Journal:
I wanted to
stay in bed, where it was warm and cosy, but forced
myself to get up at 6:30am. It was cold and
ice had formed on the tent and parts of my sleeping
bag. I quickly took down the tent and strung
it and the sleeping bag over a washing line I had
set up in the hope that whatever breeze there was
and the first rays of sunshine, when they appeared,
would hasten the drying process.
At 8:30am after breakfast and packing most of my
gear I
gave up on
the sun and set out still wearing some warm gear.
Despite the cold it was another beautiful morning
and the early trail was level and followed along the
edges of the Micalong Swamp, the largest montane
swamp in mainland Australia (according to the
guidebook). The Micalong Creek that I had been
hiking up yesterday was fed by the swamp which was
really on the top of a plateau. It was very
peaceful and there were few signs of life looking
across the vast swamp. The final section was
crossed via a long boardwalk before my route began
following an old disused fire trail gradually
climbing through pretty eucalypt forest and then
along a broad ridge leading westwards. I had
some feeble mobile phone coverage for the first time
in two days and, just as the trail began to descend
from the ridge, I decided to use the phone reception
to post my diary from two days ago. The link
was flakey and it took longer than I had hoped and I
decided to just update one day before continuing
along the beautiful single-track down off the
mountain.
As the trail dropped, I could occasionally
smell some smoke, though couldn't see any, and
decided someone was burning off somewhere to the
west. Lower down the mountain, the trail began
to emerge from the wilderness and I encountered a
couple of grassy clearings and deciduous trees,
tell-tale signs of earlier settlement. There
were also more blackberries bordering the track, a
common occurrence the last few days, and every now
and then my forearms would catch a branch and bleed.
It's easy to see that parts of this trail could
quickly get overgrown if left untended for a season
or two.
I reached a large grassy area with the remains of
some corrugated iron buildings
around
mid-afternoon and stopped for a break and made an
entry in the log book located there. Soon
after I began walking again, along what was now an
old disused farm trail, I heard a vehicle
approaching and round a corner ahead of me came a
quad bike piloted by a guy who looked about
seventeen with a younger guy on the back (neither
wearing helmets) using a sort of kerosene lighter to
set fire to the undergrowth as they went. They
stopped and I queried what they were doing and they
said it was a National Parks controlled burn (to
remove flammable undergrowth in the off-season).
The driver said he thought I would be OK to continue
on as the bush was a bit damp and the fire wasn't
burning fiercely. Even standing talking to
them I could feel the heat from the flames and the
hairs on my arms singeing. I continued on with
the fire bordering the track to my left and then
hurried through a gap to where the fire line was now
burning on my right and blowing towards me. I
hurried on and, in another few hundred
metres, the fire was well behind and all was OK, or
so I thought. A kilometre further on the trail
began descending down a steep slope and I could see
smoke through the trees ahead. Soon I
encountered fire on both sides of the trail and
began to get a little concerned. The smoke
made it difficult to see and the roar and crackling
of the fire was all around and unnerving. I could tell
the next hundred metres was either on fire or
smouldering, but not what was further along. I retreated 50 metres, took off
my pack, and then ran down the track past the flames
and into the smoke to see how far I had to travel to
cross the burning area (prepared to reverse
direction quickly if it looked bad). It was about 100
metres to clear trail, so I ran back, retrieved my pack and then
ran through. Unfortunately, I found the track
was now zig-zagging down the steep burning slope and I had to keep
crossing back through smouldering trail (is it
burning the soles off my new boots?) past some
trees, logs and bushes still burning fiercely. One
patch of blackberries was roaring like an inferno
and generating a lot of heat.
Finally I descended below the fire, wondering about
the wisdom of organising a controlled burn across a
well-known trail on a sunny Sunday afternoon with no
apparent warning signs.
The last part of the afternoon involved
climbing over the shoulder of a sizable mountain and
then descending to the campsite at Thomas Boyd
Trackhead. As I approached Trackhead, I used
my GPS to locate the drum of food I had secreted
there two weeks ago and lugged it into the campsite.
Almost at the same time, John, a Ranger, arrived by car and introduced himself.
He works with Warwick Hull, who manages the Hume &
Hovell Track and Warwick had asked him to check to
see if I had arrived. We had a pleasant chat
before John and some picnickers left and I had the
very well appointed campsite to myself. There
is hot water and I had a lovely wash, and there are
lights in the shelters. I've decided to sleep
in the shelter tonight as there's the possibility of
rain and it makes departing faster in the morning.
I typed up my diary while enjoying some corn chips
and Diet Coke from my food drum. I'm thinking
about hitch-hiking the 10km into Tumut tomorrow
afternoon when my trail crosses the Snowy Mountains
Hwy and staying there tomorrow night. It will
give me a chance to recharge my phone and laptop and
buy some extra gas and batteries I think I may need.