“Why do they always put the summit at the far end of the ridge?” Doug asks plaintively. We have carried our overnight packs 600 metres up the south ridge of Mount Burbridge through thick regrowth and bouldery terrain and, after propping our packs below a scrambly step on the ridge we are hastening towards the far northern end of the ridge trying to work out which large boulder along the flattish ridge is the top. So far, we have passed two or three possible “summits”, as we scramble off boulders, squeeze through chimneys and scurry under chockstones. Most parties hike up Mount Burbridge from the southwest via Bogong Gap, but, when we tried to traverse into the west fork of Middle Creek at around the 1500 metre contour from the SE ridge of Mount Burbridge we encountered such thick timber that we decided to take our packs up and over the top instead.
Now, however, it is almost 4.00 pm, and we still have to get to the summit, back to our packs and then descend into the open grasslands southwest of Mount Burbridge to find a campsite before darkness arrives. It is the 4th of April, and we have just “fallen back” as daylight savings ended and neither of us are completely sure what time it gets dark. Stumbling through the thick bush with a heavy pack on steep terrain in the dark is not an activity we are keen on. Low cloud is swirling over the ridge of Mount Burbridge and a cold wind is blowing.
At 4.04 pm, exactly 10 minutes after I said “let’s give it 10 more minutes” we have reached yet another perched boulder, this one marked by a cairn, and looking back, we see that all the “tops” we have passed over have been about the same height. We scramble up lichen covered boulders, shake hands to mark the top, and immediately turn around and begin the trek back to our packs. Near a final gully that we had scrambled up, I pick up my hiking pole that I had left, we find a cairn we had placed, and looking down below one final step we see our packs.
There are granite slabs below us, however, so we have to traverse diagonally down to bypass those before we enter dense stands of thin burnt trees and stumble our way down, tripping on boulders and pushing through thickets of regrowth between burnt trunks until we finally find ourselves on a flat bit of ground under some large gum trees beside a small flowing stream and a fair bit of swampy ground. It is 5.20 pm and we have been walking since 9.30 am, having had only one short break soon after we left Middle Creek and began walking up the southeast ridge of Mount Burbridge.
While Doug levels a campsite and puts up the tent, I scoop water from the creek and set water to boil. Soon, we have a good campsite, our hands wrapped around a rich cup of hot chocolate, and all our extra clothes on as the sun sets, the dew begins and we cool as rapidly as the surrounding air.
In a direct line, we are only about five kilometres from the end of the faint footpad that is Middle Creek fire-trail, but, that five kilometres might as well be fifty for the time and effort required to arrive at this location. Bushwacking in Australia is not for the timid or those not willing to work hard. Average travel time, regardless of age, gender, pack weight, seems to be between one and two kilometres per hour, and, unlike Canada, which has its own brand of desperate bushwacking, one never really arrives in “alpine terrain” in Australia where walking is clear and easy. Sometimes, the tops of mountains, spiky with large granite boulders have some of the thickest bush to navigate.
We eat dinner in the dark and crawl into bed. Our new sleeping bags, bought within the past year, have lofted up luxuriously and we sleep soundly and well. I crawl out of the tent once in the night to a dark sky filled with a panoply of stars. Early next morning, before sunrise, I get out of the tent again and brew up coffee which we drink in bed, a treat on a dark morning when the ground is cloaked with light frost.
It is hard to get excited about more bushwacking on this trip but the idea of walking back out without tagging Mount Kelly now that we have thrashed this far in (and have no option but thrashing back out) seems worse than the prospect of additional thrashing.
Although the return distance to Mount Kelly is only about five kilometres we think we will be lucky to be back at the tent within four hours. We pack a day pack and walk up to Bogong Gap and then using a rough compass bearing we walk through more bush to arrive at the saddle southeast of Mount Kelly where we find a cairn marking where Sams Fire Trail – completely indistinguishable from the surrounding bush – crosses (or used to cross) into Rotten Swamp.
Scrambling up Mount Kelly is easy apart from one band of very thick small burnt trees which we stumble through on, coincidentally, the steepest part of the ridge. On the summit, it is calm and sunny, a dramatic change from the day before, and we enjoy a half hour break savouring the view and identifying the other granite topped summits in the area.
We make it back to the tent in just over three hours, so brew up a cup of tea and have some lunch before packing up our gear and beginning the long bash out to the car. After studying the map we have decided to walk down the creek for about a kilometre where a 40 to 50 metre uphill walk on will put us back on our ascent route and the southeast ridge of Mount Burbridge. This turns out to be reasonably easy going on faint animal tracks until the uphill section which runs through fallen trees stacked like pick-up sticks everywhere.
It takes a few hours, and a lot of patience, to walk down the ridge as it seems harder on the way down than the way up to find any kind of lead through the timber and we encounter some very thick sections – most often on the steepest part of the ridge – where descending is more like half-controlled falling than actually walking. Finally, we reach the split in Middle Creek and cross on boulders, walk another few hundred metres and find the very faint end of Middle Creek fire trail.
A last short break on a flat boulder and then walking the faint foot pad out to the car past mobs of kangaroos as the early evening light slants across the valley. Another magical Namadgi trip into the wild lands beyond the cleared and tamed river valleys. These mountains do not give up their joys easily.
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