Cradle Mountain is a saw-toothed dolerite crest standing 1,545 metres above the Tasmanian highlands, with a glacial lake at its foot and a small timber boatshed on the shore. Those three things together — the twin-horned peak, the still water of Dove Lake and the weathered King Billy pine hut built by the park's first ranger — make one of the most photographed scenes in Australia. Around them grow pencil pines and cushion plants whose lineage runs back to Gondwana, the supercontinent this island broke away from. The mountain anchors Cradle Mountain–Lake St Clair National Park, part of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. It took its name in 1827, when a surveyor decided the jagged crest looked like a gold cradle — the wooden box miners rocked to sift gold out of gravel.
Weather here can run through four seasons in a single hour: mist swallows the horns, the cloud lifts to turn Dove Lake deep blue, then closes again, and the summit spends much of the year hidden. A six-kilometre track loops the lake, while the same shore marks the start of the Overland Track, the 65-kilometre, six-day walk south to Lake St Clair that trapper Bert Nichols first cut in 1931. Late in the afternoon, wombats shuffle onto the buttongrass plains to graze, barely glancing at the walkers nearby. The rarest sight comes in autumn, when the fagus — Tasmania's only winter-deciduous tree — turns the slopes gold and rust for a few weeks from late April into May. A survivor from Gondwana that grows wild nowhere else on Earth, it shares these slopes with pandani, the world's tallest heath, and forests little changed in tens of millions of years.