Day 4: Pelion to Kia Ora

The ongoing (retrospective) saga of the overland track continues, as told by Nathan. Kris, while she has plenty to say about this particular day, not much of it is suitable for public consumption. If you ask her about this day, she sounds like Yosemite Sam with a migraine.
If I say that we got a late start, I dare say you wouldn't be surprised. We hit the trail at 9am, and had a tough slog up to the pass, called Pelion Gap. From here, there was the option of climbing Mt. Ossa, the tallest mountain in Tasmania. Well, it was beautiful, not too hot, and there was a rumor that there was snow at the top, so we dropped the packs and started up. and up. and a quick down, then...up.
Now, by the time we were at the pass, we had already climbed about 1000 feet, and Kris was not in a good place. Since I am writing this, I think that I can honestly say that I offered to forego the ascent, in the interests of domestic harmony. She insisted that it would be okay. So we went.
Also because I am writing this, I am able to vividly recall roughly 718 times that I offered to turn around, since Kris was clearly having a rough time. Each time, with alternating weariness and peevishness, she assured me that it would be fine, it was a great day for a climb, we would likely never have this opportunity again, and how come we couldn't bring more water.
By the time we crested the summit, some of the other helpful hikers had pointed out that it wasn't the summit. The path was helpfully angled so that you couldn't see the fake-out that led you to believe that you were about to get to the top, until you got to the top of what you thought was the mountain, only to find that there was about another bjillion boulders to scramble over, leap across, and about another 1000 feet to climb.
Once morale had been restored to the minimum required for summit conquering, we scrambled, leapt, and climbed to the real summit. Kris lay down and fell asleep while I looked for water. There was a small patch of snow, and I woke up Kris to have a look before it melted.
The descent was very similar to the ascent, with the addition of facing the perilous drop-offs, making it even more hair raising.
(During this all, we were passed by the 9 year-old and her family)
(twice)
At the base, there were 2 surprises.
One - the ravens had unzipped all of the packs of one of the tour groups, as well as the family from Perth's, stealing treats and - even worse - their toilet paper.
Two - a guy came through, jogging. He was running from start to finish that day, about 80 km (50 miles). Not only was he running it, he wasn't even part of a race, he was running it alone. Now I have to ask you...doesn't that sound great? Maybe any other day this suggestion would have been received more gracefully, but today, Kris was not very receptive to the conversation.
So...moving on.
One of the ways to keep sane on these warmer days is to take off your boots occasionally, especially if you're next to an icy stream that is ankle deep. That's where we stopped initially.
Another way to stay cooler is to take a dip in an icy pool under a waterfall. That's where we stopped at the end of the walk. And when I say "dip" I mean sliding off of the submerged rock at comfortable knee-depth to be immersed in water that made you feel like your chest was in a vice it was so cold. I pretty much levitated, Bugs Bunny-like, and ran on the surface back to shore. Kris, slightly braver, stayed in for about 14 seconds.
Still shivering, we walked back up to camp, where we admired a passing quoll, ate dinner, and hung up our clothes to dry.
And so ended a very, very long day.