To find the way, one must loose the way.
Morning mist, dolerite peak. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, April 2025.
I have never considered myself to have a good sense of direction. The amount of times I have been lost, or chosen to go the wrong way are a testament to this.
My first memory of being lost in the bush was on the northern circuit of Wilson’s Prom. Back then I really was a bit green when it came to outdoor pursuits, but the notion that my lack of experience should disqualify me from attempting what was classed as a ‘remote and poorly marked trail for experienced walkers only’ did not occur to me. I barged ahead, and got myself lost in the scrub on the plains, with no visible landmarks, despite the route having a decent pad and being marked with pink tape nonetheless. I walked around in circles for about five hours. At one point the river scrub got so thick I had to fall onto it backwards with my pack to knock it down so I could step on it. I did have a map and compass, but without the landmarks they weren’t much help. In the end I crossed the marked route by accident, and I was able to stay on the trail for the rest of the trip. It was a humbling experience, and I remember feeling victorious when I eventually completed the hike on the third day.
Years later I remember losing the Moses Creek track on my first attempt towards Cathedral Mountain in the Walls. I ended up pushing on well past any point where there may have been a hope of actually being on a pad of any sort, and kept climbing up this hill toward what I thought was the right direction. When I eventually checked the map and ascertained my position with a compass using triangulation, I discovered I had gone well off route and would have to walk about two and a half kilometres cross country to get back on the track. Naturally, it took quite a bit longer than I expected. About four hours from memory. There were a number of gullies I had to cross and quite a few tea tree thickets. In the end I was content to have made it to Chapter Lake by nightfall, which is usually a cruisy three hour walk. It took me all day.
Then there was my first attempt to walk out to Federation Peak. I had only three days so I thought I would have a crack at a fast and light mindset trip, which is not usually my style. Things went quite well for the first couple of hours. But upon reaching the first saddle from where the track descends to the Cracroft River, I followed a taped route that led me into some thick rainforest, only for the tape to eventually abandon me in the scrub somewhere on the Cracroft plains. Still, there was a descent footpad so I decided to follow it. Eventually I figured out that this was not the Eastern Arthurs Traverse, but the old track to Judd’s Cavern. By the time I made this realisation it was too late for me to backtrack and get to Cutting Camp that day, where I needed to be if I was going to have a crack at Federation Peak on that trip. So my first trip to Federation Peak was actually a trip to Judd’s Cavern.
It is worth noting that in all these cases I followed my intuition, and while it often led me away from my intended route, it did lead me to make discoveries which I wouldn’t have made otherwise. But it is also worth noting that the map and compass and technical navigation skills helped me find my way back to my intended route and eventually out of the wilderness in all these cases. Without these tools and skills I might still be out there walking around in circles, scratching my head!
Decidious Beech in glacial bowl. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, April 2025.
While I don’t think my sense of direction is particularly good, neither is it terrible overall. Certainly with years of practice, it has gotten a lot better. But the reason I have gotten lost over the years is probably because I don’t really mind being lost.
In some ways, the way can only be found if the way is lost. To truly learn how to pay attention carefully over the course of many hours, one must first learn exactly how much of a pain in the ass it is to let the concentration lapse and lose one’s way out in the bush. To learn how not to make mistakes, we must first make all the mistakes. In my case, because I am a slow learner in a lot of ways, I need to make the same mistakes a number of times before I eventually learn how to avoid them.
And then there are greater philosophical questions around finding one’s way, especially out in the wild places. A lot of my trips have a specific destination, or goal in mind. A trip is generally considered a success if the ‘objective’ or ‘destination’ is reached along the route intended. And if not, then the trip is considered a ‘failed attempt’. But slowly and surely my attitude in this regard is starting to shift. I try to hold my awareness a bit more open these days. The more firmly we hold our objective in mind, the more blind we become to the surrounding landscape around us. The more fixated we get on reaching our destination, the more our destination continues to elude us. And here I mean destination in a metaphorical sense; not only a physical place, but rather, a state of mind that comes with arriving to the place we were meant to find. Discoveries are made with an open mind.
Best Friends- Fagus and Pencil Pine. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, April 2025.
-A.S. 17th of May 2025, Sandy Bay, Nipaluna / Hobart, Lutruwita /Tasmania.