A Trip Over the Divide
Published in Healesville and Yarra Glen Guardian, Friday 4th September 1914, page 2
By F. R. Kempson
Glorious Scenery From the Ranges
Mr Lyn. Watt and myself made the above trip a few week-ends ago. We travelled by train to Healesville, and walked from there to Narbethong, a distance of 14 miles. We walked along the main road, which was in good order, despite the recent rains. After passing Gracedale House, about 3 miles out the road begins to wind in and out of the hills, and the country looks prettier. The next place of importance is Fernshaw; here the road crosses the Watts river, and we stop and help ourselves to a mouthful of its delicious water. Hill-climbing now begins seriously. Three miles of stiff walking brings us to the top of the Black Spur. It is now too dark to see the ferns, etc., that grow in abundance on the Spur. Having previously done this trip in the summer, we are well able to speak of the beauty of this part of the country. We are relieved when we find ourselves commencing to descend, because, on account of the darkness and the road not being so good, walking is made slightly unpleasant.
We pass the Hermitage, where everything is in darkness, and perfectly quiet. What a contrast to the time when we passed it in the summer! Then the place was a mass of brilliant light, with a number of people strolling about and chatting quite gaily. We are now only two hours from Narbethong, which we reach a few minutes before 8 p.m. We stay at the Black Spur Hotel for the night. Having written to Mr J. Roache, the proprietor, that we were going to bombard his larder, he right royally defends himself with a well spread table, upon which we make a vigorous attack. After a time we retreat to his parlor fireside, more than satisfied with the spread provided for us. We retire to bed early, to be nice and fresh for next day’s walk.
The following day, Sunday, is the shortest of the year, and we are up at daylight, 6·30 a.m., and ready for the track (for it is not a road this time) at 7 a.m. We are bound south for Warburton, via a track which is not too distinct, along the top of the ranges. We make for the top of a ridge, which continues on to the spur, known as Vinegar. We follow a track along Fisher’s Creek, which is used by the timber cutters, for about three miles, and then come upon Marchbanks’ timber mill. The country round about the mill is being cleared, everything is covered with a thick white frost. We make enquiries as to the track that we should take, but the most intelligent reply we could get was, “Step it out and you will get there.” From here we could hear the lyre-birds in the gullies below whistling away to their hearts’ content. It sounded most beautiful and certainly was worth going a long way to hear.
Leaving the mill, we crossed a creek and looked for a spot to boil the billy and have breakfast. Having performed this duty, we have to search round for a track that will take us direct to the top of the range. We try several timber tracks but they all run into dead ends, and we finally decide to fight our way to the top. We came upon three men chopping a huge tree. Probably they had lost the count of the days; at any rate the men seemed rather surprised to see us. We could not obtain any information from them; they even admitted that they did not know that there was a track that way to Warburton. We continued on our climb, and when about half-way up we alarmed a wallaby; he calmly made straight up the hill, jumping logs and other obstacles as he went. We began to wish we we had some of the wallaby’s jumping powers in our legs.
At last we reached the top, and what a magnificent view! Looking in a north-easterly direction we could see nothing else but what appeared to be a sea of white fleecy clouds, with the tops of the hills peeping out here and there. With the sun shining bright and clear above, it was a grand spectacle. Then, turning round in the opposite direction, a very clear view of the Yarra flats is obtained. I do not think there can be another spot amongst the mountains where these two fine views can be seen at once. We battle our way along the top of the mount, through wet undergrowth, but we are unable to pick up the track. We peg away for four or five miles, until near the end of the ridge we suddenly come upon the long-looked-for track, which takes us down hill for a while, and up another hill opposite. Now and again we find pieces of snow about the size of a plate, sheltered away from the heat of the sun, and with these we quench our thirst. After a while we come to a spot where the track branches off to Marysville. Having filled the billy with snow, we soon had it converted into boiling water, and lunched at this spot.
We next make for the not-well-enough-known Donna Buang. We descend again for a while, then up once more, till we reach the top, which is covered with snow 5 to 6 inches deep. To our surprise we see the look-out on Donna Buang about two miles distant, being further away than we anticipated. Owing to the track being obliterated with snow, we have to keep a careful watch for the blazed marks on the trees. As time is now getting short, we have to step it out, thus causing us to miss the blazed trees. We are approaching a rise, so decide to go right ahead to the top. Upon reaching there we are unable to see the Donna Buang look-out. It is now close on 5 o’clock, and will soon be dark. We have a consultation, and decide we have to go south for Warburton, so make for the first peak south, chancing whether it is Donna Buang or not. Progress is now very slow. Nearly every yard logs have to be crawled over. The position is a bit too serious to allow us to admire the snow-clad hills.
We are anxiously watching for the look-out, and are greatly relieved when at last we see it, because we are now on Donna Buang and know where we are. It is ten past five, and we have 55 minutes to catch the train, with 4½ miles still to do. We start off at a run, round the trees and through the snow. Before we commence to come down we have a look round. The wind is now blowing very strong and cold. The neighboring hills cannot be seen for the big, dark heavy masses of cloud hanging over them. The sight sends a shiver through us, as we think of what might have happened if we had not got back on to the track again. We are now nearing the end of our trip, and can see the lights of Warburton ahead of us.
With about three-quarters of a mile to go we hear the engine whistle, and see the train move out. As it is useless now to hurry, we slowly pick out the track in the darkness, and at last find ourselves in the main street of Warburton. We make for the Alpine Retreat, where from past experiences we know we will be well received by Mr and Mrs Haig (although it is 7 o’clock). We have a wash, and feel fit for the tea that Mrs Haig has provided for us. The next and last item on the programme is bed, and we retire quite happy and in the best of spirits, satisfied that we have had a glorious time and a splendid trip. Next morning we are up at 5·15 to catch the 6 o’clock train for good old Lilydale. People can boast of the beauties of Healesville and Warburton, but I prefer pretty Lilydale, snugly situated and surrounded by a number of green hills and the distant mountains, rising up and putting a finish to as pretty a picture and panoramic view as one could wish to see.
