Rams Heads: Alice Rawson
Return to Part 1: South to North
When we pitched the tent yesterday we thought we’d found a flat spot in the tussocky grass. However, when I laid down on my sleeping mat I got a nasty surprise, with a lump the size and shape of a basketball under my back. Turning my sleeping bag around the other way made it bearable by shifting the lump to beneath my legs, but we paid for it with our heads now pointing downhill. As if that wasn’t enough, we were on a side slope. I tried using my jacket as a chock under my mat to level it, but it was a losing battle, and I knew I’d spend the night rolling up against the wall of the tent. The valley was beautiful, but this was one of our worst pitches ever.
Despite those problems I had a peaceful night and slept well, contrary to my expectations. One of the unexpected benefits of being near water was the frogs — whenever I was awake during the night I could hear them croaking to each other. They continued to be a reliable indicator of water for much of this walk, though I never did manage to see one.
We got up half an hour after sunrise. Overnight I noticed some soreness on my right arm, which turned out to be flaming red sunburn — I must have missed a spot when applying sunscreen yesterday. To save further damage I wore long-sleeved t-shirts for the rest of the walk. They were warmer than I wanted, but at least the burn didn’t get any worse.
After breakfast we packed up and set off down into the valley, aiming to pass left of North Rams Head. When we reached the far side we found more water on the plateau, though much less than where we’d camped. Scattered around were some bleached claws from freshwater crayfish1, apparently caught and left by predators.
Crossing the valley below our camp.
The northern side of North Rams Head.
I set a course to descend gradually to the steel walkway while heading north towards Mt Kosciuszko. I began to feel slightly nauseous: I’d felt off before we started the walk yesterday, but thought it had resolved itself. The walkway was welcome for the ease of plodding along its smooth surface.
The early sun was slowly being lost to high cloud. Kosciuszko and its cornice were getting much closer, then Lake Cootapatamba appeared below it. The lake looked lifeless and grey until we were well past it, when it caught the reflection of the sky and glowed with a silvery sheen.
Rawson Pass, famed as the highest public toilet in Australia, wasn’t far ahead. Up at the pass it was busy, with plenty of walkers and dozens of cyclists who’d come in from Charlottes Pass, with the majority continuing up to Kosciuszko. We made use of the facilities, and very nice they were too. I felt a little better afterwards.
We continued northwards. Below Kosciuszko were a couple of places where the snow had overwhelmed the walking track. We took our time following the line of footsteps left by others, not wishing to provide inadvertent entertainment for the tourists by sliding down into the valley below.
Snow covered the track between Rawson Pass and Mt Kosciuszko in a couple of spots.
With the sky overcast we didn’t even consider taking the side trip up to the summit. We’ve both done it multiple times before, and in any case I had more interesting plans. Past the junction, the number of people dropped off dramatically. As we neared Muellers Pass I was surprised to see a hare running full speed through the saddle.
I had intended to camp near Mt Townsend this afternoon, but with rain and thunderstorms predicted for tonight and tomorrow I decided it would be more prudent to change to the Wilkinsons Creek valley. I wasn’t sure how exposed we’d be up at Townsend, and at least we’d be able to get some shelter down in the valley.
Descending to Muellers Pass.
We dropped about half way down the valley and picked a site off to the side near a little stream. After last night, I made extra certain the site was flat and level before pegging the tent down. There were several other tents around, but all were well spaced-out across the valley.
The sun had returned, as had the flies. There was a lot of heat in the sun, and for neither the first nor last time I wished I’d brought my trekking umbrella. While we ate our lunch I suggested we make the side trip up to Alice Rawson Peak. It was a solid walk of about eight kilometres return, but we had all afternoon. LS had been quiet during lunch, but readily agreed. We left the tent wide open to keep it cool while we were gone.
Wilkinsons Creek from up on the side of Muellers Peak.
Last time we were here we’d walked straight up the floor of the valley to Mt Townsend, which was a fun, but slow, way to go. This time I wanted to try the track from Muellers Pass instead, so we crossed to the other side of the valley where we found the track readily enough. We hadn’t gone far before LS called me back saying she’d lost her camera. Luckily it was lying on the track a short way back — had it fallen when we were going cross-country it would have been near impossible to find.
The track sidled Muellers Peak, leaving the grass behind and entering a big patch of boulders. We were catching up to a solitary walker wearing a blue jacket. At a point where the track was vague and confusing he turned down into the valley, but I knew the track stayed up high, and soon managed to regain it. We stopped for a break, and I had a big drink since I was feeling quite thirsty.
Mt Townsend looms above us.
Looking back into the Wilkinsons Creek valley I could make out our tent, but only because I knew where it was. Once again it was well camouflaged amongst the grey boulders.
We crossed a small stream and entered another rocky patch where we met an older gentleman coming the other way, and compared our experiences of following the track. Blue Jacket was down in the valley and appeared to be heading for either the southwest ridge up Townsend, or maybe the Abbotts.
The track reached the ridgetop at a small plateau below Townsend. We weren’t climbing it today, though it may have been a fun challenge with most of the route up snowbound. Instead we turned right and set off towards a rocky peak, which a check of the map showed to be unnamed. After we passed it we could see our target, Alice Rawson Peak, prominent ahead.
Alice Rawson Peak in the distance.
The walk out to Alice Rawson was as good as it gets, with a series of little rocky peaks along the gentle ridge, and scattered boulders amongst the yellowed grass. As we approached the peak, the views of the Western Fall became increasingly spectacular as we saw more of the deep valley below. I regretted having decided to camp back in the valley, as I’m sure we could have found a sufficiently sheltered spot somewhere up here2.
We walked round to the far end of the peak and climbed it from the back. There had been a couple of other groups up there as we approached, but by the time we reached the top we had it to ourselves. The view was fantastic, and better than I remembered from Townsend.
The back of Alice Rawson Peak with the Western Fall behind.
Much of tomorrow’s route was visible: the track from Muellers Pass running above the gleaming Lake Albina, then following the edge of the Main Range over Carruthers Peak and on towards The Sentinel. Below the peaks the land dropped away precipitously to the Geehi River. To the right were the high rolling peaks around the headwaters of the Snowy River. The gentle rounded mound of Kosciuszko blended in to the other peaks, while to its left was the sharp profile of North Rams Head where we’d started our day, and looking far away. Back towards Townsend was all grass with outcroppings of boulders.
Selfie time at the summit. Tomorrow night’s camp is somewhere above LS’s head on the edge of the range.
LS is joined at the summit by a couple of butterflies.
This peak more than any other on this walk was a favourite with a variety of insects, not just flies for a change. The butterflies3 were particularly prolific, fluttering around and never sitting still. There were also ladybirds and some large oddly-shaped insects I guessed were native wasps. We found a patch of shade behind some rocks and sat down for a snack break. I was thirsty again: this walk felt like it was taking a toll on me.
Clouds were piling up from the west over the Main Range, turning my thoughts to the weather forecast and our wide open tent, so we made a start on our return. For variety, we took a different route back, winding between the rocks on the western side of the ridge, and giving us a great view of the rugged terrain. Nearing Townsend, I steered us past some pools, which presented a particularly nice view of the snowy peak with its reflection.
The jagged landscape looking back to Mt Townsend from Alice Rawson Peak.
Mt Townsend: the normal route to the summit is covered by snow.
When we began descending from the plateau I wondered aloud what Blue Jacket was up to, and before I’d finished speaking I spotted him below us near the head of the valley. I don’t know where he’d been, but I hope he’d enjoyed his explorations as much as we’d enjoyed ours.
At the small creek we took a break, and I had another drink. No matter how much I drank today I kept feeling thirsty. Closer to camp I began to feel quite ill. We arrived back at our tent and I’d barely got my pack off when I had a watery vomit. A few minutes later it happened again.
When I settled down I drank a cup of water — and set it off again, even worse. In retrospect I think my stomach had shut down at lunchtime, and the water I’d been drinking was sitting in there going nowhere, which would explain why I’d continued to feel thirsty.
While I was collecting water for dinner I found the fully intact remains of two large freshwater crayfish, their shells retaining some blue colour. They looked as though they’d expired while walking around, and didn’t appear to have been caught by a predator.
A freshwater crayfish, deceased but surprisingly intact.
I cooked dinner for LS. Given the afternoon I’d had, I didn’t dare have any myself, not even a drink. I felt exhausted and very thirsty. LS suggested I boil up some water and keep it in the thermos to drink during the night, which I was grateful for later.
Black clouds were building up above Muellers Pass, and a few rumbles of thunder were enough to encourage us to pack up and get in the tent. It was nice to lie down and relax.
Storm clouds building over Muellers Pass.
Other times I’ve had gastro trouble like this I’ve had a tablespoon of water every 15 or 30 minutes, so I tried that now. I lasted two doses before vomiting the worst yet. Luckily I was able — barely — to get my head out the tent door. LS plainly wished I’d gone further, but it was unstoppable and I had only a few seconds of warning. It was little more than water, so thankfully there was no unpleasant smell.
I wasn’t sure what to do tomorrow. If I couldn’t keep water down then I’d need to get out for medical help. But assuming I could at least drink, then maybe we could continue the walk. It was too early to decide: I’d have to wait for the morning.
Lying in the tent I was tormented by thirst, which wasn’t helped by hearing the little stream flowing nearby. My mouth was sticky, but I hardly dared to drink.
Continue to Part 3: The Western Fall
Footnotes
- The crayfish are Eustacus sp., possibly Alpine Spiny Crayfish (Euastacus crassus) or Riek’s Spiny Crayfish (Euastacus rieki). Not to be confused with a yabbie, which is a specific variety of crayfish (Cherax destructor). ↩︎
- Another slight regret with switching our plans was that this became our sole campsite below 2,000 metres altitude, at about 1,940 metres. ↩︎
- Macleay’s Swallowtail (Graphium macleayanum). ↩︎
