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Published: March 9th 2021
Simply Sublime
Following the twists and turns of the Langford West AqueductWednesday
Leaving the campsite at Cope Hut the following morning, I soon found myself walking along a vehicle track alongside the beautiful, clear waters of the Langford West Aqueduct, complete with a healthy population of small freshwater fish. A short detour up a side-track then brought me to the oldest surviving cattleman's hut in the High Country: the 132-year-old Wallace Hut, built on-site in 1889 by three brothers from the Wallace family, who were thus able to spend weeks at a time driving cattle across the High Country pastures whilst living in relative comfort in their specially-built shelter.
Back on the main track I followed the gentle curves of the aqueduct as it pursued it's course high up on a ridge that wraps around the head of the Middle Creek valley. Not only was the walking easy, it was truly delightful. The combination of nice weather, flat terrain, a firm dry surface to walk on, expansive views down over the eastern edge of the High Plains towards the pastureland beyond, and the ever-present flow of the gin-clear stream beside me conspired to instill in me a feeling of pure tranquility. While I had expected this day to provide my
Still standing after 132 years
Wallace Hut - the High Country's oldest easiest walking of the week - due to the lack of significant climbing and relatively-low overall distance - I hadn't expected it to be so damn pretty!
So the disappointment was palpable when suddenly the stream disappeared just as quickly as it had first appeared, vanishing underground into a buried pipeline that feeds the Rocky Valley Storage - a reservoir near the alpine resort of Falls Creek. Consoling myself with lunch inside the compact but quaint Langford's Gap Hut, I was then pleased to find after lunch that the continuing track now ran alongside the Langford East Aqueduct, providing me with another hour of serene walking before eventually my route along both the Falls to Hotham Alpine Crossing and Australian Alps Walking Track crossed the water on a lovely little covered footbridge and proceeded to climb up and over the shoulder of a thickly forested hill.
Coming out onto another section of the Bogong High Plains - only this time noticeably firmer underfoot than the previous day - I eventually joined another vehicle track before farewelling the Falls to Hotham route at the junction for Heathy Spur. Slowly winding it's way up and around the rounded bulk of
The route ahead
Following a fire track up and over the rounded shoulder of Mount Nelse Mount Nelse, the track brought subtle changes in scenery, with the peaks of Mount Buffalo and Mount Feathertop both outlined against the sky - though disorientingly it felt as though many of the surrounding peaks were higher than me, when I knew this not to be the case. Only when I stopped off to scramble to the top of Mount Nelse North (which at 1884m is the fifth-highest mountain in Victoria) did this feeling dissipate, as it quickly became apparent that all but two of the visible peaks were in fact lower than where I stood. It was also from the top of Mount Nelse North that I finally got my first good look at the highest - and by far the biggest and bulkiest - mountain of them all, Mount Bogong. To say this behemoth of a mountain was impressive would be a serious understatement, and I had my sights firmly locked on it's imposing features for the remainder of my day's walk.
And then, when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any better, it did just that. Arriving at Roper Hut to find the most delightful campground liberally scattered with sublime snow gum trees, I then
Faithful Recreation
Roper Hut, perched just back from the rim of the Big River valley took a look inside the hut and instantly abandoned any thoughts of setting up my tent. Built to replace a much older hut that burnt down (along with many others) in the bushfires of 2003, the new Roper's Hut was everything you would want a bushwalkers and skiers refuge to be: sturdy, comfortable, well-maintained, clean and easy on the eye. It also had character, and a lovely (if subtle) timber scent that spoke of it's youth. A better place to spend a night high up in the mountains I could not possibly think of - and I had the place all to myself.... well, except for the resident native mice (and honorary guardians of the hut) George and Mildred, who were thankfully much more mild-mannered than those pesky possums at JB Plain had been! Someone had even left a recent issue of Time magazine to keep me occupied for the evening...
Thursday
If there was one thing I found troubling about my stay at Roper's Hut, it was the past two entries in the trip intentions book - both of which had been left by pairs of people headed in the same direction as me, towards Cleve Cole
Hut on the upper slopes of Mount Bogong. Well, at least that's the direction they had started walking in - until they had each encountered the rushing waters of the unimaginatively-named Big River, and decided that with a combination of high water and a broken chain (which was supposed to have stretched from one side of the river to the other, giving people something to hang onto whilst attempting the crossing) it was simply too dangerous to cross; and so both parties had been forced to turn back and retrace their footsteps to Roper's Hut and beyond. Given that the first of the two entries was dated the previous Saturday - and that there had been heavy rainfall on the Friday - I wasn't the slightest bit surprised that party had been thwarted by the river crossing (in fact I was amazed that anyone would even have attempted to get across the river that day, chain or no chain); but it was the other entry that had me somewhat concerned, as it had been from three days later (ie only two days before me) and clearly the river had still been high enough to force that party to turn around
Creature Comforts
Settled in for the night at Roper Hut as well. Still, there was only one way to find out just how big the Big River would be...
And so, after waking to yet another beautiful blue sky day, I set off from Roper's Hut and almost immediately began the steep descent down the recently-cleared Duane Spur, plunging headlong into the deep cleft of the Big River Valley. Having dropped over 700 metres in just four kilometres (which took me just over an hour) I suddenly emerged on the banks of the swiftly-flowing stream... and much to my relief I found that although the river was running swiftly, it was only between knee- and thigh-deep. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to rush in with all of my belongings on my back and nobody else around to raise the alarm if anything went wrong. So as the butterflies slowly started to take flight inside my stomach, I changed into my shandals (which would finally have the opportunity to prove their worth) and re-packed my backpack so that everything was safely tucked away inside my waterproof pack liner, then left my pack on the bank and did a practise run across the river (which was no more than ten metres wide
Rushing River
The first glimpse of the Big River crossing at the crossing point) and back. Success! Although the chain was indeed broken, three-quarters of it was still tied to a fallen tree trunk on the side of the river from which I was crossing, so that I was able to use it to steady myself by keeping it pulled tight. Even without it though, I was pretty confident that I could have gotten across safely. With it I had no doubts at all.
So back I went to retrieve my pack, before entering the water for a third time to make the all-important crossing fully-loaded... and pulled it off without a worry. In fact once I had ditched my pack on the other side of the river I then headed back into the water and clambered up onto a large rock in mid-stream to take a few pictures for posterity! With the anxiety of the situation having passed, I could truly appreciate what a beautiful location I was in, with a gorgeous mountain river splitting the densely-forested valley in two. And I had the whole place to myself. Unforgettable!
Unfortunately there was just one problem: I was now at the lowest point of the valley (about 1000m
Safely Across... and loving the scenery!
Lapping up the beauty of the Big River valley above sea level) and the next hut and campsite were a full 750-plus metres above, not far short of the summit of Mount Bogong at 1986m. They say that what goes up must come down... well, in this case it was the exact opposite! So after soaking up the serenity on the banks of the river, I proceeded to soak in my own sweat as I tackled the arduous climb up T Spur, which was every bit as steep and unrelenting as the descent had been on the other side of the valley. With 20kg on my back and a gradient of around 20%, it would have to be the toughest climb I have ever attempted... so I soon settled into a rhythm whereby I would walk for ten minutes, then rest for five. Ten minutes up; five minutes break. Ten minutes up; five minutes break. And so it went on. And on. And on. For two-and-a-half hours.
Not only was the trail demanding, it was more than a little soul-destroying. And then even when the climbing finally ended, the challenges didn't: towards the top of T Spur I started to encounter fallen trees across the track - and
Nature's Obstacle Course
Fallen trees blocking the trail on T Spur pretty soon they were everywhere! Not only that, but it seemed as though every single tree trunk lying across my path was at that precise height above the ground whereby I couldn't possibly duck underneath, but also couldn't quite climb over the top! So time and time again I found myself battling my way through the scrub to either side of the trail, in order to detour around the countless fallen trees - all of which had been burned many years ago but had managed to stay standing, until the latest lot of strong winds (presumably from the storm front of the previous Friday) had finally managed to knock them over. It was as depressing as it was frustrating to negotiate this horizontal forest, and I cursed the forces of nature that had conspired to build this obstacle course, until at long last I emerged in a clearing where a simple little trail sign indicated the way to Cleve Cole Hut, which by now was only an undulating two kilometres away. Unfortunately almost all of those undulations were uphill, but hey - at least now nothing could stop me from reaching the summit of Mount Bogong the next day. Well,
Built to withstand anything
Cleve Cole Memorial Hut, high on the slopes of Mount Bogong apart from some really bad weather maybe...
Friday
So naturally, that's exactly what transpired! The weather forecast (for nearby Falls Creek) had left little room for optimism: 100% chance of rain. Wind gusts up to 60km/h (downgraded from 90km/h). Minimum: 13°. Maximum: 13° I wouldn't have thought that was even possible if I hadn't experienced it for myself. But sure enough, I woke to find the hut enveloped by clouds. I also went to bed with the hut enveloped by clouds. And in the intervening fourteen hours or so, the hut had never not been enveloped by clouds. The maximum visibility for the day would have been around 200 metres. What a glorious couple of minutes that had been! Still, at least I had seen the forecast in advance AND taken notice of it. With Cleve Cole Hut having been described by Anthony Sharwood in his book (which I had read only a week earlier - whilst stuck in the hut at JB Plain due to similarly dismal weather!) as being the sturdiest, most welcoming structure in the whole of the High Country, I had not even considered setting my tent up when I got there - I
Sturdy yet comfortable
Inside Cleve Cole Memorial Hut simply unpacked my things and made myself right at home inside the hut. And boy was it ever a comfortable home!
Later on the Thursday evening I had been joined by a lovely (and experienced) fellow hiker named Naomi, who - despite my warnings about the weather - had opted to spend the night in her tent. I subsequently woke at 3:30am to the sound of Naomi dragging all of her things (including her hurriedly-packed tent) inside the hut, as the wind absolutely howled outside! So at least I had some company the following day, as we slowly passed the time inside the hut; until late in the afternoon when we were joined by a young couple who had come up and over the mountain's summit that afternoon, despite the complete lack of visibility. Later still a couple of young women arrived, having also trekked in from the northern side of the mountain (where the trailheads are reachable by car)... unfortunately they came bearing bad news: as of midnight that night, the whole of Victoria would be in stage four lockdown (the tightest coronavirus restrictions of all) for the next five days.
Talk about a mood-killer! Stage four
Gloomy Oultook
The view - or lack of it - from Cleve Cole Hut on day six restrictions would mean people could travel no further than 5km from their homes, and only for one of four permissable reasons (ie buying essential items, exercising for a maximum of two hours per day etc). But what happens if you don't have a home?!? For three months now I had been living out of my backpack, with no fixed address. Under stage four restrictions, no accommodation provider would be able to accept any new guests for the duration of the lockdown. If I had another five days' worth of food this wouldn't necessarily be a problem - I could just keep wandering through the mountains (well, at least once the weather cleared up). But I'd already been in the mountains for a week, and was having to ration my remaining food to allow for the enforced rest day I had just been forced to sit through. So I had no choice but to head back to civilization. But where the hell was I going to go?!? I had been planning to end my walk at the Crank Handle Brewery in the little town of Mount Beauty at the foot of Mount Bogong, before heading to the holiday park across the
Head in the Clouds
Just finding the toilet could be an adventure at Cleve Cole Hut! road to rest up for a couple of days. But now it occurred to me that not only would the brewery be closed when I got there (a devastating blow from which I never really recovered!) but that I would most likely not be welcome at the holiday park either.
Lying in the hut unable to sleep, I wound up staring at my hiking map trying to come up with a plan that would allow me to get into town to buy a week's worth of food, before heading straight back into the national park to wait out the lockdown, whilst trying to avoid the authorities from whom I could be given a $1600+ fine for engaging in recreational activities if I was caught camping! The madness of it all was impossible to comprehend!!! Eventually I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew it was Saturday morning, and the sun was already beginning to burn off the clouds hovering over the mountain...
Saturday
With no idea what fate would have in store for me once I got down out of the mountains, I was determined to at least enjoy my remaining hours of freedom,
Back in Action
Heading for the summit of Mount Bogong after the weather cleared on day seven and it was with great relief that I was finally able to leave the hut (for something other than a toilet break) after forty hours of weather-induced hibernation. Within an hour I'd knocked off the final 4km (and 200m of elevation gain) to stand atop Mount Bogong - at 1986m above sea level, I was the highest person in Victoria! I also took the opportunity to pull my phone out and switch it on, in the hope of getting some reception with which to contact the holiday park in Mount Beauty, about a vertical mile below me! It seemed that fate, like the sun, was smiling upon me: while the holiday park weren't supposed to accept any new guests now that the lockdown had already begun, they were allowed to provide emergency accommodation if the person in question had nowhere else to go... which was exactly the situation I had found myself in! Unfortunately there was no such clause authorizing the brewery to provide emergency sustenance to those in need, so I was just going to have to settle for takeaway beers from the local liquor store instead! Cause yep, you guessed it - even under the strictest lockdown, liquor
Better late than Never
Finally on the summit of Mount Bogong (1986m) - the highest mountain in Victoria stores are still allowed to open, since they are classified as an 'essential service'...
After a knee-wrecking two-hour descent down the aptly-named Staircase Spur (which deposited me by the banks of the even-more-aptly-named Mountain Creek) I stopped off for a cooling dip and a full lunch at the nearby national park campground - which surprisingly had not yet been officially closed - before being offered a ride into Mount Beauty by a fellow hiker, whom I had chatted to on the summit only a few hours earlier. And with that my week-long journey through the high plains and even-higher mountains of the Victorian Alps had come to an end.
Like any great adventure it had kept me enthralled the whole way through. It had drama. It had unexpected plot twists. It had action sequences. It even had a curious cast of characters (particularly that YouTube weirdo). And it had far more variety of scenery than I had ever expected: from the snow gum forests between Dinner Plain and Mount Hotham on the first morning; to the serrated ridgeline with unparalleled views on the Razorback Ridge to Mount Feathertop; the secluded tranquility of the Cobungra River; the desolate moorlands
The Long Way Down
Heading down from the summit on the Staircase Spur Track of the Bogong High Plains; the distant views from the edge of the plateau as I walked alongside the Langford Aqueduct; the exhilarating crossing of Big River followed by the lung-busting, calf-tearing climb up the other side; and then finally the views from above (and within) the clouds at the top of Mount Bogong.
And of course there were the many High Country huts that had provided me with shelter along the way, from the old and dingy (but no less welcome) forestry hut at JB Plain; to the proud and historic cattleman's huts (Dibbins and Wallace); from the original tourist hut in the area (Cope) to the wonderfully modern, clean and comfortable Roper's; and of course the ultimate shelter from the storm, Cleve Cole Hut on Mount Bogong. There were snakes, lizards, fish, birds, a wallaby, an emu and a whole lot of dried-up wombat poo (but no wombats). And through it all there was an unmistakable Australian quality about the place, though it was completely unlike any other part of Australia that I've ever seen. And it was bloody brilliant.
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