Wild Rivers National Park stole my heart with its rugged good looks then gave me trench foot. In retrospect, sneakers didn't really hold up to the harsh, wet, cold and frankly bipolar weather conditions of a 3 day tramp into Frenchmans Cap at this time of year. We copped it all. Knee deep, leech infested bogs, rain, hail, snow and subsequently failed to get anywhere near the top of Frenchmans cap. The peak was perpetually in White out, to the extent that we hardly even gained a glimpse of its stark, imposing and over-hanging 200m cliffs. We came out of this harsh terrain licking wounds with an un-rivalled reverence for this particular wilderness area. Cold plus wet is a deadly combination and all I can say is thank fuck for back country huts with coal stoves.