Hanging Rock (Aboriginal Name Unknown but Possibly Nganneyelong or Anneyelong), Macedon Ranges, Victoria, Australia

Still owned by the Kulin Nation, Wurundjeri, Taungurong and Djadja Wurrung people.

Introduction:

I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge all the traditional custodians of Australia and apologise for the heartbreak and trauma caused by colonial invasion.

I have been to Hanging rock so many times I can’t remember, Whether it was school trips, with family or as an adult. Even though i’ve been there a bunch of times I had never really stopped to think about the indigenous history of Hanging Rock. Although, I am partly to blame I couldn’t help but notice when I returned as an adult that there is little to no mention of the horrific murder, robbery and annihilation of the local people of that region. Instead there is a simple statement about the Wurundjerii history of country Victoria.

I met Amy Spiers from “Miranda Must Go” last year and she took me around The Rock explaining some of the lost history and why she is championing the Acknowledgement of the real past of the rock. Most of us know of the fictional historic event involving school girls on a excursion! 

It seems that we are happy to read and watch a story about british school girls who “disappeared in the 1900’s but when it comes to acknowledging and learning about how horribly the people of the Kulin Nation, Wurundjeri, Taungurong and Djadja Wurrung were treated in the european settlement, even the Macedon Shire councils prefers to focus on other things.  For example how Hanging Rock is “historically significant for its long association with horse racing in Victoria from the 1860s to the present day” or that Peter Weir made a film here in the 80’s.(which he concreted a path through the whole rock area just for the Dollys his cameras sat and rolled around on).

Next time you want to take in the natural beauty of Hanging rock take a moment, forget the Peter Weir Film or the book and think about all the indigenous people, history and culture that we lost in stead.

by Max Blackmore

MIRANDA MUST GO:

On collective responsibility and memory work

The Miranda Must Go campaign launched a year ago. In this post, I want to reflect on how in this short period, a white vanishing myth’s inextricable link with Hanging Rock has begun to be dismantled and why non-Aboriginal people have a responsibility to tell the truth about Australia’s history of violent occupation.

Miranda Must Go’s aim from its inception has been to contest the dominant association at Hanging Rock with Picnic at Hanging Rock, a story of disappearing white schoolgirls. What is objectionable is that this fiction, that masquerades as truth, elicits more consideration and feeling in most Australians than the actual Aboriginal losses and “disappearances” that occurred in the region as a result of colonisation.

Encouragingly over the year, Miranda Must Go has attracted a wide range of supporters, substantial media coverage, and most significantly, some perceptible shifts in Hanging Rock’s narrative. There is evidence that some Australians are no longer comfortable blithely celebrating Hanging Rock’s white lost-in-the-bush myth. Accompanying this is a heightened attentiveness to the repression of troubling colonial histories in the Macedon Ranges region.

An indication of the campaign’s effect is that in 2017 Miranda Must Go has troubled and undercut the 50th anniversary celebrations of the Picnic at Hanging Rock’s publication. As opposed to previous years, references to the fictional story have often included a recognition of Hanging Rock’s Aboriginal and colonial histories. Some examples include:

In events or reports celebrating Picnic at Hanging Rock people have been mindful to acknowledge the traditional owners of Hanging Rock, the site’s “rich and tragic Indigenous history” and concede that Joan Lindsay’s renowned novel has participated “in the history of settler fiction, of violent dispossession being unrecognised, of cultural forgetting”. Commentators have also remarked on the incongruity of “obsessing over the ghosts of fictional white girls and forgetting the ghosts of real Aboriginal people”.

A blog post published by the National Library of Australia, Picnic at Hanging Rock: 6 Suprising Things You May Not Know, notes the “success of the novel and Peter Weir’s movie overwrote the ‘true history’ of the area around Hanging Rock”. The library has also added posters and the website from the Miranda Must Go campaign to their collection.

Artists, writers and film critics are reassessing their attachment to the Picnic at Hanging Rock novel and film, asserting that Miranda Must Go “is a reminder that it matters what stories we tell”. Gomeroi poet, Alison Whittaker, offered an alternative perspective on the Hanging Rock myth in the prize winning poem, “Many Girls White Linen“. 

Miranda Must Go has been reported on extensively in news articles, radio programs and television segments, including a feature as part of the ABC’s Australia Wide program (starts in the link at 21:50). When the documentary series “David Stratton’s Stories of Australian Cinema” was released on ABC iView, the Australia Wide story, which included interviews with Hanging Rock’s traditional owners, accompanied the series as an online extra.

Mary-Anne Thomas, MP Member for Macedon, has endorsed Miranda Must Go, contending that more acknowledgement should be given to the history of dispossession of Aboriginal people, and its devastating impact, in the region.

The Picnic at Hanging Rock Wikipedia page now includes a mention of the Miranda Must Go campaign.

The Macedon Ranges Shire Council will hold “a dance flash mob” in February 2018 at Hanging Rock to celebrate 50 years of Picnic at Hanging Rock. The event, called “Too Many Mirandas”, encourages local people to dress up as the novel’s main character “Miranda”. The blurb for the event, however, also includes a striking apologia that acknowledges that the region has been significant to the “Dja Dja Wurrung, Taunguraung and Wurundjery [sic] […] for many centuries”. The council concedes that: “Stories of being lost in the wilderness are indicative of the European migrant settler narrative. They were uncertain and naive about the Australian landscape. This was in stark contrast to the traditional owners who had lived harmoniously with the land for centuries”. Organiser, Arts and Culture officer of the Macedon Ranges Shire Council, Robyn Till has also indicated the event will be opened by a joint Welcome to Country ceremony involving all three traditional owner groups.

[UPDATE 13/2/2018] Malthouse Theatre will show a return season of Tom Wright’s adaptation of “Picnic at Hanging Rock” in February this year. The Malthouse blog has posted an article reflecting on the Dja Dja Wurrung, Yung Balug perspective on Hanging Rock, with producer Jason Tamiru writing: “After speaking to family, the rightful name of Hanging Rock is Ngannelong. Picnic at Ngannelong. The truth is my people were hit hard during the frontier wars. The Western region is known to us as the Killing Fields. The naming of the Rock is with all those that come in my dreams. Australia is starting to learn that there is a black history in this country that needs to be acknowledged and celebrated”. Artistic Director of Malthouse, Matthew Luton, has stated “I certainly understand that the position of Joan Lindsay’s story is not the only story of that landscape. The rock’s indigenous name is Ngannelong, and it’s important that we know that history. I think the Miranda Must Go campaign is a brilliant way to make sure we remember and understand the rock, and that the landscape has a multitude of histories running simultaneously. And you can’t let Lindsay’s story deny the longer and older history.”

There is also sign that the shift in sensitivities may lead to infrastructural changes at Hanging Rock. In the Macedon Ranges Shire Council’s “Draft Hanging Rock Master Plan Options Paper”, circulated for feedback in August 2017, it was acknowledged that recognition of Hanging Rock’s important cultural significance for Aboriginal people was limited at the site. The paper also noted that “further study and collaboration with the traditional owner groups in the area is required and highly recommended”.

Whilst these changes demonstrate a discernible and welcome shift in the discourse concerning Hanging Rock, these symbolic acknowledgements are not sufficient nor has the colonial legacy or decolonial future of the site been adequately parsed. Meanwhile in 2018, not only will the council hold a flash mob Miranda dance at Hanging Rock, but cable TV network Foxtel will air its new television adaptation of Picnic at Hanging Rock, ensuring that the fiction endures in the minds of Australians, while few are familiar with the violent colonial history of the region.

Entrenched forgetting

Miranda Must Go was instigated because repressions of colonial history, and its destructive consequences, have become all too commonplace, and these omissions go too easily unnoticed and unremarked upon. When I first began research at Hanging Rock four years ago, I undertook a series of interviews with tourists and local residents about their associations with the distinctive geological landmark. In these interviews, Picnic at Hanging Rock evidently loomed large in people’s minds, whilst there were few mentions, unless prompted, of the Aboriginal significance of the site. Almost non-existent were recollections of a history that cleared Aboriginal people from the region. When interviewees did speak about these subjects they were vague about the details and expressed an anxiety that they knew so little about it. An edited compilation of these interviews can be watched in the video below:

Significantly in recent months, it has become common in commentary on Hanging Rock and the Miranda Must Go campaign for non-Aboriginal people to admit there is an absence of Aboriginal narratives and histories in the region. The recognition of absent stories, however, is accompanied by an admonishment that these stories are not non-Aboriginal people’s to tell. Luke Spielvogel, President of Friends of Hanging Rock, for example, told this to the Australia Wide program (starts in the link at 25:49) and Robyn Till said similar to ABC Radio National recently (starts in the link at 5:00).

It is noteworthy that non-Aboriginal people are sensitive to the necessity for Aboriginal sovereignty and leadership in matters concerning Aboriginal stories and traditional knowledge. Hanging Rock is located on the boundary of three Aboriginal groups, the Wurundjeri, Taungurong and Dja Dja Wurrung. The descendants of the people who met and held ceremonies at Hanging Rock for more than 26,000 years, before colonisers forcibly removed them from their lands, belong to these three groups. These traditional owners are the primary guardians and knowledge holders of Aboriginal cultural heritage for the site, and any effort to revive Aboriginal presence, names or cultural interpretation at Hanging Rock must be led by and centre their views.

Respectful expressions that underscore Aboriginal self-determination or the need to await Aboriginal leadership, however, have often become alibis for inaction – an excuse for non-Aboriginal people to change nothing and elide their own colonial past: the reason for the absence of Aboriginal narratives in the first place. Given Australia’s history of under-acknowledging the injustices of colonialism and its ongoing impacts – which include successive government policies aimed at the obliteration, dispossession, disenfranchisement and forced assimilation of Aboriginal people, entrenching prejudice at the core of the Australian nation – it is gravely insufficient to accept Hanging Rock’s cultural significance to Aboriginal people whilst avoiding collective responsibility for, and acknowledgement of, wrongs done as a result of colonial occupation.

Remember our troubling past

The destructive settler history of Australia is very much part of non-Aboriginal people’s story. Assigning this story to traditional owners only shirks the responsibility of telling the truth about our shared history onto already over-burdened, under-resourced Aboriginal communities and gives into a privileged position of passivity and inaction. Clare Land, writer of Decolonizing Solidarity: Dilemmas and Directions for Supporters of Indigenous Struggles, has asserted it is non-Aboriginal people’s responsibility to change ourselves and our institutions and “the most basic way to show respect to Aboriginal people is to find out what happened here”.

In Decolonizing Solidarity Land discusses the importance for non-Aboriginal people to self-reflect and self-educate about settler colonialism, and its ongoing impacts, by taking advantage of “existing resources and opportunities rather than burdening Aboriginal people individually”. She explains that:

When non-Indigenous people develop collective responsibility with each other they potentially reduce the burden on Aboriginal people of such education work.

Furthermore, Aboriginal people themselves continually urge us to break the silence about our colonial history, as can be evidenced by the push to change the date of, or abolish, celebrations of Australian nationhood on January 26. Numerous Aboriginal scholars and leaders have stated this truth-telling is the key to addressing Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal relations in this country.

Writer and historian Tony Birch, for example, has written that “before dialogue for the future can be accomplished, Indigenous people who lie in the ground and the past they inhabit need to be recognised and commemorated” and this “can only be done when white Australia takes vigilant responsibility for its own past”.

Additionally, Gary Foley, historian and activist, has asserted that one of the most important things non-Indigenous people can do is find out “what happened to the people who lived on the place that you live now”. He stresses:

it’s not just a matter of knowing who they were, it’s a question of what happened to them … and as you gain a sense of that, you gain a sense of just how enormous your own personal ignorance is.

Aboriginal land rights activist, Robbie Thorpe, has also explained that exposing Australia’s myths and deceit, from Picnic at Hanging Rock to the settlement of the nation under the false claim of Terra Nullius,  is essential to coming to terms with “the real history of what this country is all about” which has denied the existence of Aboriginal people:

What happened here?

Certainly, it is difficult to educate yourself on a history that has been continually elided or denied and where no prompts for memory are included in the landscape. As I have noted in a previous post, there are few local histories that focus on the specific experiences of Aboriginal people in the Hanging Rock region. Fewer still are local histories that draw on Aboriginal oral testimonies or consider Indigenous perspectives on decolonialising research. Enquiry into what happened to Aboriginal people when Europeans occupied the Macedon Ranges remains under examined and under resourced. Ironically, this is in stark contrast to the obsessive archival work and investigation that has been dedicated to verifying if Picnic at Hanging Rock is based in fact. Yet encountering these difficulties and historical oversights should press us to question the colonial constructions that produce these absences in knowledge, and persist with the work of exposing our troubling past.

Relevant to the Hanging Rock region is that many historians have remarked on the cataclysmic disaster that colonial occupation of Victoria was for Aboriginal people. James Boyce has noted that after the establishment of Melbourne in 1835, a frenzied land rush followed that was brutal and unprecedented. According to Richard Broome it was “one of the fastest land occupations in the history of empires”. Patrick Wolfe has also described that “colonists set about removing Native people from their rich Victorian grasslands with unparalleled speed and ruthlessness”, and as a result, Aboriginal people in Victoria “suffered a demographic collapse”. Woolfe writes:

According to the official figures of the colonial government’s ‘Board for the Protection of the Aborigines’, 2,341 Aboriginal people remained alive in Victoria in 1861. Twenty-five years later, that figure had fallen to 806. But the most intense attrition had occurred before 1861, especially in the decade following White colonisation in the mid-1830s. The lower end of estimates for the Aboriginal population as it stood in 1835 suggests a total of around 12,000 people (a figure already substantially reduced by smallpox epidemics). Eight hundred and six being roughly 6 per cent of 12,000, it is misleading to talk of the Aboriginal population of Victoria as having been decimated, since the population level fell to well below 10 per cent. This is far and away the largest fact in Victoria’s history, one that dwarfs the campaign for the eight-hour day, the career of Ned Kelly, the holding of the first Australian federal parliaments or the staging of the Melbourne Olympics.

Vigilant responsibility

Arguably it is hard for non-Aboriginal people to fathom the scale of the suffering and loss caused by settlement considering the historical disregard for Aboriginal people, and their dehumanization under colonial structures and processes. To combat this indifference, we must reflect on our colonial history, confront “Victoria’s largest fact” and listen to and confer with traditional owners, Aboriginal community leaders, historians and activists in sensitive, informed ways. We must hear the stories of Aboriginal resistance and struggle against ruthless occupation and understand the devastating impact of dispossession.

Recently, non-Aboriginal residents of the Macedon Ranges have expressed a desire to adopt an Aboriginal name for Hanging Rock, and have looked to settler records to uncover the lost name. The word “Anneyelong”, inscribed beneath German naturalist William Blandowski’s 1855/56 engraving of Hanging Rock, has been referred to as a possible replacement. Mandy Nicholson, a member of the Wurundjeri-willam clan and also a Woiwurrung Language Specialist at Victorian Aboriginal Corporation for Languages (V.A.C.L), has confirmed that whilst the recording of “Anneyelong” is evidence of a possible Woiwurrung name for Hanging Rock, it has been wrongly interpreted or transcribed by Blandowski. Nicholson has clarified “Woiwurrung words do not start with vowels. So the word […] would more likely be Nganneyelong”, however, the actual meaning of the word is unknown. Nicholson has provided the pronunciation of Nganneyelong [Ng-unn-eye-long] below:

While an Aboriginal name at Hanging Rock would encouragingly recenter Aboriginal narratives, non-Aboriginal people would do well to remember that the word “Nganneyelong” has a fraught history, it is a cultural fragment that has survived the attempted annihilation of a people and culture. We should acknowledge that profoundly racist, imperial attitudes caused this. Blandowski, for example, recorded this observation during excursions he made in the region and around the same time he created the engraving of Hanging Rock:

The natives, however, of this, as of every other settled part of Australia, are fast disappearing before the rapid encroachments of the white man; in perfect accordance with the universal law which governs civilization wherever the white man has planted its flag, sweeping the backward races from the face of the earth.

The Miranda Must Go campaign is concerned with envisaging ways Australian’s might feel the gravity of,  and take vigilant responsibility for, a violent past that led to real losses of lives, land and culture in the region of Hanging Rock (and all across Australia) that continue to have consequences to this day. To contest the obsession with white vanishing myths and counter historical ignorance, we must attend to these actual “disappearances” and their causes. It is very much our history to learn and to share with others. By making a commitment to self-education and reflection we can begin to apprehend the extent of our colonial privilege and embark on the hard work of decolonising ourselves and our institutions.

By Amy Spiers

Links:

https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/qkzzzv/what-really-happened-at-hanging-rock

http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/replace-miranda-myth-with-indigenous-history-at-hanging-rock-says-activist-20170126-gtzcmb.html

THERE’S something vaguely feral about French Island National Park. Like scenes from Mad Max: an evocative mixture of white dust, sand, undulating tracks and complete silence. 

The island is a perilously curious combination of desolation and lawlessness propped neatly against well-maintained national park and respectable, clean services. It sits prostrate in the water, a 170 sq km landmass in eyeshot of Phillip Island, yet few venture across to explore. The ferry from Cowes on Phillip Island or Stony Point - the only way to access the island - is punctual and fast. Vehicles are left unregistered - unmaintained - lining the Tankerton jetty reserve. A general store just 3km from the jetty provides respite from the heat should you wish to drop in for a wine and a sandwich. An old prison on the far side of the island is rumored to be slated for development for tourism in future. But turn left at the jetty and walk away from the cars and the store - away from the people - and being to plunge inwards. 

There is a small permanent population of people inhabiting the island. Before European settlement in the 1800s, the island was frequented by the Bunurong people as a hunting ground. The island is an unincorporated area. It is relatively isolated and underdeveloped. But therein lies the beauty. The roads are flat, but heavily corrugated. The occasional local hurls past you in some clapped out old car while you walk. They will get out of your way, lazily lifting a friendly finger off the steering wheel to acknowledge you, leaving white dust blazing in their wake. Echidnas the size of wombats gentle ambulate along the side of the road. If you stay still long enough, they may even venture up to you and give you a curious sniff. 

With a sporadic car ferry running from Corinella, taking your own car isn’t an option. The only way to access the Fairhaven campsite is to walk the 5km coastal track. It's not a complicated trip to get onto the island, nor is it hard to ambulate around once you arrive. One can easily clock up 15km of walking a day. Establishing your campsite first and loading up a lighter day pack with water and snacks makes the walk up to The Pinnacles Lookout even easier sans 16kg pack strapped to your back. The Pinnacles walking track is a 40 minute walk from the campsite, and a further 3.2km inland. From the vantage point up high, one can see Phillip Island, Stony Point, and all of French Island rolling down and away to the horizon. Either trek back the way you came, or continue on down through the West Coast wetlands walk. Give yourself two hours to complete the circuit. 

With relatively flat tracks and a short 5km walk into the Fairhaven campsite, French Island is not difficult. It is a simple hike. The journey of two trains and a ferry to get onto the island, along with the added adventure of having to hike all your gear into the campsite elevates the trip’s simplicity to something a little more special. 

Camping is free, but bookings are essential. 

By Made Stuchbery

2018

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Aboriginal Name - Gariwerd

Right near the border town (Victoria & South Australia) of Horsham, are the Grampians a national park of reasonable size, that although has been scorched, singed and devastated multiple times by bush fire, has come out on top. It is riddled with walking tracks of varying degrees of difficulty and down south where this article is written there’s a giant lake called lake Bellfield good for swimming, fishing and sunset contemplation.

In the southern section of the park there are a few camp grounds and a secluded mountain town called Halls Gap, which has the best ‘Four ’n’ Twenty’ style pie in a great bakery creatively named ’The Halls Gap Bakery’. The Bouroughs Hut campground is a picturesque river side spot which in September when we were there is relatively empty, your neighbours are generally mobs of roos and their joeys trying to lick clean your jaffle iron.

Dubbed (by me) the ultimate selfie spot is the Pinnacle, a huge jutting out piece of rock that has railings grafted along the edges to prevent the over excited from death. It is a highlight for every body especially close to sunset. Although it’s usually crawling with people taking photo’s of each other reenacting scenes from “Cliffhanger”, the view is totally worth it only complimented by the thought of pies waiting for you back at Halls Gap.

Another sweet little hike that you can get to directly from Halls Gap with pie in hand, is Chataqua Peak. It’s a pretty short steep climb that crawls through canyon-esque rock walled paths up up and up till you hit the peak of Chataqua. The view from here is seriously great you can almost see the roos at your camp stealing all your shit!

This is a brief snippet of all there is to do in the grampians so go and check out the rest while you’re there.

by Max Blackmore with some photo's by Ashleigh Dwyer
2014

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LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Traditional Custodians: Taungurung

Mt Stirling (1749m), the sister mountain to Mt Buller (1805m), is home to many trails of differing difficulties. What is wonderful about this alpine area is that it lies a mere 3.5 hours from the heart of Melbourne and is a great way to experience the Victorian Alps on a day off. Access to the trails is free and most begin at Telephone Box Junction, however during the ski season you may need to pay an entry fee to the mountain.

There is a map at Telephone Box Junction that will give you a detailed description of all the trails in the area and their level of difficulty.
My hiking companion Jack and I took the Bluff Spur trail on this occasion and within half an hour we were already treading on good snow cover. We witnessed the flora change as we ascended from into the high country.
After roughly 2 hours of walking you will find yourself at Bluff Spur Hut, this is a free-to-stay memorial hut, built in memory of two hikers that perished on Mt Stirling in the 80’s. It houses four sleeping spaces, a pot belly fire and a wood shed that is stocked year round by local rangers. Bluff Spur Hut is a jump off point for lots of great short walks and cross country skiing trails, which gives you the opportunity to drop your bags and explore.

We happened to bump into a few friends of ours that had stayed in the hut over night and dragged them out of bed for a short 15 minute walk up to the Mt Stirling Summit. From here you can witness panoramic views over the entire mountain range. On a clear, blue bird day you will be able to see over the Howitt Plains to Mt Hotham. From here we parted ways with Al and Nina and headed towards the Howqua Gap. This is roughly a 4 hour return walk and has a lengthy steep section attached to it. The Howqua Gap Huts are a nice spot for lunch and have drinking water and toilet facilities.
We arrived back at Bluff Spur Hut around 3.30pm, set up our beds and started stoking the pot belly. It doesn’t take long before the entire hut is toasty warm and you can sit around in a t-shirt and shorts, even when it’s -5 degrees outside.

We made one more unforgettable trip up to the Mt Stirling Summit to witness an impressively foggy sunset before cooking up some 2-minute noodles in the jet boil and calling it a night. By 6am we were up again and trudging back down to our car as the sun came up through the snow gums. If you walk briskly, the journey down should take little less than an hour.

By Ben Burgess

benburgess.com.au

2017

We spent the day on location at Cathedral Range state park in Victoria shooting some gear for Hype DC and Nike (Australia).

Check the full trip here.

Aboriginal Name - Not Found

The Cross Cut Saw is part of the Great Alpine Walk, so it’s absolutely stunning.  It’s a bloody long drive though, so pack some good company and plenty of Barbeque Shapes. From Melbourne, drive the three hours to Licola, which is your last stop for snacks and basic supplies, but if you want something that’s not a Four ‘n Twenty pie, you might want to stop sooner. From here, Mt Howitt car park is ‘only’ 85km, which actually takes ages on dirt roads and two-wheel drive. Park at the Mt Howitt car park (not the first one that just says car park- keep going until you get to the clearly signed one) and follow the trail for an hour or so walking through lush alpine plains to Macalister Springs. If you do happen to go on a long weekend and there are literally twenty children at the main site where Vallejo Gantner Hut and the toilet are, keep on walking. Veer down toward the springs and then follow a path up to your right, which will take you to a more secluded camp spot about five minutes further along. It can get pretty windy up here though, so make sure your tent is really pegged down and you’ve got whisky to calm your nerves.   

We based ourselves here for the weekend and wandered along Cross Cut Saw in the morning without the weight of all our gear. This is an area that inspired some of the locations in Tomorrow When The War Began, and it truly feels like civilisation is a world away.  You’ll walk across the top of ridges covered in wildflowers, with epic mountains in every direction. The walk to Mt Buggery and back can be done in a (long) day, but we stopped to make porcini mushroom risotto just short of Buggery, and then couldn’t be bothered going any further. If you carry your gear, you can camp at Mt Speculation a bit further along the trail, where there’s another spring and a good camp ground. The walk up and around Mt Howitt is beautiful too, and sitting at 1742m high, you’re pretty much eye level with the nearby Mt Buller.  

Lookout for mountain pepper berries along the walk, but the tracks are pretty uneven, with heaps of ups and downs, so you’ll want an all right level of fitness/sturdy knees to tackle the Saw. You’ll also want to keep a few bucks handy for when you get back to Licola so that you can buy more Shapes.   

By Tanzy Owen

2016

Aboriginal Name - Not found

To the summit from Harrietville & Mt Hotham:

Arguably Australia's most mountainous mountain is Feathertop. At 1922m It's Victoria's second tallest after the higher but flatter Mount Bogong (1986m). It's a 4.5 hour drive from Melbourne so you want to spend a night somewhere either near-by or on the mountain. I recommend on the mountain. The drive will also take you through Bright and Milawa so you can stock up on local cheese and wine to enjoy on the summit, if you're in to that kind of thing.

Accessible from 3 or 4 directions, Feathertop can be as easy or challenging as you wish or depending on your knees. The shortest return trip is to follow the ridge known as The Razorback that stretches between Mount Hotham and Mount Feathertop. This return trip takes the best part of a day and starts quite high so is relatively flat. My dad took me along the razorback when i was 11 years old, so everyone can do it. For a bit more of a work-out you can approach the summit from Harrietville, the town that nestles in the valley below. Walking up from Harrietville is a steeper affair, your legs will carry you up about 1400m in elevation. The vegetation changes every hundred meters up so it has a lot to offer. You start in the forest under trees of up to 50m high and end on the summit above the tree line with vast views over the Bogong High Plains.

by Andrej Vodstrčil

2013

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Aboriginal Name - Bogong comes from the Yiatmathong language

Mount Bogong is ages away. We spent 6 hours driving and maybe 2 hours getting pies, vacuum-packed curries and petrol before reaching the Mountain Creek trailhead for Mount Bogong, just outside of Tawonga.

At 1986 metres above sea level, Mount Bogong is Victoria’s highest peak. It used to be the summer spot for indigenous clans from all around the Victorian high country down to the Murray River. Each year, the groups would come together for big corroborees at the base of the mountain, settle disputes, sort out partnerships, do some trade and get permission from the Yiamathong people to climb to the summit. They’d then all climb up together and camp just below the tree line, having Bogong moth feasts and waiting for the summer heat to pass.

We only had six packs of Maharajah’s Choice to feast on, so after a night with a campfire and a couple of tinnies at the Mountain Creek campgrounds, we set out for the Staircase Spur trail. This trail is about 8 kilometres. You follow the 4WD track that follows the creek through alpine ash, stringy barks and fern forests until you hit the path that turns sharply right and upwards into the bush.

This path leads through peppermint gums and brackeny undergrowth, up gruelling switchbacks and brutal clay steps. The track is tough; awaken your inner mongrel. Kes’s temporal arteries nearly erupted and I wondered if I could just turn around and lose it all over a game of two-up in the Tawonga RSL. Forget drop punting the whole bag of scroggin off the mountain and look at the views. The mountain ash, blue gums and scrubby undergrowth are interspersed with the towering skeletons from earlier bushfires. The ranges roll outwards forever. If the weather’s warm, the whole forest has that hot eucalypt smell and you can see skinks underfoot.

Halfway up, there’s a spot called Bivouac Hut in amongst the blue gums. There’s a drop dunny there, as well as a small hut with emergency fire supplies and an echoey dry water tank. The next water source is beyond the summit at Cleve Cole Hut, so bring at least 2 litres if you’re just doing a summit day hike.

The trail changes here, from dense acacia trees to open grasslands and granite boulders. The path is marked by ski-trail posts. Some of them are timber and others are made of steel indented with holes so they hum in the high alpine winds, helping skiers to navigate through whiteouts. There’s a memorial cairn here, too.

In 1943, two men and a woman were hiking over the exposed peak plateau of Mount Bogong, squinting through the fog for the old Summit Hut as the weather whitened. Having long ditched their skis, they stumbled over alpine shrubs and cold, slippery rocks, the only constellations in a vast colourless plain. Exhausted, the two guys collapsed together and passed a flask of brandy between themselves until their bodies went cold. The woman continued on, frantic with hypothermia, until she slipped on a sheet of ice and fell down a ravine to her death. The path to the summit is just a bit further over the ridge.

Standing at the summit cairn, it’s hard to believe you’re on top of the tallest mountain in the Victorian Alps – Mount Beauty, Feathertop, Buller and Buffalo seem like they’re eye to eye. It took us about 5 hours to get here and you can turn around and walk straight down again via the same route or the Eskdale Spur that forks off from the summit ridge. If you want to stay overnight, continue 3 kilometres east to the sheltered Camp Valley.

Walk across the bald summit ridge over blue alpine grasses and heathland. There were lots of alpine everlastings in flower, papery yellow daisies. Steep drops on either side give way to the ridges of surrounding ranges, with Falls Creek just ahead. A treeline of snowgums marks the descent from the ridge and from here a path leads to Cleve Cole Hut and a campground with running spring water, a shower and drop toilets.

The Cleve Cole Memorial Hut is a stone lodge with bunks and foam mattresses. Read the rules as stated by Bogong Jack. Set up camp a little further up from the hut to see the best sunset and sunrise, and if you still have daylight, walk about 20 minutes down the valley to the east of the creek to Howman’s Falls. There’s a couple of swimming holes here and a waterfall that drops off so steeply ahead you can’t see it. The trail here connects with the Australian Alps Walking Track.

In the morning, we walked down in about half the time. We discussed animal totems. Kes: mountain goat. Phil: crow. Me: some kind of ratty and anxious marsupial. Maybe a pademelon or potoroo.
We took a different route called Tree Fern Walk from the bottom of Staircase Spur back to Mountain Creek campground. There’s a network of short paths here, like Black Cockatoo Walk and Peppermint Walk, but we were too bushed and it’d been days since we’d had a pie.

by Pip Jones

peejphotes.tumblr.com

2015

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Known Aboriginal Name - Wamoon, Woomom or Yirik used by the Gunai community a part of the broader Koori nation

We warmed up to some wombats for Patagonia (Australia & New Zealand) down at Wilson’s Promontory.

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Known Aboriginal Name - Wamoon, Woomom or Yirik used by the Gunai community a part of the broader Koori nation

Telegraph Saddle to Sealers Cove & Refuge Cove:

Every year we head off to hike through Wilsons Prom, this year going via Refuge Cove and Little Waterloo Bay. We up the anti on what kind of food we should bring. This year included, Egg McMuffins, Apple Pie, Fresh Lamb and a variety of treats, Chocolate Bars, donuts and cans of Coke. It makes the whole trip a lot more fun and rewarding when you can see what you can get away with in terms of non traditional camping food.

There are some really spectacular views all the way around the coast. The best part is when you get to Little Waterloo after a couple of days and the weather turns on. This year we were lucky to have a 40 degree day, which doesn’t stop the water from being cold as you are so far south but it does mean swimming all day in crystal blue water. I’m always on the look out for snakes and other native creatures. Not only to be careful of them but they always make a good photo.

Make sure you check the tide at Sealers Cove as you have to cross the river, if it’s high you’ll have to strip down and carry your pack over your head. This isn’t fun if your pack is full.

Think about how much water you are going to take in and how much water you are going to treat when you get there as well as a couple of essentials like wet wipes and insect repellent.

by Ben Clement

2014

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Known Aboriginal Name - Wamoon, Woomom or Yirik used by the Gunai community a part of the broader Koori nation

The Lighthouse walk September:

Wilson Promontory National Park is a large national park south-east of Melbourne in an region called South Gippsland. The park is full of many great walks it would take a week to do them all with a good mix of overnighter and day walks.

The lighthouse which is the southern most point of Victoria, can be reached in a couple different ways that make it a single night or a multi-day walk. With 9kgs of food, water and whiskey strapped to our backs, we set out on the 24km walk to the lighthouse from Tidal river. Walking along the shore of Little Oberon Bay you can see the massive amount of damage caused by the previous years storm and the mudslides that followed. The beach was covered with car-size boulders dislodged from the hillside by the heavy rain. The storm also caused the airlift evacuation of a school group on a walk in the park.

Once you head inland the scenery changes constantly; from open scrub land to beach side forest. Finally after passing a girl with heals rubbed raw from poor choice of footwear and a year 9 school group of about 30 screaming kids headed for the same destination as us we saw the lighthouse perched on top of a giant boulder in the ocean (luckily we didn’t have to bunk in with the school group). It seems to always be the way that the final kilometer is the worst, but dropping that backpack on the doorstep of an 1890's cottage that's home for the night and waking up to seals frolicking the bay at the bottom of the cliff side make it so worth it. However it wasn’t until we arrived at the lighthouse that we realised that 2 hours had been added to our walk by leaving from Tidal River.

This walk is close to a 40km round trip (the way we went) and will probably take about 16 hours walking return. Although long, it is well worth the effort for the scenery and accommodation. For $80 per night you can stay in the old cottages at the lighthouse fully equipped with kitchen, bedding and hot showers (which we did for 2 nights) but... if on a budget you can camp at certain locations along the trail and in the lighthouse grounds.

After two nights of relaxing around the lighthouse, and taking too many photos of rocks, we headed back to Tidal River. You don’t have to go back the same way you came, there is a more scenic route along the eastern coast of Wilsons Prom with picturesque swimming locations such as Little Waterloo bay. Wet in winter and hot in summer so precautions are needed, but it’s a popular route so you’ll never be far from somebody if you need a hand.

by Max Blackmore

noscribbles.com

naturaltombstone.tumblr.com

2013

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Aboriginal Name - Unknown

To the Razorback from Sugarloaf Saddle:

The Cathedral Range is a large ridge jutting out of the little river valley, situated 1 hour and 50 minutes north east of Melbourne and is pretty easy to get there from the inner city. It’s a nice drive through wineries and Healsville especially in the frosty early winter mornings,

The most fun way to begin the walk is at the Sugarloaf Saddle Carpark at the southern end of the ridge, mostly because of the exhilarating climb at the start. Heading up to the Sugarloaf peak via the Canyon Track you are met with a steep half an hour scramble, which at some points give you the shakiest of knees but is a bit of an adrenaline boost. Once you complete the climb and reach the highest point of the Sugarloaf peak you get to take in the ridiculous view of the surrounding valleys and farms, It’s also your first chance to see the full 7km (ish) length of the Razorback ridge which you have to scramble across.

After the occasionally difficult hour long trek across the Razorback you find yourself in an open field and campground called the Farmyard. It’s pretty much the most perfect mid hike campsite sheltered by bushes and soft grass everywhere. This point gives you an option though (if you’re prepared for a overnighter), whether to start the trip back or pitch your tent and spend the next day exploring the Cathedral peak and Ned’s Gully. If you keep it a day trip, you head down a steep track from the Farmyard through a gully back to the main road.

The last part of this walk is a pretty much the lamest couple of hours along a road all the way back to your car, which on a hot day you’d want to have lots of water and sunscreen. If you’re lucky like us you can flag down a passing posse of four wheel drive enthusiasts and get a lift back up to the Sugarloaf saddle.

by Max Blackmore

noscribbles.com

naturaltombstone.tumblr.com

2014

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.

Traditional Custodians: Kurung-jung-balluk and the Mapeang-balluk clans

Not like you may assume Werribee Gorge is an hour north west of Melbourne and not actually near the foul smelling city of sewerage bearing the same name. Also unlike it’s stanky associate Werribee Gorge is picturesque and brimming with natural beauty.

The main circuit (werribee gorge circuit) is a tidy 10km loop that takes you down, into and through the gorge. A few light scrambles and a cool change as you follow the creek, just watch out for the occasional jogger steaming passed.

I had seen some photos of what looked like quite a kind of intense rock face scale where you clung onto a steel cable bolted into the rock. When faced with this obstacle, in reality it is far less impressive even toddlers were hopping around it. I say less impressive but it was still entertaining and provides a good jump platform into the creek if its a particularly hot day.

All in all if you want to escape the smog its worth spending a few hours out this way.

By Max Blackmore

2016

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of the Kurung-jung-balluk and the Mapeang-balluk clans and urges you to please do the same.

Known Aboriginal Name - Gariwerd

Kalymna Falls campground sits next to Mount William Creek, which runs clear and crisp over a bed of stones. It is a free campground with only five sites so it’s nice and quiet. Keep your eyes out for the resident black wallaby that can be seen pottering about, and keep your food in the car.

On a clear day there are lovely views above the trees of the rocky escarpment of Major Mitchell Plateau. From the campground the track to the top of the plateau begins as a wide 4WD track that takes you upstream, past Kalymna Falls, which you can check out by following a short path off the road.

As you continue along the road the incline gets steadily steeper and eventually the road turns into a narrow foot track through fern filled undergrowth. Below your feet you’ll find mossy clusters and mushrooms of various kinds, and above your head you’ll see the blackened trunks of eucalypts supporting armfuls of foliage. Once you reach Boundary Gap you are 3.6km from the campground and from there you’ll need both hands and feet to complete the last kilometre or so to the top of the plateau. That last part takes you over and through a pile of boulders. Find your way to the top by following the arrows. My sources tell me that the view from the top is pretty beautiful, if you can see it, and if you can’t, looking out onto a white abyss is pretty cool too.

If you’re more organised and have a bit more time there is a three-day hike that you can do all the way up and over Major Mitchell Plateau. Alternatively you can spend the night on top of the plateau and come back down the same way. There’s a nice campsite at the top, just make sure you bring warm clothes!

by Rachel Mclaren

2015

rachelmclarenphotography.com
thosewanderingdays.com

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of The Grampians/Gariwerd area and urges you to please do the same.

Aboriginal Name for Mt Baw Baw - In the Woiwurrung language it is thought to have been called bo-ye (ghost) or bo-bo

Mt Erica track

Whenever it’s winter, I’m always itching to get outside and to get amongst nature. I always feel at odds with the ‘synthetic’ way we live in winter and I often think that our winter blues are a direct result of being detached from the environment.

Mt Erica is the perfect little hike for winter. It’s in the Baw Baw National Park, only a couple of hours away from Melbourne, and stuck at the bottom of the Alpine region in the Latrobe Valley. When I went, my boyfriend and I decided to stay for a couple of days in a log cabin in the little town of Walhalla.

The Mt Erica walking track makes up part of the Australian Alps Walking track. If you continue for 650 kilometers, it will take you all the way to Canberra. But if you haven’t got as much time as that, you could just hike to the top of Mt Erica.

To start, you need to get to the Mt Erica car park. It’s clearly signposted off the Thompson Valley Road, so it’s not hard to find. The hike will probably take you half a day to a day. Although it’s not a long trek it’s quite a steep walk so it does take a while.

The foot track climbs steadily through mountain ash forest. It’s pretty amazing, because as you climb in altitude, the vegetation dramatically changes around you – from snow gum forest, to myrtle beach to the mountain ash forest and fern valleys. If you move slowly, you might even see a Baw Baw frog.

About one kilometer in, you begin to see the Mushroom Rocks – huge rounded granite boulders which have been shaped into mushrooms. These mushies were created by a past earthquake and then shaped by the weather over time. The Mushroom Rocks are like an adventure playground – so beautiful to look at, but also tactile for jumping and sitting on.

If you keep following the track, which is a really steep climb, snow will appear. The snow got heavier as we kept walking, but there were also patches on the track with no snow. If you’re going to do the hike in mid winter, make sure you have proper footwear; otherwise your feet will get wrecked.

The best thing about this hike is that there is no one else around. We didn’t see anyone else at all. It’s nice to know, in a world that’s never quiet; you can be completely without distractions.

The top of Mt Erica is pretty beautiful, particularly seeing the tops of trees and the farms below. When I got there, I couldn’t help but think how humans are meant to live in the world of nature, being part of something so much bigger than ourselves.

Coming down from Mt Erica was a rush. As the walk up was so steep, running down felt like you were flying. You should probably slow down when there is snow, though, so you don’t face plant into the earth. Humans aren’t supposed to be that close to nature.

Claire Feain

June 2015

clairefeain.tumblr.com

LFRF acknowledges all the Traditional Owners of the land [or country]  and pay our respects to the Elders, past and present of all of Victoria and urges you to please do the same.