Over the Baw-Baws: Walhalla — Warburton — Belgrave
Published in Fern Tree Gully News, Saturday 9th January 1926, page 5
By H. McKnight
In order to give an adequate description of the most interesting portion of this long tramp, I will take the reader away back into the heart of the mountains, where a little township lies hidden in a deep and narrow valley. Into the quietness of this neighborhood our party of four intruded late one recent afternoon. Alighting from the train at the station, which is built right across Stringer’s Creek, we wandered up the valley a considerable distance before we came to the remnant of that once rich and flourishing mining centre, Walhalla. Old shops and houses, built on either side of one long, narrow street, ruins of buildings amid a blackberry wilderness, disused and rusty mining apparatus—these were our impressions of this town, once famous for its rich gold mines. Yet the dominant features which mark the town a place of the past are to be seen elsewhere. On each side of a well-made road are asphalt footpaths, extending for a mile or so up the valley, although, except for the township, the valley is almost unhabited. As we walked along these footpaths, the dull sound of our tread echoed from the steep slopes—once covered with buildings.
Wandering up a rough track, we climbed the mountain side at the back of the town, and at a height of 550 feet above the footpaths, we came to a picket fence, beyond which we found a sight even more interesting than the town below. Here lay a large and carefully levelled sports ground, with grandstand, pavilion, and cement cricket pitch. But the grounds also had been neglected, and appeared an almost forsaken spot. The twilight was deepening as we turned to descend into the township, where there existed, as we entered, a stillness broken only by the low murmur of the creek that ran beside the road. We ended our first day by buying our groceries and hiring a pack-horse to take them the next day up the steep slopes of Mount Erica.
Next morning we bade farewell to Walhalla, where there was so much to show that the age of gold was past—
- “The earth—its kind face pitted,
- Told the tale of the old, dead day.”
We left by the 6·30 train, and travelled down the valley to Knott’s Siding, one of the starting points for the Baw-Baw Range. There was much of interest in this little journey to the student of geology—the marked cleavage, the isoclinal and the pseudo folding of the metamorphosed slates. For all there was interest, not only in the old works of the miners in the creek below, but in the wonderful little railway which runs just above the rushing torrent, along a ledge on the beetling mountain side. This stands a memorial to the ingenuity of the engineer into whose capable hands was placed the building of the line. With brakes always on, the train reached and crossed the lofty Thomson River bridge, poised high on cement pillars above the running stream. Then, proceeding onward, we passed through country where the slopes were tinged with the red of the younger gum leaves, and from the train we had occasional glimpses of the wide, yet shallow river, 100 feet below.
Around a great curve, and we entered the woodcutters’ realm. Each siding was stacked with sawn timber from the mills, brought in along the many tram tracks. Descending at Knott’s, we set out along one of these towards the foot of the Baw-Baw Range. For four or five miles we followed this, meeting now and again trolleys laden with timber, coming from the mills which were occasionally heard noisily working near the track. At one of these we arrived at the opportune moment, just in time to see a forest giant lowered down a slope of one in two, on a slider, by means of a cable from the ridge above. A photograph was taken, and then we pressed on, beginning at last to climb the steep slopes of Mount Erica.
All the morning we gradually ascended until the neighboring hills were below us. Just past midday we came to water, and never was there a more welcome sight to thirsty travellers. The incline was steep, and never at this stage less than one in three. Consulting our barometer, we found we were 3500 feet above sea level, so that we had 1500 feet yet to climb. In the Myrtle Grove, where a little creek ran close, we had our lunch, nine miles from Knott’s Siding. In the afternoon, about half a mile further on, we came to The Rocks. Here, over the whole crest of one of the hills, 4000 feet above sea level, are massive outcrops of graniodiorite, which, by erosion of the less resistant materials, have been laid bare, and now stand as giant boulders, 50 feet above the level of the ground. From the top of the highest of these we obtained a grand panoramic view of south-eastern Victoria.
At this spot the pack-horse, which had come from Walhalla, passed us, with our goods, going towards the Erica hut. Going slower, we were soon on the crest of Mount Erica, where, except in the direction of Mount Baw-Baw, we obtained a view of the great mountainous regions of Gippsland, a view that extended for 100 miles, over range after range of mountains, far into the hazy distance. Descending a little way, we reached our abode for the night, the Government tourist hut. This is an iron structure, containing a large fireplace, wire stretchers, and cooking utensils. The night we spent at this place was extremely cold, the temperature dropping to 47 degrees F. Just after 4 a.m. we looked out to see the sunrise. It was a glorious sight, for clouds filled the great open valley, and as the sun rose it lit the upper edges with a glory of gold. Here a golden streak, and there the sombre grey of dawn. Then the scene would change, revealing another, even more beautiful and wonderful. Then, as the light pierced the clouds, they rose slowly, showing again the Gippsland Lakes and the blue billows of the hills, as they rose and fell into the distance.
Setting out early, with heavy packs on our backs, we followed the track, winding a sinuous way over the many peaks on the Baw-Baw plateau. Late in the morning, following an ill-defined track, which we mistook for the main path, we lost our way. Crossing one of the morasses, so abundant in these parts, the track became indistinct. However, by the use of our compass, we regained the right path by going west. Some distance further on, we came to the crest of Mount St. Phillack (5140 feet), the highest peak on the plateau. From here we had another magnificent view of the great mountain ranges of this part of Victoria, as well as a view of the interesting mustering flats which lay as a great open stretch of morass just 500 feet below us. To this place the cattle men are wont to come to gather in their cattle before the winter snows.
Glad to be rid of our packs, we set out for a side excursion to Mt. Baw-Baw. From the cairn, built on the summit, 5130 feet above sea level, we obtained a grand view of southern Victoria. Unfortunately a haze, such as is always present on a warm day, obscured the distant view on all sides. Yet, for almost 100 miles, there was visible range after range. To the south was the lower undulating Gippsland country, with the mountain ranges of southern Gippsland rising in the background; to the north, mountains alone were seen, stretching as far as the eye could pierce the hazy mist. Back to the track, and then we followed the winding trail leading to the Whitelaw hut. This is situated in a sheltered spot at the head of a wide morass. Here we found a more comfortable lodging than at Mt. Erica—a well provided hut, with abundant water close by. Glad, however, in the early dawn to leave such a desolate spot, we hastened over the upper slopes of Mt. Whitelaw. Similar country was passed through to that seen on the first two days. There was always the typical stooping snow gum, large areas of which had been burnt by a great bushfire many years ago. Their whitened trunks stand as countless witnesses to the devastating effect of that outbreak. Then, as we descended the mountain, we passed a track on the left leading away down to the township of Neerim. But this track was so indistinct that we were left to wonder whether or not the blazes (which mark all these tracks) could be followed for far.
As we descended further, our surroundings changed; instead of the rocky outcrops, deep, rich soil appeared, covered everywhere with vegetation, typical of mountain gullies. Lofty trees replaced the snow gums, and the stunted snow bush was no longer to be seen. The familiar T blazed on many trees, marking the Tanjil track, was in evidence. We had dinner at a little rustic crossing over the Thomson River, near its source. Traversing the same kind of country, and crossing a low range, we entered the watershed of the Yarra, often seeing beautiful groves of beech trees near the little streams. The moss-covered trunks rising out of the smaller ferns gave to each little dell a fairy beauty of its own. Passing up a steep slope, and then over level country, we suddenly saw through the trees two valleys—the Valley of the Falls Creek on our left, and the Valley of the Yarra on our right. Looking across at the former, we saw cascades, which appeared small in the great distance, dashing down the tree-covered precipices. Walking further along the narrow ridge which separated the two valleys, we saw that these merged before us into one great valley—the valley of the Yarra. At this point the track began to serpentine down to the hut 1000 feet below.
Here at this hut we spent the whole of the next day (Sunday) in company with another party of six, who occupied an older tourist hut nearer by. These two huts are 15 miles from the nearest habitation (Mr. Veigh’s), situated just above a grove of beech, along the edges of the creek below, and as it were, on the borders of a fairy dell. It is a beautiful and peaceful spot, all the more alluring to the bush wanderer because it is in the depth of the hills, far away from the dwellings of men. Here we spent a quiet day. A cold dip in the stream, a hearty breakfast, a wander up to the Yarra Falls in all their wild and rugged beauty, a climb up to the small cascades, a walk back to the hut, then another dip, and so ended a perfect day. A few words will hardly suffice to describe the lovely nature of the five cascades, terminating in that final mighty leap where the water crashes 40 feet into the valley beneath. These Yarra Falls, renowned for their rugged scenery, are known only to the few who have ventured into the hills by the Baw-Baw track.
Very early on the Monday morning, we set out again down the valley of the Yarra, and gradually descending, followed the winding trail along the left side of the valley. Here and there we crossed some small streams, and later passed two parties making for the hut we had recently left. It was fortunate that we started early, for before the heat of the day was at its maximum, we were 15 miles from the hut. Calling at McVeigh’s for bread, we had dinner on a little island, in the middle of the Yarra. What was a small creek at Fall’s hut, had now grown to a large stream, mainly by the addition of the waters of Walsh creek. Resting here for about two hours, we again set out, this time along the dusty Wood’s Point road, to Warburton, now and then passing the evidences of the old mining days, and here and there houses by the way-side. Each time we saw the sparkling Yarra beneath us, it seemed to have increased in size, ever more beautiful as it flowed under the lofty trees. Twenty-two miles from the Yarra Falls hut we camped for the night in the open, “Loges a la belle etoile.”
However, at 2 a.m. next morning a threatening sky gave warning of rain. We took shelter in a neighboring building, and were hardly settled before heavy rain set in. The day dawned clear and fine, and setting out, we were soon past McMahon’s Creek, and the little township of Reefton. At 11·30 a.m. we stopped on the outskirts of Warburton for dinner. Here the Yarra might now be called a river, for it had been joined by the waters of the O’Shannasy River.
At Warburton we caught the late afternoon train to Evelyn, and stopping there for the night, set out next morning for our home in the Dandenong Ranges. Spending the morning climbing Mt. Dandenong, we later arrived at the summit. While having lunch here, we enjoyed one of the most beautiful views of the tour. This was due to the fact that the day was clear, the atmosphere not being hot enough to be hazy. The city of Melbourne lay spread below us, so clearly that even the principal spires of the metropolis could be distinguished. The shipping on the bay and the Gellibrand lighthouse could also be discerned. The giant Baw-Baws, Mt. Donna Buang, and Ben Cairn were visible above the nearer ranges. Descending from the mountain into Olinda, and passing through Sassafras, we entered the State forest. A few minutes’ rest, and we descended into Belgrave in the early afternoon.
Thus ended a seven-days’ trip of 90 miles by foot, and 140 by rail—a trip long to be remembered for the grandeur of the scenery in those places which remain as yet untampered by man. Added to this, there was the joy of camping out, the comradeship enjoyed with one’s companions, and the interesting study of persons met on the trail. Finally, it is fitting to say a word of commendation to the Government, whose foresight has opened up to the wanderer, these secluded spots. Every tourist who treads the trail over the Baw-Baw plateau into the valley of the Yarra should pass a vote of thanks to a Government which has granted the necessary money for the building of the huts along the well-made tracks.
