What I Wouldn’t Have Done If I Would Have Known: Bolaro Mountain

It’s always darkest before the dawn and the worst bushwacking is always at the very end of the route. “Do you have a headlamp?” Doug asked when we left home this morning. “Why would I need a headlamp we’ll be back at the car in four hours.” I confidently stated (the marriage of ineptitude and self-confidence again). After all, I’d been up Bolaro Mountain twice before (once on the fire trail and once up and down bushwacking) and, even allowing time to explore creeks and slabs and boulders, I had never spent more than four hours on the mountain.

The plan was simple: follow CPT532/1 to its end and then gain a ridge which we could follow pretty much to the top although the ridge flattened out near the summit. Everything went quite well for the first few kilometres, up until about 500 metres (above sea level). It was surprisingly hot, sweaty and humid for late April, but the bush was not too bad and we were making reasonable time. There were some big boulders that gave views north to the Budawangs and east to the coast – we could even see the Tollgate Islands.

With only about 100 metres of elevation gain remaining the bush got thicker and thicker and thicker and thicker. Some kind of leafy annual that was growing about 2 to 3 metres high and matted thicker than a rastafarian’s hair. Under the leafy annual were fallen tree trunks, roots and rocks, and in between the rastafarian annual were thick patches of bushfire regrowth, mostly acacias, but also eucalypts. And, of course, the vines. Over the top of everything vines.

Progress forward involved pushing the annual aside and down enough to balance on. We were not actually walking on the ground, more like 50 centimetres above the ground suspended on a mat of interlocked stems. We were probably averaging about 200 metres an hour. After some time during which we seemed to be making very little progress and the map/GPS showed we had actually crossed over the old fire trail, Doug wondered aloud if the fire trail was completely gone. I tried to remember last time I had run up to the top of Bolaro Mountain, but I could not quite locate a date (it was September 2021). “There can’t be nothing left,” I said plaintively. “This alien life form could have covered everything.” Doug replied.

We took another bearing and pressed – literally - on, and, within a few minutes we had stumbled out onto the old fire trail. Overhung with vegetation and narrowed down nearly to single track, but the fire trail! I have a picture from the first time I went to the summit (via a very similar route) and the difference is startling. As the other old adage runs “three times a charm” and it’s unlikely I’ll be up on Bolaro Mountain again.