Sons of the Desert - a bushwalking blog

The South Coast Track

2012-01-14T02:42:00.000-08:00

The South Coast Track is probably the toughest on-track walk in Tasmania. In fact it's clearly tougher than many an off-track walk. It runs through an extraordinary variety of environments: alpine peaks, pristine beaches, alpine meadows, dense rainforest, wet sclerophyll forest, dune communities, dry coastal forest and more. It's long been on the radar of some of the Sons, and this summer we seized the opportunity to make it happen. David Plunkett soon to be of Dartmouth College in the US joined the walk.

People take seven to ten days to do the walk with the occasional party of tiger-walkers doing it in five. We aimed to go for seven, not giving us any rest days. It can be walked from Melaleuca in the far west of South Tasmania to Cockle Creek around 80 km to the east or the other way around. We elected to walk from Melaleuca: that way if you plane gets you in you can be sure of finding a bus at the other end. Walking from East to West risks arriving at Melaleuca with no food, and finding weather has closed the airstrip for a few days.

So on 5 Jan we boarded our little plane:

We were lucky; our flight got through but one leaving the same time turned back for electrical reasons and the flights were cancelled for the rest of the day due to a front coming in. The flight itself is amazing; flying low between mighty peaks of the Arthurs.

We arrived at Melaleuca after less than an hour, to find that it consists of a container in the middle of an airstrip, a hide where you can see the rare Orange Bellied Parrot if you are lucky, and a bushwalkers hut for those coming the other way stranded by a closed airstrip. We got really lucky: we saw a pair of the parrots by the trackside near the hide! There are thought to be about twenty in existence.

We then headed out over a boardwalk over button grass plains (seasoned Tasmanian walkers will know what that would have been like without the boardwalk) and after a few hours we arrived at a remote beach on Cox Bight:

We walked along the beach to Point Eric, and cross the neck of the point. While crossing the point we see the first of many lovely flowering herbs which is perhaps some kind of Stylidium?

Crossing over the neck brought us to our campsite for the first day. It had been a lovely and easy six hours walk, and we quickly put up the tents and the cuban tarp before any rain. This was a good move: it rained on and off all evening but we were able to sit under the tarp and look out over the lovely beach and enjoy it all while having a leisurely dinner. It's always worth having a light tarp on a long trip: it makes all the difference when there's rain.

Here are a couple of us at the campsite having erected the tarp:

And here is Plunkett looking pensive at the colour of the water at the creek a few metres up the beach (it's just tannin of course, the water is beautiful to drink)

And finally here's the view from the beach that the tarp was able to afford us!

During breaks in the rain we were able to explore the lovely beach:

As you can see, rain was never far away. It rains half the time in summer in the South West!

Day 2: Point Eric to Louisa River

The next day we packed and set up shop, and used the simple facilities that are installed at the campsites. This one has a canvas privacy screen to protect you from others coming down the track. My favourite one, at Granite Beach, was on top of a knoll with panoramic views and no screen!

Then on we went towards Louisa River. Louisa River is the camp at the foot of the Ironbound Ranges, and the track to it is pretty well made. It passes over button grass planes, the occasional small forest around rivers, and the Red Point Hills. Here's an image of us heading ever closer to the Ironbounds:

The highlight of the day was our first, and likely last, sighting of an Eastern Quoll in the wild:

It was wandering around the track in the middle of the day quite unconcerned. I imagine it must have got used to scavenging walkers food, and must have few predators. I've never heard of this happening to quolls before.

As we approach Louisa River campsite we have to cross the river. It was pretty low, unlike some of the other rivers. This one had a safely rope:

Day Three: Crossing the Ironbounds to Little Deadman's Bay

The next day was crossing the Ironbounds. The track to the top looked intimidatingly vertical on the Western side; but was well made so it was merely a matter of keeping your heart rate in the sustainable zone and eating lots of scroggin! As we got higher the views got better:

And near the top it was extraordinary:

It was only then we realised something odd. The Louisa Plains we had crossed were covered in Alpine flora, even though they were at sea level. In this photo you can see the plains (and the easier section of the track as it follows a spur up)

But as we descended the south-easterns side of the mountains two things happened. The first was that the flora went from alpine to rainforest! A complete, dramatic change which contributed to making the thousand metre descent quite challenging. The other thing was that the well made track ended; that was the last of well made tracks until the final day. So what we were left with was descending what was alternately a muddy trench or a root filled running watercourse down a thousand metre descent all overgrown with rainforest undergrowth. The horizontal distance was about 2k; it took almost five hours. The challenge was not to break your leg by getting it caught, or sink too deeply into the mud and lose your boots. Swinging from tree to tree was often more practical than walking! We were very relieved to arrive at Little Deadman's Bay campsite. After we arrived an Austrian chef called Thomas arrived having done almost twice what we did. He was utterly knackered; so much so all he could do was smoke a cigarette and sleep without eating.

Day 4: Little Deadman's to Osmiridium Beach.

The next day started with some by now traditional mud. Here is an easy stretch, easy enough so that we could get cameras out!

Soon however we were at spectacular Prion Beach

The light kept changing, and storms were never far away

One of the great glories of the walk is the four or five km along this beach. But it was all too soon over, and we reached the New River Lagoon which crosses the beach. It's far to fast and deep to wade at the estuary, so you have to walk a kilometre upstream to where there are boats. There are two rowboats; the plan is that you row across to the other side, and then hitch the two boats together and row back, and then leave one boat where you started and row over a third time! The wonder is that no-one seems to defect. I've never heard of a boat not being on both sides.

Here we are (including Thomas) on the Lagoon with Precipitous Bluff in the background:

And here are folk looking dubious about the boats:

Thomas took first row. The current was really strong, and half way over the wind rose. A bad combination: the current wanted to take us out so sea, and fighting against that meant that the boat was often parallel to the rising waves.

Still we got over, and swapped rowers and rearranged the boats.

We then walked on to our intended campsite at Prion East. When we had almost achieved it we found that (not for the first or last time) storms had destroyed the track work, and there was a twenty metre almost vertical sand and slippery rock climb to get to the campsite. When we got the campsite, we found that there was no water: the only water was in soaks at the bottom of the climb! Reason dictated that we move on to the next feasible campsite at Osmiridium Beach. This proved very pleasant. After dinner we explored the beach in the dusk. Here's a photo, with Precipitous Bluff looming in the background:

Day Five: Osmiridium Beach to Granite Beach

This was a relatively easy day, except for some hairy climbs and difficult crossings! The mud was also starting to build up: here's another mudogram:

Day Six: Granite Beach to South Cape Rivulet

This was easily the hardest day. Plunkett and I had been warned by a stranger in a cafe in Hobart when we were poring over the maps! And the people who came in the other direction arriving at Granite Beach camp were shellshocked. It started with a relatively tolerable 600m climb through moderate mud and up waterfalls laughingly called track. But when we got to the top, there was a traverse across the ridge line for a few km that was extraordinary. Many people were getting in the mud up to their waists. I managed my thighs but no higher. Extreme caution was required at all times so the levels of concentration required were considerable. There were some views, but it was a little hard to enjoy them! At the top, previous walkers trying to avoid mud had created a massively confusing array of twisting mud channels which made it very easy to get lost. One party spent many hours searching for a friend whose screams they could hear, but due to the wind they could not tell from what direction they were coming from (she was found unharmed). After the traverse the descent was perhaps slightly less bad. Here's a photo of an easy section which still had the power to break legs!

As we began the descent we started to meet parties going in the other direction who had left too late. One of the parties we met, including a kid, who had been travelling five hours, blanched with horror when we told them we had been going seven hours. We really didn't see that many of them would make camp by nightfall.

Close to the end I managed to break yet another trekking pole; this time on of Mr Leki's relatively heavy duty carbon poles!

At the bottom of the descent we came to one of the crossings where South Cape Rivulet flows across the beach into the ocean. A couple of parties we had passed going the other direction had forded it at chest height; a piece of dangerous madness. It would be easy to be swept out to sea. One family with a horde of young teenage girls had done this, to our astonishment. The recommended procedure is to wait for the tide!

The tide was in our favour, and we crossed at knee height in the rain.

It was then that the only mildly disturbing thing happened. It had been a cold and intermittently rainy day, and a couple of us had walked in our shells the whole day. They were, therefore, pretty moist inside and out. While walking this was fine. But we decided on arriving at camp not to change immediately into dry clothes, for the fairly good reason that they would be needed overnight and it was raining and we couldn't keep them dry. Morale dropped a little when the rain intensified just as the tent body went up, which got rather wet while we were rapidly putting the fly over it.

We went to the tarp to eat dinner, and two of us rapidly started to shiver and go numb and feel very, very cold. Speed of thought reduced too! Anyhow we ate a lot of hot food (I had a five serve of freeze dry which added up to a thousand calories, which I'm very glad I had because I think I may have slightly too little food per day most days) and got into our tents and soon were warm and fine, but it was just a little alarming. It made me think that there needs to be a procedure for getting warm at camp when it's raining and it's been raining all day (in a no-fire zone). Apart from bringing camp clothes (which is weight madness if they don't double as sleeping clothes) I think the only solution is to cook in the vestibule having gone into the tent and changed into the warm clothes. Perhaps this could be improved by pitching the tarp connected to the tent as a porch, or getting a tent that has a lightweight tarpy porch. But the tarp located elsewhere was not a good solution that night. It turned out that it had rapidly dropped to near freezing and there was a bushwalkers weather alert out, but we weren't to know that at the time!

Interesting how psychology changes: at the cold moment I would have paid thousands to be transported back to civilisation. Warm in my sleeping bag I would have paid a lot *not* to be transported out and miss out on completing the walk!

Day 7: South Cape Rivulet to Cockle Creek

We got up at 5 AM on the last day, to make absolutely sure we got the bus which leaves Cockle Creek at 12.30. The timings for the track seemed very variable in their accuracy (I think track conditions varied a lot locally based on very local facts about rainfall). So we didn't want to risk it. It was slowish going at first, thought this was much mitigated by sighting a Padelmelon with Joey:

Eventually we got to Lion Rock:

At this point the path gets much better made as people go to the Rock from Cockle Creek as a daywalk. We motored along this part at great speed and arrived with hours to spare. Here we are having a celebratory lunch waiting for the bus:

Turns out there had been a bushwalkers alert for days, and parties were discouraged from walking. And the weather had halted the flights for days! But we had a great time in this amazing piece of World Heritage wilderness. A highly recommended walk. But even though it is a navigational snack, in other ways it isn't, and some inexperienced parties could get into trouble very easily.

The AAWT: Kiandra to Thredbo

2011-12-31T17:28:00.000-08:00

The Sons have for while planned to walk the Australian Alpine Walking Track from Canberra to Kosciusko. Pressures of work meant that the first half of this, south-bound, route had to be postponed. But we decided that we really must do the section from Kiandra to Thredbo over Christmas. In the end our route deviated from the AAWT for most of the way to avoid track-bashing and to get into deep wilderness.

So a few days before Christmas we headed off to the abandoned gold mining settlement of Kiandra. By the time we got there, the mood in the car was not quite the ecstatic pre-trip feeling you would hope for: the weather forecast was for seven days of unremitting rain. Just as we got to Kiandra and started unloaded our packs an enormous hail storm struck! Pulling a tarp over the packs, we lept back into the car sat in the car and sat, watching the hail pile up on the windscreen for about twenty minutes.

But after a while the hail stopped, and the rain died down. Climbing out of the car we discovered that the tarp had blown off. So we shouldered our wet packs and we headed off into the mud. Pretty soon the rain returned, and spirits sank a little further. But after an hour or so it went away, and by the time we arrived at our planned camp site, Nine Mile Creek, there was sun to be seen. Nine Mile Creek is the site of an abandoned gold digging, and there are signs of its past life to be seen all around the creek.

Here we are newly arrived, thrilled to be able to erect the tents in the dry:

Day Two

After a peaceful night enjoying the ghosts of the diggings (as promised by Chapman's notes) we arose to bright sun. We headed off towards our next target, Happy's Hut. We took a shortcut down a hill to the hut through a snow gum forest with thick undergrowth beautifully in flower: the most splendid thicket of Dianella in flower I've ever seen. After the 45 minute descent we arrived at the hut which has a splendid outlook and a lovely balcony. Although we were not able to overnight here, it seems a fine hut and we retrospectively rated it at Two Rats (the significance of this will become clear later). Here we are taking the opportunity to air our sleeping bags during lunch.

Heading out across the plains we came across an extraordinary construction which contains what seems to be an eagle's nest. How were eagles persuaded to nest in it? You can just see most of the party resting on the track.

Next campsite was McKeahnie's Creek. We went up the hill from the creek looking for dry ground, and in the morning the mist in the creek valley showed us how wise we were.

And again:

Day Three
Another lovely sunny morning! It was developing into a pattern of dry days with evening thunderstorms. So we set off as early as possible each day so as to get to camp before the evening storms.

This morning we got one of our best views of mighty Mt Jagungal in the distance. One of the highlights of the walk was that Jagungal loomed in front of us for days, and then receded.

Out third camp was O'Keefe's Hut on the edge of the Jagungal Wilderness. You can see in these photos the looming thunderstorm which we raced to the hut:

O'Keefe's hut was a fine billet, with the exception of a very smoky chimney. It contained a very useful old-style food safe of wire mesh, so the surplus food left by a previous party was rat-free - we awarded it Two Rats.

Day Four
The next day we headed into the Wilderness proper. Here's a picture of the party resting under a tree about to approach the Jagungal Saddle:

Passing through the saddle Jagungal starts to recede into the distance:

Pushing on through the wilderness we hadto ford various streams. Here is the party descending into the valley of the Valentine Creek. This was a really magical day. We saw six people in the first six days of the walk, but this day we didn't see a single one, nor a single recognisable track. In the previous days we had seen Scarlet Robins everywhere, but from here on the main birds, apart form the ubiquitous crows, were a small lark-like bird, presumably Richard's Pipit, and a tiny quail, probably a Button Quail?

After fording Valentine Creek it was a short trip to Mawson's Hut. This was a lovely hut, well equipped for winter. It was thoughtfully provided with the complete worlds of C.J. Dennis, A.B Patterson and Henry Lawson! We enjoyed a wonderful Christmas dinner of Pad Thai and Blueberry Cheesecake (the freeze-dried cheesecake mix from Mountain House in the US is amazing!). Christmas crackers with traditionally crap jokes and hats were provided by Paul, and we had had genuinely delicious by non-Bush standards Xmas pud earlier in the day courtesy of Maureen. Here we are at Xmas Dinner!

Amongst the many fine facilities of Mawsons Hut were rat-excluders to put across the bottom of the doors. We hung all our food well out of reach, but lost some soap to the rats. This led us to invent the rat-rating for mountain huts: the more rats, the worse the hut. Mawson's sets the standard as a one-rat hut.

Day Five
The next day was meant to be along the Kerries, up Gungartan, and down to White's River Hut. But the day dawned misty. Very misty: visibility was perhaps 50 metres at best. We headed off, but soon found we had to walk by instruments, using GPS to locate ourselves, setting a waypoint a short distance away, and walking to a bearing. We decided to take the shortest route to a firetrail and headed directlyto the Schlink Pass. All went well and we soon found ourselves at the Schlink Hut, where we met an NPWS ranger who gave us good news about the weather for the remaining two days. A quick walk down the firetrail took us to the White's River hut.

As on previous days, soon after our arrival there was a thunderstorm. Here you can see it brewing over Gungartan and the Kerries from the front porch of the hut:

These huts have very distinctive iron chimneys

And here is photo of a couple of the party looking out the window, unaware of what ugly surprises the hut still had in store for us:

Despite the best efforts of NPWS, this is a Five Rat hut. In part perhaps because it is so close to the firetrail from Guthega it seems to get the kind of visitors whose idea of a bushwalk is a slog up a dirt road with a backpack full of bundy. Instead of a historic logbook, there was an A4 exercise book where various groups of schoolboys boasted about breaking the furniture. So the rats were more than usually keen. The first sign of trouble was when a rat ran across someone's face at about 3am. A little later the front room was invaded by them, and they scampered happily to the dismay of the party members in the room. They destroyed two of our camp water bladders, and had no intention of being driven out: 'we were here first' their little red eyes exclaimed from the fireplace. At least some of them seemed to be Rattus fuscipes, so they had a real claim to first occupancy. Eventually all was settled, and we got a little more sleep.

Next morning the weather had improved, and set of up the track to the Rolling Ground. Once there we came across our first snow in mid summer!

The presence of snow necessitated the consumption of Kendall mint cake:

From the Rolling Ground we had to make our way across the Consett Stephen Pass. It's a thin bridge that can be hard to locate. It was day of drifitng mist and sun, and as we approached the pass the mist suddenly lifted and prevented us having to find it with GPS. Here's the party in the pass:

After the pass we are on the Main range, and the first delight was Mount Tate. Here's Maureen, first to conquer the mountain:

And here are some of the wonderful views that were to be see seen:

And here is your photographer on the Summit:

Next campsite was on the Anton Anderson pass, between Mount Anton and Mount Anderson. Early arrival gave us a chance to explore a little. Here's a picture of the ubiquitous Snow Daisy, Celmisia Longifolia.

Here's Paul, sheltering under his beloved tarp:

And here is the whole party with Mount Anton in the distance:

One feature of the land to the east of the Pass is enormous rock formations that look like Easter Island statues. I didn't have a long lens with me, so they look a little piddling in this photo, but it gives you a sense of the landscape:

Day Seven
The morning was glorious. At the very moment I emerged from the tent the sun rose:

Walking out of the pass into the higher country we started to really feel we were on the roof of Australia:

Here is Mount Anton, now behind us:

And here is a view back North that shows the summit of Mount Tate, on the right of the photograph, that we so much enjoyed the previous day:

Next summit was Mount Twynham. Here's one of us looking out at Mount Kosciusko, the rounded peak in the background:

Up on this peak, you have a real sense of the world being below you:

And here are Paul and I on the trig point!

And here is the party reluctantly walking down from the peak:

You will have noticed many pictures of stark white forests. Northern hemisphere readers might think it was winter and the trees had lost their leaves. In fact it is the legacy of the 2003 fires; terrible firestorms that killed thousands of hectares of Alpine forest. The white skeletons of the snow gums are what remain. There are saplings under them all, but it'll be many years before they grow to the height of the old trees. Here's one of us looking out over dead forest to the horizon:

From here the track began to get a little more touristy, especially after the Blue Lake track and massively so after Mount Koscuisko. But the view of Lake Albina always impresses:

From there is was out over the tourist track, and down the chairlift to Thredbo where Karola was waiting to collect us. Mission accomplished. Well done Sons (and Daughters)!

Grimspound

2011-11-12T12:16:00.001-08:00

Last day off on this trip and I walked to Grimspound, a bronze age settlement on Dartmoor. It's a well-known walk, starting from the picturesque village of Widecombe-in-the-Moor and heading up onto the moor. Today it was drifting patches of low fog interspersed by sun.

After an hour or so I was looking down from Hameldown Tor on the outline of Grimspound.

The remains of the main gate are quite impressive:

Within the remains of the wall are numerous very impressive hut circles:

Nearby, tourists rest their cameras on the rocks and walk towards them trying to look natural.

This the view looking back from Hookney Tor.

From here it's a short walk down into the valley, where the road leads back to Widdecombe. The contrast between the barren moorland and the lush, green coombe is one of the delights of Dartmoor.

To make more of a walk of it I climbed up the other side of the valley to Honeybag Tor

Near the top is a balancing rock.

From here there is a line of Tors heading back towards Widdecombe. This Honeybag Tor viewed from Chinkwell Tor.

Chinkwell Tor

From Bell Tor there is quiet lane back to Widdecombe

Lots of gorgeous buildings along this lane. This door is engraved 1682 - tempting!

A day on Dartmoor

2011-11-07T04:27:00.000-08:00

Spending a few weeks working in the UK, fortunately in Devon where there are any number of gorgeous walks to be had. This day up on Dartmoor the weather was outstanding for November. We began by walking to a (partly fake) stone circle:

From here we walked up to about 530m (the highest point on the Moor is about 600m), had lunch sheltered from the wind behind an army hut, and ended up at Wild Tor, one of the granite outcrops that are the defining feature of this landscape. On a good day like this you can see the surrounding farmland from pretty much every point on the moor.

Crossing a stream which feeds the river Teign we circled back via Watten Tor, a particularly pretty example of the genre:

Here it is again without the annoying tourist:

Mt Solitary: The Miners' Pass

2011-09-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

Some of us were back in the country, others were about to leave. So in the window available we planned a night in the bush lest we lose all our skills before our ambitious plans for the Summer.

The plan was to climb Mt Solitary from the East, via the Col, and then descend the Miners' Pass, which we have looked for before but not found. Then across the Jamison Valley and the Kedumba River to the Sublime Point fire trail, camp, and a quick walk out the next morning.

Here's a picture from the beginning; of one of the regulars and a visitor to our workplace, Juha. Welcome, Juha! Yours truly didn't bring a tripod so no pics of me!

The day began superbly with mist in the valley making for a glorious view from near the locked gate at Kedumba Valley Road.

The descent and the climb of the Col proceeded like clockwork, despite the present unfitness of the present blogger. Here's a picture of one of us relaxing on the Col:

After a quick bite, we found the miners' pass with a minimum of fuss. You will find it at JAMISON 5294 5863. Descent was not bad at all: the description we had read called for rope at one point. We encountered a few points where we had to pack haul, but nothing too tricky.

At the bottom we headed of ENE to try to find our campsite. None of us had walked much off track in the Jamison Valley before, and it is glorious walking. Very little vine (if you stay out of the gullies) and lovely woodland. There were fantastic ridges to follow down to the Kedumba River.

A highlight was a magnificent warratah in full flower (Telopea speciosissima)

Here it is with Paul posing:

After a clear and lovely night, it was back along the fire trail to the car. The previous day we had been amazed by the sole warratah we saw, but at one place near the trail we counted 16!

Bluff Trail, Nova Scotia

2011-08-22T18:25:00.000-07:00

After four weeks of academic travel, a tired son of the desert found himself in Halifax, Nova Scotia, after a meeting. He took a couple of days out to hike the Bluff Trail, a trail through some gorgeous granite country so close to the city that tyou can get a suburban bus to the trailhead, created by the Woodens River Watershed Environmental Organisation. WRWEO was founded by Dalhousie University philosophy professor Richmond Campbell, who was kind enough to take me out and show me the trail. Here he is with the dedication sign - that's his name at the bottom:

The trail starts out in mixed forest, with interesting fungi (STOP PRESS "they are in fact chlorophyll-free plants (actually they have chloroplasts, but the genes don't express). These ones are Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora)")

Pretty soon, however, it emerges onto granite uplands, with a carpet of heath plants and lichens, and occassional, very slow-growing trees.

This is Zeke the labradoodle, who was finding his backpack a bit restrictive, having a good scratch.

About 13km brought us to a gorgeous lakeside campsite.

This is a zero-impact camping area, so we used a fire-bowl. This is a new idea for me, and worked really well.

This is my my idea of 'sleeping under a tarp':

I felt very soft when I saw Rich and Zeke's idea of what 'sleeping under a tarp' means:

Here's my beloved bivvy bag after I pulled the tarp down in the morning.

Rich and Zeke took a bee-line home through the woods, leaving me to complete the circuit on my own. I only met two other parties on the whole track - amazing for a warm summer weekend about 20 km from the city limits.

In the dips the track goes through swamps, with interesting vegetation, like this pitcher plant:

Rather than build boardwalks, WRWEO puts in granite stepping stones, which give the track a lovely, natural feel.

The contrast when you ascend only ten or twenty vertical metres is striking.

This is one of the higher points along the track:

From here there was a nice view back to the previous night's camp.

Some of the lakes are hard to access for swimming, because they are surrounded by swampy ground..

As I climbed up again, getting back towards the start of the trail, it was seriously hot.

This was the only man-made structure I encountered on the trail. I was told it is a nineteenth-century 'deer blind' for hunters.

By this stage I was more than ready for a swim, and very glad to find the perfect access point at one of the canoe portages - really a natural wharf made of granite.

No time was wasted getting gear off...

and into the water!

aaaah!

In the hope of avoiding the mosquitoes, I climbed back up the hill to camp, where I had a wonderful view of the lake, just beyond the first trail loop, where I expected, correctly, there would be Sunday morning runners to disturb me!

Then it only remained to cook dinner and settle down to enjoy the view.

Next morning I had a short walk out to catch the bus. Very sorry to leave - a lovely spot and a tribute to what a bit of local environmentalism can achieve.

Wilderness Symposium

2011-08-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

One lucky son of the desert was able to join part of Wilderness Symposium 2.0, an occasional event combining philosophy talks and hiking organised by Jim Tabery, Carl Craver and friends. The first seminar was scheduled for the top of this rock in Zion Canyon, Utah

This is a highly visited park, and there are steps up the steepest section.

But it gets a little wilder up the top.

The views from the top are amazing.

We took a little break when we reached the seminar room.

Then we headed up to the summit for more views.

There were some voracious chipmunks on the summit, very used to tourists. That red water bottle is one of the very nice ones handed out at ISHPSSB, our real reason for being in Utah.

Suitably rested, we assembled in the seminar room for the first talk.

Deep in their handouts, the audience becomes oblivious to the scenery.

Question time.

Then we walked back down the mountain. Here's the view from the end of the trail. The rest of the symposists headed off for a multi-day walk and talk, but, unfortunately, I was unable to join them - maybe next time, in the Pyrenees!

Fiordland in Winter: The Keppler Track

2011-07-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

For quite some time a few of us have been keen to do a winter walk in Fiordland, in New Zealand. After checking out the various options it looked liked the Keppler Track was the best bet. It has an amazing alpine ridge which you walk for a day, and is relatively rarely closed in winter unlike some of the others.

Some months ago we got in touch with DOC in NZ, and they said that we should be in touch closer to the time but a July walk was feasible if we were well prepared. Well, we practiced self arrest with an ice axe on the dunes at Cronulla, stocked up on down clothing and prepared for the walk.

We arrived at Te Anau the day before we intended to start. Our last check-in with DOC had been a week before, and they had said there was not much snow on the top, and it was feasible to undertake a full loop.
We got to the DOC station in the evening, and sad to say it was snowing. But sadder to say the news was not good. It was likely not possible even to get to Luxmore hut (the first hut on the route), which is very unusual. There was snow up to your chin on the tops, and even if were safe there was little hope of getting from hut to hut in one day. We were told not to do it in no uncertain terms. So what to do? We considered other options and turned in for the night.

Arriving at DOC the next day we thought we had a plan; Caples or Hollyford. But the alpine passes were now closed and wouldn't open for days. So no way to get to these! We settled on walking the Keppler clockwise to Iris Burn hut at the beginning of the alpine section, which should be possible, and return. One of the DOC staff tried to talk us out of even that, but the other seemed to think it would be fine.

So we headed out, aiming for Motorau hut the first night. The weather looked as though it was improving, and we saw some mountains out over lake Te Anau for the first time:

Buoyed by this, we headed off. Much of the first part of the walk is along the Waiau River, known to many tourists as the Anduin, since it was there that Peter Jackson's version of the Lord of the Rings filmed its sections in which the party floats down that river.

Soon we come to Motorau hut, on Lake Manapouri. The weather was closing in, and very soon there was nothing to see.

The next day the track goes along the now invisible lake, and up to the half way point which is where it begins to get snowy indeed:

Then it gets thicker and thicker until we reach Iris Burn hut:

While the previous hut had running water and flush toilets, Iris Burn was closed for winter. No liquid water, and there is a long drop loo which is a couple of hundred metres through the blizzard, and there was no kindling for the wood stove. In late afternoon it was 2 degrees in the hut! We were glad of our down clothing. Also we were melting snow for water, so our gas supplies were only just enough.

But we were toasty in our gear and woke up early so as to be able to walk the two huts distance back to the car if we didn't explore further. The snow overnight had really built up, scotching our plan for further exploration. We would have needed snow shoes to make further progress. And what we didn't know was that not much further up there were 200mph winds and many metres of snow.

So as planned we headed to the car. The track really is magical in the snow. We saw Kiwi tracks amongst other things, and a fairly rare native pigeon. There were Keas playing in every avalanche caused clearing:

Much of the track was now a bit harder to navigate because the snow load on the Beech made it overhang:

One part of the track which was a welcome change from the (admittedly lovely) forest was the Big Slip, and area where almost a square km of forest was taken out by a landslip in 1984; for us it was a chance for some more or less off track walking:

But finally we got back to the car, having had a wonderful trip which whets the appetite for more. A pity the Alpine part wasn't doable, but it's not going away. And wise of us not to have gone despite the advice: they did close it when we would have been there, and there were gale force winds, avalanches caused by water on snow, and soft snow over the head! The storms we heard on our two nights were doing major things up on the tops.

Perry's to Mount Victoria

2011-06-19T16:48:00.000-07:00

It's winter, and there's a need to keep up the fitness for our fairly ambitious summer walking program. So we plan a daywalk in the Blue Mountains: down into the Grose Valley at Perry's Lookdown, up the river and climb up the track to Victoria falls. After pumping caffeine into Lise at Blackheath, we leave the car at the Victoria Falls carpark, and get a cab to the start of the walk at Perry's Lookdown.

Here we are at the beginning (must bring a tripod on these walks so that everyone can be in the pic!)

We march down the track, and head upriver. Morning tea is at a crossing where someone has made an extraordinarily beautiful cairn:

We wonder what the crossing is: at fist we thought it might go to Pierce's Pass, but that's not for a while.

We are reminded just how beautiful the Grose Valley is. On our recent Wollemi walk we became convinced that the Capertee was overwhelming more lovely. Well, it is more impressive, but one shouldn't knock the Grose just because it's familiar!

After lunch (gosh it's nice to have real sandwiches and fresh fruit! - the privileges of a day walk) we reach the confluence of Victoria Creek and the Grose.

And there are lovely views downstream:

Then it's time for the slog up the hill. Actually it's not much of a slog up to Victoria Falls itself, most of the elevation gain is in the last half kilometre as the crow flies (which is probably a couple of k as the track winds). At the falls, Paul acts out being the mermaid of Copengagen:

Then it's the march up to the cars, and light dinner in a mighty weird Christian sect's cafe in Katoomba!
Great day, about as much as could be done in the day length, and nice to knock the cobwebs out of the legs!

Neates Glen to Govett's Leap

2011-06-05T03:02:00.000-07:00

Photos from another fitness-maintaining day-walk in the gorgeous Grose Valley are posted at a friend's site here

The Wollemi Crossing

2011-05-02T02:44:00.000-07:00

Note: tracknotes for this walk can be downloaded here

Four years in the planning; exploratory trips at both ends and finally, success: we walked across Wollemi National Park from East to West. A climb down to the Wollemi Creek, then walking down the Colo and Capertee rivers to Glen Davis in the west. It's the narrowest point, and only 40km from the end of one dirt-road to the beginning of the next, but for most of the walk you are either wading through water or walking on sand - and sometimes quicksand! Oh, and that's ignoring the climbs into thick vegetation and over house sized boulders which on the third and fourth days are required every few hundred meters to avoid rapids. This is not by way of bragging (well, not only) but rather to emphasise that this is not a walk to be undertaken lightly. It needs meticulous planning, experience of the riverine conditions, practice on soft sand, and good general bush skills. You absolutely must have an EPIRB or PLB: there is no way out between the beginning when you climb down into the gully and the end, so if you have any kind of accident you need help. There is no phone reception anywhere. You need also to check the water levels very carefully - ask the NPWS before you leave how wadeable it is. But the water levels before you go aren't all that matter: you also need to be confident that there won't be flash flooding, which in the narrower gorges could pose serious risks. So check the weather forecasts for the Central West and for the Blue Mountains. If either talks of more than 5mm or so of rain think carefully; if more than 10mm a day for a few days, reconsider.

Enough of the warnings, on to the trip description!

We did all our river level and weather checking, and the forecasts were for sun and occassional showers. But in fact there was perhaps two minutes of sun for the first four days. These days began as they ended; gentle mist alternating with light rain.

In these conditions we walked from the Couloul Range firetrail car park down to Crawfords lookout, and then down the Andersen Pass (yes it's named after you Lise-Marie) to Wollemi Creek. The Andersen pass is all bush bashing, but saves a bit of time compared to the cairned route.

Crossing Wollemi Creek, we followed the track to the junction with the Colo River, where we found another party camped in the rain on sand which, to our eyes, was alarmingly close to river level (a sudden rise in the river level would have been bad news). There are no photos from this day as it was very wet and we were pressed for time: getting the camera out of its dry bag would have slowed the party too much.

We found the cave we had camped in on one of our exploratory missions (photos and description here) and settled in for the night, drying out our wettest gear on the fine roaring fire that Paul always seems to manage in the wettest conditions.

The next morning, Day two, it was off down the Colo; fairly easy walking and we met another party coming the other way. At this time we had no idea just how surprising that was. Research with the NPWS since, inspired by looking at the log book, suggests that usually only one or two parties a year attempt this walk. We found a rock overhang to sit out of the rain for lunch and brewed a cup of warming tea. Later that afternoon we arrived at the confluence of the Colo, Wolgan and Capertee rivers. We needed to pull out the camera here!

Here's one of us getting excited about arriving:

In the next photo she poses with an imaginary fish. The pose is inspired by calendars of women in waders that she discovered when looking for women's waders - goretex leggings connected to waterproof neoprene booties that enable you to wade down the river dryfoot. Each of us took a different approach to river-walking, one in these waders, one in traditional boots and gaiters (pictured), and one in 'wet waders' (fisherman's boots designed for good grip on slimy rocks). All worked equally well. The main issue is boots filling with sand, which can be prevented by gaiters with elastic at the bottom.

The next photo shows the confluence of the two smaller rivers to form the Colo. The right hand stream of water is the Capertee River, the left the Wolgan. You can see it's getting narrow and busy. The water level is very low (1.37m at the Glen Davis gauge). Last December there was a big flood and we could see the damaged vegetation well above our heads all up the Capertee. The water would have been several metres higher than in these shots.

Given the continuing rain we were keen to find a cave to camp in. Some exploring of the cliffs produced nothing, and we were about to give up when we found a substantial boulder cave next to the river that allowed us all to eat dinner in shelter, and Paul to roll out his bivvy in luxurious dryness. There's room for a tent next to it too.

Day three dawned misty and wet, as usual, and we headed up the Capertee. The next photo shows one of the breaks in the more passable terrain. The rapids became more and more frequent, meaning long periods pushing through vegetation on the banks.

This next picture here shows typical terrain on this part of the river: deep pools as in the foreground, and rapids and waterfalls caused by rockfalls. The scrubby bush to either side is the only way forward. We have since heard that the great floods earlier this year (Thanks, Friends of the Colo!) have scoured the Capertee, moving much sand from the Capertee to the Colo. Thus the Capertee had more deep pools than usual, and the Colo more sand to walk on. It also smashed the riverine flora. Only mature Allocasurina were spared. One side effect is that it was a bit like walking through military defences: we were walking upstream, so there were saplings and twigs pointing at us like weapons.

One of our number was bivvying with a tarp. The tarp proved absolutely invaluable in allowing us to have tea breaks in relative dryness, helping keep us warm and maintain morale. It's taught us that even when tenting, one of these ultralight tarps might be worth its weight in wet conditions. Our pack weights on this trip, by the way, were 12.75, 13.6 and 13.8 kilos, including food for six days and 1.5 litres of water each.

Camp that night was on a sandy flat amongst Casuarinas, and we were very lucky: the only really extended break in the rain was when we made camp and had dinner. The stars were visible for the first time, and we coinfidently expected sun the next day.

Day four dawned grey and wet. This day was perhaps the hardest and most rewarding of all. There were extraordinarily beautiful rocks and cliffs, most of which we don't have photos of because of the rain. But here's one rock that coincided with a break in the weather - a towering roadblock in the middle of the river!

Although sadly the amazing cliffs were mostly unphotographable, this shot gives some idea of the kind of gorge that the river runs through. The mist trickling down the top of the cliffs is how they appeared for the entire trip.

The sand flats are covered in roo and wombat footprints, which is delightful, and every stretch has a couple of Rock Warblers, a small, gray and russet-brown bird that is only found in the sandstone country within 300km of Sydney.

The river makes frequent changes of direction as it winds through the gorge, and each reach has its own character. The previous photos are from a wide, sandy east-west reach where we could make rapid progress. Immediately before this was a much narrower stretch with the most impressive cliffs we have seen in the Greater Blue Mountains (we dubbed them the Eleven Gods): 300m orange sandstone cliffs with tall buttresses like roughly carved figures. Most of the day was in narrow reaches like that one, climbing up and around pool after waterfall after rapid.

Towards the end of the day the valley widened, and we could walk well above the river in open woodland with ferms and grassy clearings nibbled by roos and wombats. Just as afternoon turned into evening we reached a clearing we call Wombat Flats, where we have camped on previous expeditions. We have also seen this area described as 'Pan's Glade' but that seems far too Norman Lindsay-ish. It is flat, and there are a lot of wombats: Wombat Flats. Once again the tarp is pressed into service to make the camp comfortable!

The next day we walked out to Glen Davis, and a bit before lunch came to the Wollemi Wilderness sign, where we took the customary victory shot:

Soon after comes an exciting moment: four years ago we buried a box of tinned food at a grid reference so we could feast on arrival. Here's the photo of us having just dug it up! It even had a very fine bottle of wine! (the same could not be said of the tinned stew!)

Fortified by a lunch of tinned food, very welcome after freeze-dried dinners, we walked on to Glen Davis, where the weather was much better. This next photo shows the Capertee valley narrowing, back in the direction we had come from, as we walk along the coal-dark road into the widening valley.

The old Glen Davis pub is now a 'boutique hotel', but there was no room at the inn! Or rather, there was plenty of room but we hadn't booked and they don't take walk-ins (or at least not ones that smell like us). But when we found that the council camp site had hot showers we had all the luxury we needed, and while we waited for Karola to pick us up the next day, we got to explore the remains of the town - reduced from the 2500 shale-oil workers of the 1940s to a dozen or houses - and in Paul's case the amazing birdlife of the Capertee Valley - one of the best birding spots in the state.

Here's a gratuitous photo of a lovely flowering gum tree that was planted in abundance:

And the camp site with the hot showers!

A truly magnificent trip. Four years in the planning, and well worth it. It would have been lovelier if sunny, true. But there is a real satisfaction in having completed it, ahead of time, in taxing conditions and keeping ourselves comfortable through good decisions, decent bush skills, and careful preparation. Despite the rain it was a really enjoyable trip. Well done guys!

The Vanishing Roots Ridge Trail: Kanangra to Kowmung

2011-04-11T00:49:00.000-07:00

Some sons in full training mode decided to walk from the Kanagra walls to the Kowmung river. The plan was to walk down the Hughes Trail, down the river, and back up the Roots Ridge trail.

A lovely day dawned, and after staying overnight at the Caves House at Jenolan and having seen some of the truly impressive caves, we headed up. Some minor car snafus meant that we had to go to Oberon and back, which slowed us down by a couple of hours.

So it was after 10.30 in the morning when we turned on our satellite tracking so that Paul and Lisa could spy on our progress, and headed off.

We started by following the plateau walk and were rewarded by views of the Thurat Spires. Since you can never have too many photos of these, here we go again:

We then took the turn south and started down the spur leading to Cottage Rock: we passed the amazing coal seam near Coal Seam Cave. In this photo you can see how the rock sticks out and the coal itself has eroded back:

Soon we were at Cottage Rock: though actually not that soon. The promised cairn was nowhere to be found, and the track notes had no grid reference for the start of the track. After walking along the length of the massif a couple of times, we resorted to figuring out a priori from the terrain where it ought to be. This worked fine; we should have done it earlier. Soon we were at the scramble, and from the top we got an interesting perspective on Mt Cloudmaker and Gangerang Range from the south.

After a late lunch on the rock, we headed on. Our track notes told us to look out for hard to find junctions at various numbers of kilometres along the track. The GPS function that tells you how far you have travelled as the track winds was invaluable for following instructions like this, that don't have grid references.

Eventually we came to the point where the Gingra track and the Roots Ridge track are supposed to diverge.

Thanks to the late start, we decided to head straight down the Roots Ridge instead of going to the Hughes, for which there wasn't time.

We were sure we were at the right point, since we where at the right point in the terrain, the right number of km from the last turnoff, and there were markings on the tree as described in the notes. But the Roots Ridge trail was nowhere to be found! In fact the markings that were supposed to point to it pointed towards (on a natural reading of them) to the extension of the Gingra. We looked around for a while but to no avail. Pretty clearly the Roots Ridge trail has been overgrown by dense saplings near the turnoff. We later met another party who told us that you need to bash about 40m through the saplings to find the trail. We got at most 30 m through, so no luck.

Having not found the Roots Ridge we decided to continue on the Gingra, and if time permitted take our original route down the Hughes, and hope to find a campsite by the river closer than the recommended one.

The Gingra gets very overgrown after the turnoff, and was pretty much a bush bash down a ridge after a while. When we finally got the area the Hughes was in, there was only an hour and a half left of light. We thought that something close to a bush bash down 600m followed by a serious river crossing and no guarantee of a campsite that didn't involve three more crossings was not doable in the available time! But we did have the time, if we route marched, to get back to the Coal Seam Cave where there is a potable water supply.

So we headed back at full steam and found the cave. And what a lovely campsite! There was rain predicted, so the security of a cave was great. And the water was delicious: an old plastic drum under a drip where the water is filtered through the sandstone.

Here we both are at the cave:

We had dinner - imported American freeze dried vegetable pasta. Superb; why can't Australasians do this well? Only 9 mins of soaking, al dente pasta and big chunks of beautiful vegetable you might think was fresh in a nice cheese sauce. We've had worse at restaurants.

The next morning we headed back to the carpark and checked out the lookouts at the walls that we always seem to miss, and the track to the waterfall. Then we made it back to the car just in time for the rain to start! But not before a couple of nice pics: one of an ominous cloud over the Walls:

And the other of the Walls and Mt Cloudmaker: a great perspective on the first part of the K2K walk we did a few weeks ago:

A Stroll in the Park

2011-04-04T04:06:00.000-07:00

After the all too exciting events of last weekend, the Sons deemed it a good idea to get back on the horse quickly, as it were. But to do so in a nice, mild confidence building way! So we settled on a stroll in the park: 17 (21 it turned out) km from Mt Kuring-gai station to Cowan via Brerowra Waters.

We left the station, and all met up at the track head. And off we marched, on a lovely morning on well made track. So relaxed were we that there was time to take a picture of this impressive spider:

We soon came to a remarkable swamp with a kind of button grass growing in it:

There was then a lovely climb of about 200m on a very well made track that still managed to have a wilderness feel to it. Some very nice views appeared, and after a while we get to the Brerowra Creek:

We then descended to Brerowra waters; turns out that despite all the enticing ads on the web, if you don't want to shell out for the Brerowra Waters Inn, there's not much to eat there unless you want fish and chips! But we had fun crossing on the ferry; once over to the food, and once back. Here's a image of the ferry from when we climbed out of Brerowra Waters:

There was then a series of roughly 200m climbs. In a saddle between twin peaks we found a remarkable small but very deep bathing pool. Maureen, who jumps into all available clean water sources, couldn't resist. Here she is, as if modelling for Cleopatra's Bath:

Then it was down and up and down and up...

Close to Cowan we came to a dirt road that gave access to the Old Pacific Highway: since we had realized that Paul wouldn't be able to get a train from Cowan (they wouldn't stop where his car was parked) we decided to all share a cab back to station with regular service. So we got the highway and called a cab. Minor mistake. After half an hour we called the cab company, and still no car had taken the job and no sign of one. We cancelled the cab, and walked to Brerowra down the highway. Actually, it was a pleasant evening without much traffic, so we walked counter-flow to the traffic with headlights on so we could be seen. After a pleasant and speedy roadbash we were at Brewowra, where a train was due soon.

WIth the roadbash it was about 21km, and a lovely scenic walk. Well worth doing, and a great way for us to shake out last weeks cobwebs!

GR: Mt Wilson 497 897

2011-03-28T18:00:00.000-07:00

We start with a photo which is a plot spoiler: this is how the walk turned out. Here's one of our party being choppered out after having a fall. So let's backtrack. The plan was to walk from the Bell's Line of Road down the Jinki Ridge and into the Jinki Gully, checking out the old coal adit on the way, and then down into the Grose Valley to walk along the Grose River until we reached Burra Korain flats, where we would pick up the track that goes up through Victoria Falls. Then cab back to the car, dinner, and home. It was a party of five, three regulars and a couple of visitors from the UK and Germany. We set off from the ridge and, passing some spectacular views, descended into the gully. At one point we went a little too far west and hit the cliff line, but there was really only a couple of hundred metres in it. We made our way to Jinki creek and found the track to the coal adit, and then started to head down the fairly steep slope that would take us down to the river. It was very slow going, in part because of regrowth, but mainly because this is just very hard country. Lawyer vine blocks your path constantly, walls of saplings "impede progress" as they say in the guide books. We made it down to the river, but it took nearly five hours for the approx. 2km direct distance. Maybe we walked 3k and 300m down, but that comes to around 500m an hour. Actually not a bad rate for that kind of country.

Lesson 1: in unknown terrain that's steep and untracked, think very carefully about not just expected progress, but also plausible worst case progress, and have a plan that works if the plausible worst case eventuates.

There is a segment of the ABC science show Catalyst about the ecological impact of the old coal mine we passed on the internet here. It was made in 2008 and, as one of the speakers says in the show 'We wouldn't be getting through here if it wasn't for the big bushfire'. This partly explains how tough the descent was - since then we have had the three wettest years for decades to get the undergrowth going, but still no decent sized trees to shade anything out.

Once at the river we started to walk down. Like most bushwalkers we've walked along the Grose river many times, but never this high up the valley. A short way above Burra Korain Flats it stops being a river become is basically a canyon - a series of waterfalls and pools flowing around boulders the size of houses. The banks are far too steep and vegetated for walking and we realised that best progress would happen if we just waded down the river, and climbed the banks only at the biggest waterfalls.

Lesson 2: Remember lesson 1; if we had inspected the map more closely we might have expected waterfalls, and impassable banks. The worst case scenario for progress here, combined with the worst case for the gully, wouldn't have got us to the known track beginning by dark, and shown us this was an impractical daywalk. So actual lesson 2: study the contours, and elevation change of watercourses very carefully. And remember that a river you think you know well can be very different just a few hundred meters from the bit you do know well.

At this stage we realised we weren't going to get out of the valley by dark, but we did think that we could get to the beginning of the track by dark and walk out with headlights. Since we were equipped for a daywalk we didn't consider stopping so we soldiered on past the waterfalls.

Lesson 3a: if you don't have a comfortable shelter, your decision making will be biased towards getting out in the day, even when it would be safer to make camp.

We ploughed on and came to another waterfall, where we detoured around it on the bank. And that's where the accident happened. One of our party was crossing a large mud-slide between two rocks, and put her foot on what looked like sound wood, but it was rotten and gave way. She fell three to five metres, sliding with her back against the rock and then hitting a large bit of wood, causing damage to her lower left flank. Probably this accident would have happened regardless, but one of us was very likely to get injured given the terrain and our sense of urgency to get to the track by dark.

From here on all went well. Paul had recently completed a remote area first aid course. This turned out to be crucial, because he was able to make a reasonable judgment that Kristie was in a condition that was likely to be safe to move a few meters to a place where she could be made more comfortable, and where there could be a fire. If we hadn't been reasonably sure of this, then it would have been unwise to move her, and that mud-slide would not have been a good place to try to survive the night! Maria found a flat place that just fitted the party, and we moved Kristie to it and got her into dry, warm clothes and a silver emergency blanket. Paul briefed Darrell and Maria on how to alert the emergency services, and sent them to try to walk out before dark with a map reference and details of the injury. We had no cellphone reception, so David climbed up the side of the canyon to higher ground to try and find some. Eventually eureka: two bars on the cellphone. It was very shaky, but he finally got via 000 through to police rescue. By the way, 000 does not seem to have improved their call centre since they failed to help that kid on Mt Solitary. They kept asking for towns and roads when he kept telling them we were in deep bush. But once he got through to the police they were amazing. He was able to tell them the grid reference of our location (Mt Wilson 497897) and they reassured us that help was coming. Back at camp Paul headed out to stop Maria and Darrell from the now unnecessary and hazardous trip out, and bring them back to camp, and then got the fire going, while we all scrambled to find dry gumleaves under rocks (mini lesson: this went well, but note to self, bring fire-starters even on daywalks!). With a good fire going we shared out our remaining food - 1/5 of a banana and 2/5 a piece of mountain bread each, and a handful of scroggin - leaving a muesli bar to share in the morning! Fortunately we did have tea and a billy. The patient had plenty of warm clothes, and the rest of us had enough to survive and not be majorly miserable if the fire kept up, which it would: we arranged shifts to keep the fire alive.

We also set off our newly acquired SPOT satellite messenger. We were not at all sure it would work in the narrow canyon, but Darrell took it to the area with the best view of the sky we could find. Having just bought this thing it really wasn't set up to go, and in particular our emergency contacts weren't fully briefed. We had planned to do this later before the first multi day trip with it. So we knew that those emergency contacts - Lisa and her partner Linda in Canberra - were going to have a rough night of it. But at least we were now reasonably sure that assistance would come; even though we lost reception on the phone we were confident that enough info had gone out, and there was a good chance the satellite beacon would successfully transmit - which in fact it had. We expected, though, that the best case scenario would be that a party would be sent to look for us at first light, and that once they assessed the situation on the ground, a chopper would be called out for K. We had even set up a visual signal our in the riverbed, since our campsite was under the trees. Imagine our surprise, and delight, when at midnight we heard whistles! We whistled and cooeed to them in bursts of three, and in no time the headlights of the Police Rescue and SCAT (Special Casualty Access Team) guys hove into view. These amazing guys had walked for five hours in the dark, with the last two hours walking up the river, clambering over rocks, climbing waterfalls, cutting through vine all at considerable personal risk. They immediately got work on Kristie, stabilising her, giving here a drip and enough morphine to be comfortable. They set up a tarp around her, and moved the rest of us down to a lower level where there was some flat land and enough sky view for an evacuation. They set up more tarps, and gave us sleeping bags and food. Amazing.

Lesson 3b: quite apart from its effect on decision making, on a challenging daywalk always bring shelter and enough insulation for tolerable comfort rather than survival. It'll make all the difference, and how much does a little extra weight matter on a one day walk? A tarp and some extra insulation really doesn't weight much. Tarp, one more layer of warm-when-wet, and a superlight bivvy all comes to under 800g.

Next morning all went to plan. They choppered in a winch operator, and then sent in an ambulance chopper that went to Nepean Hospital, and another chopper took the rest of the party out. Kristie is well, and has at worst a cracked rib. She wouldn't have been able to walk out, so thanks so much to those guys for getting her our! But recovery ought be swift. But aside from what we should learn to do better, it's just as important to remember what we did right and keep doing it! What was most crucial was that the party worked well as a team. There was no panic, no discord, we just did what we had to do. Thanks guys. As Paul said: can't imagine better people to be stranded in a muddy hole with! Also, we knew where we were at all times, and were able to transmit that info effectively. The first aid was great. We managed to set things up so that even had our electronic methods failed (in fact the SPOT device and the phone call both worked) we ought to have been OK. We would have got through the night, and sent out a party of two to get help.

If anyone is reading this blog who isn't just one of our friends, at least take this advice: get a personal locator beacon. That thing may one day save your life. If you do a lot of walking over thirty years or so what's the chance that once it will save your life? It only has to be once. The amusing thing in some ways is we bought our beacon last week and used it on the very first walk. After thirty years of never once being unintentionally out overnight! Before that we only borrowed or hired one for very serious walks. And second: get some lightweight emergency overnight gear and take it on daywalks.

Also: brief your emergency contacts very thoroughly. We hadn't set up ours at all, so Lisa and Linda had to figure out if this was a serious emergency without even knowing we were walking! It must have been horrible. But even when briefed do it thoroughly: complete route, grid references expected at different times, names and phone nos of the next of kin of everyone on the party, details of the party including their ages and any salient medical facts (allergies, illnesses, medications an ambulance team might want to know about), estimates of their fitness and bushcraft and so on). Also do a trip intention form even if you aren't passing a police station; you can fax them in. Don't rely on those forms you fill in at trail heads! At least in this country the best place for all the details is the police search and rescue. And even better, include on the form all the info about your emergency beacon. If like us you use a SPOT device, turn tracking on, and give the police the password and website on the intention form. This is one occasion on which you really want big brother watching you!

We end with a photo of the party safe and sound at the other end, but before then a tribute to the emergency services, and to the SCAT and police guys. They were amazing. It's a real boost to your confidence in human nature. And the emergency services operators were extraordinary. They were constantly on the phone to our emergency contacts, and to Kristie's parents keeping them informed hour by hour as to the progress of it all. So here we are safe as promised next day:

A Short Walk in The Morton National Park

2011-03-12T01:34:00.000-08:00

Bundanoon, in the Southern Highlands of NSW, is a charming little town about two hours south of Sydney. When some SOTD had reason to be there, it we felt that a chance to get into the Morton NP – Bundanoon backs right onto it – was not to be missed.

So we planned a morning walk down the cliff via Tooth's Track to Bundanoon Creek, and then up to Fairy Bower Falls (a charming waterfall that this poster has visited often) and out via the Amphitheatre track.

The top of the Tooth's track is difficult indeed by the standards of a walk that is advertised to tourists. But after visiting wild places where we, humiliatingly, had to add time to the advertised times on walks, we were encouraged to get down to the creek and back in less than half the time that the signs had claimed.

It was warm and humid, and the creek provided a lovely respite:

It also has lots of lovely tiny wild flowers growing around it. I was reminded that my lovely Zeiss Makro-Planar standard lens is indeed a near-macro (1:2 magnification) lens:

Then we headed up the hill, and on to Fairy Bower falls. Here we stopped for some lunch and a chance to cool off. Here's a DOTD doing said cooling off:

The water looks lovely and fresh, but as it's flowing off the plateau past septic tanks and god knows what else it's not good to drink. Thinking this was a little walk, we didn't bring quite enough water for perfect comfort, and nor did we have a filter. Reminder: daywalks with climbing can be thirsty too, and a bit more than a litre each is not enough!

At the moment we arrived, a shaft of life lit one lone tree from above:

A tiny spot of navigational embarrassment (not helped by dodgy batteries in the GPS) paid off with another waterfall, and the most amazing fungi:

Soon we were back on track, and walking around the Amphitheatre, which is an impressive sandstone cliff carved b water into amazing shapes. The track winds around the base of the cliff, still a couple of hundred metres above the Bundanoon Creek. A 4km road bash back to the car was surprisingly pleasant, passing lovely rural scenery and on soft gravel roads. Just before the car we saw the first egg and bacon peas we've seen since last spring:

Back at the car by 2, in time for scones and back home with time for some work. All in all a very productive day!

K2K (or at least, to Carlon's Farm)

2011-02-25T15:43:00.000-08:00

The K2K is a classic walk from Kanangra Walls in the Kanagra Boyd National Park to Katoomba, in the Blue Mountains. The usual route time for serious walkers is 3 days, though many do it in 4. Some masochists do it in 2, and some people run it. Madness!

Initially we plan on four days, to allow time for side trips to Splendour Rock and other viewpoints, but pressure of work and the looming semester make us attempt it in 3. We also decide to end the walk at Carlon's Farm, near Blackheath, rather than slog back to Katoomba along the Narrowneck Plateau one more time. Enduring dreadful traffic leaving Sydney, as usual, we get dropped off (Thanks, Karola!) at the Kanangra Walls lookout on the western side of the Blue Mountains at lunchtime.

This is the point at which the slight snafu emerges (which explains inter alia why there are fewer and less good photographs in this blog entry. There are some more photos by another member of the party here). Most parties attempting this walk camp out overnight to get an early start. It's well into the afternoon when we are on the track, with 13km to the next reliable source of water, and allowing for the odd navigational snafu, it'll be a tight day. Later when we realize that there's some chance we might not make it, we also realize that while we have a day in reserve, we didn't make this clear to our emergency contacts or the police with whom we had registered the walk. So if at all possible we should try to keep to three days.

Anyhow, the beginning of the walk is spectactual indeed. While the Kanangra Walls need to be seen in the morning (they face eastish) the landscape itself is amazing. We walk through alpine heath, along the edge of the mighty walls:

The opposite side of the Kanangra Gorge is striated to form the Thurat Spires; you can see some of this striation here:

And a closer view here:

See the little waterfall in the previous image? It's not little. The gorge is about 500m deep at this point. The falls plunge down the walls in a series of steps - here's an image that gives the idea.

After this there's lots more walking though the tops. A very scenic feature, though a worrying one, is the amount of dead Banksia, Isopagon and Persoonia. Fire or disease? Unsure, but they are all Proteaceae, so that might mean a common susceptibility to a fungus like Phythoptera. The next image shows not only this, but also the ridge line that we will be walking across and some of the peaks that we will cross: Crafts Walls with the yellow cliffs, Mt Berry, Mt High and Mighty, Mt Stormbreaker, and finally, in the distance, Mt Cloudmaker, where we mean to camp.

At first it seems like it will be hard to get down off the plateau to the ridge line, but then we realize that the Kilpatrick Causeway, a knife-edge of rock, rises up close to the level of the plateau. Finding the descent to the causeway, though, turns out to be less easy that it ought. We are almost at it, then we turn back, then we eventually find it: all the while losing valuable time.

By the time we get to the Crafts Walls, we realise that time is running out. We wonder if there is accessible water at Gabes Gap, the lowest point on the walk, which would allow us to either camp there, or else on one of the peaks following if we don't make it to the campsite at Dex Creek.

But Gabes Gap disappoints. The west side is dry, and the east side a steep and densely vegetated gully. In such a wet year there probably is water not too far down, but getting to it would be very difficult indeed. We decide that we must march on. If we are benighted, we'll just have to eat the moistest food we have, and rely on being close enough to Dex Creek that we won't get dangerously dehydrated before we reach it in the morning

It's around this time that we realize that the howling noises we hear aren't hoonish bushwalkers, but wild dogs, likely Dingos. They stop whenever we call back to them. Appropriate so near the Wild Dog Mountains and Mt Dingo, but also eerie. It's odd from an Australian perspective to think about any macrofauna (mesofauna?) that are in any way malign.

So it's on the peaks with the iconic names: first Mt Stormbreaker, then the four knolls Rip, Rack, Roar, and Rumble. The definition of a 'knoll' is pretty arbitrary, and we have climbed up and down several rocky outcrops on the ridge when the GPS reveals we are on Rip, the first official knoll! Fortunately, the subsequent knolls have fewer "prequels" than the first, and in little time, to our great relief, we are on Cloudmaker itself! Paul signs us up in the logbook on the summit at 19.00, 15m before sunset.

In the dying light we march on and find the route down to Dex Creek, getting there just when the light goes, so we are pumping water with our torches. But we've made it: well done Sons! Only another 23km to go!

Day 2

Up we get in our leafy hollow; the creek is deep enough that there is little light well after dawn on a clear day:

Dex Creek is a lovely spot, a little valley on the Gangerang Plateau in the heart of the Blue Mountains. The small creek is surrounded by ferns, and the heathland on the tops gives way to full-sized trees, so the valley is full of green shade. But we have to leave. Finding the path to Carra Top takes a little while, but soon we get some interesting views. You need to get this far into the mountains to get a real wilderness feel. There is no farmland visible in any direction, even from the peaks, just forest and cliffs. The Blue Mountains towns along the far cliffls are too far away for the buildings to be visible. The cliff to the left in the next photo is the Moorilla Lookout, another great side-trip we have to miss out on for reasons of time.We don't know what the triangular peak in the distance is, but it looks as if it is in the Grose Valley. Mt Hay?

The day stretches on: we really need to make the Cox River by the middle of the day in order to get to the campsite at Mobbs Soak by dark.

Here's Paul descending a cairned slope en route:

From Mt Strongleg, we descend 600m to the Coxs River. Hard on the knees, and trekking poles are invaluable. It is now the hottest part of the day, and as we descend the dry, stony soil, scrubby trees and a ubiquitous herb that looks and smells like sage makes for an atmosphere not unlike walking in the south of France. When we finally reach the Coxs River it's well after three, and the temperature must be close to 30C. It's certainly not the time for a 600m ascent up the other side of the valley, so we decide to camp there. Our decision is vindicated when we later try to find the track up to save time in the morning. Coming down from Mt Yellow Dog the track enters a dense belt of trees along the river and spits you out right at the campsite. From the river, however, it is a barely visible gap in the vegetation and we have to sweep across the hillside above the river to hit the track and come down it again to find the entrance.

For someone who knows Australian plants the Cox river itself is not a very attractive spot because it is so infested with invasive weeds. Not too many woody weeds, but the herbaceous vegetation is mainly weeds. It is also crawling with snakes this year. We see four, and there are snake tracks in the sand along the riverbank. Other members of the party ignore these deficiencies and concentrate on the chance to laze about in water only just cool enough to be refreshing.

Day 3

The big question of the day is whether to attempt to walk out (in effect doing day 2 of the masochists 2 day version of the walk) or to take four days and camp at Mobbs Soak. This is where poor planning gets us - we hadn't told the police or our emergency contacts that we had the fourth day in reserve. So we decide that at least some of us must walk out, and we all decide to go in the light of that.

It is a pretty hard day, but there is something undeniably satisfying after the fact about completing it this way! The day starts with a 600m ascent of Mt Yellow Dog up the Yellow Pup Ridge. Starting at 7.30, and mostly on a south-facing slope, we get to the top while it is still delightfully cool. On top of the Wild Dogs there is a flock of Gang Gang cockatoos flying about, calling to one another with their characteristic 'rusty hinge' call. From here it's on to the slopes of Mt Dingo and then to Mobbs Soak, where we fill up with water and eat lunch.

Then we march on; the toughest part of the day is probably the descent to Breakfast Creek: it's very steep - 400m vertical in 1000m horizontal - and very eroded, and has almost no switchbacks. Basically the track follows the path made by the first person to bash straight down the hillside. Once again, trekking poles are much appreciated to save strain on the knees. Like the day before, we do the descent in bright sunlight in the hottest part of the day.

But after a swim at the creek and refilling water, we are ready to finish: we realize to our delight that we will probably make it to Carlon's Farm by 5.00, in time to meet our lift out.

The climb up is along Carlons Creek, or, if I can remember the words that came to mind at the time, a putrid weedy cloaca of a gully, infested with European Nettle and Brambles. We are getting too close to farmland. But at the end we get to the carpark on time, having earned real stripes by doing day two of the two-day masochists version of the walk. Bravo us!

This is the very neat and well-equipped National Park carpark at Carlons Farm, with Black Billy Head in the background. There is cellphone coverage here to call the Katoomba Cab company, and surprisingly good rabbit stew (and tolerable pizza for the vegos) was consumed at Blackheath.

Some Sons walk the Overland Track

2011-02-20T16:24:00.000-08:00

The Overland Track is Tasmania's most famous walk; the kind of well known walk tat requires (at least outside of winter) booking long in advance for a permit. It goes from Cradle Mountain in the north down to Lake St Clair in the south, and is usually walked in about a week. Huts are spaced along the route, but you are required to take a tent (and indeed it's often nicer to camp). The huts are basic - wooden bunks to sleep on, no power bedding or food of course. A lot of people walk it in very odd ways, of which more later! But for all that it is a major tourist attraction, it's also one of the most marvellous alpine routes in the world. If you can walk it in reasonable weather (and we were very lucky with that) it's astonishingly beautiful.

We headed out on a Friday from Cradle Mountain visitors centre having come from Launceston by bus. If you plan to do it, the only sensible way to go is to fly into Tassie through Launceston, get the bus to Cradle Mountain, then get the bus from Lake St Clair to Hobart and fly out there (the bus company will deliver any excess stuff you aren't walking with to Hobart)

Day 1: Cradle Mountain to Waterfall Hut

The weather was perfect, so off we walked through button grass and pandani, then up a little climb through alpine rainforest to meet our first waterfall:

A little further climbing gets us to Crater Lake; not in fact a crater but a glacial cirque. This photo is taken from a tiny boat shed left from before the park was declared:

Climbing up from the lake (via a climb which seemed to defeat many of the walkers) we get to Marion's Lookout, which gives us our first view of Cradle Mountain itself and Dove Lake:

Moving on from here we come to Kitchen Hut, and emergency hut which is the point at which you leave the track to gain the summit of Cradle Mountain:

Cradle Mountain would be a 400m ascent from here, and lots of fun, but we don't have the time on this fairly long first day.

Moving on from the hut we get our first glimpse of Barn Bluff, which will dominate the landscape for the next few days. It's the little bump on the right, Cradle Mountain is to the left:

Barn Bluff soon begins to loom impressively; also the weather shows signs of getting a little grim:

After some truly glorious walking across a high plateau we descend to Waterfall Hut. Here's the eponymous waterfall (and to a certain person, that is how the word is supposed to be used!)

Then it's time to put the tent up and get some sleep. Pretty soon it starts to rain, so possibly the hut would have been a good idea!

Day 2: Waterfall Hut to Windermere Hut

The next day dawns wet, putting paid to our intended ascent of Barn Bluff, reputed to have the best views of all the peaks. The wet and wind would not only make the ascent unsafe, according to the ranger, but also there would be no view as visibility is in the single digits of meters!

By lunch it clears a bit, but not enough for the Bluff, so we head off taking a side trip to Will Lake. Here's a view of the much missed Bluff from the lake:

After Will Lake things start to look impressive on the high plateau. The next photo shows why people used to (literally) be up to their armpits in mud before duckboarding was installed at key points:

Walking along the plains a view of the Pelion and Traveller ranges starts to emerge:

Eventually we find ourselves getting closer to Lake Windermere, where the next hut is:

After a meal and setting up the tent on a platform near the lake (the mossies are ferocious! The price we paid for generally marvellous weather was the mossies and March flies, which apparently both only became severe in the last couple of weeks) we head off to explore the lake. Here it is being loomed over by (still!) Barn Bluff

And here's the lake in the last rays of ruddy light:

Day 3: Windermere to New Pelion Hut

This is truly glorious days walking. It dawns fine and off we set, rising to button grass plains and the Pelions:

See those little purple flowers in the bottom left? They are carnivorous! They are semi-aquatic, and trap aquatic insects in traps around their roots and stems. Here's a closer view:

It's a very varied day; soon we are descending through a forest of Leptospermum (tea tree) that is all in flower, with a carpet of petals on the ground:

And then we go through a forest of Pandani, as the Tasmanians call it. It's in fact a giant version of Richea, the candle heath genus. This one is called Richea pandanifolia, because it's leaves look like Pandanus (the flavouring of so many Indonesian and Malay sweets).

Then the terrain opens out as we approach the descent to the Pelion Plains:

A sharp descent though the gap in the last photo and we can see the plains emerging with Mt Oakleigh through the last trees:

We arrive soon at New Pelion Hut, which is extremely comfortable (we stay in it rather than camp) and has a balcony with the most amazing views of the Plain, and Mt Oakleigh. The view changes marvellously as the sun sets:

Notice the last light on Barn Bluff to the left, still visible after three days:

Day 4: New Pelion to Kia Ora Hut

The next day dawns with mist on the plains:

It's well worth exploring the plains while the mist is still there:

Exploration reveals Barn Bluff again, and some lovely grasses. Must come back to climb the Bluff!

Off we go, the plan is to get to saddle before the final peak of Mount Ossa, the highest peak in Tasmania. We reach the Pelion Gap, which has lovely views, and have some lunch before heading off track to Ossa. Here are a few of the lovely people we were walking with:

After a bit of climbing we reach Mt Doris, and are rewarded with this view of Ossa:

The country around Ossa and Doris is astonishingly beautiful, often looking like a cultivated garden by some culture not a million light years from the Japanese:

A blight killed a lot of eucalypts some years ago, but their white remains are spectacular:

We descend and then head on and eventually arrive at Kia Ora hut just in time to set up our tent, and admire the moon and alpenglow:

Day 5: Kia Ora to Windy Ridge

The first stop on this day is Du Cane hut, an historic hut that is kept as an emergency shelter:

Check out the bunks!

There's a nice example of the old signposts you sometimes see around the track:

Our next side trip is the the spectacular Hartnett Falls. Sorry there's no scale in this picture, but they are about 100m high:

Here they are from the top:

The rest of the walk this day is through varied forest:

Day 6: Windy Ridge to Narcissus and then ferry to Cynthia Bay

On the last day of the main walk we aren't sure whether to spend an extra day out and visit Pine Valley or to get the ferry from Narcissus. It's raining, but by mid morning we head out thinking it won't get much better. It doesn't: and we end up walking through the forest in an impressive thunderstorm. It's quite exhilarating, but it also decides us not to camp out another night, especially when we run into rangers who tell us that the Pine Valley track will be mud up to the waist. We also consider ignoring the ferry and joining Wendy, Charmaine, Vaughan and Jayne at Echo Point and waking along the lake the next day. The storm makes a dry hotel room and a laundry that much more appealing so we go for the ferry (besides, he justifies to himself, once the ferry started the last bit of walking really became a day walk from Cynthia Bay rather than the true Overland. I reckon it ends at Narcissus!)

We reach Narcissus as the storm abates, and after lunch head to the jetty on Lake St Clair:. There are some glorious view on the way.

The jetty itself is lovely, small and peaceful with amazing views:

Soon enough the little boat they use as a ferry arrives for us:

From the lake you get to see the amazing forest we were walking in from a different viewpoint entirely. It really illustrates the old expression about not seeing the wood for the trees! The red spots will be soutnern Beech of the Nothofagus genus. I'm not sure if the colour is due to it being new coppery growth, or whether they are turning: Tasmania has among others the only deciduous Nothofagus.

The ferry stops at Echo Point, where the gathered folk give us a hard time for not roughing it with them! Here's Vaughan and Charmaine:

We get a chance to step out and have a look; here's he famous view of Mt Ida from Echo point:

After that it's a short trip to Cynthia bay, where non dried food, a laundry and showers await! But what a truly magnificent piece of country, and what an amazing walk! Thanks to all the wonderful people we met on route, and to the NPWS and all the rangers who look after this treasure.

Appendix: Day 7 to Pump House Point

The next day we think we need to walk some more, as our bus doesn't come until evening. On the ferry trip we see an amazing deco-ish building in the distance, which turns out to be an old pumphouse for a hydro scheme that was never really used. We decide that would be a good target for a day walk, an head out there along the lake shore.

Here's the pumphouse starting to appear:

And here's the only person we pass: a fly fisherman wading out in the lake:

Finally we get the pumphouse:

There is some amazing driftwood; this piece look a bit dragon like:

On the way back I can't resist trying to photograph some of the tiny flowers that seemed to grow in moist soil everywhere; these flowers are about 3mm across!

Somephotos from one of our former walking companions, who did the overland track a few weeks earlier here

Overnight on Lockely's Pylon

2011-01-28T14:28:00.000-08:00

The Sons of the Desert had variously visited Lockley's Pylon in the Blue Mountains and had always been impressed with the amazing views it gives of the Grose Valley, Mount Banks and Mount Wilson, and the valley of Govett's Creek. So we thought it would be great to take advantage of those views in the glory of dawn and dusk. So on a Sunday afternoon we headed out to the Pylon loaded with water to make camping on the tops feasible.

The intimations were good: we were greeted by a rainbow as we approached:

It stayed there, adding a little something to the view of the Grose Valley

As the light got better, the Grose Valley with MT Banks started to look rather special:

The weather was perfect in the evening, and the party was able to enjoy dinner right on the summit near the trig point with little or no wind. No wonder we look cheerful!

We pitched our tents clustered together on the one little bit of flat space just down from the summit in the direction of Fortress Creek:

While dinner was cooking, the views of the Grose just got better:

As dusk approached the path back started to look quite magical

We were enjoying almond fingers when the last rays of alpenglow hit the trigpoint

Then, the sunset we were waiting for. A bit tacky of course. One of our party names different kinds of sunset for major mythological persons, like Jesus and Mahommed, perhaps thinking of the kinds of greeting cards favoured by theists:

The wind came up with a vengeance in the night; the sound of the spinnaker fabric in Paul's tarp made me think we were camped by a marina. The wind was still vigorous before dawn as you can see in this photo, where the flowers are windblown but the trig point stable:

As the light shone over the valley on the cliffs we had to climb we headed off

The trip down was uneventful and lots of fun. A swim in Govett's creek was much enjoyed, though it did mean exposing more flesh to the vengeful march flies that bite without mercy.

A heart-starting climb up Perry's Lookdown ended the day, and we were out in time for lunch in Blackheath!

See these photos in high resolution and more from the trip here

Wild Dog Mountains

2010-09-17T23:34:00.000-07:00

A three days walk in the south-west Blue Mountains in wonderful, early spring weather with the forest full of flowers and great birdlife. We started with a 15km walk down the Narrowneck Plateau from Katoomba, with magnificent views on all sides.

At the end of the plateau we descended the famous Turros ladders, where spikes are driven into the rock to make a descent with a full pack practical.

After the ladders it is rather disappointing to be standing under power cables at Cedar Gap, but you do get this great view of the Wild Dog Mountains, which we were about to walk around. The leftmost peak is Mt Mouin, and the rightmost, I think, Mt Dingo.

A further 15km on bush tracks, finishing with a pretty steep 600m descent, brought us to a lovely stretch of the Coxs river just as night fell.

The next day we climbed slowly back up to the Wild Dogs, with lunch on the peak of Yellow Dog. This is Brian doing a passable imitation of the eponymous canine.

Then we made an early camp in a magnificent cave with a creek running straight past the door. The yellow dot is a tent erected inside the cave. As we were idling away the late afternoon three Glossy Black Cockatoos came and played in the trees right above the creek, making their creaky calls and showing off their magnificent scarlet tail panels.

This is someone's successful first attempt to light a fire with a firesteel. As always, lighting the fire near the cave mouth makes for great ambient light reflected from the roof, and warms the air in the cave. The big root in the foreground allowed me to keep the fire going all night as I slept beside it in my bivvy.

Next morning found us back at Cedar Gap, looking up at the tip of the Narrowneck Plateau. The birdlife around here was great. We saw a Spotted Quail Thrush, which was a first for me, and more Pardalotes than I think I've ever seen in a day.

The ladders were the highlight of the day again. After that, even with the views, the walk back down the road to Katoomba is a bit of a slog.

Some Sons in the High Sierra

2010-08-31T15:18:00.000-07:00

Some of the Sons of the Desert are in the US, so of course what else to do but head for the High Sierra in a break between commitments.

We had five days, so after meeting up with an ex graduate student living in LA in postcode 90210 we drive five hours north. Packing equipment for -15 degrees, the first day is over 40! But we are greeted with this

After camping on a huge rock with panoramic views, we head past Bear Paw (where for $350 you can use a tent provided and have a shower, at least if you have booked long in advance). We shun this outpost of civilization on the trail and head for Hamilton Lake, where we have possibly the finest imaginable campsite:

Its thirsty work, and we are forever pumping water:

The view from the campsite at dusk is gorgeous:

On the next day we climb about a thousand meters to a pass high above the lake, where we find Precipice Lake, made famous by Ansel Adams

Then we get to look down into Nine Lakes Valley, one of the biggest vallyes of glacial tarns anywhere:

The next day it's back on the track for a couple of days to walk out. This kind of scenery is with you the whole way:

On the last day, one of the party comes within a meter of a Black Bear. The guide books say 150 foot is the closest safe distance! We re-approach the area, and walk past together singing and brandishing bear spray and stones. We imagine the bear is scared off (this is the approved technique by the way) but as we look back the bear is in the raspberries, and we had walked all walked right past its snout.

But we all survived!

For these pictures in high res and more from the trip, go here

Mt Carrialoo by two routes

2010-08-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

We took advantage of a Friday afternoon seminar in Wollongong to spend Saturday in Kangaroo Valley exploring Mt Carrialoo, a sandstone plateau on the southern edge of Morton National Park. Access is from McPhails fire trail, off Jacks Corner Rd in Kangaroo Valley, just after the hydro power station. This turns out to be an almost perfect day walk.

A stiff 45m walk up the firetrail, watching out for mountain bikers, brings you to the base of the mountain, about 300m above the start point. From here there are two ways up. A clearly marked track starting at 673563 leads to an easy scramble through a break in the cliffs at 671563 that has you on the top in another 15m.

From here there are great views over Kangaroo Valley.

There is another way up that has a much wilder feel and offers great views into the National Park. Continuing along the firetrail you cross two deep gulleys. Immediately after the second, at around 673570, turn off into the wet forest and find a steep ridge running due west on the north side of the gully. It is steep, but the forest is open and easy going. The ridge leads to an effortless ascent through the cliffs at 671569. From here there are spectacular views along the north side of the mountain.

Also great views back to Fitzroy Falls.

Walking along northern cliffs, with wonderful views all the way, brings you to a second line of small cliffs. The northern end of these are little more than a rocky slope and from the top a faint track with occassional cairns leads to the Corrialoo trig point about 1.5km away at 687m - 427m above the start point. The landscape along this walk varies a great deal. It starts out as dry scrub with rock platforms.

There is even a rock overhang that would serve as a camping cave at 664565. There are interesting rock formations, like 'the nipple,'

and 'the picnic table'.

This is followed by a swampy saddle in the middle of the mountain with dense saplings and small pools of standing water, although that is not be relied upon. Finally the track ascends to flat, dry heathland, where the track becomes very clear, presumably because the vegetation does not regenerate easily, and arrives at the Trig point.

The track continues, presumably to a western descent point and the ridge to Mt Moollattoo, but we did not have time for this and returned via the northerly ascent point,

the steep ridge running east-west,

and the firetrail.

The ideal way to do Mt Corrialoo would be to ascend by the wilder, northerly route, explore the top of the mountain, and then come down by the fast, southerly route. That would take about six hours, allowing for lunch, photostops, etc, and make a more or less perfect day-walk.

More photos from Pantoneys Crown

2010-08-28T16:51:00.000-07:00

Lise has posted more great photos from the Pantoneys Crown trip here.

Between Canberra and the coast

2010-08-24T00:50:00.000-07:00

Stole a few hours for a bushwalk between a meeting in Canberra and a workshop on the South Coast, with a couple of volunteers from the workshop. There are two walks at the top of Clyde Mountain described in Doughton's Bushwalking in the Budawangs (ISBN 0858810727). To the west of the road is the Corn Trail, a surveyed but undeveloped route down the escarpment. This would be a nice day walk with a car at each end. It's a steep descent on ridges through open forest. I did part of it a few years ago and it looks like this.

To the east of the road is a very different walk, a circuit down to Musgrave Creek. On the steepest part of the Kings Highway there is a parking area at 56H 0769277 UTM 6062380. A short walk back uphill leads to a ridge that provides easy walking down to the creek about 300m below. It looks very much the same as the landcape on the Corn Trail.

Down at the creek, however, the landscape changes in an instant into a green tunnel, with fallen trees, vines, palms, etc.

The middle part of the walk is down the creek, getting boots wet, or, as we did, wearing sandals. Most of the time there are steep banks or small cliffs, so walking alongside is not an option. The creekbed is rocky rather than muddy. The day we were there it was rarely more than knee-deep. The pictured plant is the Gympie Stinger, Dendrocnide moroides (Thanks, David!), and has hairs on the undersides of its leaves which sting. It is related to the Giant Stinging Tree of Queensland. This is near the southern limit of it s range and maybe it is less virulent here, as I had a small encounter with it and it wasn't much worse than a european nettle, contrary to its reputation for causing agonising pain that can last for weeks. But apart from this the flora and fauna are friendly. No-one got any leeches, perhaps because it was winter, and in one of the trees growing out of the creek a Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo was feeding its offspring.

A couple of kilometres downstream the gully widens out and a firetrail crosses the creek. From here it's boots on again and a maze of firetrails, some old, some new, some disused, leads back up through the dry eucalypt forest. On the way up we had a nice encounter with some Glossy Black Cockatoos, quite happy to be watched at close range while they fed in a casuarina.

A few more pics from Pantoney

2010-08-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

After Paul's terrific post I thought I'd add a couple more of my pics that are less illustratively useful than those of mine that Paul chose, but give a sense of why late ninteenth century German artists would have thought the area illustrated the Sublime...

Pantoneys Crown, July 2010

2010-08-01T19:23:00.000-07:00

Pantoney’s Crown is an isolated rock massif at the entrance to the Capertee Valley. It’s in the Gardens of Stone National Park, north of the Blue Mountains and west of the Wollemi.

The Sons of the Desert have wanted to climb it since an impressive view from a lookout on the Castlereagh highway two years ago, and four of us did it over a long weekend in July.

We started from Baal Bone Gap, the only official camping area in Gardens of Stone NP. The four-wheel drive tracks to this point are fairly rugged, and turned out to be really a bit much for the Nissan X Trail that we used. We tried Moffits Trail, encountering two fallen trees that had not been cleared, but where it was possible to drive around through the bush, and one steep, rocky descent with ledges a bit big for the 20cm ground clearance on the X Trail. We got everyone out to lighten the vehicle and picked our way down very slowly without scraping the underside too much. On the plus side, we saw two Lyrebirds and had a good look at a wombat. From Baal Bone Gap we walked about 5km along the Baal Bone Plateau, with spectacular views across Crown Creek and into the mouth of the Capertee. The weathered rock formations are wonderful.

There is a faint track discernible when the plateau forms a narrow neck, probably as much down to animals as bushwalkers, and elsewhere the bush is very open, so it is easy going. Baal Bone could refer to burnt offerings to the god Baal, and the area is definitely as dry as a bone. We were there a day after heavy rain and there was not so much as a puddle on the plateau.

Baal Bone Point is a massive cube of rock at end of the plateau, with views across to Pantoneys Crown.

There is a fairly easy descent just next to the Point. We rigged a rope to ease the descent only because there was a convenient tree.

From here a ridge leads to the saddle between the Point and the Crown. Because it is so dry there is little undergrowth and no need for a track. From the saddle a drainage system runs down to Crown Creek, starting out as shallow, dry creekbeds and turning into steep, rocky gullies as the various creeks join up.

About 20m walk down a creekbed we started to find small, unappetising pools of muddy water, but also some excellent flat, well-drained places to camp. Another 20m walk brought us to a steep gully with reeds in the bottom and some pools of clear water, but by this stage there was nowhere convenient to put a tent up, so we filled up with water and camped higher up.

Our campsite was protected by a miraculous apparition of the Madonna of the Bush

The campsite also had an excellent view of the Crown, ready for the morning

The climb up the Crown is straightforward, following a ridge from the saddle to the cliff line. There is a gap in the cliffs just at the point where they start to face northwest, and we found a previous party’s cairn at the bottom to reassure us that this was a practical way up.

The final scramble is about 60 vertical metres, with three or four ledges that require pack-hauling and a short chimney at the top. We used a rope to get back down the chimney and for pack-hauling.

The top of the Crown offers spectacular views in all directions. It slopes down to the northwest and the top is heavily wooded on that slope. We saw one decent-sized puddle on a rock shelf, but if camping up here you’d need to bring all your water.

This is the view back across the saddle to Baal Bone Point

The next morning we followed a contour line from our watering point until we reached a convenient point to drop down to the management track that runs along Crown Creek. A feature of the landscape are stands of Australian cypress (Callitris) with spectacularly rugged bark.

The last bit down to the track

We found no surface water in the actual creek, so the water higher up must stay on the surface only because the gullies are so rocky. It would be a mistake to expect to find any water in this valley unless it has rained quite recently. The management track climbs around 300m in the last 2km back to Baal Bone Gap, so although our third day was only a short walk we were ready to take a rest at the top!

We drove out on the Bicentennial National Trail, hoping for a better road. The first few kilometres are through a beautiful, fern-filled valley with sandstone cliffs on both sides. Only one fallen tree blocked the track. It could get pretty soft along here after heavy rain, though. Then we found ourselves facing a very steep, rocky incline with serious ruts and a diagonal rock ledge about 30cm high right across. Fine in a Landcruiser, but not really ‘softroader’ territory. We got up by piling rocks in front of the ledge to reduce the height (lots of suitable rocks about as were not the first people to do this) and then taking a run at it with just the driver on board. After this the road is fine.

This is a spectacular piece of country, and navigation is straightforward due to the obvious landmarks and light vegetation, but the poor road access and the lack of reliable water mean that a bit of preparation is needed before taking a walk here. Without a serious 4WD it might be better to walk in from the far end of the Crown Creek management trail, which can be accessed from Glen Davis Road.

To see these photos in hi res, and more from the trip, click here

Winter in the Budawangs

2010-06-12T01:34:00.000-07:00

For the third year running we did a winter walk in the Budawangs. In 2008 we did the classic walk from Long Gully to the Castle and Monolith Valley, camping at Cooyoyo Creek and rewarded with views like this in the morning:

In 2009 we walked in from Sassafras, spending a night below the Wilson Pass and another at the top, on Folly Point, where we had this magnificent view:

This year we used the Wog Wog park entrance near Braidwood and did the classic circuit via Corang Arch and the Corang River. We met a wombat at the very beginning of the walk:

A few hours walk along the Corang Plateau on a well-made track with a lot of boards laid over the swampy areas brought us to the Corang Arch:

Shortly after this we had probably the highlight of the trip, the view during the descent from the Corang Plateau to Canowrie Brook, with Profile Rock in the centre of the picture and various famous Budawangs peaks on the horizon:

A short walk took us to Burrumbeet Brook, where there are some very comfortable camping caves. The little valley in which the caves are found is beautiful, and as well as dry caves there are fern-filled grottoes in the conglomerate cliffs where small streams fall from the plateau above:

In the morning we walked down Canowrie Brook to the Corang River. The track follows the creek rather than ascending into the higher ground and the dry eucalypt forest, and so is narrow and pushes through dense vegetation. Where the creek meets the river there is an extraordinary series of rapids and pools as the river forces its way through a set of parallel 'ribs' of harder rock. We had a long lunch here and explored the rocks.

A short afternoon's walk (necessarily, given the winter day) brought us to a campsite by a large pool that would be a magificent place for an evening swim in warmer weather, below which is a set of rapids, shown here with the alpenglow lighting the trees just before dark.

It rained overnight, the only rain we had on the trip, in stark contrast to the two previous years. But this wasn't entirely unwelcome, as the cloud kept it above freezing. A half days's walk the next morning brought us back to Wog Wog in time for clean clothes and a late lunch in Braidwood.

Easter in the Wollemi Wilderness

2010-05-31T00:34:00.000-07:00

The Wollemi is the largest wilderness area in NSW, with 3610 square kilometres of declared Wilderness enclosed in the somewhat larger National park. Our Easter 2010 trip used a route we've used before that starts with a steep 260m descent from Crawfords lookout to Wollemi Creek.

Wollemi Creek is usually too deep to make wading up the creek possible, and the vegetation along the banks is very dense, but once it reaches the Colo river the easiest way to get along is to walk on the sandbanks and wade the deeper sections, occasionally encountering the (in)famous Wollemi quicksand, which, to date, has never been more than waist deep.

It came on to rain pretty heavily in the afternoon, so we set up an early camp in a commodious cave well above the river. As we sat out the rain another party of bushwalkers came by, on a multi-day walk from the Western side of the park. It is unusual to meet another party this far up the Colo, but that's Easter, I suppose.

We left this camp set up in the morning and spent the day walking up the river and back, to see how much ground we can cover on a longer trip next year and what the campsites are like. The third day we moved camp to another cave back on Wollemi creek and explored a quicker route back up to the top. The second photo is taken from a rocky ridge looking out in three directions over Wollemi Creek - a magic spot.

Day four was up the cliff by the new route, but with full packs, so quite a contrast to romping around the day before, and leaving us hot and sweaty at the top, and then a couple of hours back to the road.

To see these photos in hi res, and more from the trip, click here

The Japanese Death March

2009-04-20T16:25:00.000-07:00

This is being written well after the fact, to test the capacity to back-date posts, but here goes with a description of a great walk in the Budawangs in April of 2009.

Our plan was a look: out to Folly Point, then down into valley and looping via Hidden Valley.

The first part went to plan. A long road bash, followed by a bush bash towards folly point rewarded us with this view:

One of our party was Chris, long returned to the US. Hope to walk again with you sometime, Chris!

Then we made it to the point and had a fantastic camp site there, and found the pass down in the morning. By now the weather was getting threatening.

This made for more great view, though:

As we descended (a great descent) the rain got worse and worse. One of us had the old sketch map with us, which marks a camping cave on the descent. We decided to head for it. What a relief! By the time we got there it would have been far too slippery to keep descending.

Here we are wet and unhappy:

We spend that night, and the whole of the next day in the cave as the weather gets no better. The cave is comfortable though, and it's all rather fun:

The next day dawns much finer, and we can move. But we've now lost too much time to complete the descent, so we have to go back in one day. Doing what took two days in one is tricky, especially as we absolutely must reach the road bash by sunset, as we could not keep moving in the dark through the scrub.

We manage a brief stop on the tops near where we camped:

And on our way out get some great views again:

But we march on at great speed and make it to the road at exactly the point where the sun goes down! Well done Sons!

But then there is a long road bash with sore feet.

The only reward is an impressive thuderstorm in the distance. My headlamp dies in the rain which returns. Thanks, Khatmandhu, never again. But all make it safely to the car! Great trip, and it's become an icon of sorts....

Wollemi: The first attempt

2008-09-12T06:15:00.000-07:00

In the spring of 2008 Paul and I hatch the plan to cross the Wollemi from east to west; after some research into routes we settle on going down the Wollemi creek, Colo River and then Capertee River.

We know we'll have to wade most of the way, but perhaps we will be able to make it along the banks from time to time.

One of us talks to David Noble, of Wollemi Pine fame and who works for the NPWS who says that one might be able to do it in four days. For some reason we talk ourselves into believing this means *we* might do in in four days!

We book into a nice hotel at Glen Davis at the other end, and set off.

After a walk though to the cliffs above the Wollemi Creek, we are greeted with this:

Not an easy descent: and that's a telephoto perspective.

Actually, for a long time we don't think there is a way down, but Paul finds one and persuades us that it will work. He's right, and after a fun trip down we are at the bottom

At this point something weird happens: we have to strip off to cross the river:

And for some reason collective madness strikes and we all put our packs on and decide to bush bash along the creek in our knickers! I suppose we imagined we would be able to wade quite a bit, but we weren't - the creek was too deep - so we just got very scratched!

We find a campsite on some nice rocks above the creek

In the background is Old Purple Tent; my trusty but now largely retired (available for borrowing by vistiors) Macpac Atlas tent that was a faithful friend on many an expedition since the early nineties.

Gear sentimentality aside, that was about the end of it. We found we were making far too little progress the next day, and rain was due in a couple of days. Since there is no way out of the gorge other than to go the whole way (more or less) or else go back the way we came, we did the latter.

So licking our wounds we headed to Glen Davis so as not to waste our hotel booking, but also with the plan to bury food a day or so's walk down the Capertee from the Glen Davis end.

Odd place this valley! Here's the sculpture outside the hotel against the walls of the canyon

And this is a kind of shed next to it

Off we head as far as we can get in Paul and Karola's old 4WD to bury our food. Nostalgia for your old van, guys?

The track is really lovely

The track is also full of wombat holes, as are all the available campsites. In the dusk we see them everywhere.

We settle down for a morale boosting fire to prepare for a bit more exploring the next day

The next day it's down river a bit to where the cliffs get really impressive and the valley has turned into a gorge:

Here we are at the end of the road bash: must have not been bothered to use the tripod!

Driving out I make everyone stop so I can catch this impressive sight

And home we go. We know we'll be back.

Winter in the Budawangs: June 2008

2008-06-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

This is another retrospective post. It's the trip the Sons did up to the Castle on the classic Kalianna ridge route from Long Gully. There were the core Sons (which include daughters, of course) and Nick Shea and Lina Eriksson (the Captains Indomitable, as we'll call them).

We set out up the ridge: Lina was complaining of being a little ill driving down. Only after the whole trip including her leading the party that made it to the top of the Castle did we discover she was well and truly pregnant! That's indomitable.

Anyhow, here we are at the start looking forward to it all:

It was wet for most of the trip. The next morning (at Coyoyo creek campsite) dawned foggy and wet:

But the sun peeked out and the fog began to lift soon, giving a range of amazing vistas from the rock platform just a short way from our camp:

The sun gave us a chance to dry out. Paul is always the most efficient at hanging stuff out to dry:

Here we are, busy packing

It's not that much later and the mist has lifted on the iconic Budawangs view of Pigeon House:

There are some gorgeous flowers near the creek:

Now we head off to try climbing the castle. Here's the view of the Byangee walls from half way up:

Some of the grasses are spectacularly large:

Here's a view back over the southern tip of The Castle:

Paul, Nick, and Lina go for the top and triumph, picking the rest of us up at various different points of wimp-out. We pass through the cool little tunnel that avoids having to go back to the pass, and as we come out on the path to Kalianna ridge one final marvellous view greets us:

Then we have an eventful but solid walk out. And the tradition of Winter in the Budawangs is born.