Pulled in the legs and zipped the tent. It was difficult to keep still; the shiny sleeping bag surface was constantly moving beneath me.

I have an incline for a back yard, not very steep but my block of land is not horizontal.  Earlier in the day I had installed the tent in a place where the trees and bushes wouldn’t scratch past the tent if there was any wind, and where it didn’t seem as steep a slope as elsewhere. Of course I discovered a shiny sleeping bag on a slope is not conducive for continuous sleep. Ridiculously hopeless from the beginning and a good lesson learnt.

Inside the tent I had plenty of room, and was perfectly set up for a good night’s sleep. The sleeping bag was snug and cocoon like. I was wearing a thermal top, socks and fleece trousers but it was too hot in that little tube to wear them all. So I am very happy with the ability of my new sleeping bag to keep me warm overnight.

But whenever I wriggled or turned over, down I slipped heading towards the bottom of the tent. Each downward slide required a new effort from me, inside that zipped up close-fitting cocoon, to lump/hump myself back up towards the top of the tent. Get positioned. Go to sleep. Wake up to find I am turning over in my sleep and heading south. Grunt and groan to get myself back uphill again. Super sleep. Oh oh. Going downhill again. Repeat the manoeuvre. Rest. Contemplate how happily warm I am. Fall deeply and happily asleep.

Waking yet again, I realised the mattress was turning cold. I was very warm inside my nylon tube but where my body touched, a penetrating cold was coming through. Why, I wondered. Was the mattress deflating? No it did not seem to be. Unexplainable but not good. I willed myself to sleep and slipped off yet again into the land of nod.

It was when I awoke around 4am, the mattress was too cold, and I was at the bottom of the tent heading towards a foetal position that I remembered I did have a bed to go to.  Feet into the shoes, out into the drizzle, and then ‘home’. Yes – later I did feel rested. Friends can see a cartoon or two coming out of this ‘adventure’!

This weekend I headed into the country and, thanks to blog follower Ju, I was able to camp on a more rural property out in an apple orchard. Deliberately I set the tent up in an area that is normally considered a possum and wallaby thoroughfare because I wanted to see if the scampering and vocal gymnastics of these native animals would wake or alarm me.

Tasmania is home to 5 species of possum.  The type most commonly found where I camped would have been the Common Brushtail Possum (photo below is from Tasmanian Wildlife Matters http://www.wildlifematters.org.au/Brushtail_Possum.htm)

Common Brushtail Possum

Which of Tasmania’s two species of wallaby were grazing around me overnight, I will never know. It could have been either or both the Bennett’s wallaby

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(Photo from Tasmanian Wildlife Matters http://www.wildlifematters.org.au/Bennetts_Wallaby.htm) or the Pademelon also known as the Rufous wallaby (Photo from Tasmanian Wildlife Matters http://www.wildlifematters.org.au/Tas_Pademelon.htm)

Pademelon

There are no funny stories from my night in the orchard. I slept flat. The mattress didn’t become cold. The animals didn’t wake me.  I slept.  Outside in the morning, a carpet of hard frost covered the land – but I was never cold inside the tent. Apprenticeship over!

A light rain dusted the tent before dismantling, and continued while I packed up. So my only issue now is to find a clever way to dry a tent before repacking when I am out and about on my walks.

Shelter for the walk

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In future months I will be sleeping out on a few nights when I head off from New Norfolk towards Lake St Clair trudging beside the Derwent River. In the past few days I have outlaid outlandish sums of money when I purchased the lightest sleeping bag and tent.  Collectively they weigh 1.99kg.  We all have our priorities and mine is clearly to walk to Lake St Clair with the minimum of discomfort.  For others who might follow in my footsteps and expect to seek the lightest gear, as an example here is what I bought.

  1. The tent, a Marmot Force 1P, has a bright lime green shell supported by slim ‘Featherlite’ steel rods. In this one person tent I will be able to sit up (head zone is 91cm high), load the contents of my backpack at my feet (length less than 2 metres), and sit my backpack outside in the triangular vestibule.  It has a full coverage fly. The documentation with the tent indicates the package weighs 1.06kg.

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Yes this is the tent set up in the comfort of my loungeroom!  It was a trial installation; first the tent and then the fly.

  1. The sleeping bag is a Mountain Design Ultra Tek 470 with a black 20 Denier shell, a vivacious orange coloured zip defining one edge and the inside of the bag is aflame with more brilliant orange fabric. Pertex Quantum is the windproof fabric used to reduce the weight without sacrificing strength and abrasion resistance. IApparently the fabric’s softness allows insulation in the sleeping bag to have more loft. A special feature is the water repellence of the 750 Duck Down Tek fill. The sleeping bag, including the stuff sack, weighs a mere 0.93kg.

Sleeping bags are temperature rated in 3 different measurements:

  • Comfort (C) is based on a standard adult woman having a comfortable night’s sleep
  • Limit (L) is based on the lowest temperature at which a standard adult male is deemed to be able to have a comfortable night’s sleep
  • Extreme (E) is a survival only rating for a standard adult woman

The temperature rating guide for my sleeping bag is C=1, L = -4, and E = -21 degrees.

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I still need to obtain one further comfort item; an inflatable mattress which weighs next to nothing.  More research required.