Rams Heads: The Tail of the Kangaroo
Return to Part 3: The Western Fall
With nightfall the fog turned into a velvety drizzle. When I went out, the grass was bejewelled with countless dewdrops that sparkled in the torchlight. After midnight there was only a light fog left, and the near-full moon glowed orange as it dropped behind the Sentinel ridge.
The fly of the tent was saturated. As the night progressed condensation collected inside, gradually creeping lower till the whole inner was damp. Regardless, I was snug and had a great sleep. Rarely do I sleep so well when camping.
We slept in a little, hoping for the sun to appear to help dry our tent and sleeping bags. It was a cloudy morning, but with a few hopeful patches of blue that slowly fulfilled their promise of sunshine. We spread out the sleeping bags on some rocks, and left the tent up to dry while we had breakfast. I tried some solid food, and managed to get one muesli bar down. I felt nauseous afterwards — the gastro and its symptoms were still in effect — but at least it stayed down. The coffee was more welcome.
Strzelecki Creek flowing past our campsite.
Today was always going to be the longest day of the walk. My original plan was to climb Mt Twynam, drop down to Illawong Bridge, follow the Snowies Walk to Charlottes Pass, then camp down near the tail end of Kangaroo Ridge. I didn’t feel capable of that in my present condition, so I decided to shortcut it by heading directly to Charlottes Pass via the Main Range Track. We’d save more than six kilometres of walking, but even so, today would still be our longest day.
LS found some sea salt lemon candies, which I loaded into my pocket to eat on the trail. I was keen to get some salt to help prevent any cramping, since for two days I’d had almost no food to replace the salt I was losing through sweat. Perhaps they helped, as I never got more than the same slight twinge in my left leg I’d felt yesterday.
Upstream from our camp was a small waterfall and a pool that would be nice on a warm day.
For the second day running, as soon as we left camp we were straight into a steep climb. I already felt tired and could only manage short stages before needing a rest, but improved as I warmed up. The spectacular views were rich compensation for our hard work: gentle Carruthers and ragged Townsend were in sun but brushed by scraps of fog. Looking back, our campsite sat on the edge of an abyss, while to the left The Sentinel stood watch above the deep valley and lowlands beyond.
We reached the big snowbank that had blocked us yesterday. This time we decided to detour around its lower end, which proved to be a much easier way. While passing it, I grabbed a handful of snow to eat, which was so refreshing that I wished I could take more with me. The grind back up to the top of the ridge continued, and eventually gave way to the descent back to the saddle below Carruthers Peak.
Back at the snowbank.
We turned towards Charlottes Pass and began the gentle descent. We were in sun, but ahead of us was cloudy, and Charlottes Pass itself looked as though it may even be fog-bound. There were tents dotted around on the hillsides above the track, surprisingly, so I guess some flat ground could be found up there if you went looking.
On the left is The Sentinel, and on the right the snowbank that barred our way.
While we were descending we met a ranger walking the other way. We had a nice chat with her, describing our walk so far, what we’d experienced weather-wise, and where we were going. Being on a popular track we also met an increasing number of daywalkers.
The track surface changed from earth to pavers. Unfortunately they were crumbling apart — perhaps the winters were too hard for them — which made for a bad surface to walk on.
At the turnoff for the Blue Lake side track we stopped for a tea break. Under the cloud the lake was a moody silver-grey, not blue alas, and we were content to view it from where we were. A short way further on we spotted Hedley Tarn off to our left, completing the set of the five glacial lakes1.
Blue Lake was dull under the leaden sky.
We reached Foremans Crossing where Club Lake Creek joins the Snowy River, and got across easily, with the water much lower than last time we were here. The track immediately launched into the savage climb up to Charlottes Pass. The people down at the river crossing gradually got smaller as we climbed, until after an eternity we reached the top. I was glad we weren’t finishing our walk here, as it would have been a painful way to end.
LS at Foremans Crossing on the Snowy River.
Over near the start of the Mt Stilwell track we found a spot sheltered from the cool wind, and got our chairs out for a proper rest. It was noon, so LS had her lunch. I didn’t feeling up to eating any more yet. From where we sat we could see the road lined with cars all the way back to the turn off to the little resort, about 800 metres away.
The sun had warmed us while we rested, but as soon as we started on the track to Mt Stilwell, the cloud came in and dropped lower, brushing across the peaks. It was chilly, and I needed my jacket despite the solid climb.
Fog begins to smother Little Stilwell.
We met a lady sitting beside the track. Her watch had warned her of low blood oxygen, so she stopped while her friend continued to the summit of Mt Stilwell. She told us how she used to ski up here years ago, and was laughing about finding a random biscuit in her pack. A little further up the track we met her friend coming down.
The cloud thickened as we got higher. Where the track left the ridge to climb to the peak we agreed there was no point going up there, with no prospect of a view.
The landscape had wrapped itself in solid fog, just as we were beginning our off-track walk down Kangaroo Ridge. Shadows loomed up out of the fog and turned into boulders as we got closer. Trying to gauge distance or scale was all but impossible on the broad, grassy ridge. We hadn’t gone far when we were surprised to hear voices a little way downhill, but didn’t see anyone.
Wandering amongst the boulders on the broad Kangaroo Ridge.
With no way of fixing on landmarks to navigate, I was reliant on my GPS and a track from a previous walk. Following it felt like magic: it detoured us around bouldery peaks before I could see them, and took us along little valleys. We were in our own little world that opened up in front of us and closed behind. Now firmly within the fog, the wind had died off and I was warm enough to no longer need my jacket.
Sometimes we had nice short grass to walk on, but more often it was tussocky. A few times we came across wet, marshy areas which needed some care. The vegetation was low and dull in colour, brown and olive and silver-green. The flowers were modest too, pale and small in size.
Fog shrank our world to our immediate surroundings.
So far Kangaroo Ridge had been largely dry apart from the occasional pools, and I didn’t want to get into a situation where I needed to hunt for water at camp. When we came across a small stream running clear and strong, I decided to collect a couple of litres to at least guarantee us dinner.
We dropped our packs and took a break. The ridge had felt desolate: largely featureless and wreathed in fog. In contrast the stream’s gully felt like an oasis. On the margins of the creek was bright green grass studded with white and yellow flowers. Behind it rose a small ridge covered with patches of snow. We could hear the murmur of running water and the croaking of hidden frogs. While I collected water, small dark fish2 darted nervously.
The stream felt like an oasis with varied scenery and colours.
The fog had thickened again by the time we set off down the broad ridge. A brief burst of sunshine opened up our claustrophobic world so we could see the Summit Walking Track and Seamans Hut, before a veil of fog hid it again. I found a few skinks sitting in the grass, rather optimistic in their hopes for sun on such a cool day. The last one eyed me off for a long time before mustering the energy to hide.
I was aiming to camp about a kilometre short of the steel walkway leading to the top of the Thredbo chairlift. When I felt we were getting close enough we considered a spot beside a low rise, but all the grass was sloped and tussocky, giving me unhappy flashbacks to our first camp. Half a kilometre further on I found another spot, level and grassy, in a broad, gentle saddle. It was more exposed, but there were some large boulders we could use to hide from the breeze while cooking. And there were shallow pools of water if required. It would do.
We decided to camp about 100 metres further along from here near some large boulders.
While we were setting up the tent I noticed a fair amount of what I guessed were fox scats in the vicinity of our campsite. Perhaps there was a resident fox, though I saw and heard nothing to confirm this. A couple of days ago over at the steel walkway I’d seen notices warning of fox and wild dog baiting, so it’s plausible.
For the last couple of kilometres of the walk I’d been stumbling along with nothing left. Like yesterday, it was the thought of jumping into the tent to rest that had sustained me. As soon as I could I got under my sleeping bag. It felt so deliciously warm and relaxing after the cold outside that I fell asleep for a while.
LS seemed annoyed when I woke. I decided to try eating properly tonight, so I had soup, as much ramen as I could stomach, then a coffee. Most of the water I’d collected earlier was used up, but we’d be fine for breakfast one way or another. At last I felt free of the symptoms of gastro.
While we were eating dinner the fog suddenly vanished. The sun came out, low in the sky, and flooded the landscape with colour. Long shadows from the boulders stretched across the grass. We could see the ranges to the north, including Mt Kosciuszko. There were two walkers up at the summit, presumably for the sunset.
Late sunshine brought colour to the landscape.
Mt Kosciuszko just before sunset.
We spent a while wandering around, enjoying our first clear view of the area. A bit of sunshine can go a long way to lifting your spirits. But even with the sun it was a chilly evening, and I was happy to get into the tent and go to bed.
Continue to Part 5: Kangaroo and Dead Horse
Footnotes
- The five glacial lakes are Lake Cootapatamba, Lake Albina, Club Lake, Blue Lake, and Hedley Tarn. ↩︎
- The fish were a species of mountain galaxia. ↩︎
