Black Bluff and I have a long history. It’s the kind of climb that sticks with you—not just because of its eye candy natural views or its place in Tasmania’s ominous Penguin Cradle Trail, but because it humbles anyone who dares climb it. I’ve hiked it three times now, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.
The first time was when I was 12, on a school trip. Back then, I thought I was invincible—or at least as invincible as a kid with a backpack full of bananas and apples. Black Bluff had other ideas. The climb was steep, the trail unforgiving, and my legs felt like jelly when we reached the summit. But looking out at the sprawling wilderness below, I felt a kind of triumph that only comes from surviving something you weren’t entirely sure you’d survive.
Fast forward to 2014, when I decided to tackle Black Bluff again before heading off on a big South American adventure. I thought this would be a nice way to reconnect with home—a farewell gesture to Tasmania’s wild beauty before trading it for Machu Picchu and Patagonia. I didn’t anticipate that Black Bluff would still be as stubbornly steep as it was when I was 12. The climb up the creek-bed track from Taylor’s Flats felt like a never-ending punishment session, with bonus rocks and roots thrown in for good measure. When I reached Paddy’s Lake—a glacial gem—I was questioning my life choices. But as always, the summit delivered: sweeping views of Cradle Mountain in one direction and the coastline in the other reminded me why I’d put myself through it all again.
And then there was this year—my most recent attempt at conquering Black Bluff. The mountain doesn’t care how many times you’ve been up before; it’s just as steep, just as rocky, and just as determined to make you earn every metre of elevation gain. This time, though, I noticed things I hadn’t before—the vibrant alpine wildflowers dotting the plateau and the way the light danced across the landscape as clouds rolled in and out. Maybe age has made me more observant—or maybe I was looking for excuses to stop.
But for all its challenges, there’s something about Black Bluff that keeps pulling me back—maybe it’s the views, nostalgia, or perhaps it’s just stubbornness on my part not to let this mountain get the better of me before my legs say no.
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