The Western Arthurs are like this:
You drive to Scott’s Peak Dam. You walk over several low ridges of beautiful temperate rainforest interspersed by rocky plains until you are low enough to reach the endless boggy marsh. You then squelch across semi-solid ground until every supposedly waterproof seam and your spirit have virtually given out. At this point you reach a moraine and ascend a vertical kilometre.
The following days you will work your way along the range making increasingly sketchy and increasingly improbable ascents and descents with which you link breathtaking summits to steep saddles and impossibly beautiful lakes. At some point the weather, your nerve or your food supplies will most likely determine that it is time to find a moraine to descend. You then cross back over the endless bog (which now is at least three times more endless) and forested hills until you are back at the trail-head.