Hiking the Walls of Jerusalem, Tasmania
Words & photos by Mariah Hanna.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, talking – much less, writing – about hiking is cringe. We all have that friend who got into gorp-core but whose spotless clothes and tech-y shoes have never seen the beginning of a hiking trail, much less mud or rocky terrain.
A few years ago, I wrote a little piece for MC, mostly giving advice to those getting into the outdoors for the first time (you can reread that here). To be honest, I wouldn’t even categorise myself as a serious hiker and I’m certainly no authority on the outdoors. I bushwalk, I camp, I occasionally throw in a particularly gruesome multi-day trek just to remind myself of what I can do. I enjoy the feeling of completing something tough, of flexing my high-tech gear, but mostly, I just like walking. I’d sound like a wanker if I tried to give professional-sounding advice to first-time hikers again, so instead, here are a few observations, framed by a recent three-day trip to the Walls of Jerusalem in Tasmania.
Tasmania really got under my skin a few years ago, but it’s bloody cold down there so you really have to make sure you have the right gear. Enter Icebreaker merino gear. I’ve hiked a few trails in Tassie before – got thoroughly humbled by the Western Arthurs a while back, and I didn’t even finish the whole thing. But with only 72 hours on the clock this time, I needed something shorter, sharper, and just as rewarding. Enter: the Walls of Jerusalem.
The Walls are Tasmania’s underrated masterpiece – a quieter sibling to the Overland Track’s blockbuster hype. Jagged dolerite peaks stand guard over glassy tarns. Ancient pencil pines whisper a thousand secrets. Wildlife abounds: echidnas, wallabies, pademelons, and kangaroos, all watching, all unbothered by your presence.
Now that I’ve set the scene, here are four non-tips for your hiking journey:
1. People tend to get cocky
Some hikers are all about numbers – kilometers cranked out, meters climbed, trails conquered. There’s something satisfying about stretching your legs, sure, but sometimes, when you’re racing the daylight and hustling to camp before dark, you miss the details. You set up, eat your freeze-dried meal, sleep, then pack up and do it all over again at the crack of dawn. Rinse, repeat. Where’s the fun in that?
The Walls of Jerusalem starts with a climb – not the soul-crushing, reconsider-your-life-choices kind, but enough to get the heart racing. You break through the forest, and suddenly, you’re on a plateau straight out of a fantasy novel – wild, windswept, with tarns scattered like broken mirrors. It’s the ideal first foray into multi-day hiking. You don’t need a week. A few days is enough. And if you slow down, take it in, it’s magic.
The trick is to know when to push and when to pause. Sure, you could smash out the trail in record time, but why rush? The real flex isn’t how fast you go – it’s how much you notice. The way the light shifts across the valley in the afternoon. The sound of the wind threading through ancient pines. The absolute, bone-deep stillness of a place untouched by the hum of modern life. If you’re only focused on the finish line, you’ll miss the point entirely.
2. People spend too much money on gear they think they need
I’ve lucked out. I have a boyfriend who’s done all the nerdy research for me. He’s saved me from dropping stupid money on the wrong gear. Some people go all in, buying the most expensive kit only to realize half of it’s unnecessary. Others buy cheap junk that barely survives a few trips before needing replacement.
For this trip, I had the Icebreaker merino wool for summer conditions. Let me tell you, it delivers. Merino has a winter-only reputation, but Icebreaker flips the script. Their gear handles Tassie’s wild weather swings like a champ: blistering sun, biting wind, and those nights where the temperature drops just to remind you who’s in charge. It’s soft, not scratchy, and actually does what it claims; wicks sweat, keeps you cool, keeps you warm. Lightweight, breathable, and – praise be – odour-resistant. Because while a freezing lake dip is refreshing, it’s not a full-blown hygiene routine.
I’m extremely selective about my gear. Icebreaker isn’t cheap, so it has to earn its place in my pack. And it did. The Seevista Funnel Neck Sweater? A dream for layering – warm when needed, breathable when not. The merino leggings? Perfect for sitting around camp without feeling grimy. Key pieces, not excess baggage.
3. People get overwhelmed with gear
The outdoors shouldn’t feel like an exclusive club where only those with the latest high-tech gadgets get to participate. Yet, somehow, hiking culture has convinced people they need top-of-the-line everything just to spend a night in the bush.
If you don’t have gear, don’t let it keep you from getting outside. Borrow from friends. Swap, share, lend out what you do have. The best hikers I know don’t hoard equipment – they circulate it. The first time I did an overnight hike, half my gear was borrowed. And it worked fine. The pack wasn’t the perfect fit, the sleeping mat had seen better days, but none of it mattered once I was out there.
You don’t need a $700 tent to go camping once a year, and you don’t need ultralight carbon-fiber trekking poles to climb a hill. The best gear is the stuff that gets used, not the stuff that sits pristine in a gear closet waiting for the ‘right’ trip. If you’ve got the means to invest, great. But don’t let a price tag keep you from stepping onto the trail. The only thing you really need is the willingness to go.
4. People panic and overpack
I treat packing like a personal competition – how little can I bring while still having everything I need? There’s a sick satisfaction in getting it just right. No dead weight. No unnecessary extras. Every item, essential.
Tasmanian weather keeps you guessing. It was summer, but as soon as the sun dipped behind the mountains, the temperature tanked. The days were warm enough to slick my skin in sweat, so my golden rule (no overpacking) was put to the test.
The Walls of Jerusalem is a build-your-own-adventure kind of trek. Some sections involve scrambling up cliffs where the wind howls at you like an insult. My Icebreaker Mid Layer had my back, literally. Merino adapts like it’s reading your mind, keeping you cool when you’re moving, warm when you stop.
By early evening, I was nestled in a grove of pencil pines, air crisp, light golden. Time to layer up. On went the merino leggings. When night truly fell, so did the heat. Every layer I had came out, and still, it all rolled neatly back into my pack when it was time to walk again. Multi-day hikes demand lightweight, adaptable gear. Icebreaker nailed it. It breathes, regulates temperature, and (most importantly for someone who sweats like I do) resists odour. After three days of hiking, my Icebreaker top still smelled…fine. Not fresh, but not ‘you can’t sit next to me on the plane’ rank. That’s a win. Lightweight, stink-proof, ethically sourced. It works as hard as you do, without wrecking the planet.
Hiking, at its core, is about problem-solving. Gear helps, but it’s not everything. You need to know your limits, read the landscape, adjust as needed. The best hikers aren’t the ones with the most expensive kits, they’re the ones who know exactly what they need and nothing more. So, if you’re looking for a hike that’ll challenge you just enough, with scenery that’ll knock you flat, and a soundtrack of pure, unfiltered nature – the Walls of Jerusalem is calling. And if you’re smart, you’ll answer in merino.
Take it slow. Take it all in. And most importantly, take the right gear.
For more information on Icebreaker, go here.
