Kate Allman trail running adventure on Cradle Mountain

Cradle Mountain is one of Tasmania’s most popular tourist attractions, with records of up to 200,000 visitors per year. It’s also one of the more dangerous trails to hit given the weather can be changeable and completely unpredictable, with snow, heat, sleet, rain and wind barraging through even in summer months. Kate Allman, as crazy as they come, decided to tackle Cradle Mountain’s ‘hike’ with her husband Nick in 2023; read on to find out who won the mountain v human race. 

It’s a special kind of crazy that sees a 12.8km return hike up one of Australia’s notoriously challenging mountain peaks and think, I can run that.

Crazy, or just a trail runner. Sometimes the terms are interchangeable. Either way, when I read about the famous Cradle Mountain Summit hike in the wilds of northwest Tasmania, I knew exactly how I would tackle this ‘hike’. 

The Location

Cradle Mountain is a legendary destination. A place where rugged bushland and rocky moors meet pristine lakes reflecting snow-covered mountain peaks. Wombats and pademelons (cute, nose-wrinkling wallabies) amble about the land apparently naïve to the threat humans posed in pre-national parks eras.  

The unmistakable dipped crown of Cradle Mountain towers out of the wilderness in Cradle Mountain-St Clair National Park. This is northwest Tasmania, a region where towns, roads and phone reception become sparse as you drive further through the winding farmland west of Launceston. Elevation slowly climbs past 1000m as we navigate around tight turns and undulating Tasmanian countryside. The peak tends to always be hidden by cloud – no matter the time of year, day or otherwise, and once we enter the mist, the foliage changes. From the lime greens of farmland there’s a transition to dense rainforest that could swallow a solo trail runner up. 

Driving into such foggy unknown yields trepidation. 

Naturally, it’s one of the first places any outdoor adventure-seekers plop on their map when jotting down bucket-list realms to visit in Australia.

The Mission

We stay overnight at Peppers Cradle Mountain Lodge, just beyond the base of the mountain. It’s located just outside the gate of the Cradle Mountain-St Clair NP where there is no accommodation other than camping. Even campers need to register their stays, so remote is the region. Most of the tent-carrying visitors make their way here for the famous Overland Track, a 65km, six-day hike known as one of the most difficult and dangerous in Australia. Rapid changes in weather at altitude so far from phone reception is the biggest risk. The guidebook mentions deaths but doesn’t go into any more detail.

The Cradle Mountain Summit hike is the marquee section of the Overland Track. Tasmanian National Parks advise eight hours to make the return hike of the summit. Eight hours for just under 13km? Seems generous, was my thinking the night before. Maybe 1-2 hours, tops. More if we take extended breaks.

To be sure, I log into the AllTrails running app to search for reviews by any runners who may have done the summit. A handful of users have run the trail in summer (December-February) and clearly survived to tell the tale, but I can’t find any from late May, a notoriously fickle month for weather.

The mapped route climbs 600m in elevation and warns about large rocks to cross. It’s also rated ‘Grade 5 – very experienced bushwalkers with specialised skills, including navigation and emergency first aid’. No worries, we will pack plenty of snacks and water in our CamelBaks. A sandwich made from breakfast buffet bacon, fruit, muesli bars and some trail mix all squashed into the top pocket.

Here We Go

My husband Nick and I layer on a variety of running clothes the morning of our run. It’s almost winter in Tas, and the evening temperatures drop close to zero. The forecast on the day was a top of 12°C with a smattering of incessant rain. It’s never totally cloudless, the receptionist at the lodge tells us. There’s always cloud over Cradle.

A polar fleece headband, long running tights and socks that cover up the ankle and lower leg are the order of the day. My waterproof Asics running jacket layers over a long sleeve thermal and gloves. Trail running shoes with plenty of grip are crucial – the lack of sun here tells me the ground will be soft and the rocks up the top turn into little ice rinks when wet.

Some of Cradle’s signature rain swooshes down at breakfast time but it holds off as we clamber into the shuttle bus to the mountain. In single-digit temperatures such rain can feel like ice shards. 

There’s a group of hikers wearing thick thermal socks, long raincoats, indestructible-looking hiking boots, and huge turtle shell packs. They are tackling the Overland Track. They have a determined, though slightly anxious look out the windows as the bus trundles upward into the mist. All raise their eyebrows when Nick and I spring onto the aisle wearing our CamelBaks and slim line running outfits (Nick even went for shorts, he’s a madman).

The Climb

We trot off around silent Dove Lake to begin our journey. The tread on my runners makes that familiar, heartening crunch I always associate with off-road running. From a slightly elevated vantage point, the view is stunning. Just below the mist and clear enough to see a reflection of the bowl of greenery surrounding the water, but it’s not long before the mountain interrupts our rhythm.

First there’s a river crossing over wet rocks that have as much grip as bowling balls. Then the gradual incline ramps up and turns to irregular basalt stairs. We reach a section where vertical chains hang off a cliff. A prickly tree takes a swipe at me as I emerge. The nature of trail running is no one really cares about or checks on your pace – but if they were, it would be nothing to write home about. 

We are now officially in the clouds, at a place called Marion’s Lookout. Nothing but swirling fog surrounds us. There’s not much to look out at, but we decide to take a breather and munch on trail bars and some tangy Kiwi fruits. 

Marion’s Lookout is about 4km from the car park and presents something of a point of no return. Beyond here, you run deep into a marshy tundra and then up the steepest pitches of the mountain. You won’t get another good viewpoint until the peak. Many day hikers are turning around when we arrive. 

“Weather is changing, it’s starting to rain and no views…we’re heading back,” one couple tells us. They, too, raise their eyebrows as we begin to jog off uphill.

From Marion’s Lookout, it starts to drizzle and I’m glad for my waterproof jacket and gloves. We trot along boardwalks with chicken wire straddling them to stop us slipping. Now, running is both a necessity to keep warm and to finish our mission before the weather gets very bad.

A bunch of hikers are sheltered in a hut at the base of the final climb to the summit. These Overland Track huts are nothing more than a bunch of wooden boards knocked together with two platforms for sleeping and a small standing area. The hikers boil water on gas burners and pour over 2-minute noodles. They’re debating whether to call the six-day hike off, given the weather, and end their mission today in the carpark where we started.

Nick and I are adamant. We came all this way – we’re not going to let a little rain dampen our spirits. So we set off for the final kilometre to the peak. 

The Summit

The notoriously ‘large rocks’ that the guide book warned us about begin to crop up. I’m 177cm and many of those rocks are larger than me. We scrabble onwards and upwards. Using my hands to grip and balance is necessary but devastating for my previously dry neoprene gloves. The cold is no longer creeping in – it has well and truly arrived. The wind is howling and neither Nick nor I can see each other. We shout to keep in contact. All the stopping and starting and heating up then cooling down has set off some horrific cramps in my hamstrings and quads. I’m reaching the end of my tether.

“Babe, I can’t do any more, I need to turn back,” I yell out into the wind. The stupidity of this mission is dawning on me. An image of TV headlines with my face missing in the mountains flashes across my mind. Gosh, I would hate to be that person who went out running in bad weather against all advice. I’m not going to be that person.

“Okay, I’ll meet you back there. I’m going up!” Nick shouts back.

My cramping groins hurdle me slowly down the mountainside. I find a spot out of the wind and try to recover the feeling in my fingers for a few minutes. That’s when Nick reappears. 

“I decided it’s probably a bit ridiculous to go on. Can’t see a thing in this cloud anyway.”

We hobble downhill and briefly stop in the hut for water and more snacks. Running downhill is always harder – especially when you’re leaving unfinished business behind. Cradle Mountain has been a bucket-list conquest for me for some years, and when I finally reached within 500m of the summit, I was forced to turn back.

But every cloud has a silver lining. 

Joy electrified by a newfound runners high jolts through me after we reach Marion’s Lookout and I realise we’re not going to be a statistic left on a mountainside. The view returns for a few moments, and the sun beams over the iconic peak of the mountain we were so close to conquering. I snap a few photos and promise to tell Nick’s friends he made it to the top (who would know anyway, the photos up there would be just cloud)!

This time, the Cradle rocked us.