The High Country - A week on foot through the Australian Alps (part 1: Storms, Snakes and Summits)

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February 14th 2021

Published: March 5th 2021

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Backpackermatt

Pointing the way

Old-school trail sign on the Bogong High Plains

Friday

The sceptical look from the bus driver, accompanied by the question "so you don't even think you'll need a jacket up there today?" said it all. We were about to climb over a vertical kilometre into the Victorian Alps on a day when a severe weather warning was in place for those same mountains, and there I was standing at the bus stop in Omeo in shorts and t-shirt, carrying only a small grocery bag with some food in it. I duly pointed to my gargantuan backpack, propped up against the bus stop signpost, while assuring him I had everything I could possibly need. (Famous last words, I know). What I didn't mention was that the reason my backpack was sitting on the ground rather than resting on my back was that for the past two days I had been unable to lift it without setting off stabbing pains in my back and chest (though only on my right-hand side) as if someone had removed one of my ribs and replaced it with a high-voltage trip-wire. Still, as long as I could make it to the hut at JB Plain - a task that was made even easier by

Shelter from the Storm

JB Plain Hut

the kindly bus driver, who dropped me off only a hundred metres away from it - I would have at least the next day or two to recuperate from whatever injury it was that I had unknowingly done to myself.

Arriving at the hut mid-morning - thankfully before the worst of the weather had arrived - I was greeted cheerfully by a young couple with a very snuggly-dressed baby, who were just on their way out the door. Whether they had spent the night or had just stopped in for a brief visit I couldn't be sure (their campervan was parked by the side of the road), but the mother's parting words to me were somewhat disconcerting: "there's something in the chimney - we have no idea what it is". I presumed she had meant to say "there's something LIVING in the chimney" whilst simultaneously trying to forget she had said anything at all. Indeed there were times during the evening when it was hard to differentiate between the noises coming from the ceiling and the thunder rumbling outside, such was the volume of both... though I tried to reassure myself that if something was living in the chimney

All settled in

Waiting out the bad weather inside JB Plain Hut

then surely the acoustics would amplify any sounds they would make. Either that or there was a brushtail possum (my usual campground nemesis) the size of an emu up there! And I couldn't help noticing that there was one board missing from the timber wall separating the chimney from the room I would be sleeping in...

Nevertheless, I was determined not to let anything detract from my first ever experience in an authentic high country hut, and figured my best chance of keeping at bay whatever it was that could be heard scurrying about in the general vicinity of the chimney/ceiling area would be to smoke it out - so what better way to get settled in and comfortable than to get a roaring fire going in the hut's stone fireplace?! The only problem was that I had never actually made a fire before. As in, never in my entire life. Yep, there really is such a thing as a 41-year-old outdoor adventurer who has never made a campfire. Or at least there was. With the enclosed verandah of the hut having been stocked with firewood by a considerate former guest - which was just as well given that

Campers' rite of passage

There's nothing like a campfire to provide a bit of warmth

any potential firewood outside the hut would by now be soaking wet - and with a hut to myself and about ten hours of daylight left to kill, I set about making myself a campfire. And with a combination of beginner's luck and sheer persistence I managed to get one going... and even more surprisingly, keep it going!

As the wind slowly built in intensity and the showers became more frequent, I settled into my chair beside the fire and proceeded to drink copious amounts of tea whilst reading 'From Snow to Ash' - which, appropriately, is about a guy who just the previous summer had attempted to walk the full 660km Australian Alps Walking Track (which passes by just ten kilometres up the road in Mount Hotham, and which I hoped to follow all the way over to Mount Bogong in the coming week) whilst occasionally staying in high country huts just like this one, only to be abruptly halted by the unprecedented bushfires that swept across South-Eastern Australia during our so-called 'Black Summer'.

Thankfully whatever it was in the chimney/ceiling never did show it's face that evening, though it did proceed to shreak loudly and repeatedly

Watching and Waiting

The view from JB Plain Hut that I spent hours gazing out at

from about 4:30am onwards - presumably in protest at the uninvited lodger sleeping downstairs. But with the combination of a storm raging outside and my possum-neutralizing ear plugs this proved to be only a temporary disturbance, as my first ever night in an old high country hut resulted in a terrific night's sleep... even if I had to brave the wild weather on a couple of occasions, as a result of the prodigious volume of tea I had consumed throughout the day.

Saturday

In the morning the wind continued to howl, though the rain had already passed - which gave me the opportunity to explore the network of trails radiating out from Dinner Plain. I wasn't the only one grateful for the better weather either, as I crossed paths with a couple of snakes (possibly Copperheads, though I'm hardly an expert) who were equally keen to bask in the sunshine. After dropping down behind the village to check out Carmichael Falls, I then followed a couple of trails on the opposite side of the Great Alpine Road which led across the top of the northern flanks of the range - where I was immediately assailed by the full

High Country views

Magnificent mountain scenery on the Room with a View Track

brunt of the northerly winds as they hurled a patchwork of clouds across the sky at a truly astonishing rate.

Back at the hut I set about replenishing the stores of firewood, which thanks to the wind's all-out assault on the resident snow gum trees over the past two days proved to be easier than expected. Unfortunately the same could not be said for my attempts at replicating my success of the previous day at the fireplace. After building what I felt sure had to be the best-engineered fire stack in the history of campfires, try as I might I simply could not get the bastard to light! And even when I did get a decent flame going, it would fizzle out in no time at all - as though whatever animal was living in the chimney kept pissing on the fire to put it out.

I told myself that it was simply because the firewood was all too damp to burn properly, though in truth I suspect it was more a result of my poor fire-building skills. Finally after what must have been close to an hour of frustrated but futile attempts to get the fire going,

Tied up in Knots

Copperhead snake all curled up in the sun

I managed to do just that - only to later realize that I had succeeded only in filling the inside of the hut with smoke! So to avoid asphyxiating myself I had to leave the doors of the hut wide open, which in turn allowed not only the smoke but also the warm air to escape - which entirely defeated the purpose of getting a fire going in the first place! Oh well, chalk it down as a valuable learning experience, I suppose.

Retiring to my sleeping bag wearing an extra layer of clothes to compensate for the lack of warmth inside the hut, I was fast asleep later on in the night when suddenly I was awoken by a loud thumping noise (despite having ear plugs in once again) and, thinking that only a human could have been responsible, assumed there must be someone at the door of the hut trying to get in - as I had placed a heavy block of wood behind the door to keep it from blowing open during the night, in the hope of keeping in what little warmth there was inside the hut. So, rising from my lower bunk - and

Light in the Darkness

Putting the fireplace inside JB Plain Hut to good use

banging my head on the upper bunk as I did so - I called out "just a minute" and leapt out of my sleeping bag to attend to the front door... though it was only at this point that I realized it was still pitch black outside - so who on earth would be trying to get into the hut at this hour?!?' The answer, of course, was noone. I flung the door of the hut open to be greeted by nothing but gently swaying snow gums and a generous sprinkling of stars. Utterly perplexed, I headed back to my sleeping bag wondering what on earth was going on... and it was only then that the thumping coming from the ceiling resumed. I can only assume it was the sound of those dastardly possums rolling around on the ceiling boards laughing their brushtailed arses off!

Unfortunately, no sooner had I eventually gotten back to sleep than these mischievous creatures of the night turned on each other and proceeded to stage the marsupial equivalent of the Rumble in the Jungle - I have honestly never in my life heard anything quite like it. Why they couldn't have sorted their differences

Steep Valleys and Rolling Ridgelines

View from the Brabralung Trail just outside Mount Hotham

out in a more diplomatic way (rock, paper, scissors perhaps?) or at the very least at a more agreeable hour I really don't know, but suffice it to say I was feeling rather sleep-deprived when my alarm went off bright and early the following morning.

Sunday

But any worries were soon cast aside as I finally hit the trail for what I hoped would be a 7-day, 120km trek through the heart of the Victorian Alps, taking me all the way from Dinner Plain to the small town of Mount Beauty via the summits of both Mount Feathertop and Mount Bogong (Victoria's two highest mountains) and visiting a number of historic high country huts along the way.

Of course not all days on the trail are created equal, and my first day promised to be the longest of the week: 28km in all. Thankfully though the first ten kilometres were about as easy as I am ever likely to encounter in the mountains, following the wide gravel Brabralung Trail that runs roughly parallel to the Great Alpine Road from Dinner Plain to the alpine resort at Mount Hotham. Stopping off only for a refreshment break and to

Roller-coaster Ride to Mount Feathertop

The Razorback Ridge in profile, seen from the summit of Mount Hotham

fill my water bottles, I then pressed on towards Diamantina Hut - which, in order to avoid the main road which is full of blind corners, meant going up and over the summit of Mount Hotham (1868m). But my reward for the effort of doing so was a perfect view of the aptly-named Razorback Ridge leading northwards towards the angular peak of Mount Feathertop... my ultimate destination for the day.

Stopping off for an early lunch at Diamantina Hut, my gaze couldn't help but be drawn towards the roller-coaster ridgeline stretching out before me. I had walked only about the first three kilometres of this famous route six years earlier, before storm clouds had gathered to dissuade me from progressing any further. But with a forecast of good weather for at least the next five days, that wasn't going to be an issue this time around. So eventually I hoisted my monster of a backpack (with at least five kilograms worth of food to last me the next seven days, in addition to three litres worth of water) to tackle one of the most scenic stretches of trail anywhere in Australia. Where else can you find a trail that

Following the Contours

Setting out on the Razorback Ridge Track

is almost entirely above the treeline (with apologies to a few wind-blown snow gum saplings re-populating the ridge post-fire) along an undulating ridge that offers unparalleled views in all directions across range after range of some of the highest mountains in the country?

So for the next three hours I walked along utterly entranced by the unfolding views, with Mount Hotham's bald summit slowly fading into the background behind me, the extraordinary serrated profile of Mount Buffalo stealing the spotlight out to the northwest, and Mount Feathertop's pyramidal peak luring me ever onwards with a game of hide-and-seek dead ahead. Even the hulking presence of Mount Bogong could be spotted lurking under a blanket of cloud off in the distance. I'd be getting a much closer view of that mountain in about five days' time if all went well until then. But first I had to reach my overnight stop at Federation Hut, which sits only about 200 metres below (and two kilometres from) the summit of Mount Feathertop. Finding only a group of four at the campground beside the hut - which like every other hut in the High Country people are discouraged from staying in overnight, unless

Mountainous Views

The hump-backed ridge leading to Mount Feathertop

sheltering from bad weather or in case of emergency - I headed inside to cook up a second lunch (well I did say it would be a long day!) and rest up for my climb up to the peak.

It was at this point that a rather eccentric looking fellow turned up at the hut, filming himself (with running commentary) as he did do. I instantly knew who he was, as I had noticed in the walkers' registration book at the trailhead that the entry before mine was from a guy who managed to mention twice (both under 'name' and 'trip intentions') that he was filming himself doing the same overnight walk that I was doing (lucky me) for YouTube. He immediately introduced himself and proceeded to tell me what I already knew, then added that he had his own YouTube channel - clearly he thought this was a pretty big deal that everyone should know about! I begged to differ. Thankfully a disinterested stare accompanied by a deadpan reply of 'uh huh' was all it took to get my message across. After filling another walkers' registration book with his promotional propaganda and adding his own dim-witted comment to

Trekkers' Refuge

Standing outside Federation Hut - my first overnight stop

the already graffiti-strewn interior walls of the hut, he finally left me in peace.

An hour later, with the sun sinking lower in the sky, I headed back outside to tackle the final 2km to the summit of Mount Feathertop. Despite the stiff climb at the end of a long day, it was all over deceptively quickly, and half-an-hour later I was standing on the 1922m summit. Only the top of Mount Bogong (just visible under it's mantle of cloud cover away to the northeast) is higher in Victoria. "See you in five days" I muttered in that mountain's direction. After soaking up the views of the broad, flat Ovens Valley stretching out to the north and the imposing profile of Mount Buffalo rising up beyond that, it was time to head back down and find myself a tent site for the night, before getting acquainted with the group of four over dinner inside the hut... turns out they were supposed to have been walking the Walls of Jerusalem circuit in Tasmania, only to be denied entry the day before they were due to leave as a result of a recent case of coronavirus having been detected in Melbourne.

Summit Success

Standing atop Mount Feathertop (1922m) - the second-highest mountain in Victoria

How nice it is to be up in the mountains where all of that bullshit can be left behind, even if only for a while!

Monday

Waking to find the hut and campground engulfed by passing clouds the next morning, I lingered over breakfast while trying in vain to get my tent dried out properly... which is not easy to do when you're inside a cloud! After getting off to a late start I slowly made my way back along the Razorback Ridge, before enjoying lunch at Diamantina Hut for the second day running. Then it was back up and over the summit of Mount Hotham once again (a brutal - if mercifully short - climb to tackle during the hottest part of the day) to reach the Mount Loch car park, which serves as one end of the 3-day, 37km Falls to Hotham Alpine Crossing - which is itself only a short section of the much longer 660km Australian Alps Walking Track. It would be this longer route that I would be following all the way to Mount Bogong over the next four days, with a line of snow poles placed forty metres apart extending all the

Giving the back(pack) a break

Trail junction on the Falls to Hotham section of the Australian Alps Walking Track

way from the Mount Loch car park (Pole 1) to the summit of Mount Bogong (Pole 1285). This is after all an area that is covered in snow for large parts of the year, and would be more familiar to skiers than to bushwalkers.

But never having skied in my life - and being no great lover of snow on walking trails either - summer is the only time for me to see the mountains, so off I set on foot to complete the first ten kilometres of the Alpine Crossing to Dibbin Hut... despite having already walked 40km in the past two days. Starting out along the curiously-named Machinery Spur, which runs parallel to the Razorback Ridge and offers an outstanding view of it's more famous neighbour in profile, I then dropped my pack to tackle the short climb to the top of Mount Loch (1887m), which happens to be Victoria's fourth highest 'summit' - though in reality it is little more than a rocky knob atop an already high ridge.

It was on my way back to the main track to collect my pack that I crossed paths with a couple of young women who were

Follow the Snow Poles

Crossing the high plains atop Machinery Spur

also on their way up to Mount Loch - only their motivation for doing so was to place buckets amongst the rocks at the summit in order to capture Bogong moths, so that one of the girls could gather information about the effects of climate change on the Bogong moth population for her masters degree. I found this absolutely fascinating, as it is well known that it was the lure of feasting on Bogong moths that led many tribes of Aborigines from the surrounding countryside to migrate to the high country in summer (when the moths themselves migrate to avoid the heat of the coastal plains) in order to harvest their protein-rich bounty. This is a migration that occurred for millenia, though it has now all but died out - how do you continue to hunt for food in a national park where every living animal and plant is protected?!

Hoisting my backpack once more, it was only a relatively short walk to Derrick's Hut - a quaint little structure built to offer shelter to skiers in times of bad weather - before I eventually dropped off the eastern edge of Machinery Spur to follow the Swindlers Spur track

Historic Hut

The truly ancient-looking Dibbin Hut, nestled near the head of the Cobungra Valley

down, down into the Cobungra Valley. After dropping over three hundred metres in little over half-an-hour, I suddenly emerged on the edge of a pancake flat grassy plain, where the steep-roofed Dibbin Hut sits in splendid isolation near the head of the valley. And down one edge of this extensive plain flows the beautiful Cobungra River, an absolutely gorgeous and crystal clear mountain stream.

Passing the hut and crossing the river, I reached the campground where five raised tent platforms sit just back from the river amongst the trees. But though I had booked (and paid for) one of these platforms, I couldn't help but notice the most perfect, flat, grassy tent site perched right atop the left bank of the river, leading me to instantly abandon any thought of using the platforms in favour of spending a night with the sound of the river rushing right by my tent instead. Curiously free camping is allowed at the same campsite as the paid platforms - as indeed it is anywhere within Alpine NP provided you keep at least 200 metres away from both the Great Alpine Road and Bogong High Plains Road. I didn't care at all that I

Scenic Campsite

The Cobungra Valley shrouded in morning fog

had wasted $17 booking one of the platforms, I was just stoked to have found such a beautiful spot to pitch my tent. And to say I slept well that night with the river drowning out all other noises would be quite the understatement!

Tuesday

Waking the next day to find a low blanket of fog carpeting the surrounding plain, I lingered over breakfast on the banks of the infant Cobungra, whilst belatedly making use of the tent platform I had booked in order to once again dry out my tent. Then just as I was taking a final picture of the view and preparing to leave, a curious onlooker in the form of a Yellow-Bellied Black Snake dropped by to bid me farewell, which I thought was a lovely touch! Soon enough though I was sweating and panting my way up from the depths of the valley towards the high plains above, regaining all of the elevation I had lost the previous afternoon. Stopping frequently to get my breath back, while marking my progress by counting off the ever-present snow poles as I passed each one, I slowly but surely crawled my way up and onto the

Stepping Stones

Crossing the Bogong High Plains on day three

ridge, which then led me to the much-loved Bogong High Plains.

Reminding me somewhat of Rannoch Moor in the Scottish Highlands - only without the surrounding mountains to provide scenic variety - the Bogong High Plains are essentially a highland plateau perched roughly 1700 metres above sea level, which leaves it only a couple of hundred metres below the very highest of mountain summits in the region. And because these High Plains are in no way flat, but instead riven with gentle undulations, even those highest summits are generally hidden from view - thus creating the impression of a featureless moorland. Words like 'bleak' , 'desolate' and 'windswept' come to mind when describing the Bogong High Plains, yet just as they can seem ominous and foreboding at times (especially in poor weather) so are they unique in Australia, and therefore utterly intriguing.

So with the line of snow poles stretching out ever onwards before me, I proceeded to pick my way across the plateau whilst trying desperately to keep my shoes dry... which was not at all an easy task, given that the Bogong High Plains are essentially a giant sponge, soaking up any rain that falls and

Simple Shelter

Cope Saddle Hut - my lunch stop on day three

storing it on or just underneath the surface, before slowly releasing all of that water into the myriad of tiny streams that snake their way across the plateau. It even feels like you're walking across the top of a giant sponge, as no matter how carefully you try to pick your way across you're only ever one step away from sinking in ankle deep! Thankfully in a number of the more frequently inundated spots someone has laid down a series of broad, flat stones that function perfectly well as stepping stones; though ultimately, despite the last rains having fallen four days earlier, any attempts to keep my feet and and shoes dry were doomed to be thwarted!

After pausing for lunch outside the tiny Cope Saddle Hut, my final hour's walking of the day (which was by far my shortest so far, at only 14km) eventually led me towards the eastern edge of the plateau, where shortly after crossing the Bogong High Plains Road I arrived at the lovely and historically-significant Cope Hut, sheltered in the embrace of a pair of magnificent old snow gum trees. And then just past the hut I discovered the campground - again featuring

Room with a View

Making use of the tent platforms at Cope Hut campsite

five flat, raised tent platforms; though unlike the evening before I had no hesitation in making use of the one I had booked, which just happened to be the only one perched beyond the snow gums, looking directly out over the eastern-most ranges of the High Country, to where the foothills of the Alps fall away into the lowlands. Gazing out at that scene from the comfort of my sleeping bag was a rare treat indeed - as was the parade of stars on display throughout the night, with the Southern Cross, as always, taking centre stage.

To be continued...

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