MBW Walk magazine 1969 - Melbourne Bushwalkers

Vol. 10, 1969
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FLINDERS CATALOGUES AVAILAILI Pill OM IIQUIIT.
Vol. 20 - 1969
WALK
Editor: Athol Schafer.
Advertising: Anne Weiling.
Distribution: Rex Filson.
All enquiries to: Melbourne Bushwalkers, Box 1751Q, G.P.O., Melbourne
3001.
WALK is a voluntary, non-profit venture published by the Melbourne
Bushwalkers in the interests of bushwalking as a healthy and enjoyable
recreation.
CONTENTS
Editorial
The Past and Present Binding (Alec Proudfoot)
3
4
The Delinquent Border (Bill Downing)
South-West Tasmania (Michael Griffin)
Bynguano Haven (Fred Halls)
The High Country (Sue Taylor)
13
14
25
32
38
Geology of the Kiewa Area (Gerry McPhee)
Flowers of the Bogong High Plains (Rex ~nd Sue Filson)
39
43
A Snowy Mountains Walk (Athol Schafer)
Across the Mt. Difficult Range (Helen Mitchell)
Nullarbor (Michael Griffin)
A Walker's Creed (Fairlie Apperly)
45
46
51
Long, Hot Week-end (Alma Strappazon)
Books for the Bushwalker ~ .
53
54
WALKS SECTION
Reedy Creek Chasm (2 days)
51
Yarra Glen- Hunchback Ck. -Yarra Glen (I day)
Bunyip- Mt. Cannibal- Garfield (1 day)
Longwarry-Labertouche Caves (1 day)
Fryer Hill- Hoddles Ck.- Yarra Junction (I day)
59
61
63
63
64
Olinda- Olinda Falls- Kalorama- Montrose (I day)
COVER PHOTO by Robin Mitchell. "Looking toward Mt. Cope from the
Mt. Fainter track."
.
A~
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\1. ,;l
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MELBOURNE BUSHWALKERS
always welcome visitors on their walks which include easy one-day
excursions and week-end trips. Extended walking tours of three days or
more are also included on the programme. If you are interested, then call
in any Friday night, from 8 to 10.30 p.m., to the clubroom, 1st floor,
161 Flinders Lane, Melbourne. Details may also be obtained by writing
to the Hon. Secretary, Box 175JQ, G.P.O., Melbourne 3001, or by phoning
97 3724.
EDITORIAL
Pictured here - a thylacine, commonly known as the Tasmanian tiger
or wolf. Once found throughout our bushland, this marsupial carnivore
has been reduced in number to the point where it is now officially assumed
extinct, the last one held in captivity having died in Tasmania over thirty
years ago. However, there are renewed hopes that some surviving
specimens may be found in such remote areas as the mountainous regions
of Tasmania.
One possible explanation for the decline of the thylacine is the introduction of the dingo, brought in thousands of years ago by migrating
Aborigines, and competing with the tiger for food and space. But in
Tasmania, never reached by the dingo, the depletion of the species has
taken place since white settlement, especially in fairly recent times when
the progress towards extinction was aided by "tiger" drives and bounties
offered in order to reduce the "pest".
Today many of our native fauna are similarly facing the threat of
extermination, directed not so much against the animals themselves as
against the areas which provide their food and shelter. Bushland is cleared,
forests defoliated, swamps drained, and the cities surge outwards. Although
a few species, such as the euro and emu, show remarkable resilience and
adaptability to these developments, most native animals and plants are
helpless victims. The destructive influences of man, whether in the shape
of bulldozers or toxic chemicals or in even less obvious forms, alter the
habitats indiscriminately, and so upset the previously balanced animal
and plant communities which occupy them.
We urgently need to conserve, but in doing so we must go further
than simply preserving and protecting our plants and animals; we must
strive for a continuous, self-perpetuating yield of these living resources.
Thus, economic progress and development, involving as it does the
elimination of "pests" and the harvesting of the land and its riches, must
be offset by the provision and maintenance of adequate reserves, which
will not only protect and preserve our native flora and fauna, but also
provide them with essential habitats within a balanced community.
3
THE PAST AND THE PRESENT BINDING
By AJec Proudfoot
"0, the barefoot trail goes winding
Through the years of memory
The Past and the Present binding
In a wonderful dream for me."
Our destination, Coopers Creek to the P.M.G. Department, best known
as The Copper Mine to those who once lived there.
The weather was to be good- it was drought, wasn't it? Swimming
in the Thompson River, lazing in the sun, a bludge camp.
But as the van nosed into the hills in the darkness the telltale mist
on the windscreen and the restless wipers had an ominous look. Sure
enough, from Moe to Erica and on to the tum-off the delu&e intensified,
the drought had broken- over Mt. Erica at any rate.
The tum-off at last.
"I wouldn't take the van down the turn-off in this weather," said the
driver. "It's a chancy road at the best of times."
"Go on with you," retorted the leader. "It's a damn good road.
Didn't my old man and me build it forty years ago and nowhere is it
less than sixteen feet and its curves would put any girl to shame?"
But he wouldn't go and out we poured into the drenching black night
and plunged down the road, now a torrent. Sloshing and shambling, the
bottom was reached; a quick circle, a roll call, thirteen present, twenty
lost-erosion on a large scale after only an hour. The leader, a bit
shaken (his first walk, you know) was prepared to accept ten per cent.
over the whole week-end, but not this.
Thankful not all were lost, he led the survivors to what used to be
the old footy ground- scene in bygone years" of magnificent displays of
Aussie Rules with gory fights to follow. And what luck! -the rain
stopped.
A lovely camp-site this, though indiscernible in the dark, with a
grassy, open space and bays in the tea-tree surrounding it. Tents went up
as stragglers arrived and soon all was quiet except for those slumbrous
sounds so well known to Busbies.
And in the damp morning through the blue smoke of reluctant fires
the leader, relieved to learn that all had turned up, burst into song to
the consternation of those nearby. It seemed that shortly after leaving
the van, some preferred the difficult track in the opposite direction to the
well-defined, leader-built, broad highway to the Copper Mine.
As they say, Busbies will be Busbies.
Around us was a fresh green countryside- wattles, gums and blackwoods, and foreign trees planted in gardens of houses long gone, the
ubiquitous blackberry of course, and ferns, grass and tea-tree; high hills
all around, and nearby a beautiful river, up a foot due to the rain, rushing
4
Photo by Charle5 Weillng.
"Walhalla Sleeps."
over the shallows and gently stirring through the deep pools, luring the
swimmer, the angler, the walker, the photographer, but oh! where was
the sun?
In due course all assembled and set out towards Walhalla along the
maligned road no longer a torrent. At the site of the old railway siding,
Platina (so named because of the high platinum content of the ore from
the mine), some found the old track across the creek, once used by walkers
along the railway to cut off the horseshoe curve, and there drank the
sweet water trickling over a small waterfall, oozing through the green
moss covering the stone. You must be told that this curve was so hairpinny that when a long train passed round it there was one particular
spot where the engine driver and the guard were wont to shake hands if
they were friendly that day and to spit in each other's eye if they were not.
Down the old line we went, winding steeply towards the junction of
Stringers Creek and the Thompson a couple of miles away. The permanent
way, clinging to the mountainside, now shorn of its 3 ft. 6 in. track,
checkrailed on the curves, clove through cuttings and straddled ravines
on shaky bridges with most of the decking gone. Those with good heads
5
walked the stringers, others scrambled down and up; but there was one
long stretch where this alternative was denied us, and all- strong-headed
and weak-headed alike- had to take to the girders. Now was a sight to
behold as those favouring discretion sat straddle-legged across the girders
and bumped across like some arboreal marsupial of a bygone age. But
in years to come no doubt some small great grand-children will listen
pop-eyed as gran tells of the day when she walked the girders and laughed
into the leering face of Death sixty feet below.
Arrived at Walhalla (in the rain, of course), we passed the ruins of
the rail terminal where once stood station buildings complete with platform worthy of Melbourne's poshest suburbs. We ambled up the road
where once were asphalt footpaths, past the cemetery clinging to the
mountainside, past great mullock heaps pouring down into Stringers
Creek, past the ruins of the strongroom of the bank through which had
passed £10 million worth of gold in the days when an ounce was worth a
couple of pounds, and we came to rest in pouring rain before the palatial
ruins of the ancient bakery. This we entered through the walls, sat on
portions of the floor still sheltered by portions of the ceiling, and ate what
we had in relative comfort. Sheltering behind these walls, hallowed by time,
the leader recalled when, as a boy, he poked his nose into Arthur Boswell's
bakery (as boys are prone to .do) and "helped" to bake the bread. In
retrospect he felt the warmth of the bakery, smelt the yeast and new-baked
bread, threw wood into the fire and with his grubby hands dabbled in the
dough yet to be baked. Rules were not so stringent in those days. It was
commonly believed that, when raisins were short, the small boys of the
town went foraging after bees and defunct blowflies.
"Be here at 2.30 p.m.," ordered the leader, "and we'll set off back
to the Copper Mine via the old gold settlement of Happy-Go-Lucky."
The gallant band dispersed and went on various ways.
Rumour has it that Smithy discovered the pub but I'm inclined to
discount this because it is so out of character. But if he did -well, he
certainly found something.
Back in 1967 when the leader promised to arrange this walk, he decided
to come up here just to make sure the place was still about. With him
came the doughty Jeff of the large feet and larger grin and two damsels
who shall be nameless. Tents were set up on the camping ground (a poor
place for busbies) and after tea, the hour still being early, the leader
suggested a walk. The damsels came but the gladiator, worn out by the
labour of driving his "V.W." a hundred miles, was already making his
small tent sob with his stertorous breathing. The three tracked back along
the road and approaching the pub, a pool of unexpected light in the black
chasm of the hills, they were aware of the sound of voices and the warm
emanations of humanity. Instinctively their course was bent until they
breasted the bar, where the leader immediately discovered he was not
unknown. His fame (or was it the damsels at his side) resulted in an
invitation to the room behind- to a warm fire, to tables and chairs, and
to the company of Bill. Now Bill sat on a box with his squeeze-box on
his knee, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and his eyes closed. Nearby
was a half empty glass. Bill was not in this world - he had gone off on
his music to that wonderful world to which some fortunates are borne
on the wings of song.
6
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7
"You're not bad, you and your squeeze-box, are you?" said the
leader. "You seem to be part of one another."
"Aw, well, we've been together a good while, y'know."
"I suppose you've been about these parts a good while, too?" continued
the leader.
"Aw, not long. Just since 1915."
"Fancy that now. I was here in 1910; that is, at the Copper Mine."
"Well, I'll be ... !" and so it was. Years ago they knew each other
so they toasted each other over a glass of beer and Bill played the old
songs- Ramona, Always, All Alone, Chiquita, Memory Lane, Two Little
Girls in Blue, and the old dance tunes, while the evening drowsed away
in the warmth, in the smoke, in the buzz of talk, the chink of glass, and
in the music that dripped out through the bar and across the street and up
the gully and around the everlasting hills. And the leader remembered how
it used to be at Coopers Creek after knock-off time when Jack Meuleman
of football fame, having had a wash and tidied up, sat on the doorstep
of his home while awaiting tea and played his cornet, the liquid strains
of Annie Laurie, The Holy City, Mother McCree, Haydn Trumpet Concerto • • . rolling round tho hills and returning again and again to
bushmen honing axes at their doorsteps and their busy wives standing for
a moment to capture the sound.
But to return to the bakehouse at 2.30 p.m. Some are there. No one
seems to know about the rest, some think they've gone on, some think
they're in the cemetery, others that they're in the Long Tunnel mine.
However, we set off along the road once travelled by Cobb & Co.'s coach
under the whip of Ernie Templeton; up where horses strained at the
swingle-trees and brakes screamed on the plunging coach, along the lonely
road haunted by the ghosts of another century.
Saturdee night- a dance at Walhalla. All the afternoon there was
tidying up- wood cut, gardens dug, odd jobs done, dungarees washed,
bluchers greased, tea prepared and eaten, best shirt put on, clean dungarees,
red handkerchief round neck, faces shaved and hair licked down; dresses
ironed, stockings mended, best shoes cleaned, hair in rags, all dolled up
with powder on nose and scent in other places. Then the denizens of the
Happy, hurricane lamps in hands, descended upon Walhalla, lights bobbing
up and down, scuffling feet, loud voices and giggles- tonight's the night.
And "as the morning star paled slowly and the cross hung low", the
cavalcade returned tired out by two-steps, valettas, polka mazurkas,
Lancers, schottisches . . . and the Royal Irish at the end which rocked
the hall and filled it with dust from the rafters.
Nowadays one hardly knows when Happy-Go-Lucky is passed. All
that is left are a few open spaces and some pine trees with occasional
bits of machinery lying about. Soon the road forks, the left prong going
on to Brunton, well down the Thompson, the right prong sidling down the
hillside to Coopers Creek where fifty years ago the bridge was washed away
by one of those tremendous floods this river is subject to. Now one fords
the river or swims as conditions demand.
Leaders beware! Do not let the past so bemuse you and loosen your
tongue that not only do you deaden the senses of your flock but lead
them astray as well. This leader walked past the turn-off to Coopers
Creek, not easily seen as it drops away to the right, and blithely led his
8
FORESTS ARE FOR EVERYONE
Each year Victorians look increasingly to their forests to provide good quality
timber, clear, clean water, areas for outdoor recreation, fodder for livestock,
and habitats to conserve fish, native animals and birds.
With 1,000 trained fire-fighters on instant call during the summer months,
the Commission takes charge of fire-fighting in the fourteen million acres
of State forest.
While In the fornt you un help us with the fftht •tainat fornt ffrn.
CAMPFIRES:
Use a fireplace or trench at least 18 inches deep; keep the fire small; clear
ten feet around and above it; make sure it's out when you leave.
DAY OF TOTAL FIRE BAH:
No fire may be lit in the open. This includes barbecues, spirit stoves, and
gas stoves.
Any fires found burning must be put out by the finder, if possible, and must
be reported to the nearest Forest Officer or Police Officer.
FORESTS COMMISSION, VICTORIA.
9
little band along the road to Brunton, meticulously marking with arrows
each fork in the road to ensure that those following him took the correct
course. Mter about an hour of this, uneasily he realised his error and
simultaneously came upon a Holden on the way up. The driver's description of an old iron bridge confirmed that onwards was Brunton and
not C.C. Furthermore, he learned the futility of the arrows he had made,
for the rest of his party was ahead and not behind.
Walkers beware! Do not go ahead of the leader. This time, although
misled and forced to return to the Happy, those who stayed with him
reaped the benefit of his cunning further down the right road, when in the
falling dusk he led them down the gentle mountainside by a short cut to
the ford near the camp. The others, with several miles more to walk and
lacking the benefit of the short cut, turned up well after tea, guided to
hearth and home by the lights and coo-ees of those already there. For
the stragglers the 12 mile walk had turned into a 20 miler - a little too
much for two young ladies, one just a few weeks out from Ireland, on their
first walk.
Next day the camp stirred slowly to life and the morning was well
advanced before parties went out to explore the river, the tunnel of the
old mine now taking on a new lease of life, the limestone quarries and
remnants of the kilns, the cemetery impossible to find unless one knows
where to look -only charred vestiges of plaques, crosses and railings
remaining- finally to make a circuit taking in the Jubilee before lunch.
And so we came to the afternoon - that time of anti-climax when joys
are past, that time of tent felling and rucksack packing and final look
around; then all in a circle for a last count and away towards the van
up at the turn-off.
The bend in the road shuts off the village and down across the creek
in scrub and blackberries, where a few Red Hot Pokers defiantly bloom,
the leader looked upon the site of his old home and memory raced
backwards through the years.
The time- winter 1920, the place- a hessian lined room lit by
a hurricane lamp, the hour- 5.30 a.m.
Frost lay white around the 6-roomed weatherboard built ten years
ago by my father's hands but never painted. Why go to all that trouble.
Anyhow we may leave any time. Before we came it was ferns, blackberries
and big trees, now it is ferns, blackberries and small trees.
School was behind me, not far and only temporarily, and I was "earning my living". The cow was milked in the light of the lantern, breakf-ast
downed -porridge with scalded cream, bacon and eggs cooked on the
kangaroo stove set in the corrugated iron chimney by wood snigged down
the hill on a rope over the shoulder or carried up from the creek to be
sawn in the backyard.
Time to set off for the train- billy of black tea in hand, axe over
shoulder, crib in sugar bag on back, and hob-nailed boots on feet- in
the still dark we made our way along the tram track headed for Platina
Siding, ear cocked up the gully to hear when she comes. Too-oo-oot,
sque-e-eal, far far away- yes, she's down at the Thompson, just crossed
the bridge and making the grade round the check-railed curves. Tuttertutter-tutter- she slips on the frosty rails and laboriously gives it another
go. The wheels grip, she huffs and puffs and stutters again but, breathing
10
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11
fire and smoke, she never gives up and as we get closer to the HorseShoe Bend so does she. It is a dead-heat and when Bob Rumph, the
engine driver, sees us, he gives a toot-toot, slows down- not much, she
only does 8 m.p.h. up to Erica- and we clamber aboard the guard's
van. Bert Mills, the guard, greets me, thinks -will he sell me a ticket _:
remembers he sold me one yesterday and decides to forget it.
Anyhow he has a lot on his mind because, in addition to being the
Guard of His Majesty's Walhalla Train, he is No. 1 messenger boy for
the whole line.
"Bert, here's my order to Pruden (the butcher at Moe), and if you
come across a decent cheese - you know the sort I like, not that new
stuff- get me a couple of pound, and go to the chemist for something for
the dog- he seems to be constipated, and oh, Bert, I wonder if you'd get
me a pair of corsets at Purvis'- you know my size Bert."
"Strike me pink! Mrs. C., break it down, I can't buy 'em by guesswork."
"Well, Bert, I did bring a tape measure."
"Oh Bert, what ARE you doing?"
On she hustles, steam hissing from her sides, black smoke pouring
from her funnel, wheels screaming and clattering, carriages swaying - on,
on to Erica - great gum trees beside the narrow gauge track, tree ferns
down in the gullies, over the bridges and through the cuttings, stopping at
sidings to shunt and to pick up, snatching mail bags from hands held up,
linking the outback bush with the Melbourne train at Moe - hoping
she'll make it.
And somewhere between O'Shea's and Erica, we drop off. The day
begins - a big tree to fell- fifteen feet up on springers before the
diameter will take a 7 ft. saw- put in a scarf where we want her to
fall, grab the saw- now you, now me, now you, now me . . . until she
cracks, she sways, she lurches -leave the saw, down for your life, away
from the stump as she crashes in a flurry of limbs and leaves and bark
up-flung.
Mark off the logs -7 ft.; saw, saw, saw- maul and wedges, halve
her, quarter her, split out the billets. Where's the broadaxe? Square
away. She'll do. Hope that b - inspector bloke overlooks the gum
flaws. Up with the sleeper on end, bend down shoulder, feel for the
middle point, heave and stagger and straighten up, then up through the
scrub to the railway line. Drop her, lean gasping against a tree and go
back for more.
Crib time. Boil the billy and sit down under a fern tree, unwrap the
newspaper, pull out a sandwich and munch- stick the newspaper over
your head to keep off the flies and snore off for a while.
Back to the graft- the afternoon drifts by, the lyre bird clunks and
mimics in the gully way down, the shadows lengthen and tiredness creeps
over the body.
Drop the saw, grab the pick, seize the axe and up to the line. Here
she comes fussing through the smoke and steam, the brakes squeal and
she staggers to rest beside the piled up sleepers.
No time to waste, twenty-four bob per hour demurrage while she
waits -down with the truck sides, into the truck with the pick- in come
the sleepers, watch out, jump here, drive in the pick, pull 'em in place.
12
And hero comes Bob Rumph and his fireman, Frank Burton, and there's
Bert Mills tttking off his coat and out come some of the passengerscoats off, sleeves rolled up, spitting on their hands. The sleepers fly in
thick and fttst - sweat in your eyes, dust in your throat, skip here, skip
thoro, and mind your shins.
They're all in, there is silence. Bert looks at his watch- "Let me
sec, humph, when did we start? Yeah! Got anything under the ferns,
Proudy?"
"Too right" and out they come, streamlined, cold and beautiful, glasses
alonasldo - all eyes glisten.
"Aw well, we'll call it the bare hour. O.K. with you, Proudy?"
"O.K. with me, Bert." Nose in froth, fizz in the mouth, eyes closed
In OC8tacy - the load is christened.
·
"Time to go, Bob;'' Toot, toot; huff, huff, phiss, ph iss- she pulls
away. Passengers out of windows, cheers and ribaldry. His Majesty's
guard's van disappears round the curve with His Majesty's guard making
tho usual obscene gesture of farewell.
THE DELINQUENT BORDER
By Bill Downing
N(W SOUTI-I W"-LtS
Could you travel eastwards from Victoria into South Australia?
"Impossible!" you say, glancing at the map.
The eastern border of South Australia was set down as the 14lst
east meridian of longitude, throughout its length, but the early settlers
living near the meridian would tell both State authorities that they lived
on the other side of the border, and, since none could prove them wrong,
paid taxes to neither.
The border had to be surveyed! Two parties of surveyors set out,
one from the Murray, and the other from the sea, and when they met, the
lines were within a foot of each other. Everyone (except the tax dodgers)
was happy, until an error was found in the tables which had been used.
The line was wrong! It was three miles too far west! South Australia
demanded that the three-mile strip be handed to them. Victoria threatened
to mobilize its navy (one ship, H.M.V.S. "Victoria").
However, the Privy Council intervened and ruled that what had been
recognised as the border should stay,
Tho South Australia/New South Wales border was surveyed much
later, and in the correct place. The Murray River flows more or less
northwards between the N.S.W. and Victorian sections of the South Australian border, leaving a salient of Victorian territory jutting northwards
into South Australia.
Take a closer look at your map!
13
SOUTH-WEST TASMANIA
By Michael Griffin
The bushwalkers of Tasmania have sung the praises of their little
island to such an extent that there seems little justification for a "mainlander" to join in the chorus. The trouble is that this mainlander, along
with five others of like breed, spent 25 enjoyable days plodding through
South-West Tasmania.
During our stay, we visited Lake Pedder and Mount Anne, sloshed
across most of the Port Davey track and idled along the south coast, only
to be mistaken for abalone fishermen when we finally reached civilization.
All this has no doubt been done before, but people see things in different
ways, and I am hoping that my outlook is sufficiently novel to make the
following pages worthwhile.
Our glorious leader had spent many sleepless days dreaming up
wondrous and complicated methods of organising the food situation. The
result was three carefully thought-out airdrops with six days' food each
and six heavy packs, seemingly brimful with ration biscuits wrapped in
something akin to toilet paper.
For us, the South-West started at Churchill Creek, a short distance
from Maydena. The first night passed quickly and we were anxious to
start; the morning found us heading through beautiful forest with
eucalypts and beech, over a track of wood raised on high against the
water. We pushed towards Adamsfield, ending our day there in an
abandoned hut, after stopping en route to climb to a trig-point on
The Thumbs.
From Adarnsfield, with traces of the alloy osmiridium in the drinking
water, we descended to the Denison Plain, where a now disused bombardier
track made the crossing relatively easy. The surrounding mountains
shimmered in the sun, rising majestically into the clear sky from firm
bases, and ending in teetering peaks or plateau-like tops. The day moved
inexorably forward as six tired walkers finally broke free of the cloying
plain and climbed up to a pleasant camp-site in the foothills of Junction
Range. The sun had now dropped behind the range and transformed the
blue of the mountains on the other side of the plain to a purple-red hue.
So far, South-West had been benign!
The following morning brought us to McPartlan Pass and the new-cut
Gordon Road, which has grown on this touching country like a scar after
a thoughtless wound. This initial mess is probably necessary when a road
is carved coldly out of a hillside but one hopes that in time the grass
will be replanted and the scar nursed into partial recovery.
Very near the pass the track to Lake Pedder begins, promising a four
to five hour trip. Apart from time out for lunch and a climb to one of the
peaks on the Sentinel Range, we didn't need any more than five hours, but
time appeared often to drag and almost to be extinguished as we sloshed
slowly through deep pools of viscous mud. A magnificent effort by the
Hobart Walking Club to hew this topsy-turvey track through such
formidable country, but it would definitely not be recommended walking
in wet weather. We reached the moraine wall and the final climb, culminating in the magnificent view of a brilliant blue, mirror-calm lake
with a two-mile stretch of pink-tinged sandy beach.
14
Crossing New River Lagoon, with Precipitous Bluff behind.
Photo by John Brownlie.
Absolutely fantastic- Lake Pedder, and Mt. Anne over there on the
left, with the ether between so crystal clear. We flopped down on top of
the moraine wall, with only a descent ahead of us, and gazed upon pure
beauty as the wind cooled us. Bordering the lake, on the far side, the
Frankland Range rose up steeply, looking like a delicately moulded
plasticine replica of some original. The sand, water and shadowed peaks
looked unreal and we held our breaths in wonder. Surely a unique tragedy
if the lake were drowned by the work of man; or would the beauty remain,
but changed in aspect? Only time will tell.
Our three days at Lake Pedder were perfect. The sun shone unstintingly as a backdrop to our activities. We climbed one of the peaks of the
Franklands and lunched in the shade, looking across to the Giblin Range
and the Arthurs, impossibly jagged, in the distance. We swam in the lake
and baked in the sun, camped on the bank of Maria Creek with nine
others who had flown in by Cessna for a short visit.
On the opposite bank of the creek a party of walkers from NorthWest Tasmania very quickly became our friends. They held dear a wellknown red flag which was stolen from their midst by a particularly
thieving member of our party, and planted somewhere in the vastness
15
of the lake. Christmas Day brought a visit from Father Christmas- an
imaginatively decked-out member of the Kameruka club -complete with
two of the most attractive reindeer that it has been my pleasure to meet.
We sang, we {rollicked, we ate and we lazed, and the three days passed.
The afternoon of the third day passed quietly and the final act of
remembrance was a twilight walk along the golden beach, with the
Franklands silhouetted by the setting sun and reflected rippling in the
sweeping edges of the lake. The patterns of sand suggested calm, and
thoughts were soft and reminiscent; peaceful thoughts in a perfect setting.
We rose early the next morning, striking out across the buttongrass
towards the Port Davey track, following the foothills of Mt. Solitary.
The sun blazed down remorselessly as we shambled towards the track;
six with packs, drunken with the unpredictable undulations and the
exhausting sun. The track was reached, Huon Crossing was conquered,
and early afternoon brought us to Condominion Creek at the foot of
Mt. Anne.
Rain fell during the night but held off as we set out up the climbing
ridge to Mt. Anne. High camp at 3,500 feet and one tent, with the cook
keeping the stew hot for his companions, due down from Mt. Anne at any
minute. Now they approached, and with them the rain following them
down from Mt. Eliza summit. The mist descended, and our view of the
plateau and the summit of Anne was obscured. No sense going on, so
we left the high camp and its occupants, and descended into clearing skies.
Our second attempt at the summit, on the next day, was likewise
thwarted by the weather. We reached yesterday's high water mark only to
be greeted by drizzling rain and uniform grey skies. Giving up in disgust,
we returned to camp and dinner. The rain now set in and was the final
nail driven into the coffin of our desire to remain another day for a chance
at the top.
Up early to meet a dismal day- drizzling rain, grey skies and mist
low over Mt. Anne. We squelched to Huon Crossing and a slippery log.
Ahead was the Port Davey track, to be followed to the south coast. The
track was supposedly cut for the purpose of allowing shipwrecked and
stranded sailors to foot their way back to New Norfolk, which in those
days one supposes was roughly equivalent to civilization. It is magnificently surveyed and winds its way dubiously across the open plains
and sidles surreptitiously through the foothills, pausing momentarily in its
stride to cross numerous creeks, rivers, tributaries and mud pools.
We started off along it towards Junction Creek, as the rain set in and
the leeches made thei r presence felt. The rain gathered force and unleashed
its power in depressing torrents, making its music across the pages of an
ubiquitous grey sky. Wet and tired after a long push, we eventually
reached the signpost at the junction and were greeted with the sight of our
second airdrop. Camp was set up at the river near the signpost and after
a mammoth effort, the wood decided to burn unassisted. This day was the
worst we experienced. The weather would gradually fine up in the days to
follow, so that by the time we reached the south coast, the sun would be
unchallenged lord of the sky.
New Year's Eve was to be a short day as far as walking was concerned, and we spent most of the morning unpacking the air-drop,
marvelling that nothing was broken or mangled. Our opinion of the leader
reached its highest point for many days. Leadweight packs on anxious
16
(
' ·"'.--
SOUTH ~ST
TASMANIA
.
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Sccr.h ,n Mltu
shoulders as we began the short trek to Crossing River, and unusual views
of the Western Arthurs lapped by eddies of swirling mist as occasional
patches of sun raced scurrying up the side, only to be extinguished
suddenly ncar the top when the sky closed in. Crossing River and dark
water flecked with foam as it dashed frantically downstream, to be lost
from sight around a nearby bend. We crossed it cautiously to our campsite on the opposite bank, and were soon snugly entrenched. An early
start promised for the morrow, and so bed was infinitely more important
than helping in the New Year.
The first day of 1968 found six walkers winding through buttongrass
plains and foothills, following the track to the Lost World Plateau and
then down to a creek and a camp-site. The weather played jester all day:
the sky would close in to a drab sheet of grey as hail pounded the earth
mercilessly. Suddenly, instantly, the clouds rolled back from their uniformity to reveal blue spaces blazing with sunshine, and the myriad hues
of the mountains sparkled in their new-found glory. Abruptly, the blaze
17
was extinguished when the hail recommenced - a curtain was drawn over
the scene and the colours and shadows were swept off the stage, only to
reappear in different groupings as the curtain again rolled back to reveal
once more the sun. Juxtaposition of hues, kaleidoscope of colour, but
beauty drowned as the earth was swept by deluge after deluge.
A unique land, this South-West; in part like Scotland, or England, or
perhaps New Zealand; but different from all others in essence -land of
buttongrass plain and rocky, jutting crags; of swiftly racing rivers and low,
gentle valleys; of steep gorges and driving rain; of sunshine and banksia.
Our creek camp-site was quickly left behind as we tramped along next
morning, and soon the pole was reached which marked our departure from
the Port Davey track; it was a retrograde move to change from the
excellent benched track to this series of stakes driven into the peat at
intervals to mark the way.
Spring River, which we had been paralleling for a while, now came
forward to meet us; we had to cross it by means of an unshaven log, which
took a considerable time to negotiate straddling. The route took us sidling
around tops at angles that were surely unhealthy for the feet; climbing up
over slippery surfaces or protruding jags of rock to the next stake, and
plunging down roughly cleared trails into moss gullies, only to haul
ourselves up the other side even steeper than the descent. The body became
exhausted at this endless slog. The feet assumed weird shapes to accommodate themselves to the unpredictable undulations of the grassy clumps
and the ground beneath. Finally, amazingly, Ila Bay and a shelter shed
structure with a superb springy peat floor. Oblivion.
We slept in late and then panicked as we realized that the tide was
right for crossing the bay. Frenzied packing up and a swift departure
followed by a race against the elements, ferrying six with packs to the
other side by means of two fibre-glass rowing boats- remembering to
leave one on each side! The manoeuvre was barely completed before the
weather broke, and we realized that we were only just in time.
Ahead was more staked, buttongrassed route, leading to Denis King's
place on Melaleuca Inlet. We spent a much-needed rest day in his
Nissen-type hut that boasted six mattressed bunks and a glorious fireplace.
The rest day passed quickly and insignificantly, but nobody really minded,
for the morrow would see us at the fabled south coast- Cox Bight and
the final air-drop.
Eight miles separated us from the south coast as we set off next
morning, but the distance was quickly covered and Cox Bight was reached
before lunch. Many times before on this trip, we had come unexpectedly
on the beauty that was South-West Tasmania. Now, as the last scrubcovered hill was ascended, the vast and breathtaking panorama of the
Southern Ocean, hemmed in by an ampitheatre of rock, opened out beneath
us like the paradise wings of a beautiful butterfly in the sun. The blue
of the sea was a remarkable blue, deep and impenetrable, patterned by
ranked breakers of white foam sweeping in towards the fiat white sand,
which dashed them into exhaustion as they outran their life substance.
The surf roared and the rocks trembled beneath the timeless force of such
decay, as we tracked down to the beach and searched for a camp-site.
It was found in a grove of trees, a retreat from the sun where the tents
could stand proudly on carpets of fern, fearless of wind and squall in that
delightful sheltered spot.
18
You'll Love TASMANIA
for Your Next HOLIDAY
In Tasmania you will find majestic mountains and tranquil lakes • . .
~ecluded bays and sundrenched beaches • . . cool green bushlands and
sparkling mountain streams ... in fact, all the holiday maker could wish for.
FOR FULL DETAILS CALL OR WRITE
THE TASMANIAN GOVERNMENT TOURIST BUREAU
MELBOURNE, 254 COLLINS STREET, Tel.: 63-6351.
SYDNEY: 129 King Street.
LAUNCESTON: Cnr. Paterson/St. John Sts.
ADELAIDE: 32A King William Street.
DEVONPORT: 41 Stewart Street.
BRISBANE: Cnr. Adelaide/Creek Sts.
BURNIE: Cnr. Mount/Wilmot Sts.
HOBART: Cnr. Macquarie/Murray Streets.
19
We spent the day idling, tranquil; lunching from air-drop tins and
drinking from the beauty of our surroundings - we had reached the south
coast! . . . take tins for tea; eat their contents and blacken the tins on the
fire, where a pile soon gathers to be disposed of tomorrow. Watch the light
fade out, sucked away by the approaching night, an entity in its completeness. Slumber, content, at Cox Bight.
Saturday came and went, and in its confines we travelled from Cox
Bight to Louisa Creek, climbing over a small range in the process. Beyond
Louisa Creek the staked route struggled towards infinity across an endless
buttongrass plain. We were on our way to Louisa River, at the foot of
the Ironbound Range. The past few days had taught us the inconsistency
of the South West; one could seldom foretell from the title accorded it,
the relative difficulty of crossing a water mass; creeks were sometimes
much more difficult to cross than rivers, and on one occasion an unmarked "creek" turned out to be about six feet deep, even though only
seven or eight feet wide. Luckily, Louisa River was absurdly easy to
cross and incredibly beautiful; so we slept content that night, all jumbled
together beneath a protecting fly.
Sunday saw us up at 5.00 a.m. and away shortly after, crossing the
short distance to the foot of the range. Steep and endless seemed the climb
as we fought our way up against gravity and lethargy. The first top was
joyfully claimed and the previously hidden sun rushed over the shoulder
to embrace us. One more long push, climbing through low scrub, and we
reached a rocky top, lashed by the fiery sun and seasoned with skinks and
whip-snakes. A mossy stretch was invaded for a long, welcome repose and
then the descent began, with some glorious changes of plant zones- rain
forest, rock garden, scrub, tumbling creek encased in rocky bed. The
muddy, exhausting descent ended suddenly as the track rose. Undulation
followed undulation until grave doubts were held that the final descent to
the coast would ever eventuate. Then, unexpectedly, the track dipped and
continued down, and with a rush and a few last mud holes, we reached the
buttongrass and the coast beyond. Happiness is Lousy Bay and an
excellent camp-site, with cold, clear water rushing and gurgling over a
small waterfall, then slowing to flow sedately out to sea.
The south coast was beautiful, breathtaking, magnificent; the leader
was raised to the stature of a benevolent god when he announced that each
day we would reach camp by lunch-time; we cavorted in the sand as he
pronounced that we would be allowed to row the boats at New River
Lagoon; we almost threw ourselves into the sea as he reckoned up how
much everybody owed him. In the middle of all this frenzied activity we
found time to stroll across to Prion Beach via Deadmans Bay. We
camped at the west end of the beach on flat, bowling-green layers of grass
with a creek running by - lunch on arrival, seated in a circle with the
tins of spread being passed round as in a party game.
Three miles along the beach was New River Lagoon, flowing out to
sea through a channel deep enough to require crossing by boat. We paid
it a visit after lunch and spent a pleasant afternoon rowing the fibreglass boats aimlessly and inexpertly about the lagoon. Precipitous Bluff
rose aloof and forbidding behind the lagoon and we paused at several
propitious spots to capture it on film. The quietness was broken only by
the gentle slicing of the water with the oars, the lapping of it against
the bows, and the deluge of it as the rhythm was lost and a suddenly lethal
oar slapped water at the boat and its occupants.
20
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21
Returning to camp, the beach seemed endless and uninteresting, the
waves reaching the shore to push themselves ever further up the sand,
erasing their previous marks of progress.
Next morning a shrilling alarm clock: heralded the dawn. We retraced
the previous day's beach jaunt to New River Lagoon and crossed to more
sand and the start of an excellent track . . . track steeply up to the
surrounding forest; the fallen leaves and fragments of bark are dappled
by the sun as it searches its way through the canopy overhead. The forest
is relatively open and the rays of the bright morning sun strike a fern
and throw it into prominence, or brighten to a shining silver the blades of
sword grass. Slender trees are like vertical bars, shielding the backdrop
of greenery, patterned and sparkling in the sun; the intruders pass from
patch of shade to dazzle of brightness and the surrounding forest
scintillates as its pattern fragments and reforms, its arrangement altering
as the background green moves slowly against the closer dark of the
sentinal trees. Still and beautiful, silence pushed softly aside by throaty
bird calls, bell-like in the general hush. Fern gullies soaked in humidity.
The track: meandered through the forest and then crossed a stretch of
stunted buttongrass before plunging into more forest, luxuriant and green.
Suddenly there appeared a breathtaking view of Surprise Bay as the edge
of the range was reached. Dowrt we plunged to the sand and a pleasant
camp-site on the bank of Surprise Creek.
The trip was now almost over and civilization was fast approaching.
Only one more day remained for our eastward trek along the south coast,
and the few hours it contained Jed us eventually to South Cape Bay. The
morning was one of ups and downs as we climbed to the top of Fluted
Range, and then descended to a flat section of track. J.B. was leading at
this stage, with myself close behind. I came charging round a bend and
found John sprawled out over several buttongrass clumps. You must
understand that this was most uncharacteristic of John, and so I queried
his position. His reason, I must admit, was an admirable one; he had
suddenly come face to fang with a tiger snake of extra large proportions,
which had devilishly ensconced itself behind the very buttongrass clump
that John was to step on. He had retired to a sprawling position and the
snake eventually moved on. By some strange manoeuvring I now found
myself in the lead, with J.B. yelling words of encouragement from behind.
I lived in fear as we passed each towering buttongrass clump.
We climbed again now, over the South Cape Range, a struggle to
reach the top because the track seemed to fall as much as it rose. The top
was reached and the descent began, thwarted time and time again by
large bumps that must be climbed over, as the cliffs dropped sheer to the
expanse of water below, allowing no shortcut. The sweat poured ofT in the
humid forest and the packs seemed leadweight. The track rushed downward, wavered, straightened, flattened out and edged up despairingly, and
then, suddenly seeing reason, it continued smartly down to a view of white
sand magically appearing through the green. South Cape Bay -sand and
sea, and a rivulet running smoothly seaward, promising quenched thirst.
Clouds gathered and rain spotted down, only to cease immediately. We
appeared to be on the edge of a considerable storm, with the grey clouds
breaking up just before they reached us.
Next morning we continued east along the beach, encountering before
long a stretch of rocky prominences and boulder fields which must be
22
scrambled across, hopped over and, finally, scaled. Beach regained, we
followed it for only a short while before struggling up a sandhill to the
scrub above. Farewell south coast as we headed across country towards
Cockle Creek and all points north.
Cockle Creek, supposedly the southernmost settlement on the Tasmanian mainland, was soon reached by following the remains of an old
tram track. We continued north along rocky road, sidling around
Recherche Bay as we headed for Lune River. The people were very
friendly and with the aid of two lifts, we made Dover for the night.
Our final day included a bus drive from Dover to Hobart. As we
approached the capital, many examples of the recent fire were in evidence.
Mt. Wellington seemed to be the epitome of all this devastation; the
covering of trees stripped naked -their green departed, their brown fired
to black despair as the flames raced through, searing and crippling; aftermath of an inferno that surrounded Hobart and squeezed the vile juice
of terror into the city. Hobart was spared but the country around has
staggered and fallen, whiplashed by fiery tongues that absorbed the beauty
and replaced it with a sterile black uniformity. Regeneration is slow, the
soft tentative green returns slowly, an uneasy wedding with the black
beneath. Time, much time, will heal the wound; but the scar, the disruption
of the ecology, will be extremely slow in disappearing.
Pray to your God that this will never happen to South West!
Party: John Siseman (leader), Marion Siseman, Sue Taylor, John Brownlie (J.B.),
Rodney Mattinaley, Michael Griffin.
Want to try .
ROCKCLIMBING?
CANOEING?
SKIING?
THE NATIONAL FITNESS COUNCIL OF VICTORIA,
Conducts courses and camps in a variety of outdoor activities for
teenagers and young adults.
Learn the RIGHT WAY and the SAFE WAY under skilled
leadership.
Accept the challenge of these exciting activities and contact the
Council at:T. & G.
BUILDING,
147 COLLINS STREET, MELBOURNE
PHON'E 63-4936
23
YOUTH HOSTELS ASSOCIATION OF VICTORIA
YHA- Has Youth Hostels at:-Broadford, Steiglitz, Warburton, Mt. Baw
Baw, Mt. Buller, Warrandyte and Melbourne.
YHA- Members may use over 60 hostels in other States of Australia and
over 4,000 hostels in some 45 countries overseas.
YHA- Activities in Victoria include:-Bushwalking, Canoeing, Sailing,
Horseriding, Snow Skiing, Water Skiing, Camping.
YHA- Annual Membership Fees are:-Senior (over 21 years), $3 .00;
Junior (under 21 years), $1 .50; School, $0.75; Family, $4 .50.
YHA- 3 DRUMMOND STREET, CARLTON, VIC., 3053 - Phone 34-6282
To the Honorary Secretary,
Youth Hostels Association of Victoria,
3 Drummond St., Carlton, Vic., 3053.
Please send me further information about YHA, plus........................... ..
membership application forms for myself and friends.
NAME.. ................................ .
ADDRESS ...............................................................................-................................................
I am interested in TRAVEL
Q,
ACTIVITIES
0·
"Walk" 69.
24
BYNGUANO HAVEN
By Fred Halls
Mootwingee, the new Historic Monument in the many-branched
valley of Rock Hole (Nootumbulla) Creek, is situated nearly 90 miles
north-east of Broken Hill across the saltbush plains and red sand of the
old White Cliffs Road. Obviously it was not a normal spring season in
the valley, the knee-deep lemon-scented grass that gave Mootwingee its
name was missing. (Mootwingee means "green grass" in the aboriginal
tongue.) Not a blade of grass could be seen. Indeed, when the wind blew
hard visibility was down to ten yards and the earth appeared as a red
moving mass below our feet. Around us was an endless desolation of
grey and red, the grey of " Dead Finish", Mulga and Emu Bush, the great
red domes of parallel " pudding stone" ridges thrusting ever north-easterly,
with deep red gorges cut by the various branches of Nootumbulla Creek
gashing through the western end of the Bynguano Range. Yet when the
light of early morning or evening's golden glow slants through the red
domes and the silvery barks of Mountain Malice, this sometimes harsh
and grim region is transformed into one of peaceful beauty, charm and
striking colour.
The recently proclaimed Mootwingee Reserve covers 29 square miles
and forms a buffer zone around the all-important rock-holes. An area of
one square mile around the rock-holes has been enclosed by a high barbed
wire fence to keep the many native animals in the reserve close to water
and to prevent the feral goats from fouling the precious liquid. When the
seasons improve and normal rains moisten the red sand the grass will grow
once more in the Bynguano haven, because sheep will no longer be allowed
to crop the pasture down close to ground level. One day the Park may be
further increased in size and the Noontharungee Ranges included.
For thousands of years Nootumbulla Creek Valley was an aboriginal
haven, mainly because of the inexhaustible water supply from the beautiful
rock-holes. The Reserve contains a large number of petroglyphs (pecked
carvings) and pictographs (paintings). Carvings have been found in at
least eight different locations in the Reserve. In two of these there are as
well paintings of a later era, and in some of the twenty-three painted rock
shelters there are also rock engravings. Excavation of the floors of four
of the shelters has uncovered large numbers of artefacts. These paintings
and carvings represent the art work of at least 50 generations of Bulalli
tribesmen. Bulalli was the name given to the tribe by the explorer Howitt
in 1904. Explorer Wright, third in command of the Burke and Wills
expedition, was probably the first white man to view some of the strange
markings in the region. Burke and Wills recorded the existence of the
deep rock holes during their epic journey of exploration across Australia
and in his journal Wills gave the name Rock Hole Creek to the permanent
water known to the aborigines as Nootumbulla.
At
carving
Range.
thought
Mootwingee the Nootumbulla Creek has four main branches
their courses through the south-western ends of the Bynguano
The north-western branch (Giles Creek) leads past Giles Rock,
to have been marked by the explorer in 1861, and thence to the
25
Examples of carvings (top panel) and paintings (lower panel) as found at Mootwlngee.
rock-holes just below the main set of carvings. When we visited Mootwingee, the area was in the grip of a five-year dry spell and although it
was early spring - mid-September- no water flowed down the creek bed.
Nevertheless good water remained in many deep rock-holes along the
watercourses. Only inky water remained in the rock-holes of the Giles or
"main carvings" branch. In the days when Cobb and Co. coaches used
the track to White Cliffs, the company hotel, half a mile distant, drew
water from this source of supply.
At the gallery of the main engravings above Giles Creek thousands
of pecked carvings cover an area of 200 yards by 60 yards on fine-grained
sandstone slabs sloping at a grade of I in 3. Many artefacts and stone
implements have been collected within 200 yards of the main gallery.
The art work on these slabs ranges over thousands of years (possibly
4,000 to 7,000 years) and it is probable that the practice of rock engraving
finished long before the arrival of white men. Old carvings may be
noticed just below the first rock-hole but very ancient carvings may be
found at the foot of the rock slabs to the right of it. As one climbs northwards up these sandstone slabs, the pecked carvings become progressively
more recent and well-defined. It seems as though the earlier Bulalli
tribesmen performed their art-works close to the waterhole and as the
space on the lower slabs was covered by previous chippings later generations were forced to work increasingly further up the incline, so that many
of the more striking and sophisticated of the pecked carvings are located
high on the slope. Strange it is then that very ancient carvings can also
be found well up the slope at the foot of yet another large rock slab.
These carvings represent a wide ra nge of objects; animals used for
food supply, emu and kangaroo tracks, many clutches of emu eggs,
26
stumptail lizard, banded serpent, lizard men, boomerang, stick man with
horned headdress, two men holding boomerangs, man with rayed headdress, double boomerang design, dingo, bandicoot, snake, clubs and shields
are but a few of the many often well-drawn and sculptured figures from
out of the Dream-time past. Of particular interest is the representation of
a large beautifully carved emu and two large kangaroos, one nearly four
feet high. The pecked full intaglio is the main type of carving throughout
Mootwingee Reserve, although stick men, linear series and the broad
pecked band intaglio are also found. The engravings in the fine-grained
rock were probably pecked by the sharp end of a quartzite stone. In many
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of
MOOTWtNGFJ.
HISTOR\C MONUMt.NT
places the sandstone is nothing more than a skin over the coarse conglomerate of large quartz pebbles. Most of the carvings are to be found
on the surface of large sloping slabs previously prepared and ground by
hand to a flat surface. The notable exception to this are the ancient
carvings pecked into the walls of a small natural amphitheatre further
east on the northern side of a small red mountain, like paintings hung
around the walls of an art gallery. The carvings are of several stick men
and a lizard man, but the main carving in the centre of the gallery
represents a larger human standing with arms akimbo. The stepping stone
just below the gallery is a horizontal black slab covered by ancient
peckings of distinct and intricate design - a large stick man with headdress. Many of the human figures are engraved wearing elaborate ritual
headdress, used in corroboree or to represent the Cult Hero.
Near here, during early September, 1967, Park Ranger Jack Noonan
noticed an important set of pecked markings protruding below the lower
edge of a large slab. Further investigation and removal of the screening
slab revealed an exciting find of a large sloping slab plainly marked by
very well defined carvings, probably the best in the region. The discovery
indicates that further systematic search should reveal more important finds.
Some of the deeply etched carvings arc real works of art and represent
animal tracks crossing the slab, kangaroo tracks, emu tracks, dingo tracks,
an echidna, two tortoises and most important of all two excellent
"chippings" of platypus, not previously known in the region. This is
particularly important as the presence of tortoise and platypus would
seem to indicate that at some time during the occupancy of the Bulalli
27
tribesmen or their predecessors, the region was considerably more moist
and fertile. In fact from the evidence carved on the various slabs the
rock-lined gorges and well-filled waterholes supported a lush verdure and
a great variety of wildlife, a veritable Dream-time haven for the people
of the Bynguano Range. The crossing of the large and perfectly marked
tracks of kangaroo and emu could represent a favourite hunting groupa theme popular in the rock art of far north Australia.
On a dark inclined rock slab a few yards behind Noonan's newly
discovered petroglyphs there are old pecked carvings of well defined animal
tracks, emu tracks and many clutches of emu eggs, some of these markings
almost covered by a top slab. It is obvious from the present position of
the carvings that many more ancient peckings, possibly hundreds of them,
have been covered by the sliding down of the upper slabs over a period
of many centuries. It is possible that this location near deep rock-holes
in the main creek valley was once a major centre for pecked intaglio
thousands of years ago, and its art could throw some light on the wildlife
of this red rock haven in past ages.
East of the Giles Creek branch is Snake Cave Creek which heads northeasterly past deepening rock walls between large domes of red conglomerate. Along the course of the creek there is the soft green of Mulga,
the pungent spicy smell of Wild Curry Bush with its dry papery flowers
(a cassinia similar to Dogwood or Mountain Itch) and the four-petalled
golden blooms of varieties of the desert-loving native cassia, the Fineleaved Cassia being particularly striking. About halfway to Snake Cave a
narrow slit comes in from the right, a ravine filled with masses of flowering
shrubs, such as Brief-leaved Waxflower and Mountain Mallee, the walls
being composed of large red conglomerate pebbles, some larger than a
man's head. Further up the creek course, on a slope above the first of
the deep rock-holes, a very large overhang to the right shelters the galleries
of the Snake Cave group of paintings. This cave, over 50 yards long and
overhanging at least 50 feet, adjoins several other large overhangs on the
northern side of a rock wall , forming an almost continuous overhang for
several hundred yards. Collectively, the various markings in the Snake
Cave and two adjoining chambers represent one of the finest aboriginal
art galleries, notwithstanding some defacement by vandals in one section.
In the main stencil cave just to the north-east above Snake Cave there are
dozens of hand stencils marked in yellow and red ochre and white pipeclay, many white and red kangaroo tracks, several red boomerang stencils,
and a small red snake.
In the well-known Snake Cave the large red serpent, about 30 feet
long, after which the chamber is named, is outlined by white pigments.
The reptile as drawn appears to follow the sinuous curves of the rock
strata. Possibly in the Bulalli legends this overhang was the home of the
great Rainbow Serpent and the curving rock provided the pathway into
his lair. In the overhang under distant southern cliffs there are black, red,
white and yellow hand stencils. At the foot of one set of stencils are very
old carvings of emu tracks, while in another chamber very old carvings
of kangaroo tracks accompany the pecked carving of a small snake,
excellently engraved, twisting and heading towards a small hole In the
sandstone wall -possibly of totemic significance. In a lower gallery there
is a yellow stencil of a coolamon or shield as well as hand stencils.
28
molonys
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MOUNTAIN MULE (F' weight) .
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HENKE, from Switzerland.
BANANA, from Queensland.
VULSEAL, from Melbourne.
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tr HIRING
SLEEPING BAGS, RUCKSACKS, H-FRAME, WALKING BOOTS,
HIKE STOVES, TWO-MAN "A" TENTS (with or without Floor) .
SEE THE PEOPLE WHO CARE
molonys
197 ELIZABETH ST., MELBOURNE (opp. G.P.OJ
67-8428
67-8428
29
In one of the newly discovered caves in the western cliffs are found
mauve hand stencils, which may originally have been of red ochre; also
white, yellow and red ochre hand stencils many of them being very clear.
Another recently discovered painted rock shelter nearby contains several
four-clawed red ochre animal tracks, a crescent and finger strokes. An
important feature of the various paintings is the large number of colour
combinations painted on the walls of the rock shelters. In two of these six
different colour combinations have been found .
It has often been stated that stencils or paintings are never seen in
company with carvings. This is proven to be quite untrue in at least half
a dozen cases at Mootwingee. In the topmost (east) chamber and also at
the foot of the distant southern stencils a frieze of pecked carvings is
found together with paintings. The hundreds of stencils and markings in
company with very old pecked carvings do indeed represent an important
contribution to Aboriginal Rock Art . The other stencil cave adjacent to
the Snake Cave contains several dozen yellow and red ochre hand stencils
framed by ancient engravings of stick men and emu tracks.
The third creek branch from the left (main Nootumbulla Creek)
contains the best and deepest rock-holes, and the most colourful and
spectacular red domes sheltering photogenic silver-barked red gums and
Mountain Malice. This valley would often equal Central Australia at its
colourful best. In the dark red sand of the canyon floor vigorous dark
blue-green Cypress Pine saplings contrast with the ferny leaves and bright
gold flowers (with a single red spot) of the rare and beautiful Butterfly
Flower -like a golden butterfly resting on the bright green leaves. Not
far south of the first main rock-hole there are several delightful and
sheltered camp-sites. A quarter mile before the main rock-holes a valley
coming in from the north-east brings in waters, when they flow, from the
long valley below the Big Cave which is just one of the many large rock
shelters in the west-facing cliffs of the Bynguano Range.
From the clifftop above th e Big Cave the outlook is again an endless
grey and red, but the desolation on some of the ridges is relieved by the
presence of one beautiful species of sweetly scented Emu Bush, the lovely
Native Honeysuckle whose large pink flowers strongly resemble the garden
plants. The Turpentine Bush with its small pink bell-like flowers and the
large spotted bells of the striking Spotted Emu Bush may also be seen
in the Mootwingee Reserve. Harsh, cruel and forbidding, the ranges seem
to stretch endlessly northwards. Imagine the scene on a hot day with a
desert sandstorm blowing red dust through the desolate " Dead Finish''
country. Just below is the beauty of purple fruiting Giant Hop Bush
in a dry creek bed and a few yards distant the light green leaves, and
white and purple striped flowers of the Jockey's Cap Mint Bush, the
loveliest plant in the Bynguano country. The surfaces of most of the
weathered red domes are broken by innumerable cracks and the resulting
tiled effect of the rock surface emphasises the fact that 310 million years
ago this region - according to geologists - was the bed of the sea.
Just outside the Park's eastern boundary fence stands the strange red
sandstone formation , Mushroom Rock, a remarkably accurate natural
replica of that fungus in red sandstone. Twenty yards distant in the high
line of red cliffs stands a bewildering array of wind-blown caverns,
chimneys, natural bridges and columns. Entering the maze through a
30
narrow passage, I wandered aimlessly through red caverns, finally returning
to the desert fiat through a low overhang nearly 60 yards distant. This is
quite typical of the dozens of cliff lines of the Bynguano Range.
This historic and beautiful reserve, Mootwingee, must surely contain
many of the finest examples of the various art-works of the ancient West
Darling peoples and will probably become one of our most important
National Reserves, a unique record of the way of life, customs and wildlife of bygone times.
Many thanks are due to Ranger Jack Noonan for friendly assistance
given during our stay in September, 1%7.
OBITUARY
It is with deep regret that we record the death of Mr. Bill Waters,
President of the Melbourne Amateur Walking and Touring Club, on
October 8th, I %8.
Bill will long be remembered by countless numbers of people- both
young and old -as a fine example of all that was good and worthwhile.
From the age of II, Bill was attached to the Scouting Movement, and
was Rover Commissioner for over thirty years. It would not be possible
to estimate how many young people are the richer for having had the
privilege of associating with him.
Bill had also a great interest in the natural world around him, being
currently a member of the Committee of the Kinglake National Park and,
just prior to his death, had been elected to the Council of the Victorian
National Parks Association.
The members of this Club extend sincere sympathy to the M.A.W.T.C.,
and to all persons and organisations with whom he was associated.
31
THE HIGH COUNTRY
By Sue Taylor
It's cold. Stars glitter in the black velvet above and the air is chill.
Tents mushroom in the moonlight on the frosty grass. Crawl into that bag
quickly .. . get warm and go to sleep, for the dawn will be scattering the
stars soon enough.
"C'mon, y' can't sleep all day! We're going in an hour."
"Hell, where's m' boots? Gosh, what a day! Righto, what's for
breakfast?"
"Ten minutes ... !''
Boots crunch on the gravel track leading to the spur we'll follow up
Mt. Feathertop. It's still fresh, and there's ice on the puddles. But the
promise of a glorious mountain day is there, and we arc happy.
It's a narrow track we're following, dappled with leaf patterns and
fringed with ferns. The signpost informs the tourist that this is Bungalow
Spur and he'll need five hours to climb to the top. We're lucky- it
won't take us quite so long, and anyway, once up, we don't come down
again for another twenty-odd miles and quite a few days.
It's summer now, but in winter the snow comes a long way down the
track, and if you're quiet you'll hear, perhaps see, a lyrebird scratching
his dinner from under the white carpet.
We can hear the lyrebirds now, fluting clearly through the still bush.
It's early yet, but already the woollybuts are giving way to tall snowgums. Up top they're stunted, but here the weather is kinder, and theil
limbs are longer and straighter.
"There it is!"
"Eh? What?"
"Feathertop Hut."
A little sad and forlorn, the grey hut stands beneath beautiful snowgums, a reminder of the old days when a chalet existed here.
"Right. Let's go up to the top and see what we can see."
Warm sun on our backs, clean air to breathe and a gold carpet to
walk upon; we've crossed the five-thousand feet ring, and now we can sit
on the pointed top of the mountain.
Who needs a map when it's all there in front of you?
Let your eyes wander up and down the Razorback to Hotham; slide
down the slopes to Dibbins and run up the other side to the High Plains;
glide over them to the other side for a look at Big River, and scramble up
Bogong's shoulder to his head.
That's our route; sounds easy, doesn't it? Come with us, for this
is a time to live, and you'll gather memories to last a lifetime.
The sky is streaked with the feathery wisps which, perhaps, have given
the mountain its enchanting name. The ranges have caught the blue,
tossing it from peak to peak, and as evening draws its folds closer the
valleys deepen and fill with misty peace.
It's a good walk over the Razorback. On skis it can be quite exciting.
When the snow is crisp and hard and the skis clatter as you skim the
surface, it's cold comfort to know the trees will catch you if you slip.
32
They're a hell of a long way down! The golden everlastings we're pushing
through now are buried, and the dense mint-bush clumps peep through
only where the snow is not so deep.
Mt. Bogong from Kiewa Valley.
Photo by Robin Mitchell.
33
But today it's a world of colour and delicate fragrance. A track
threads between the trees, and up and down the bumps. Behind us,
Feathertop grows smaller and more pointed as we near Mt. Hotham, and
on our left the valley of the little Diamentina rises to meet us.
A stiff breeze blows as we climb to the domed top of Hotham. There's
Feathertop again -looking a bit different now. There's Buffalo, too,
sleeping in the sun. Behind us, Buller nods a greeting, and through the
haze you can just identify Wellington. Round to the south the ridges
stretch away towards Nunniong and further over to the Cobberas;
Kosciusko's just beyond.
"Hey, you chaps, shake a leg! You'd sit there all day given the
chance."
As we near Mt. Loch the basalt columns which crown its top become
clearer. Fascinating to poke about, they hide the little crannies where the
Broad-toothed Rat loves to make his home, and in places you'll find the
half-digested remains of the moth dinner he's enjoyed.
Now we swing down Loch's shoulder, following the snowpole line,
and before long we're in the trees. There's a hut here, the Charles Derrick
Memorial Hut, erected in memory of the lad who so tragically lost his life
in the winter of 1965.
The track winds down amid snowgrass and billy buttons, and the trees
are gradually becoming taller. Below you'll see a brilliant green patch,
strangely out of character amid the subdued tonings of the gums. It's the
saddle between the heads of the Cobungra and West Kiewa Rivers, and
near the foot of the track stands Dibbins' Hut. A creek gurgles swiftly
past, icy and sparkling. Great to wash off the grime, and cool the feet.
It's a perfect camping spot, too- soft grass, water, wood . ..
Across the creek we start to climb immediately. Before long we're
into the snowgums again, carpeted about with everlastings and snowdaisies. The tiny green valley below is visible only occasionally, and for
but a brief second. The view is opening out now, south towards Gippsland
and west to Feathertop and the West Kiewa Valley.
Nearly on to the High Plains ...
Look out, or you'll find yourself nose to nose with a Hereford,
especially if you smell salty! Towards the end of summer large blocks of
salt are put out in open places known to the cattle, to draw them together
and so make the April mustering less difficult.
It's a grand sight, the gathering of the cattle clan. For a week or so
prior to the day of cutting-out the men are rounding up the five-thousand
odd head, herding them into Pretty Valley. You can sit on a hill for a
whole day, watching the basin slowly fill with bellowing Herefords.
Lunch over, the cutting-out begins, as exciting and absorbing as any
Northern Territory round-up. From the seething brown and white mass
each owner retrieves his cattle, nibbling at the edges of the huge herd.
For a time progress is slow. Then you become aware that the central core
is smaller, and groups are growing in certain spots in the valley, each
belonging to a different cattleman.
Four or five hours later, the weary men, horses and dogs are strung
out behind their plodding charges. And mustering is over for the year the snow can come now.
34
But we- we haven't reached Tawonga Huts yet, and our afternoon is
wearing on, too. Up with the pack, for it's not so far, and we've got
another lovely campsite.
Close your eyes, and again you'll sec "the white stars fairly blaze"
above the flickering firelight ... smell the frosty air, the wood smoke . ..
hear the murmuring voices, the crack of laughter . .. tomorrow we'll
climb the Niggerheads and Fainter.
Wallace's Hut.
Photo by John Brownlie.
Dawn is a fluting currawong and crisp sunshine - and up to the
Niggerheads we climb, for a pleasant scramble along the tumbled rocky
tops. It seems not long before Fainter rises in front of us, its grassy top
inviting us for lunch. Eat, and let your eyes wander over the tracks we've
travelled. Just across the valley is Feathertop- a different mountain
again, and almost close enough to touch. We've time enough to drop
down the side of Fainter North to Bogong Jack's, and in a small grassy
flat we find the remains of the old hut.
Back on the track up to Fainter, over the summit again. It's icy and
windswept in winter, and the wind sweeps you in a series of endless turns
down the slopes to the foot of the Niggerheads. Let's go back along them,
shall we? It's more interesting than the jeep track.
From Tawonga Huts we stroll up the broad slopes to Mt. Jim, quite
a little peak under snow but just a gentle bump in summer.
Across the wide expanse of Pretty Valley we walk, and occasionally
little groups of lazy, sun-soaked Herefords lift their heads long enough
to decide that we're not likely to disturb the peace. The sun glints on
myriad shallow pools and bubbling streams; the world is warm and sweetscented.
35
"What about the top of Cope?"
"O.K. Won't take long, and it's a good view."
So we swing across the valley and start the gentle climb up Mt. Cope.
A startled fox leaps away through the dense bush; there's a surprising
amount of wild life up here, even in winter. Summer will attract the
dingoes up to feed on grasshoppers and hares. Even emus have been seen
in twos and threes. A wombat occasionally ambles his confused way up in
winter, and of course the cheeky hare leaves his tracks in many a place.
But come, we musn't dally too long on the summit if we're to reach
Wilkinson Lodge tonight. Especially as the clouds are rolling in from the
south.
We stop on the way for a quick visit to Cope Hut, sheltered below
the hill and as sturdy as the day it was built. Down further, by the
aqueduct, stands the Rover Scouts' Lodge- peaceful now, but a scene
of frenzied activity in winter as hordes of aspiring young skiers hurl
themselves up and down the slopes around their Lodge. And just over
the hill is our own beloved lodge- "Wilky". There we'll spend a couple
of days; and great is the temptation to spend them around the fire!
It's an easy walk to Rocky Knobs from "Wilky", and from the cluster
of small peaks one has a grand view of Rocky Valley Dam. Strongly
reminiscent of a Scottish loch, it lies cradled amid gentle, purple-tinged
hills. Mt. Mackay is silhouetted sharply against the sky- we could finish
our day by climbing its steep scrubby slopes. Of course you could drive
up it, too!
Just up the hill from Wilkinson is Wallace's, a quaint, rather charming old hut. Built in 1889 by the Wallace family, who were cattle-owners,
it still offers warmth and shelter both to little furry fellows and to their
larger two-footed brethren. In its day it's made an admirable ski-jump,
too! A good winter piles the snow well over the roof, and intrepidly we've
cast stocks to the wind and ourselves to an abrupt halt, ostrich-style, some
few yards past the take-off point. Ah well, good clean fun ...
Other cattlemen's huts arc scattered across the plains - Kelly's, Fitzgerald's, Johnson's, Roper's - each with its own personality and character,
and each witness to generations of men of the high country.
As we bid farewell to "Wilky", the lovely valleys below the High
Plains, towards Omeo, are filled with deep lakes of mist.
From Basalt Hill you'll see Rocky Valley Dam, blue and sparkling
in the early sunshine, and ahead lies Bogong, sleeping giant of the high
peaks. Mt. Nelse rises smoothly, and from its summit, across a blue valley,
we see Mt. Wills, and the ridges to Kosciusko and the Snowies.
We've time for a short trip to Spion Kopje. Leave your pack by
these rocks, and let's have a look at the route we've traversed. A broad,
flower-scattered summit is Spion Kopje, dropping steeply down on its
western side to the East Kiewa River. Below is the ski village under the
Frying Pan; Mt. Mackay points sk1:wards, and Fainter rolls away in front
of Feathertop.
Pause and ponder awhile, for the High Plains you see before you have
changed greatly since the time of the Aborigines ...
The Ya-itma-thang were the people of the high country; Mt. Buffalo,
the Ovens, the Kiewa, the Mitta Mitta and the Gibbo Ranges their
territory. They lived peacefully enough, feeding on game, reptiles, insects,
36
roots, seeds and berries. Particularly fond of the Bogong moth, the tribes
would congregate on the high plains when the snows melted, there to wax
fat upon the thousands of tasty insects which accumulated in the rock
crevices. But with the discovery of gold in 1852 came the milling hordes
of miners, and ten years later only about four Aborigines remained.
The Bogong High Plains, according to record, were discovered in
1851 by two stockmen, James Brown and John Wells, who looked after
George Gray's run at Cobunga. Though it is generally believed that
Baron von Mueller discovered the High Plains, it is actually more correct
to describe him as the first official visitor rather than the original explorer.
Grazing has been practised for about a hundred years on these plains,
rather spasmodically in the early years for drought relief, but later decades
of extensive grazing led to serious problems developing, particularly those
of erosion and damage to water catchments. Fortunately control of land
use is now exercised by the Soil Conservation Authority in collaboration
with the authorities responsible for engineering works.
But the winds of change have blown strongly. Only the older generations will remember the plains unscarred by roads and bulldozers, and the
trappings of man and his amusements. Keep your memories, those of you
who were privileged to know the unspoilt plains, and for those who cannot
have such memories, come a little further with us, to Big River and
Bogong. The bulldozer hasn't quite caught up with this part. True,
there's a road by Nelse, but we'll leave it, and go down to Roper's Hut.
Smooth grass among the snowgums . . . pink spears of Trigger-plants
. . . frost on the tents and ice in the water-bucket . .. sleep well, for
tomorrow we climb Mt. Bogong.
It's a good climb, steady but not hard, as we follow the T-spur up
from the gurgling Big River. Dense scrub persists for a while, but soon
magnificent Eucalyptus regnans stands stretch upward, and as we climb,
these in turn give way to snowgums. So pleasant is the ascent (in good
weather) that you are mildly surprised when the terrain eases to a gentle
rise, and before long you're on the track to Cleve Cole Hut and day's end.
Evening glows pink and golden, the first star twinkles suddenly; and
gradually the moon bathes the mountains in silver . . .
This, then, is Mt. Bogong . .. journey's end.
37
GEOLOGY OF THE KIEWA AREA
By Gerry McPhee
If you have been to the Kiewa area, have you ever stopped to look
where you were putting your feet? You have? Well, what were you
standing on? If you are stuck for an answer, or want to know more, please
read on.
A long time ago, estimated at over 400 million years, the area that is
now represented by the sovereign State of Victoria lay largely under the
sea. These waters teemed with marine life, not the kind that can be
bought at the local fishmonger, but a more humble invertebrate type of
life, like the jellyfish. Also existing in great quantities were the planktonlike graptolites and the curiously-segmented trilobites, as testified by their
rich fossil beds that can be found today in various parts of the State.
During this time, known geologically as the Ordovician Period, an
enormous amount of mud and sand, many thousands of feet in depth, was
deposited in this ancient sea.
This deposition of sediment continued for the next 100 million years
or so- through the Silurian and into the Devonian Periods when (geologists differ as to which Period) great earth movements took place. The
rocks were folded up and down into anticlines and synclines, fracturing
when they could bend no further, the result being long lines of weakness
along these fractures (or fault lines).
In addition to changing shape, some of the rocks also changed in
content. The sands and mud, long since compressed into strata, were
subjected to further pressure until the grains were forced into parallel
bands, often different from their original strata. Further pressure and heat
produced new minerals- and such rocks as schist, gneiss and granite.
Sandstone can be found on Mt. Hotham, schist on the High Plains, gneiss
on the Fainter ridge. and granite on Big Hill.
Between the end of the Devonian and the beginning of the Tertiary
Period, little is known of the history of the area- a gap of 250 million
years. But what is certain is that two very important events occurred. The
first was that volcanoes, like Mt. Jim, poured lava over a wide area. Some
of this basalt may be inspected on the summit of Mt. Fainter.
The other big change occurred along the faults previously mentioned
and involved the raising of the earth-block 5,000 feet. This was to become
the Bogong High Plains.
As the height of the area increased, the streams ran faster and their
cutting power increased, which led to the formation of the narrow valleys
and gorges of the Upper Kiewa. The same sort of process has produced
the Werribee and Lerderderg Gorges, familiar to many walkers. An
observant visitor to the Kiewa area will note that this erosion is still
taking place, and that the flow of some of the rivers, such as the West
Kiewa, follows the fault lines. Incidently, the natural faulting was made
use of during the construction of the hydro tunnels.
There are many types of rock and mineral samples that can be found
in the area. Included in the minerals are: tantalite, source of the rare
metal tantalum (Mt. Bogong), and wolfram, a source of tungsten (near
Mt. Nelse). There are also gold mines at Mts. Hotham and Tawanga. So
for those bushwalkers who are willing to add extra weight to their packs,
there is the added interest of collecting rock specimens.
38
FLOWERS OF THE BOCiONCi HIGH PLAINS
By Rex and Sue Filson
During the spring the grassy slopes around Wilkinson Lodge on the
Bogong High Plains are carpeted with flowers. Springtime in the Australian
Alps occurs much later than in other parts of the country, with plants
commencing to bloom in the middle of December and reaching their main
flowering period about mid-January. It appears that the flora of the High
Plains blooms for long periods as spring announces itself firstly on the
foothills and then works its way up to the peaks.
Dominating the hills of the High Plains
are the hardy Snow Gums.
Eucalyptus pauciflora I, small trees which are
easily recognized by their bark which is white
marked with grey, turning to salmon pink and red
in the winter. The smooth shining leaves are
narrow, three to seven inches long, pointed at the
tips and sometimes sickle shaped. The creamy
white flowers grow in clusters of five to ten. In
the lower altitudes Snow Gums may grow up to
100 feet high, hut on the Plains they are usually
dwarfed, bent and gnarled.
The plateau grasslands are mostly covered by
Snow Grass Poa australis species complex, through
which grow numerous species of annuals and
perennials. Amongst these are several species of
daisies.
Bright yellow Alpine Everlastings
Helichrysum acuminatum (so named because of
their long lasting paper-like flowers) grow together with white Silver Daisies Cc/misia /onRiflora 2. The latter is a beautiful perennial , with
its stalks and narrow deep green leaves covered
with short silver hairs which give a silky white
appearance to the plant. It has creamy white
flowers up to two inches in diameter.
Two other yellow daisies arc common in the
same area, the Blackfellows' Yam, Microscris
.~capil(era 3, and the well known Billy Buttons,
Craspedia uniflora 4. The Blackfellows' Yam has
a basal tuft of narrow leaves up to six inches
long, and flowers one to one and a half inches in
diameter on a smooth stem up to a foot high.
The common name is derived from the milky
white tubers which are sweet and coconut
flavoured, and were eaten by the aborigines.
Billy Buttons are one of the showiest of alpine
daisies and the hillsides are often covered with
their erect globular flowers. The basal leaves are
broad and stalked, several inches long, whilst the
upper leaves are stem clasping.
39
Along the banks of the creeks grows the Silky
Daisy, Celmisia sericophylla. It is similar to the
Silver Daisy, but has larger flowers and soft satiny
leaves.
Numerous Buttercups are to be found around
the small pools and alpine bogs, the most common being Ranunculus victoriensis 5, which looks
very pretty when its yellow petals shine in the
sunlight. When the pools dry out, their margins
are thickly covered with the cushion-like Alpine
Stackhousia, Stackhousia pulvinaris 6, with its
tiny creamy-yellow flowers, fragrant and starlike.
In the vicinity of the bogs is also seen the
Alpine Sundew, Drosera arcturi 7. Its single white
flower is on an erect stalk about four inches lon·g,
at the base of which are several long tongueshaped leaves. Amongst the grass tufts grows the
taller Pale Sundew, Drosera peltata 8, up to one
foot high, with stalked, round, light green leaves
which are covered with golden brown sticky hairs.
The flowers are pink or white, and are clustered
atop the slender stem.
Orchids are not plentiful on the Bogong High
Plains. Only one Sun-orchid is represented, the
Veined Sun-orchid, Thelymitra venosa 9. It is a
striking plant with bright blue flowers veined in
deep blue.
Two species of Leek-orchids grow in the area,
the Mauve Leek-orchid, Prasophyllum suttonii 10,
with large mauve flowers and a crenulate
*labellum, and the Alpine Leek-orchid, P. alpinum,
which is smaller and does not have a crenulate
labellum.
The pink flowered Common Mountain Caladenia, Caladenia lyallii, grows amongst the grass
tufts on the plateau.
Two orchids which are not often found on the
High Plains are Cinnamon Bells, Gastrodia
.,esamoidl's, and the Snake Orchid, Diuris pedunculata II, which is sometimes called Golden
Moths, because of its beautiful golden yellow
nodding blooms. Cinnamon Bells are saprophytic orchids growing on decaying vegetable
matter. They have large fleshy rhizomes and very
rarely have roots, but patches of hairs belonging
to a fungus, which acts as an intermediary for
absorbing water and mineral salts from the food
source. As a true saprophyte they are leafless.
They have brown stems and the flowers are white
and brownish.
* labellum,
the third petal of Orchids, usually enlarged, and
by torsion of the ovary becomes anterior, from its normal
posterior position.
40
Under the shelter of the trees, and around the
granite outcrops, the bright pink flowers of the
Grass Trigger Plant, Stylidium graminifo/ium 12,
are seen. This plant is so named because it has
long linear grass-like leaves up to 15 inches long.
Similar to all Trigger Plants the flower has a
curious irritable •column which pushes insects
that alight on it against the anthers, causing
pollination.
In amongst the granite boulders grows the
prickly leafed Alpine Celery, Aciphylla glacialis
13. This is very noticeable as it has white aromatic
flowers growing in bunches on the ends of tall
upright stems.
Around the base of the boulders, in the alpine
herbfield and along the watercourses through the
heath, grows the Alpine Water-fern, Blechnum
penna-marina 14, a small dark-green fish-bone
type fern.
Alpine violets are always attractive. The Ivyleafed Violet, Viola hedcracea 15, is the most
common. This tiny plant with blue and white or
purple and white blooms, is a creeping perennial
one to three inches high.
One of the most beautiful of all alpine flowers
is the Australian Gentian, Gcntianclla dicmcnsis
16, a glabrous annual from six inches to eighteen
inches high. The large white purple-veined
flowers are on long branched stems.
On the mountain tops, growing over the
boulders, is the Mountain Plum Pine, Podocarpus
lawrencci 17, a low densely branched shrub with
a very slow rate of growth. Individual plants are
sometimes more than 500 years old. The most
spectacular are seen on the eastern side of Mt.
Jim. It is a true conifer with the minute male
cones up to half an inch long. The female flowers
ripen to fleshy bright red berries about the size of
a small pea.
The Alpine Bottlebrush, Callistemon sieberi 18,
is an attractive tall shrub or small tree of the
woodland fringes. It has dense spikes of lemonyellow flowers. The seeds develop into hard
woody capsules clustered around the stem.
Only some of the plants of this area have been
described and further investigation will reward the
interested traveller.
* column. the combination of stamens and styles into a
solid central body.
41
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42
A SNOWY MOUNTAINS WALK
By Athol Schafer
One of the most striking effects visible during the work on the Snowy
Mountains Scheme was the scarring of the countryside with a rash of raw
new roads, needed for access to the various construction sites. Some are
still in existence today, either as tourist or maintenance roads, but many
have long since been closed and allowed to fade peacefully into the
surrounding countryside.
While staying at Jindabyne last year, a party of us decided to walk
out from the Smiggin Holes to Guthega Power Station and the map
indicated that some of these old tracks might be used. We travelled by
bus to Smiggins, an hour's run, and arrived in time for morning tea at
the depot before setting off in the fresh mountain air.
From an altitude of 5,000 feet at the ski village, the earth road was
followed north for almost a mile, to a point where it begins to turn west.
Here we found the entrance of a closed construction track, hidden behind
bushes on the outer bend of the road. We descended a spur, following the
old track through heath and scrub for several hundred feet. Rock fragments had been piled every few yards along the track in an attempt to
rehabilitate its surface, and judging by the amount of regrowth blocking
our path, the measure was beginning to prove effective.
About a mile after leaving the motor road, we stepped over an open
aqueduct by a small hut. From here a cattle pad led to the main aqueduct,
which was buried under a grassy embankment, making the walk level and
easy for the next couple of miles.
We could now see the valley of the Snowy River to the north, a blue
mountain wall cut by the narrow valley of its tributary, the Munyang
River. The view directly ahead was up this straight narrow valley, which
splits off the Gungartan massif from the Main Range.
Closer at hand and below on our right, deep gullies ran into Pipers
Creek, while further beyond rose the attractively named high country of
Mt. Sunrise and the Plains of Heaven.
We were still following the aqueduct, and the timbered country through
which it had been cut sloped upwards on our left. At one point the track
was crossed by old cattle pads, which appeared to descend an open
heathy spur to the north, but we stayed on the embankment until reaching
a point where it looped around the most northerly spur of the timbered
country. Continuing down this spur, we crossed a pleasant little snowplain intersected by narrow belts of timber, and then climbed a far ridge
where a summit patch of grass afforded a view of Pipers Creek entering
the Snowy Valley below.
On the northern humid side of the hill, there was a dense undergrowth,
indicating that the valley of the Snowy had finally been reached. The
descending spur swung to the north-east, and through a gap in the trees
we were able to sec, braiding the opposite hill , the twin silvery pipelines
that feed the hydro-station.
Fortunately, we found some old cattlepads and followed them down,
sidling through wattle and bracken. The last few hundred yards involved
a slippery descent down a long disused and much eroded track, which
dropped steeply to the Island Bend road. We turned down this road for a
last quarter-mile to cross the Snowy and lunch at the power station.
43
See Victoria First
This Holiday State has the best to offer
at any of its varied natural playgrounds.
For all information and Rail, Road, Sea and Air Bookings:
VICTOUR
The Victorian Government Tourist Bureau,
272 Collins Street, Melbourne.
TELEPHONE: 63 0202
SPECIALISTS IN GROUP TRAVEL
44
ACROSS THE MT. DIFFICULT RANGE
By Helen Mitchell
By the time the crowded van had covered the 120 miles to camp
near Buangor, we were glad that Easter came but once a year.
On Friday morning, after a quick walk to the nearby Cave of
Serpents, we were off to the already shrouded haze of the Grampians via
Bunjil's Cave in the Black Range. It was midday when we reached Flat
Rock and the Devil's Kitchen, a very large sandstone overhang between
Mt. Stapylton and Mt. Zero. Lunch over, we followed sandy tracks to
below View Point caves near Mt. Stapylton. The fiat dry Wimmera plains
stretching to the horizon contrasted with the olive groves on the range's
lower slopes.
We had walked little, but all of us were tired as the van drove towards
the Cave of Ghosts further down the range. We arrived just on dusk to
find the spring dry for the first time in memory. Fortunately, we'd filled
our water bottles and buckets a few miles back, from a creek that was
full after recent rain.
Next morning we split into two parties. One group continued to
travel by van to look at Aboriginal caves in the area, and our group
planned to walk to Wartook Reservoir via Mt. Difficult.
The walking party was ready to leave by 8.30 a.m. That is, ready
except for one member. The poor fellow was furiously trying to bridge
the gap between the straps and buckles on his enormous pack.
We followed a creek bed before climbing and reached the top at 10.30.
Afterwards we battled the scrub to a jeep track leading to Troopers Creek
Road. Camp was pitched in a roadside pine plantation below Mt. Difficult.
At 7 a.m. on Sunday the hardy individuals left to climb Mt. Difficult.
The rest of us decided on a jeep track that crossed the Mt. Difficult Range
at a less exhausting grade.
The enormous pack also thought it would be wiser to take the easier
route. It struggled on without complaining. How the six-man tent, crowbar sized tent pegs, a heavy chopping board, pliers, ten corn cobs, a
pineapple, transistor radio, bottle of cooking oil, saw, lantern, spare
clothes and blankets fitted into the pack defied logic.
We viewed near-empty Lake Wartook from the top of the Mt. Difficult
Range as we had lunch, then continued on the road around the lake to
camp, except that there wasn't a drop of water in sight. While we were
deciding what to do, the other party came crashing through the scrub.
They had managed to pick a fairly easy route (by accident, I believe) up
Briggs Bluff and along the range to Mt. Difficult. They were not so
fortunate coming down, reaching camp rather bloodied.
About half-a-mile further along and about a hundred yards from the
road, we found a deep pool of water in a creek bed. A big billy and a
long piece of cord solved our water problems.
Next morning we followed a jeep track to the northern end of
Wartook Reservoir. The misty diffused light was eerie as we started
around the lake edge, visiting an "island" on the way to look for koalas.
We had no luck, but by 10.30 a.m. we had reached the dam wall, two miles
from McKenzies Creek where, for us, the drought was broken at the local
milk-bar.
45
NULLARBOR
By Michael Griffin
The tertiary limestone of the Nullarbor Plains extends over an area
of approximately 65,000 square miles, stretching from Balladonia in the
west to the vicinity of Fowlers Bay in the east. The relief is almost completely uniform, and on the treeless plains any gentle undulations are
made more obvious by vegetative differences. Fewer than 100 caves have
so far been recorded for Nullarbor, and only about 12 of these are deep
caves, with entrances from large dolines. •
This fascinating area was visited by a party of Melbourne Bushwalkers
who, during a stay of three weeks, explored about 20 caves, varying in
size from small blowholes to the grand majesty of Koonalda.
N
Cl
t
10
&0
so
Scoleln Mtlu
~~i>'
-r '"s- ol ,~. 'p •••"~"'"~
I
1\reM(.Oft\~m·\
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The first blowhole was found on the north side of the highway, a
few miles east of the Nullarbor Homestead. Situated in a shallow
depression, it greeted us with a blast of air from its bowels and then,
changing its mind abruptly, commenced to suck. Not to be deterred, brave
members of the party descended the short distance to the cave floor and
found a dark, cramped world of bat guano and protruding rocks. The
• A doline is an open sink-hole in the plain, caused by the roof of a cave collapsin11.
46
ensuing exploration was accomplished on bended knee and by prostrate
squirm, and we returned to light and fresh air, deciding that crash helmets
were essential for this particular form of madness.
Koonalda Cave, with its three passages, provided maximum contrast
to our confined blowhole. Situated just north of Koonalda Homestead, it
extended for 2,000 feet and reached a maximum depth of 270 feet at the
northern tip of the north passage. The entrance to the cave was at the
north-west end of an 80 foot deep collapse doline, which we entered by
means of a steel ladder. The Nullarbor heat was counteracted by the
coolness of the cave entrance and we paused there to check torches and
camera gear before descending into the earth under a lovely cathedral roof,
leaving the daylight far behind.
Murrawljlnle Cave, a typical doline.
Photo by Darrell Sullivan.
We headed along the north passage to its junction with the west branch.
From here northwards were three lakes, and after puncturing our rubber
dinghy on a rock at the edge of the first, we struck the further reaches of
the north passage from our itinerary and kept to more accessible places.
At the junction of the two passages there was a large collapse dome,
with a roof rising to about 80 feet from the rubble floor. The camera
gear was immediately set up in the west passage, with all lenses staring at
the dome. Two unfortunates who didn't possess photographic equipment
were commissi•ned as powder monkeys, and the leader scanned the rocky
horizons for places to plant the flash powder. After the ensuing chaos, in
which tripods would insist on wobbling and shutters refused to cock, all
sources of light were extinguished and incentive was applied to the powder.
The cave erupted in a flash of light and a white ash settled over the scene.
The manoeuvre was voted a success and that portion of the cave was left
'
to recover as we headed back towards the sun.
47
SLEEP WARM ••• Wake up Refreshed
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If not, contact:
KIMPTON'S
FEATHER MILLS
11 BUDD STREET, COLLINGWOOD, VIC., 3066
Phone: Melbourne 41-5073, Sydney 69-3560,
Adelaide 57-8624, Brisbane 2-2354.
48
After Koonalda we made a detour to the coast, driving south over a
winding, dusty, uninspiring track. Marvellous to see the sea -lovely
crumbly rocks dropping 300 feet without a thought of deviation to a blue,
vast sheet of water, pockmarked and patterned with white flecks. The
blazing sun drove us under a make-shift shelter for lunch and then we set
out to find Weekes Cave. This large cave, which we entered by rope, was
notable for its carpet of bones.
Weebubbie, the only deep cave visited apart from Koonalda, required
us to cross the border into Western Australia. The main cave descended
fairly steeply from the south-west end of the doline. The floor consisted
of angular rock-fall, and a central ridge of rock continued for the extent
of the cave, forming an imperfect barrier between a small lake and a deep
lake about 500 feet long, which proved to be an excellent swimming pool.
While at Weebubbie we welcomed in the New Year, singing every
imaginable ditty and throwing streamers. Somebody produced a bottle of
claret at the blessed hour, and we all agreed that this was a feat unequalled
by any rabbit ever pulled out of a hat.
Onward the next day to Eucla, lying just below the coastal scarp.
This is a site only now, for the sand encroached and drove the occupants
out. Looking towards the Bight, one can see beautiful expanses of almost
white sand grouped in fascinating patterns. Suddenly the lip of a dune will
start to slide, and only time is required to complete the insidious drift
landwards.
Now began our assault on a group of caves in the vicinity of the
Nullarbor Homestead. We set out for Knowles Cave and found the very
faint track after a bit of searching. Camp was set up in the doline, and
nine of us slept in the cave, which was a single chamber immediately
opening from the doline, with evidently no side passages.
The Catacombs, which is aptly named, provided us with an interesting
crawl and some excellent stalactite formations were found in one passage.
The cave has evidently subsided considerably as a result of the atomic
test in the vicinity. It appears that the main chamber has been buried
and the cave is probably now only a shadow of its former glory.
After a day's diversion out to Cook, on the transcontinental line, and
a visit to Muddaugana Cave, we decided to visit the three Murrawiginee
Caves. No. 2 was the only one of real interest and is worth further
investigation. A very good passage was found and a few of us explored
it for about thirty minutes.
Murray Thomas, of Nullarbor Homestead, drew us a map to a blowhole he knew about, and we drove out to the area, camping for the night
without finding the hole. The following morning organisation set in, and
thirteen determined cave-seekers spread out across the Nullarbor and began
walking. We spent a considerable part of the day combing the countryside
for the elusive hole in the ground and finally gave up in disgust, deciding
that the evening meal was more important than one of nature's curiosities.
When one is on the Nullarbor, there are very few places to hide and
so the seeker of privacy must depart with a roll of paper and a spade, in
search of the horizon. This explains why one member of the party began
49
roaming the plains that night; and in the course of his rneanderings he
carne close to falling down the very blowhole for which we had been
searching. There was probably a moral to that story, but we were not
interested in morals; we were only interested in climbing right to the
bottom of our little bottle-necked hole. The vertical drop was later
estimated at 68 feet, and all this from an entrance only three feet in
diameter.
We now set up camp at a trapper's chimney north of the homestead,
and spent our remaining days at Nullarbor searching for more caves. The
morning found us driving aimlessly across the open plain, with the vehicles
etching innumerable brainless tracks into its dusty skin. After lunch we
visited New Cave, which required a vertical descent of 25 feet to a large
chamber, connected via an easily accessible opening to a chamber slightly
smaller. We were rewarded with some beautiful, delicate and intricate
formations. An unnamed cave provided us with many crawly passages and
very good formations in a lower level chamber. The lowest level demanded
a scratchy, twisty crawl and we all emerged satisfied into the daylight.
Our final day on the plains yielded a visit to Ivy Cave, which lived up to
expectations with extensive formations and plenty of helactites, all well
worth photographing.
Alas, our time had expired and we must return to familiarity. The
inhospitable Nullarbor, with its strange vastness, its impressive and yet
subtle grandeur, had been no stumbling block to our determination and
enthusiasm.
JOHN DONNE & SON
CHART HOUSE
372 LITTLE BOURKE STREET, MELBOURNE
for
MAPS, COMPASSES AND BOOKS
For the Walker
Included in our Range are:
• TRANSPARENT PLASTIC FOLDERS, suitable for Map Casea.
• PEDOMETERS, $8.72.
• See our full range of SILVA compasses.
50
A WALKER'S CREED
"God made th e country, and man madt' the town."
-
William Cowper .
With slab and solder, slate and sand,
machine and mortar, plinth and part,
man, with fertile mind and zealous hand
constructs for fellow man a living heart.
A turbulence both true and false ,
a focus with persuasive pulse.
And factories invite with crash and clang,
stores seek with neon eyes the thirsting throngs,
man strives with brain and tool in group or gang
to justify the hope that he belongs
as a spoke in the wheel of locomotion
forging towards his melioration.
And sometimes, some must seek another way,
relinquish labyrinth life and ordered scheme
for scrub-clad hill , and plain , and sleeping bay
drowning paltry pressures in the tumbling stream ,
shedding perplexities of a week-day role
in sharing dusty track with kindred soul.
And with exultant songs of unseen birds
comes liberation to the week-dulled mind;
and when trees sigh, and breezes whisper words
of secret ha rmony, the watchful man will find
the rock, the breathing bush , the fearless sun,
the stars, the earth and heavens, with he, are one.
- Fairlie Apperly.
51
THE
SCOUT SHOP
The recognised place to purchase your Bushwalking and
Lightweight Camping Equipment.
See THE SCOUT SHOP range of:
H-Frame and A-Frame Packs.
Sleeping Bags.
Hike Tents.
Paddymade Bushwalking Gear.
Hike Boots and Shoes.
Ground Sheets and Capes.
Australian and New Zealand
Parkas.
Knife, Fork and Spoon Sets.
Canteens.
Mess Kits.
Food Containers.
Lightweight Gas Cookers.
Compasses (all Silva models).
Flinders Ranges Camping Gear.
Pedometers.
For All Hiking and Camping Equipment call at
THE SCOUT SHOP fint, and ask for the latest
catalogue.
City Shop: 384 Elizabeth Street, Melbourne. Phone: 34-5171
Bayside Shop, 134 Martin Street, Gardenvale. Phone 96-1033
East Suburban Shop: 4 Woods St., Nunawading. Phone: 878-9058
Hoadley Shop: 18 Russell Street, Essendon. Phone: 37 8246
Ballarat Shop: H.B.A. Arcade, Ballarat. Phone: Ballarat 25832
Bendigo Shop: 163 Mitchell St., Bendigo.
Somers Shop: 125 Station Street, Malvem. Phone: 50-1878
52
LONG, HOT WEEK· END
By Alma Strappazon
There are often discussions about the weather, some walkers preferring the heat, and others the cold. Personally, I hope never to camp or
walk in snow, summer being my favourite season, but one walk- from
the Rose River, taking in Mts. Cobbler, Koonica, Speculation, The
Crosscut Saw and Howitt, then down to the Howqua River- almost
changed my mind about hot-weather walking. We did not lack water at
our evening camp-sites, but the amount we could carry for day-time use,
though ample in temperate weather, proved to be insufficient for such an
extreme of heat and exertion. After this particular trip, I decided belatedly
that spring and autumn must be the best months for walking.
We arrived at "Bennie's" late that warm Friday night in January, but
at sun-up there came a coo-ee from the heights of Mt. Typo; it was just
our leader and his offsider taking their early morning run up the
mountain! We spent a short time exploring Bennie's selection and then
made an early start up the road, as the sun promised a hot day ahead.
A long winding climb ended with a stop for lunch where a stream
cooled our feet as we ate. Andy, who must have eyes like a hawk, for he
never misses the slightest movement of life, found a feathertail glider
crouched on the rocks near the water. The tiny creature was soon surrounded by an admiring circle of girls, while the more practical boys ran
to get their cameras. After this film-star treatment, the feathertail was
placed on a branch out of harm's way. She would probably never be the
same modest glider again.
Next came a leisurely climb up to Cobbler Lake, an early camp and
a refreshing swim in the cool water. The lake was a popular spot that
night, for in addition to a score or so from our club, about the same
number of walkers from the Men's Club arrived to camp. Altogether, it
was a noisy, cheery evening.
After another swim in the early morning, we set out for Mt. Speculation, with the sun becoming red hot and the humidity ever higher. We
found no water on the way, but depended on the little we carried. Packs
were left behind while we made a side trip to Mt. Cobbler. After some
rocky scrambling we paused awhile to admire the views of the rugged
mountains around us. Later half the party left to make its way to Clear
Hills, while we continued on. All of us sweated profusely, and hard though
it was, tried not to drink all the water we carried, for the land was so arid
we feared the spring at Mt. Speculation might be dry. (There had been
no water visible at Dandongadale Falls.)
The overpowering heat made the day's walk seem much longer than
it really was, and all suffered in one way or another, but none so much
as the visitor from Tasmania, who, almost overcome by the unaccustomed
humidity, gamely and uncomplainingly plodded on. When at last we
reached camp-site, we found that the men walkers had arrived earlier,
and the best places were taken. Our tents had to be pitched on sloping
ground or in prickly scrub- the mountain was crowded!
53
I wandered away to the summit. Darkness was approaching, and I
stood alone in the great silence that seems so much a part of the high
places. Looking down on the steep slopes, range after range stretching
away before me, I experienced one of those fleeting moments when a sense
of eternity overcomes all other feelings . At such times, the petty human
struggle is cut low to size, and serenity steals into the heart. I returned to
camp refreshed in mind and body.
How different this same view seemed in the early morning light, as we
stopped on our way a nd gazed on foaming clouds dropping over the
mountains and pouring into the valleys like a slow motion waterfall. An
unforgettable sight!
We made good progress in the cool of the morning, but were all
dripping sweat again by the time we reached Mount Buggery. We found
the climb not as bad as suggested by its name!
Then came the many rocky ups and downs of the Crosscut Saw, but
once over these a slight breeze revived us as we walked over the snow
plains to MI. Howitt. A side trip with our empty flasks was made to
Macallister Springs, where we found cool water with "wrigglies" in it.
(Some weeks later, the Springs were found to be dry.)
From nearby we looked down into Terrible Hollow and the Devil 's
Staircase. In the shade of snowgums, on a high place commanding
wonderful views, was the lunch spot. Thereafter we slowly descended the
steep Howitt Spur, while the sun blazed down fiercely. At last we reached
the Howqua River, into which I, for one, dropped like a sizzling hot stone.
Now a two-mile walk along the jeep-track, delightfully shaded and cool
and strange to our legs after three days in the mountains.
We found our van driver Dennis and his family , who had camped by
the river for the week-end, as reluctant to leave the beautiful Howqua as
we were. The inside of the van proved to be oven-like, and it was a long
ride home. Still on holidays, I was able to spend the next couple of days
recovering from that long hot week-end while Melbourne's temperature
climbed to 110 degrees.
BOOKS FOR BUSHWALKERS
RUCKSACK MAGAZINE edited by John Davis and Gary Steer. Eve ry two months.
39 Balls Head Road . Waverton , N .S.W. 2090. $3.00 for 10 issues. No. I March , 1968.
RUCKSACK is a new development in bushwalking magazines as it is
independently produced and published. Both the editors are experienced
rock climbers. The articles are of general interest to climbers, walkers,
skiers, and speleologists, with well known people such as John Bechervaise
and Dot Butler occasionally contributing. The magazine has good layout
and design, and contains large-sized clear photographs. The size of RUCKSACK has already been changed from octavo to quarto. It is hoped that
it remains a quarto as it is more convenient. The magazine is well worth
the money and should be supported by bushwalkers.
54
WILDFLOWERS OF VICTORIA
Longmans, 1967. $4.75.
by Jean Galbraith.
3rd ed . fully revised.
Melb.,
This is an indispensable key to all who are interested in the flora of
Victoria. The book is divided into sections, e.g., under " Seeds enclosed
in a pod" we find Section 40, "Geranium, Wood-sorrel and Flax'', simplifying the finding of a certain plant. Under each section the plants are listed
by their botanical name, with their common name, description and distribution. One hundred and seventy-two species are illustrated . There arc
lists of plants characteristic of different areas, and an invaluable glossa ry
accompanied by simple line drawings is included. With this book the
majority of Victorian Wildflower families may be identified.
FLOWERS AND PLANTS OF VICTORIA. Editorial Committee G. R . Cochrane,
B. A. Fuhrer, E . R . Rotherham and J. H . Willis. Series Australian Flora in Colour.
Syd., A. H. Reed in association with the Field Naturalists Club of Vic toria, 1968. $9.95.
For many years bushwalkers and lovers of the outdoors have wanted a
good, authoritative reference work on the native flora of Victoria. Here
from the cameras of two of Victoria's most talented botanical photographers, B. A. Fuhrer and E. R. Rotherham, we have superbly illustrated
in colour 543, i.e., almost one-fifth, of the State's native plants.
The illustrating plates are grouped into 16 different ecological areas.
Thus the plants most likely to be found in coastal habitats, on heathlands,
in mountain forests or alpine areas, etc., appear in appropriate sections
of the book. The colours are true to life so that specimens may be easily
identified from the illustrations.
The captions to
Assistant Government
members. The plants
name, description and
each plate have been compiled by J. H. Willis,
Botanist of Victoria, who is well known to Club
are listed under their common names. Botanical
family to which each belongs is given.
The descriptive text following the plates was assembled by G . R.
Cochrane, Senior Lecturer in Biogeography at Auckland University. It
gives a wealth of interesting information on the general ecology, and
commercial and medicinal use of the plants.
An excellent glossary lists 100 botanical terms used in the book.
There is a Jist of protected plants of Victoria and a short bibliography
of reference works, unfortuna tely including many which are out of print.
The index includes both botanical and common names.
Professor M . J. Canny's (Professor of Botany at Monash University)
informative prcfal:e outlining the history of the derivation of plant names,
makes an apt introduction to a hook tha t is a must for every bushwalker.
55
FOR A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP
Buy a Puradown Sleeping Bag
The same type of sleeping bag we supplied to the
Antarctic Expeditions is now available to you. Designed
by an experienced Bushwalker and Skier who knows
the conditions you will encounter.
OBTAINABLE AT ALL SPORTS STORES
PURAX FEATHER MILLS PTY. LTD.
RESERVOIR, VICTORIA
46-2861 -
46-2862
LIKE TO HIKE?
Special tickets enable
hikers to leave Melbourne
on one line, then walk across
country to join a return
train on another line.
-------Full particulars available at :
The Victorian Government
Tourist Bureau, 2n Collins St.,
Melbourne (63 0202) or Chief
Commercial Manager, Railway
Offices, Spencer St. (62 0311
ext. 1346)
F 52
56
WALKS SECTION:
REEDY CREEK CHASM IN TWO DAYS
The ubiquitous jeep track seems to be finding its way into all corners
of Victoria, a development usually deplored by the bushwalker. However,
the construction of new tracks and the improvement of old ones can have
advantages. Country previously seen only by bushwalkers on extended
trips becomes more accessible as these roads creep out. One example is
the Reedy Creek area, east of Benambra, in north-eastern Gippsland.
Reedy Creek rises on the northern flanks of Big Nunniong, and flows
east to the Buchan River, carving a deep, steep-sided valley on its way.
Cliffs line the valley .in many places. About halfway downstream, the
Reedy Creek has cut a short, cliffy gorge. A rather harder bank of rock
forms a barrier across the valley and the stream has slowly worn its way
through, resulting in a narrow chasm with vertical walls. In one spot the
south-eastern wall actually overhangs the creek.
This chasm was first discovered by a stockman from the Wulgulmerang
area, and has since been visited by bushwalkers and others, on foot and
on horseback. Usually it is a highlight of a Christmas walk through the
Upper Buchan/Nunniong Plains area. The jeep tracks have now made the
chasm accessible to two-wheel drive vehicles for a week-end trip.
The area is best reached by following the Princes Highway to Bairnsdale, then thll Omco l-lighway to Omeo and on to Benambra. From here,
the route is along the Limestone Creek road, slowly climbing up on to the
Great Dividing Runge. The Nunniong track is signposted and when this is
reached, turn south und follow it for about 12 miles, climbing all the time
57
into snowgum country. The Forlorn Hope Track heads off to the east
from a saddle clearing. To this point the road is quite good and should
not give any trouble in summer, but it should not be attempted in winter
as the track could become sloppy.
The Forlorn Hope track is rather rough and stony in places, but is
generally fair to good. If taken carefully, there should be no difficulties.
The track follows the ridge for about ten miles before dropping down to
the Buchan River. For the first three or four miles it winds about through
open snowgums, and there are good views of the Pilot and the Cobberas
to the north-east. Then follows a slow descent to the Forlorn Hope Plain
which is evident to the right (south) of the track. A mile further on is
another small clearing with the main line of the ridge to the left (north)
of the track. This is a good camp-site as water is normally available in
the creek.
From here it is a three-mile walk down into the Reedy Creek valley.
At first head approximately south-east through open scrub and snowgums.
Avoid heading too much to the south, as cliffs will be encountered there.
The route down follows a spur which leads directly into the chasm.
This spur is not at first evident, because it is very steep, but as one gets
lower, the spur flattens out and in time becomes a series of knobs. The
gorge is visible from many points along this spur, so there should be no
difficulty in locating the chasm. Return by the same route. The return
trip from camp should take about five hours, allowing an hour or so to
explore the gorge. (See maps.)
R.S.
RELIABLE TRANSPORT- Business or Pleasure
GRONOW'S
FURNITURE REMOVERS
and STORERS
PICNIC VANS AVAILABLE HOLIDAYS
AND WEEK-ENDS
287 INKERMAN STREET, ST. KILDA
Tel.: 94-6464, 94-6465 (All Hours)
58
ONE DAY WALKS
•
YARRA GLEN- THE BIG HILL- HUNCHBACK CREEK-YARRA
RIDGE-YARRA GU:N
Distance: 12 miles.
Features: Southern end of Kinglake National Park. Good views of the
Yarra Valley. Some steep hills to climh. Carry water in summer.
Transport: Train to Yarra Glen.
Description of Route:
Walk west through township for one mile to Maroondah aqueduct
bridge. Two hundred yards further on the road branches. Climb left-hand
track, "The Breakneck", for three-quarters of a mile, from where there is an
excellent view on top. Here the track joins a ridge road that descends
northwards for the next 200 yards to a bitumen road. Turn right for 100
yards along latter, crossing to signpost marking The Big Hill. Right by
here a track climbs up and along the I ,000 ft. high ridge until meeting the
Mt. Wise road in three-quarters of a mile. Turn left (W.) along valley
road for nearly one mile, then turn north, climbing up a steeply graded
road for half a mile to a junction. Take the road going north-west for
almost half a mile to a wooden bridge over Hunchback Creek (Lunch361588- five miles.)
Walk along the road another 300 yards and, just before reaching low
bridge over Reedy Creek, enter open gateway on right, the start of the
track on the ridge running between these two creeks. Track takes a northeast direction for first three-quarters of a mile, then generally north. In
about two miles from entrance a house with pines will be noted on
Yarra Ridge knoll directly to the east (378609). Leave track, descend east
through scrub to cross Hunchback Creek, and then climb up to Yarra
Ridge. The track that starts at the house is now followed south to
"Windermere" (381596). Continue south along the road to Mt. Wise
crossroads (377576). Turn left down Mt. Wise road, reaching the lowlands
in one and a half miles. After recrossing the acqueduct it is a further
one and a half miles back to Yarra Glen station.
MAP REFERENCE:
Yarra Glen, military, I : 63.360.
NOTES COMPILED: July, 1968 .
•
"TIII'rt' m·t• .\mrcdy two natural landscapes that offer prospects entirely
resemhlinl( t•ach othN; thdr risinl(s and depressions, their hills and valleys,
are nevt•r nllin•ly tilt• .wmt·, but alway.\ ofler something new to entertain
and re/rt•sh tlu• lnml(ilwtlon."
- Oliver Goldsmith.
59
FOR YOUR MAPPING NEEDSSEE
ROBERTSON & MULLENS
PTY.
LTD.
107 ELIZABETH STREET, MELBOURNE
(Lower Ground Floor)
Phone 60- 171 1
MELBOURNE'S LEADING MAP SPECIALIST
* Recent releases of 1:250,000 Military Survey maps:
Bairnsdale
Ouyen
Ballarat
Mildura
Ba1ranald
Mallacoota
Bendigo
Melbourne
Bega
Sale
Deniliquin
Swan Hill
Deal Island
Tallangatta
Hamilton
Wangaratta
Warburton
Horsham
Warragul
* Soon to be released:
St. Arnaud
Co lac
Portland
Queenscliff
ALSO
AGENTS FOR SILVA COMPASSES
60
BUNYIP -1WO MILE c;RF.F.K - MT. eANNIRAI.- GARFIELD
Distance: 13 miles.
Transport: Train to Bunyip, rcturnlna from Ourflcld .
Description of Route:
From Bunyip station gu north tu the Princes Highway. It is advisable
not to take the main roud cunnecting IJunyip with the highway, hut to usc
the smaller (Nash) roud which MturtM upproximately north of Bunyip
station and rcache~ the Prince~ J-lighway nt Grid Reference 735051. From
here go north-north-weNt across paddocks to the point where the BunyipTonimbue Road cn1sses Cunnihal Creek on a wooden bridge. A suitable
site for lunch is just north of the bridge, on the western side of the road
(two and a half miles from Bunyip station). The water of Cannibal Creek
is not suitable for drinking.
After lunch continue north on the Tonimbuc road, but where the road
turns right after just over a quarter of a mile, continue straight ahead
on an overgrown track which soon also turns right to run parallel with
the Tonimbuc road. At the junction where the track rejoins the road,
one mile from lunch site, take the right-hand (N.E.) branch (Sanders
Road), which soon re-joins the Tonimbuc road. Leave the last road a
quarter of a mile after crossing Two Mile Creek and walk north-west
through timber, reaching the water channel near the U-turn at Reference
726098 (five miles from Bunyip station).
Follow the water channel west (downstream) until it crosses Two Mile
Creek (seven and a half miles from Bunyip). From here climb up the hill
half a mile to the south, then follow the ridge, first one mile south-east to
a small hill, then half a mile south-west to the summit of Mt. Cannibal
(760ft.; nine and a half miles from Bunyip). The summit of Mt. Cannibal
is timbered, but just north of it there are some granite outcrops from where
an excellent view of the hills of North Gippsland can be obtained. South
of the summit there is a similar clear patch just above a steep rock face.
The view from here, over the plains of Gippsland, with the Strzeleckis
beyond, is not quite as good as the one first described, but is nevertheless
worth while.
Start the descent in the timbered part just east of the steep rock face,
then sidle in a westerly direction below the rock face and continue descending south-west to a farm at Grid Ref. 695075. From here a farm road
leads west to a road coming from North Garfield. Follow this road one
and a half miles south to the Princes Highway (crossing Cannibal Creek
on the way), walk for a short distance east on the highway (47-mile post)
and then take the road leading south to Garfield station for the last mile.
MAP REFERENCE:
Drouin, military, I : 63,360.
NOTES AMENDED: July, 1968 .
•
"/triter 1(111/houttlllln fall in tile ditch."
-Old proverb.
61
H. MARTYR PTY. LTD.
WARBURTON- Ll LYDALE- MELBOURNE
PASSENGER SERVICE
•
Warburton- Melbourne
3 Times Daily
For Timetables, Fares, etc., contact Booking Offices :
Warburton Office:
Martyr's Office,
Main Street,
Phone: Warb. 66-2035
Melbourne Office:
Whight's Tourist Bureau,
100 Flinders Street,
Phone: 63-5311
MODERN COACHES AVAILABLE FOR CHARTER
PHONE WARBURTON 66-2035
Some Walkers wear Military Boots
Some Walkers wear Sneakers
Wise Walkers wear "Personal" Boots
Lovingly crafted by STEVENS.
Whatever your style of walking or climbing boots,
have them hand-made by STEVENS.
We go to great pains
To save you from foot pains'
R. A. STEVENS
Phone 62 1605 or Call at 9-1 S Fulton's Lane,
Melbourne, 3000.
62
LONGW ARRY- LABERTOUCHE CAVES
Distance: 17 miles.
Transport: Train to Longwarry.
Gear: Change of old clothes. Rope and torch.
Description of Route:
Walk north two miles from station to Princes Highway, along which
turn right (E.) for five-eighths of a mile to the Labertouche Road (just
past school). The Tarago River is crossed half a mile north of the highway, and in a further one and a half miles the Labertouche Road is left
for Jacksons Track that continues in a north-easterly direction. In less
than two miles along Jacksons Track, a branch of the Labertouche Creek
is crossed and in a further one and a quarter miles there is a house on
the corner of a rough track on the left going through a gate. Follow the
latter track, which bears away to the right, reaching a crossroad in just
over half a mile. Here turn left and follow this road by a pipeline which
leads in three-quarters of a mile to a padlocked gate. The road then zigzags uphill; the pipeline goes straight up, crossing the road several times
until the top of a spur is reached. The pipeline continues down the other
side of the spur. However, keep to the spur and head towards the top
where there is a hut enclosed in a fenced clearing. A narrow track, tending
to bear left, follows a smaller pipeline down to a creek flowing from right
to left across the track. A short climb along a sidling track reaches a
small saddle. From here the cave entrance is about 350 feet to the east,
just above the point where the creek issues from the ground. The caves
were formed by the creek forcing its way through a landslide.
About 20 ft. of rope will be required for entry into the main cave.
The pipe track continues past the saddle to a small weir, but is blocked
by fallen trees. A road, also leading to the weir, will be found about sixty
feet above the pipe track. Return sa me way to station.
MAP REFERENCE:
Drouin , military, I : 63.360.
NOTES AMENDED : July, 1968 .
•
FRYER HILL- HODDLES CREEK/LITTLE YARRA DIVIDEYARRA JUNCTION
Distance: 10 miles.
Description of Route:
Arrange to be dropped off at the Mt. Beenak Road turn-off which is
five miles down the Powelltown Road travelling from Yarra Junction.
The Mt. Beenak forestry road is followed for one and a half miles,
climbing until reaching saddle south of Barber Hill. Shortly an old snig
track should be noticed on the right, rising to a ridge that obviously
connects to Fryer Hill. Keep to this rather overgrown track for threequarters of a mile until finding a sidetrack dropping southwards in the
direction of Sales Hill, an unmistakable open-topped landmark. This is a
narrow section of Bills Gully Track winding down to the meeting of two
creeks close to Torbet Road -lunch site (673322- three miles).
63
Walk for a quarter of a ·mile along Torbet Road to where it joins the
Hazeldene forestry road. Turn right following forestry road for one and a
half miles to crossroads on edge of cleared country. Take the signposted
Price Road, that eases around the north-western flanks of Mt. Thule,
for one and a quarter miles to join a ridge road that runs along the main
Hoddles Creek/Little Yarra River divide. This is followed north-west for
the next three miles. Part of the last section has been cleared lately and
offers a really grand view of the surrounding ranges. On reaching Milner
Road (622388) turn left for a short distance and descend the pipeline break
to just before it levels out and before reaching a fence. There is a single
pad in the trees on the left, and this will be found to join a well-graded
road leading for the last mile directly into Yarra Junction.
MAP REFERENCE :
Gembrook, Quarter Sheet, Section A.
NOTES COMPILED: September, 1968 .
•
OLINDA- OLINDA FALLS- KALORAMA- MONTROSE
Distance: 8 miles.
Features: Rain forest. Views and vistas of other parts of the Dandenong
Ranges.
Trallliport: Train to Upper Ferntree Gully, bus to Olinda. Return by bus
from Montrose to Croydon station.
Description of Route:
From crossroads at Olinda walk east along Chalet Road, passing a
school and a golf course on the left. Half-a-mile from Olinda take an
unmade road on the left for three hundred yards before turning left down
a rough track. From here, directly above a large open valley, are some
very good views. Enter this valley by turning left at the next junction,
dropping northwards for the next half mile. Turn left into a side track
(413315) and, in the next three-quarters of a mile, cross a number of gully
heads. When the track forks go right, downhill, to Lyre Bird Creek and
follow the western bank downstream. In half mile the track leaves the
stream, and at a rise there is a sharp right-hand bend before a short
descent. Along here avoid branch roads on the right. The track now
follows the southern bank of a tributary upstream, soon entering rain
forest. Here the track crosses the creek and then climbs to a. N/S motor
road leading half a mile north into Olinda Falls picnic ground (392342).
From the fire place near the entrance a footpath descends a further
quarter mile to the actual falls.
After lunch take the carriageway that leaves the picnic ground in a
~enerally northerly direction until meeting an unmade motor road, which,
in turn, leads to Kalorama. Cross over Ridge Road and drop to Old Coach
Road that leads in two miles to Montrose.
MAP REFERENCE :
Monbulk, military, I : 63,360.
NOTI"S COMPILED: April, 1968.
64
The KODAK INSTAMATIC 104
CAMERA OUTFIT makes picturetaking easy, especially at night.
Everything's there, in the Kodak lnstamatic 104 Camera Outfit, for fast
flash photography. You get the famous lnstamatic 104 Camera with a
flashcube - a jewel-like cube that lets you take four flash pictures
without changing bulbs. Flash! flash! flash! flash! Candid camp-fire
scenes can be your specialty! The outfit also contains a drop-in Kodak
black-and-white film cartridge, plus batteries and instruction booklet.
Everything you need is there.
cartridges of KodaTake a Kodak lnstacolor Film for color
matic 104 Camera Outfit on your next trip.
snapshots and KodaOnly $16.20 from your
chrome or Kodak EktaKodak dealer. The
chrome Film for color
camera also accepts
slides.
kMtaaa/ R
KODAK (Australasia PTY. LTD. Branches in all States.
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co.
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This New Zealand Made Clothing is made to insulate and protect the
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BORDE Shellite stoves are light, compact and highly efficient.
Boots, Packs, Tents, Sleeping Bags, Billies, Maps, Compasses,
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Our experience is at your service .
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