Lake Macintosh & The Great Misadventure

The plan seemed so simple. We were leaving Stanley and heading into the mountains to Lake Macintosh Campground, a nice layover on our way to Strahan and Macquarie Harbour. At 172klms climbing most of the way, it seemed not that onerous. Two right hand turns and a left for the entire journey. What could possibly go wrong?

It seems such a no-brainer, that I hared off ahead of Ken and arrived at Lake Mactintosh Campground just after 1pm, set up and waited….and waited…..and waited some more. SIX hours later in the fading light, Ken appears in the distance. The following is a cautionary tale that anyone can fall victim to, and that’s why it’s worth telling.

Thinking that you and your on-board navigation system have some kind of symbiotic relationship is a dangerous assumption. Ken had punched in Lake Mac…and the on-board typed in the rest – Lake Mackenzie. He had assumed that there was only one Lake Mac……. Worse, the on-board did not map out the entire journey, so the usual red flags you would see on, say, Google Maps were not waving. Now, I’ll freely admit that the drive up the Murchison Highway was steep, curvy and tight. A real challenge for someone just finding their RV legs. But it eventually straightened out and a T-intersection was very well signposted. Turn right for Strahan, turn left for Davenport. Without lifting his eyes, he dutifully turned left instead of right and disappeared into the mountainous wilds of Tasmania.

Such was his faith that, it wasn’t till he reached Lake Mackenzie, did the horror dawn on his fatal error. Two and a half hours and 128 klms of tortuous narrow winding road. Unravelling hopes and dreams to end up at nothing but an isolated boat ramp at the highest lake in Tasmania. Alone and no Optus phone reception. That was the second fatal error. Telstra and ONLY Telstra in the Australian wilderness. His first concern was me back at the original destination, but all I got were missed calls, for I was sitting in a no phone zone. At least I knew he was still alive. But where was he?

Long story short, after nearly running out of fuel he appeared, much the worse for wear. After our exchange of stories, we hit the sack and promised to start with a clean sheet in the morning.

So after all that, you’re probably wondering about Lake Macintosh. It’s how I imagine the South Island of New Zealand looks like. Towering edifices of granite rising abruptly from the water. Formed as a result of the construction of the Macintosh Dam, the campground is accessed by crossing the dam wall and a couple of ‘k’ of tarred road. The campground is on private property, so, despite the ‘official’ warnings, the area was littered with fire pits, so we assumed that with fires were in fact permitted.

By late afternoon the next day, the wind had acquired a chill factor, so with the help of a splitting axe, we fashioned a healthy fire and sat around with a fine red and found just a little bit of humour in how he unwittingly acquired his ‘Advanced Towing Certificate’