Ascent and Acclimation

Yesterday I climbed Cathedral Rock.  It bubbles up from the ground just behind Mt. Wellington, the mountain that shelters Hobart from all the rain in the South (making life here pretty dry, thankfully).  There were about ten, maybe twelve of us, and it was beautiful, ascending through a vast, vast array of different micro-ecosystems.  We began on a dirt road along some private property, which melted into a shallow riverbed strewn with gleaned smooth boulders and pebbles, which we crossed.  Then began our ascent, crossing back and forth through a series of vaulting passes, sinking into a monotony of boot-to-rock-to-rock-to rock until you got to a bend in the path and you turned around, watching the sun singing through the trees all around, above and below, you.  We pressed on.  Eventually, I and three others got ahead of everyone else and ended up going down the wrong route for a time.  But, luckily, I remembered seeing an old gnarled trail marker a ways back and we got back on track with little time lost.  Now, this is the ridiculously fun part: we then commenced a lengthy boulder scramble up the side of the cliff, covered in jutting rocks and soggy trunks, their roots convenient handholds, all the while pumping our feet up higher, cackling into the whispers of wind, and pausing for breath while gasping at how high we'd ascended.  Finally, the summit was reached.  Sheer beauty erupted across my vision as the sun soared into the large valley that is made up of Mt. Wellington, Cathedral Rock, and the Fingers, a series of sharp towers of stone that are lolling up into the sky.  Lunch was sparse but oh, so delicious.  We leaned and loafed hundreds of feet in the air with apples and cheese and peanut-butter sandwiches and nothing at all could disturb us.  Except the wind.  That bugger finally drove us downward, but not until the first group had split, the second group had arrived, eaten, and was ready to descend as well.  Now, it took an hour and forty minutes to climb Cathedral Rock.  We made it down in a third of that time, sprinting down the switchbacks and practically sliding down the rock scramble.  By the time we'd reached the rocky river bed again a pause was in order, during which I discovered a large, squiggling leach on my left ankle, which I promptly removed.  I also waded through the shallow streams that spurted out of the rocks, collecting a few pebbles (which are looking at me on my desk now) and waiting for the others to all arrive.  When we'd reached the cars again I paid my dues to the Bushwalking Club and we rode into town, got a bunch of random ingredients (attempting to make Mexican Chili in Tasmania is harder than you'd think, Aubrey) and concocted a stew..ish...thing.  We call it Drop Bear Stew.  Its delicious, don't get me wrong, but..unconventional, at best.  The ingredients (approx.) are as follows: taco meat from a night before, sour cream, 3 cans of corn, 2 cans of tomatoes, a burnt baguette, green and red capsicum (peppers), 2 cans of five bean mix, some cajun spices, a bunch of other spices, garlic, and hunger.  Ah, how filled were we.
All things considered, an excellently spent second Saturday in Tassie.  Next weekend's either gonna be a local barbeque I've been invited to or a series of bushwalks in Southern Tasmania.