Ingliston Extended
An hour west of Melbourne is gorge country, containing some surprisingly wild landscapes for somewhere so close to a major city. To the north is the well-known Lerderderg Gorge. Southwards is the even more popular Werribee Gorge, and tucked in nearby are the Ironbark and Ingliston Gorges. Continuing south, the gorge country extends into the Brisbane Ranges near Geelong.
Ingliston Gorge is one of the smaller gorges and also one of the quietest, far less visited than the neighbouring Werribee Gorge. Although it’s located in a small park1 surrounded by farmland, it retains a feeling of wilderness and seems larger than it is.
The official route through the gorge is a good walk, though it does miss out on both the southern and northern extremities of the gorge2. Having previously walked downstream to the southern end, this time Dad and I thought we’d explore upstream towards the northern end.
Winter is a good time to visit, as the confines of the gorge amplify the heat on a warm day. When Dad and I arrived, we had a blue sky and chilly air to start. Leaving the little car park near the railway line, we entered the park and turned left into Sloss’s Gully. The gully began as a shallow depression, dark in shadow with the morning sun low in the sky.
I soon discovered that the path, which was no more than a clear line on the gully floor, was as slippery as ice. The hard clayish surface was damp from recent rain, leaving it greasy, and an incautious step had me glissading along balanced on one foot. Fortunately I was leading at the time, not Dad, and managed to keep my feet. Suitably warned, after that we both took care to stay to the side of the track where there was grass and leaf litter for grip.
Beginning the descent along Sloss’s Gully.
The gully was greener than I’ve ever seen it, bright with moss and a few patches of sundews. The trees and light scrub had plenty of fresh green leaves. There was a lot of fallen timber, both branches and entire trees. But didn’t look recent, rather it was the accumulation of years.
Being near the boundary of the park, we could hear the frequent squeaky whistles of the trains on the Ballarat line, and the noise of machinery from the surrounding farms.
The rising sun began peeking over the gully wall to our left, glittering through the stringybarks. The gully slowly deepened. A side gully came in from the left, and with it a proper little (dry) creek bed formed. It rapidly grew until it was a straight-sided channel about five feet deep. I’ve yet to see water flowing in the creeks here, but the depth of the creek beds suggests they do flow well at times. That would likely need to be during heavy rain, as there’s hardly any catchment.
Lower in Sloss’s Gully the creek is quite deep.
The valley floor spread out wide and flat. Possibly when water does flow it collects here, as the valley was filled with big clumps of lush grasses, making for an oasis amidst the dry forest. It’s a popular spot with kangaroos, though we saw none today.
Abundant grass fills the bottom of Sloss’s Gully.
Already we’d nearly reached the boundary of the park in this direction, and the track turned right to head up a shallow gully. Immediately the forest dried out again, the grass gone, and ironbarks dominating. Their green foliage glowed in the sunshine. The track was the same greasy clay we’d had earlier, but going uphill was less troublesome than downhill.
After a short climb we reached the dirt road that runs along the gas pipeline easement. We followed it for about fifty metres before the walking track branched off the other side, back into the forest.
We dropped down through the ironbarks, taking care on the slippery clay. In a saddle, not far from a farm dam, we clambered over a big fallen tree that’s blocked the track for years. As we contoured around the hillside we got our first views over Ingliston Gorge. The forest felt hard and dry: mainly ironbarks with their dark crinkly bark, mixed with a few stringybarks. The ground was rocky and almost totally devoid of undergrowth.
Dry ironbark forest on the approach to the lookout.
There’s a great lookout atop a small cliff on the hillside. Off to the left, under a fringe of wind turbines, was farmland. The grassy paddocks continued along the horizon to the right, from where we could hear some farm noises. Directly in front of us was Ingliston Gorge, a shadowy fold between the forest-covered hills to either side. The low winter sun didn’t reach into the gorge, leaving it in mysterious darkness. A couple of sulphur-crested cockatoos flew over: gleaming white against the dull trees, and typically noisy.
With such a fine view in front of us, we decided to stop for a tea break. The warm sun was a pleasant counterpoint to the cool air. I explored the cliffs below the lookout in search of a more dramatic view.
The expedition stops for a tea break at the lookout. Ingliston Gorge is behind us.
Continuing on, we hadn’t gone far when we found our first wildlife: a chubby wallaby. It watched us intently but didn’t appear too nervous. As we got closer it hopped to one side and continued watching. I wondered what it found to eat here in the dry forest, and why it preferred being here to Sloss’s Gully where there was ample grass?
The track sidled down the hillside, then turned sharp right to drop steeply down a narrow gully, the bottom scored by an increasingly deep creek bed. We negotiated the slippery path without mishap, and found ourselves deposited into one of the wider sections of Ingliston Gorge. Opposite us a small side-creek entered from private property. Confusingly, this other creek is Ingliston Creek, while Ingliston Gorge follows the larger Whitehorse Creek upstream.
Descending the steep and slippery gully into the gorge.
Having reached this milestone we found a convenient log and stopped for another tea break and snack. While we rested, the only sound we could hear was the gentle twittering of a few birds in the undergrowth. Not even any wind disturbed the stillness.
There’s no walking track along the gorge, just occasional orange arrows. We kept mainly to the dry creek bed, crunching along the gravel, where the walking was easy. When boulders or fallen branches blocked our way, we detoured along one of the banks. It was easy to imagine ourselves as explorers with no track and no sight of the outside world, isolated in our wild little gorge. Dad and I took turns leading, swapping as we stopped to take photos or admire the scenery.
Setting off up the gorge, which was unusually green today.
The bed of the creek was mainly small stones, which were colourful in a muted way: bluish-greys, browns, purples, oranges, yellows, and white. Breaking up these flatter gravel sections were boulders and large slabs, which would be cascades when the creek flowed. Where the banks of the creek were cleanly cut, we could see that the soil was studded with stones. The geological history on display made the land feel old and worn.
Colourful rocks in the creek bed.
A short way along we came across a huge old wattle tree growing right in the creek. Against it a great pile of branches and sticks had collected, spanning the full width of the creek like a dam. It was an impressive testament to how strongly and deep the water can flow.
The gorge walls kept us in the shade for much of the time, with welcome patches of sun appearing where the gorge twisted and turned. The trees in the shadows turned into silhouettes where they were set against a bright valley wall or the blue sky. They arched above us, enclosing us, at times almost making it seem like we were in a tunnel.
The gorge was mainly in shade.
A bit of everything: the gravel creek bed, boulders, and a grassy flat.
There was evidence of recent good rainfall. Hollows in the rock slabs had collected small pools of water. The creek banks and rocky walls were green with bushes and grass, and the trees looked fresh and healthy. When the gorge turned sharply, the inside of the turns often featured an open flat area covered with green grass and moss, and striped by shadows from the trees.
Sun and shadow within the gorge.
The walls were getting taller, and we were in and out of the sun as the gorge wound around. One loop turned back almost on itself. When the banks of the creek were at their deepest we arrived at the point where the marked track leaves the gorge and heads back up into the hills. We scrambled up the steep bank and found a suitable log to sit on for an early lunch.
We took our time. There was no rush, and it was a peaceful spot. The silence was broken only by the quiet chittering of birds — no hum of insects, no breath of wind. We ate our pies, crackers, and cherry tomatoes, and washed it down with hot tea.
Here began our journey into the unknown. With the creek bed so deep at this point, we elected to start walking along the bank. There was an occasional foot pad through the grass, proving we weren’t the first to go this way. Given that both Dad and I had independently come up with the idea of extending the walk this way, it wasn’t surprising that others had too. Gazing down into the creek, I wondered again what it would be like to see it flowing… perhaps a visit in stormy weather would be in order.
The creek was particularly deep where we stopped for lunch.
As we continued upstream, the gorge felt like it was coming to an end. The creek rapidly shrank in size, the valley walls crowded in, and the surrounding hills dropped lower. One constant, though, was the nice mossy flats on the insides of the turns.
When planning this walk, the map showed two gullies that we could use to exit the gorge on the northern side. We chose to aim for the second as it took us the furthest, plus it looked more substantial and therefore — hopefully — more interesting. When we passed the first gully it was tiny and easily missed, though we were in for a surprise later when we met it again at its source.
An unusual section of the gorge where the creek has cut into the wall of the valley.
The second junction made far more of an impression. The main creek led away to the left, with a side branch almost as large going right. Between the two was a large flat tongue of land. The walls of the valley had almost disappeared on the northern side where we were going.
Dad and I had a brief discussion to check our navigation, then took the righthand branch. It quickly became constricted to such a degree that I wondered if we’d even be able to follow it up to its top. But it remained navigable for now, despite the walls of the gully at times closing in until there no banks at all, just the steep-sided creek bed.
We encountered considerably more fallen timber along here than earlier, and it became a major impediment. Perhaps the narrowness of the gully meant that anything that fell inevitably ended up in the creek bed. One fallen tree spanned the entire width of the gully above our heads like a bridge.
Passing under a natural bridge.
The gully was much narrower than the main gorge.
Many times we had to scramble up or down the sides of the deep channel. To bypass one messier section we had to take to the bracken (too cold for snakes today, happily). But we continued to make progress.
The landscape along this branch was pretty, and was more varied than the main branch had been. To my surprise the walls had been getting higher again as we climbed, leaving us deep within the gully.
Fallen timber was frequently a problem in the gully, more than it had been in the gorge.
After squeezing through a tight pinch where an outcrop of rock blocked most of the creek bed and a blackwood tree blocked the rest, we found one entire side of the valley covered in bracken. A short way further on we reached a junction in the creek. This marked the end of our gorge walking.
The creek bed ran around a rock outcrop that almost completely blocked the gully.
The main course of the creek continued on and curved left. A smaller gully joined from the right, the same direction we needed to go. However, it was choked with boulders and fallen trees, and looked impassable. The alternative was to head up the hillside. While it was steep, the forest that covered it was open with minimal undergrowth. The only obstacle would be the familiar fallen timber.
Dad and I discussed the options, and agreed that the hillside was the best course. But with the day now quite warm and a climb in front of us, it was an opportune time for a rest. One last chance to enjoy the peaceful wilderness.
Nearing the junction where we left the gully. This gully was the only place we found bracken, and it was plentiful.
We weren’t in a hurry to leave. When setting out on a walk there is the anticipation of the events to come, but at some point an awareness of the approaching end takes over. Leaving the gully felt like we’d reached that point.
After we’d rested, we started zigzagging up the hillside. We gained elevation quickly, and looking back we could clearly see the line of the gully cutting through the forested hills. I came across another wallaby, just as chubby as the one we’d seen this morning, but more skittish. Again I wondered why it would be here where the forest floor was bare, but there must be something to attract them.
The ascent out of the gully was steep, but not long.
Up at the top we caught our breath and cooled down. There was plenty of warmth in the sun despite being winter. Dad had managed the climb well. I hope I’m still out exploring the wilds like him when I reach my 80s.
From here we’d be following the boundary of the park to pick up the track that had left the gorge earlier where we’d eaten lunch. The forest was so open we could walk anywhere we wished without trouble. There were little tracks all over the place, but they were just animal pads. The ground had been dug up in places too, which could have been from wallabies foraging.
Nearing the top of the climb out of the gully.
I’d expected we’d be able to walk fairly directly over to the track, but we came to a deep gully in our way. Evidently this was the head of the first exit gully we’d passed earlier. It had seemed tiny lower down, but up here it was far more impressive and really quite deep. We turned left to contour around its head, crested another rise, then found another deep gully.
We were close to the park boundary, so when Dad stumbled into a strand of old fencing wire on the ground, I knew we were right on it. I wanted to ensure we stayed outside the fence — both to respect the private property and because further on the fence was still upright and topped with rusty barbed wire.
Contouring past the head of a gully up on the tops. The open forest provided very enjoyable walking.
I adjusted our course more to the right, down into the gully. Then, just like Dad, I stumbled over some fallen wire hidden in the leaf litter. It wasn’t until we were half way down the gully that I noticed we were approaching the track. In this area the tracks are minimalistic, nothing more than bare ground amidst the leaf-covered forest floor.
Our walk was drawing to a close. We climbed back up to the top of the rise. A sign suggested the car park was 150 metres away, but that wasn’t remotely true. We got to the easement, and passed the entry to Sloss’s Gully we’d taken this morning. Ahead we could hear the rumble of traffic on the road and a passing train. Then it truly was a short walk back to the car.
It had been fun walk to share with my Dad, and we’d both enjoyed the day. While it was only modest in length, the challenges we’d faced and the isolation within the gorge made it feel like a real adventure. For somewhere so close to Melbourne, the rugged landscape was a perfect little wilderness.
Footnotes
- Ingliston Gorge is located in Werribee Gorge State Park, but in a separate block from the main park. ↩︎
- The official walk covers 1·3 km of the gorge, which is about half its total length. The southern boundary of the park is about 500 metres further downstream, and the northern boundary about 700 metres further upstream. ↩︎
