Rams Heads: South to North
Half an hour into the walk I was dry retching after having swallowed the third fly of the morning, though happily I had no inkling of what was to come. Despite being at about 1,700 metres it was unexpectedly warm, and I guessed the winds that had carried the heat from the lowlands had also brought the masses of flies.
LS and I had started walking from Dead Horse Gap, where the Alpine Way crosses the Great Dividing Range. In four days we’d be finishing half a kilometre back down the hill at the Cascades trailhead. Taking pity on our future selves, I’d dropped LS off at Dead Horse Gap along with our packs, then taken the car back down to Cascades to await our return.
The track to South Rams Head didn’t mess around, leaping straight up the mountainside. Occasional flatter sections gave us welcome breaks from the climb, though they never lasted long. The forest was filled with the bleached skeletons of snow gums, and they gradually became more dominant as we climbed. The height of the regrowth suggested the fire that killed the trees must have been many years ago.
Dead snow gums predominated in the forest south of the Rams Heads.
We stopped for morning tea in the shade amongst the rocks, enjoying the respite from the hot sun. There was no escaping the flies though. Perched nearby were ravens, who were to be constant companions on this walk. They congregated where there were boulders, sometimes keeping silent company, sometimes cawing to each other.
The views opened up as we climbed and the trees thinned, but it was the Rams Heads in front of us that drew my attention. The trig on South Rams Head was just barely visible straight ahead, with a series of rocky peaks leading off to the right along the ridgetop. I hoped the track was heading for the saddle to the side of the peak to save us some climbing with our heavy packs, though in this I was to be disappointed as it headed almost directly to the summit.
Above the treeline, with views for miles.
At the centre is the Rams Head, our target for later in the day.
The trees petered out about half a kilometre from the crest of the ridge. We’d be above the treeline for the rest of the walk until we descended again in four day’s time. We followed a foot pad through the grass, picking our way through the boulders. When we reached the ridgetop, the heat of the sun was enough to have us seeking out some shade to drop our packs and cool down for a few minutes.
A raven keeps watch near our lunch spot.
The South Rams Head1 summit trig was about fifty metres away at the top of a pile of boulders. We scrambled up, and were rewarded with magnificent views everywhere we looked. Our immediate future along the range to the central Rams Head peak was laid out to the northeast. To the left was the Main Range2, with Mt Kosciuszko and Mt Townsend on the edge of the Western Fall3, a vertical mile above the Geehi River valley. Southwest, the blue ranges rolled on to the horizon, deep into Victoria.
At the summit of South Rams Head, with the main Rams Head peak top left.
The remains of cornices and snowbanks were scattered across the peaks and high ridges, which I hoped boded well for finding water. Some of our camps would be away from established sites, so the availability of water was an unknown — I was sure we’d be able to find some one way or another, but it might involve some walking.
We returned to our packs just as a group of daywalkers arrived. While we had our lunch — the usual wraps and hot tea — our shade was gradually disappearing. It was encouragement not to linger, and in any case I was anxious to be off as we were running later than I’d planned.
The peak was a maze of rock, and finding a way down to the ridge was not as straightforward as I’d expected. We started heading to the right, then tried the left and found ourselves in a strange little passageway with walls of uptilted stone slabs and a grassy floor. I managed to lead us into a patch of knee-high bushes, which made the descent rather difficult until I got us back to some open grassy leads.
The stone slab passage.
At the base of the peak we reached a saddle, and began the walk along the grassy ridge. The gently rolling land was delightful after a rather trying morning. Sprinkled through the golden grass were the silver-green leaves of daisies, and the small bells of purple eyebright.
To our left was an unnamed peak with a small remnant patch of snow. The next peak, also nameless, was taller with a jagged, rocky crown. As we headed towards it we dropped into a shallow saddle where the vegetation was darker and the earth, which had been parched, turned damp. Draining it was a tiny stream, barely flowing. I was concerned by how dry the land had been, so decided to be prudent by collecting a couple of litres for camp. We’d have our dinner in any event.
On the Rams Head Range. The south peak is on the right, which we’d climbed from the left.
The nameless peak looked like it could be fun to explore with its rocky top, but we left that for another day. We contoured its lower slopes, climbing up towards the Rams Head, the highest point on the Rams Head Range at 2,193 metres, and Australia’s fourth highest mountain. Being above the treeline, there was no escape from the fierce sun unless I shared LS’s trekking umbrella (I had unwisely left mine behind). The flies were relentless, and were particularly attracted to our eyes and mouths. Short bursts of walking were all we could manage as we slowly made our way up the grassy mountainside, which steepened as we got closer to the summit.
Looking back to the south peak from well up on the side of the nameless peak.
The last of the climb was through a patch of boulders, though far smaller than we’d had at the southern peak. We walked over to the little cross marking the summit, and dropped our packs with relief. Our rest was soon disturbed by the discovery of ants swarming everywhere, so we moved ourselves and our packs out of their reach. At least we had terrific views.
Behind us South Rams Head stood up prominently, but surprised me with how much lower it looked. The last unnamed peak we’d passed had a large rocky summit, and was distinctive enough to be worthy of a name. Near its summit we noticed a pair of rock formations shaped like two gigantic turtles facing each other on the skyline, and decided we’d call it Turtle Mountain.
The summit of the Rams Head is quite mild compared to the southern and northern peaks. The remains of the huge cornice above us make it easy to identify Mt Kosciuszko.
Two stone turtles face each other on Turtle Mountain.
Northwards, the ridges of the Western Fall rose from the Geehi River all the way up to Kosciuszko, where we could just make out its summit cairn. The remains of the cornice on its eastern side was huge, somewhere around two kilometres long.
North Rams Head, our target for the day, poked up from behind the next hill along the ridge. We decided to stay as low as we could, which would also take us close to a large patch of snow.
The far side of the Rams Head was much steeper than I’d expected, and we needed to exercise some caution descending, though it wasn’t far down to the saddle below. The surface of the snow was dirty, but scraping off the top layer revealed clean corn snow, which was delightfully refreshing. The number of snow patches was a welcome surprise on this walk, as they could provide us with water if we got desperate — the land had remained dry since leaving the little creek earlier.
Leaving behind the rocky northeastern face of the Rams Head.
I didn’t expect to be walking on snow mid-summer.
We continued over the shoulder of the hill. Below us was the large, bowl-shaped valley on the southern side of North Rams Head. My water worries were gone, as there were creeks flowing through the valley, as well as some large patches of snow. Above it all stood the familiar and distinctive rocky peak of North Rams Head.
I had no definite plans for a campsite other than somewhere near the peak. LS’s preference was to camp where we were for the view, rather than being at the peak where we wouldn’t see it as clearly. I suggested down in the valley, but eventually we decided to stay put as the views were great. Although we were up on a slope above the valley, there was a slight ledge offering flattish ground, and we chose what looked to be a reasonable site for our tent.
North Rams Head from near where we decided to camp.
After we got the tent set up, we sat in our chairs enjoying a rest after a tough day. When I’d recovered, I proposed a side trip to North Rams Head this afternoon to save time tomorrow. LS wasn’t interested (either today or tomorrow) so I went alone.
Near our camp was a snowbank, and from it ran small stream of meltwater. I followed it down into the valley where there was another larger creek. Water was clearly not an issue here, and was more plentiful than anywhere else today. I aimed for the right side of the peak, and scrambled up through the rocks from the southeast. Ravens were perched on the boulders, unbothered by my appearance.
On the summit of North Rams Head.
The top of North Rams Head is a giant, chaotic boulder pile, and a lot of fun to scramble around. Last time we were up here, we climbed to a highpoint on the north side. It’s hard to tell where the true summit is, but since the south side faced our camp, I went south today. Our tent was well camouflaged amongst the boulders despite being yellow, with only the sheen of the fly giving it away if you knew where to look. Camp was a touch over 500 metres away, giving me a chance to try hand whistling4, which LS easily heard.
LS back at our campsite.
The views were fantastic, spanning the entire horizon. I could see back to where we’d come from (the Rams Head), our route tomorrow (past Kosciuszko), and our future (Kangaroo Ridge). Patches of snow were dotted all along the Main Range, from Kosciuszko to Carruthers Peak and on to Mt Twynam. But everywhere I looked there was one common element: the boulders. On the plains there was a sprinkling of them, while on the ridges and peaks they erupted out in great piles. The low afternoon light accentuated the textures of the landscape. I descended via a more direct route, and returned to camp.
Mt Kosciuszko from North Rams Head.
I was keen to see the latest weather forecast as the weather had been predicted to turn tomorrow, but my phone couldn’t connect to the network. I’d had phone service when we first arrived at camp, so I tried standing on a rock and that extra metre made the difference. The updated forecast showed an improvement for tomorrow, but the day after remained wet and thundery.
I went to fetch water at a little waterfall below the snowbank. I took the opportunity to wash my face, though it wasn’t easy as the water was (unsurprisingly) barely above freezing, leaving me yelling from the shock. It certainly was refreshing.
The snowbank near our camp.
For dinner we had soup, ramen, and coffee. While were eating, a kestrel appeared and hovered over the valley but, unlike us, went hungry. With the long summer daylight we finished our meal well before sunset. I stayed up and watched the shadows gradually stretch across the valley until they touched North Rams Head. There wasn’t a sound beside the gentle breeze in the grass, and not another person to be seen anywhere. We had found for ourselves a camp both serene and spectacular.
Continue to Part 2: Alice Rawson
Footnotes
- There is some disagreement over which peak is actually South Rams Head. Some maps give the name to the 2,052 metre peak where we were, while the Geehi Bushwalking Club say it’s the 1,951 metre peak about a kilometre southwest (while another map labels that peak as Rams Head South). See: Spatial Vision Innovations (2009). Kosciuszko Alpine Area Map (1st ed). ISBN 9780980537376. See also: Geehi Bushwalking Club (2001). Snowy Mountains Walks (8th ed). p 76. ISBN 0959965149. ↩︎
- The Main Range runs from the Rams Heads in the south to Dicky Cooper Bogong in the north. It covers many of Australia’s highest peaks, and shows evidence of past glaciation, which is relatively uncommon in Australia. See: Geehi Bushwalking Club (2001). Snowy Mountains Walks (8th ed). p 43. ISBN 0959965149. ↩︎
- The Western Fall of the Main Range is the steep drop off the western side of the Main Range down to the Geehi River, from Mt Kosciuszko round to Watsons Crags. This is in contrast the the smaller and gentler drop on the Thredbo side. ↩︎
- Hand whistling is also known as wild whistling. ↩︎
