The two towers mud full#
The two towers mud series#

The two towers mud series#

Phillips, established a series of mixed routes that navigate small overhangs on the western face of the tower, as well as a blunt arête on the northeastern corner. Parkyn, later that year with Tasi climbers R. Parkyn, a prolific developer and coauthor of Tasmania’s first guidebook, The Craglets of Southern Tasmania, made the first ascent of the Moai’s Sacred Site, a two-pitch 5.10a. Eberhart and Roger Parkyn, locals of Port Arthur, a former convict settlement 20 km from the Moai trailhead, bushwhacked to the base. The tower first attracted the attention of climbers in August 1994 when R. Instead of a series of rappels down and then low fifth class climbing on the way out, the fixed line allowed us to do one long rappel in and one quick jumar out. We stood at the edge of this primal world as Mayan fixed the static line to a tree-slung anchor and threw the rope toward the sea. White-capped waves crashed against the stone walls 200 feet below, and a sapphire sea met a gloomy horizon, reminiscent of the overcast of the American Pacific Northwest. The forest stopped abruptly, and a canvas of sea and cliff line spread out before me. Curiosity pushed me toward the cliff’s edge. “Look that way,” Mayan said as she pointed north through green brush toward distant waves. Mayan and Ben prepare to rap down then swing over to the Totem Pole. The hike through the coastal terrain had taken a bigger toll than I thought, and, dubious of the accuracy of our location, I felt my foul mood shift toward a full-blown tantrum, mirroring the storm clouds building up on the horizon. I crumpled to the ground by the edge of the sea cliff, my patience weakened due to a lack of food and water.

“I hope this is it,” I said, dropping 200 meters of 9mm static rope, a rack of 15 draws, shoes, and a harness. When we finally stumbled across the cairn, the hill steepened sharply, blocking our view of what was just past the small pile of stones. Burr and I played Marco Polo with Mayan as we navigated through the gum trees and five-foot-tall ferns. “Over here!” Mayan shouted again as photographer Andrew Burr and I blundered through thick shrubbery toward the disembodied voice.

The blackened stone looks polished and carved, and with the Moai standing as a lone sentinel on a tennis court–size platform a mere 10 feet above sea level, there’s an overwhelming feeling of isolation in this place. Formed by high winds running through the waterway between Australia and New Zealand, this dolerite minaret sits in an area that locals call “the ditch.” Guarded by a series of abseils through loose stone and ferns, the tower sits on the endpoint of a jutting land bridge that’s ravaged by wind and waves.

We had finally found the small cairn that marks the abseil to the base of the Moai tower, a 110-foot-tall spindly sea stack and my first non-desert tower. “I think this it!” Mayan Smith-Gobat shouted after our “90-minute” hike had turned into a three-hour slog through mud, across streams, and up hand-built steps on the coastal trails of Tasmania’s Fortescue Bay.

The two towers mud full#

Get full access to Outside Learn, our online education hub featuring in-depth fitness, nutrition, and adventure courses and more than 2,000 instructional videos when you sign up for Outside+īen Rueck leads high above the sea on the Moai Tower in Fortescue Bay, Tasmania.