With Eve Lamb

Coliban Water Channel Walk, 9km section.

There’s some beautiful country up around Sutton Grange and Mount Alexander (Leanganyuk) and today we’re going to sample a handsome piece of it.

After driving to the designated meeting spot, my sturdy walking accomplice, Paddy H, and I join the Great Dividing Trail Association walkers for a 9km hike along a section of the Coliban Water Channel. This is a concrete structural fete that would almost certainly verbally activate even the most reticent of civil construction engineers.

First up we leave some of our cars at our meeting spot on the Harcourt-Sutton Grange Road – which will ultimately become our finishing point for today’s walk.

We now car pool, and ferry some the cars a few ks to the actual start point of today’s walk at Earls Grate, an important Channel structure used for catching and clearing debris and potential contamination, located off the Faraday-Sutton Grange Road, just a tad east of the Mica Grange Garden and sculpture park.

The walk ahead is fairly flat with a rise and fall of 225m and is being led by two GDTA stalwarts Mick Evans and Ed Butler who begins by telling us a bit about the historic, but still used, Coliban Water Channel itself. 

The Channel was built in the nineteenth century to meet the water needs of Bendigo, a city rich in gold but very poor in water. Designed by J M Brady and completed in its first stage in 1877, it had the Malmsbury Reservoir as its water source.

Ed tells us that all up it’s a 70km walk with many original bluestone structures along the way. It’s been expanded over the intervening 150 years and still serves a major water need, but today it’s pretty much bone dry.

We set off,  contouring around the eastern flank of Leanganyuk (Mount Alexander) and the sprawling, undulating landscape is impressive with its granite outcrops.

“So, 70 km all up,” I muse aloud to Paddy H as we stride along with the group as it strings out along the Channel path.

“What!?” Paddy H’s face is ashen and I realise he didn’t quite catch the detail of Ed’s informative talk just before we set off from Earl’s Grate.

“That’s the total distance the Channel walk covers, not what we’re walking today,” I soothe. “It’s just 9km today.”

Relief issues across my walking accomplice’s sun-tanned features.

“It’s a pretty impressive engineering fete,” I say.

“How can you tell an engineer is extroverted?” my walking companion asks.

“I don’t know.”

“He’s the one looking at your shoes when he talks to you!”

In the months since we’ve been joining the GDTA for some of its scheduled walks I’ve discovered that the easy, companionable, and frequently informative chit-chat is a pleasant aspect of participating in their program.

Today’s walkers have travelled from locations including Daylesford, Ballarat, Castlemaine and Clunes.

“Did you do a test run for this walk?” I ask one of today’s leaders, Mick Evans, as we stroll along.

“Yes,” says Mick. “We’re a pretty relaxed group but we always do a reconnaisance visit before we lead a walk.”

A bit further along I chat to a retired nurse who tells me a bit about her former demanding work and her current work running a couple of B&Bs, before we move onto food and cooking.

Further on, a walker from Leonards Hill and I talk birds. She tells me about peregrine falcons roosting in the city as I spot a wedge tail eagle gliding about Leanganook’s sunny outcrops.

The views across the plains, although in dire need of rain, are fairly magnificent and at about the half-way mark we all pull up for lunch at Byrnes Tunnel, blasted through granite as part of the water course.

It’s a decent stop for lunch, and everyone kicks back for a while and relaxes before we cover the last few ks, admiring bushland and a young olive grove along the way, to finally finish at our initial car plant site.

“Great spot and I never would have seen it if we hadn’t done this GDTA walk,” Paddy H announces as GDTA members, well satisfied with today’s leisurely adventure, disperse issuing farewells and reminders that there’s some good walks coming up on the program ahead.

Words, Video and Images: Eve Lamb

with Eve Lamb

Muckleford Heritage Walk. 10.5km. Muckleford Nature Conservation Reserve.

Today my trusty walk companion, Paddy H, and I are joining the Great Dividing Trail Association walkers to tackle the 10.5km Muckleford Heritage Walk.

Drawn to its handy ongoing program of led walks, I joined the Association last year. Today, GDTA member and experienced bushwalker, John Lewis will be our walk leader. But members with different specialisations and areas of interest lead different walks that are offered on the GDTA regular events program throughout the year.

At 9.30am, a total 24 walkers – most of them GDTA members plus a small handful of non-member guests – rendezvous at the Red, White and Blue mine site in the Muckleford Nature Conservation Reserve.

The historic mine is worth a look. It features an intact poppet head, a mine shaft, machinery site, mullock heap and dams. The poppet head was originally from the Bendigo Deborah United Mine.

After general chitchat, participant tick-off, a brief introductory talk by our walk leader, and lending Paddy H the requisite $10 (guest insurance and registration fee) that he forgot to bring, we shoulder day packs, apply walking poles and set out.

The time is roughly 9.45am, the sky, blue and fair. But the multiple tannin-coloured puddles strewn about the bush track testify to the recent sorely-needed rainfall that has briefly blessed this parched place.

As we start to cover ground the group strings out along Bells Lane Track. Yet with the walk leader up front and two designated “walk whips” leading up the rear and keeping an eye out for any stragglers forced to heed the call of nature, it consistently remains connected, wending like a colourful serpent through the sun-splashed box-ironbark forest.

We stroll along in easy conversation, walking companions and topics of chit-chat changing up along the way.

There are 3.5 hours generously allocated to cover this 10.5 loop that meanders through the forest and takes in three mine sites: the Red, White and Blue Mine, Frenchmans Reef, and Dunns Reef.

The GDTA walk description we’d received via email as part of registering for this ramble informs that:

Muckleford Forest is an ancient landscape occupied, for tens of thousands of years, by the Dja Dja Wurrung. Then Major Mitchell passed through the area in 1836, and pastoralists soon followed, to squat and establish sheep runs on the grasslands.

Following the discovery of gold at the foot of Mt Tarrengower in 1853, miners spread through the region in pursuit of gold, and the scars of early mining are evident throughout the forest.

“It’s called Tough Guys Book Club and there are two overarching rules. Don’t talk about work and don’t be a Dickhead…” I can hear Paddy H, from somewhere along the track, relishing a captive opportunity to recruit new members for his beloved book club.

I find myself chatting away to long-time GDTA members, like president Tim Bach, who tells me about some appealing walks coming up on the agenda ahead, about walk publications the GDTA has produced already, and more that are in the works.

Other members tell me about fav walks they’ve done, the wealth of knowledge held by fellow members whose personal areas of expertise traverse geology, history and ecology.

Others share esoteric walkers know-how, like how much to expect to pay for a pair of quality walking poles, plus pole pitfalls to avoid at the point of purchase.

Much of John’s introductory talk focused on the area’s considerable mining history. We swing right and take a very gentle climb to stop for morning tea atop the quartzy outcrop that is Frenchmans Reef. The conversation again swings round to the shiny yellow stuff as 24 backsides are planted on or against various natural bushland features while thermoses are dug from daypacks.

“Is this lunch or morning tea?” one walker wonders

“Morning tea. Lunch is later,” someone says… And we’re soon moving again, stopping along the way to check out points of interest that include:

• An iron grill-protected mining tunnel through rock in the middle of the bush
• various ferrous pebble deposits where, particularly following rainfall, gold is apparently far more likely to congregate.
• the sweetly dappled day-bed of a wallaby
• A tiny pond full of frisky frogcall.

More than 300 plant and 50 bird species are reported from the Reserve, according to the GDTA walk description for today’s loop that’s rated “easy” as it only involves an overall elevation gain of less than 200m.

And a fair bit of this cameo incline occurs as the group gambols up the gravelly girth of Dunns Reef where we stop for lunch admiring a view across to Maldon and Mount Tarrengower to the north west.

From here we take the Red, White and Blue Track to complete the loop and arrive back at the Red, White, and Blue mine site with GDTA members already looking forward to their next outing planned for May – the 10.5km Coliban Water Channel Walk.

With Eve Lamb

My sturdy walking companion, Paddy H, and I had been planning to complete Daylesford’s famed 15km Three Lost Children Walk for this series, having trekked the first half for the last installment.

However, with weekend temperatures nudging 40 degrees we decided to delay until the arrival of kinder bush-walking weather. Instead, a leisurely mid-week sampler of the following fairly special new short stroll seemed just the thing. 

Since launching a couple of months ago, Trentham’s new self-guided walk honouring the life of Dr Gweneth Wisewould has been proving a real winner – much like the good doctor herself. 

Featuring an informative brochure, the self guided tour takes walkers around numerous Trentham township sites that were of central significance in the life of the much loved local medic (1884-1972). 

The new Gweneth Wisewould Walk brochure has been developed by the Hepburn Shire Council, drawing on detailed information that the Trentham & District Historical Society compiled a couple of years ago to mark the 50th anniversary of Dr Gwen’s January 1972 death. 

The walk brochures are now available at both Daylesford’s and Trentham’s information centres. So armed with our copy, as the mercury climbs to 32 degrees, we set out to follow it to the letter, starting at No 15 Market Street, the site of the good doctor’s surgery from 1938 to 1954. 

Along the way we are joined by Trentham & District Historical Society treasurer Nat Poole. The walk covers an easy distance of about 3.5 km all up and includes sites like Dr Gwen’s old surgeries in both Market and High Streets, the former butcher shop (now a cafe) where she used to store her perishable drugs in the cool room before reliable refrigeration arrived in the town, and the town’s former bush hospital site where she performed surgery and delivered a whole generation of Trentham babies. 

For those who haven’t yet had the pleasure of reading Dr Gwen’s biography by Ian Braybrook, or her own (at times hair-raising) autobiographical work, Dr Gwen arrived in Trentham late one rainy evening in 1938, steam erupting from the overheated radiator of her ancient Plymouth.

She would spend the next 34 years supporting the most vulnerable and sick in the Trentham district – and becoming much loved by the community in the process. 

She hailed from a wealthy Melbourne family and had recently left her role as a leading surgeon at the Queen Victoria Hospital (now closed). 

Together with her devoted housekeeper and companion Ella Miller Bell (Ellabelle) and their two dachshunds, Dr Gwen arrived in the Central Highlands seeking a new start – and what a new start it would prove to be. 

Her training and superb surgical skills saved many an injured local and those seeking treatment for all manner of incidents, mishaps and conditions, at the Trentham Bush Hospital. 

Dressed in her trademark boots and greatcoat, Dr Gwen often worked tirelessly through the night to attend to patients, driving all hours on muddy tracks in a variety of vehicles including her old Dodge truck – she was also known to ride a motorcycle. She was never known to refuse a request for help. 

The walk also takes in many more points of interest from her life including St Chads at 69 High Street, one of Trentham’s oldest residences which became Dr Gwen’s home after her prior Trentham residence was lost to fire. 

The walk brochure records that: “It (No 69) was built for Donald McPherson and later given by then owner Patrick Murphy to the Catholic Church and enlarged for use as a convent.

Following the loss of Westacres, Dr Gwen’s beloved earlier Trentham home of 20 years (in a 1965 house fire) St Chads was the house that the people of Trentham quietly cleaned and thoughtfully filled with new household goods as a surprise for the town doctor on her move-in day.” 

Especially noting the contributions of historical society member, Sue Worthington who is currently overseas, Nat says the walk is a great way for people to learn about this larger-than-life character whose community involvement also extended to plenty of lively civic activities as well. 

“I think everybody should know about her,” Nat says. “She was a pretty amazing woman. If you mention the name Dr Gwen, even today, people just start telling you stuff.” 

But Nat reckons that if Dr Gwen was to look down from somewhere lofty above today she’d be a bit “flabbergasted” to see herself honoured in such a way. 

“She was one of those people who just gave and gave and gave and never expected anything in return.” 

Paddy H and I continue on to complete the walk, including the final resting place of Dr Gwen, a peaceful grave-site at the town’s cemetery. At rest also in the same plot are Ellabelle and Dr Gwen’s foster sister Dorothy Bethune. 

As the walk brochure notes: “All three graves face west to capture Trentham’s gorgeous bush sunsets.” 

with Eve Lamb

The Three Lost Children Walk. Daylesford-Musk Creek 15 km (Part A)

The first day of 2025 dawns sunny and mild, temperature in the mid-20s with a promise to reach no more than 28 degrees. Ideal bushwalking. Too good to pass up.

I check in with my trusty walking companion, Paddy H, and we decide it’s more than time to tackle the famed Three Lost Children Walk. This bushland walk covers 15 km starting in Daylesford, taking in part of Hepburn Regional Park and part of the Wombat State Forest. It ends at Wombat Creek Picnic Area near Musk.

It commemorates the tragic tale from Daylesford’s gold-rush era when three small boys (William Graham,6, his brother Thomas, 4, and Alfred Burman, 5) wandered away from their homes in Daylesford on June 30, 1867.

Sadly, despite a massive search after it became clear they were missing, they were not found alive. No trace was found until September 13, 1867 when a dog came home to Wheelers Hill, 10 km south-east of Daylesford, carrying a small boot that reportedly contained a small foot.

The following day the children’s little bodies were finally found. Two of them in a hollow tree and the other close by. The Three Lost Children Walk follows the approximate route the poor little fellas walked.

You can’t really write a bushwalking series centred in the Central Highlands and not include this walk, with its tragic tale tracing the doomed trek of these three intrepid  little tackers.

You can pick up a good guide description of the walk, complete with map, from the Daylesford Visitor Info centre. I’ve been holding onto my copy for all of 2024.  I’m also equipped with my good old copy of ‘Walks, Tracks & Trails of Victoria’ (by Derrick Stone) which includes this walk, while Paddy H has the relevant one of his many beloved topographical maps.

To get 2025 off and striding, we’re going to tackle roughly half the walk. We’ll come back again, another day, and complete the entire walk for this series. Today, first up we plant my car at our designated stop point of Hogans Lane, Musk Vale, and then drive Paddy H’s car  to the walk start point.

The start point is the cairn in the Lost Children Reserve at the junction of Central Springs Road and the Midland Highway. We set out from the top corner of the Reserve, heading south along Table Hill Road then straight ahead down Forest View Lane.

The track becomes a sharp descent and we notice the dedicated Lost Children Walk trail markers.  These feature a little stylized emblem representing the three small unfortunate adventurers.

We cross a footbridge over the Wombat Creek. A jogger, impatient in his bright tangerine running shoes, rushes past and tackles the rugged short flight of steps that we also must take, upwards, on the other side.

It’s pretty straightforward going now, just carefully following the walk guide description, maps, and dedicated trail markers. But just ahead, a point of potential confusion arises when, wending our way toward Sailors Creek, we reach a bush-land point where a medley of different  dirt tracks interconnect and ping off in multiple different directions.

The trick is simply to keep calm and continue,  basically following the path you’re already on as the gully naturally slopes down toward Sailors Creek. We reach the creek and turn sharp left as soon as we cross it, then remain on a very short little section of the trail for about 200 metres as it curves around to connect with Black Jack Track.

Here we turn left onto Black Jack Track which we will now follow for a couple of ks through Hepburn Regional Park.

The eucalypt bushland is tall and deliciously fragrant. I breathe in its spicy, inimitable  aroma and then notice that someone has painted the word ‘Bees’ and an arrow pointing up, in yellow paint on a tree trunk to our left.

“Is it because we’re s’pose to be concerned we’re going to get stung  … or to enjoy them?” wonders Paddy H who maintains a couple of backyard bee hives.

The bushland is beautiful but also fairly rugged going, and you’ve really got to admire – and wonder at – how those three small gold-rush era trekkers and their little legs ever managed to get such a distance.

Peering  down at my own boots moving along on the track I see that two-legged pedestrians are not the only ones who’ve been navigating this path. There are horse hoof prints here too, etched in the sandy surface.

A bit further on, the source becomes evident when Paddy H spots, not a horse and rider, but …

“Look it’s a horse and sulky,” he says.

“What?”

Within seconds we’re meeting Glenn Conroy, a noted local harness racehorse trainer who trains in partnership with his sister, Anne-Maree Conroy.

 “I use the bush lane every day,” Glenn says as the handsome bay horse in harness, takes a bushland breather.

“You must see some interesting things,” I venture.

 “Yes. I see lots of people doing all sorts of things, walking, jogging, prospecting…” Glenn says, maintaining a steady grip on the harness reins as the powerful bay shifts about a bit.

“What’s your horse’s name?”

“When he’s in the stable he’s known as Smith, but he’s also more officially known as I’maboganboy,” chuckles Glenn.

The attractive bay seems fairly civilized for a bogan,  I think. But we don’t want to delay them any further and in the whisk of a tail they’re off again heading further along the track.

Up ahead, the track climbs a gentle rise and here we encounter three bushwalkers, a middle-aged woman, older teenage boy and a teenage girl, whose serious-sized backpacks all lay heavily on the ground as their owners take a break.

Paddy H gets chatting and as a result we soon discover that they are: A. from Melbourne. B. plan to camp, and C. don’t know that the track we’re all on is part of the Three Lost Children Walk, or the story behind the name.

As Paddy H takes it upon himself to give them a brief tragic history lesson, I re-read the description for this section of the trail and see that up ahead we’ll soon, again, cross Sailors Creek.

By the time we’ve put a good bit more trail under our boot tread, crossed the creek and pushed hard up a gnarly little hill, admiring a gorgeous small pond on our left, to finally re-emerge from the bush in lifestyle-property-land at Hogans Lane, Musk Vale, we’re more than a tad happy to call it a day and sink into my awaiting car seats.

Is it the good life we’ve been living over the festive break catching up with us we wonder, as I simultaneously try not to get too upset thinking about those poor little lost chumpers. And I’m not even the clucky sort. Yet, later tonight when the lights go out, I will again find myself thinking of how terribly cold they would have been that frosty June long ago in the Central Highlands.

As we head for home we, by contrast, are sweating and looking forward to a summer salad dinner to round out our day on what has been a fairly ideal start to 2025.

Walk to be continued…

Looking back at the year that was, here are just a few snapshots from The Local’s continuing Walks of the Central Highlands Series featuring good walks of the region as tackled by journalist Eve Lamb in company with experienced local bushwalker Paddy H… and others.

with Eve Lamb

Clunes Original Homestead Creekside Walk.  Loop. Distance 4.5 km.

This is one of my fav Clunes walks. It’s a slight adaptation of a loop walk that appears in a newly released brochure detailing several choice walks and saunters in and around the Clunes township. More on that later.

For this 4.5km loop my trekking accomplice Paddy H and I start out in Collins Place (adjacent to The Clunes Warehouse). We turn left and head roughly north along the town’s main (Fraser) street, until we reach Templeton Street where we turn right (east) and walk straight toward the Creswick Creek.

Once we reach the creek we turn left and make our way toward the timber-decked footbridge, less than 100 metres on, that takes us over the creek.

After crossing the footbridge we turn left and follow the creekside walking path roughly due north for a short way before turning left into the bottom of Scenic Drive to cross over the creek ford.

Once across the ford we turn right and head roughly north alongside Blackmores Road, again following the creek to take in the Blackmores Road Park. With its magnificent old National Trust significant elm trees, established gums and old fashioned picnic tables this little creekside park is surely one of the most underrated around. It is the perfect place for a picnic or barbecue.

Paddy H and I opt for a coffee break and then walk on to the end of the Blackmores Road Park. Here, we make our way up onto Blackmores Road and continue heading north-ish along the road parallel to the creek that’s to our right.

After about half a kilometer, in a paddock to our right we see the weather-beaten sign that IDs the site of the town’s original homestead.

Scottish-born Donald Cameron, the original squatter, built his homestead in 1839. The Clunes Museum has a painting of the Cameron Homestead and the State Library of Victoria has a watercolour of the Station of Donald Cameron JP Esq done around 1844-1847 and available to view on Trove.

We continue on along Blackmores Road for another couple of hundred metres or so until just past the 40km advisory sign where Blackmores Road ends and sweeps up into Alfred Road. We instead turn right, taking a very short unmade track that leads down to a small steel footbridge to cross the creek.

I should mention here that we’ve seen quite a bit of wildlife at this point including a black kite, a black-shouldered kite, a family of grey fantails, and  I strongly suggest that when doing this walk in the warmer months you keep a watchful look out for snakes when moving alongside the creek.

Anyway, back to the bridge. It’s a great little lesser known reach of the creek here, meditative just to stand and take in the scene. Once across and on the other side of the creek, if you haven’t already tuned in properly, the landscape now commands attention with its undulations and sweeping wide sky vistas.

The track weaves through an impressive patch of native poa tussock grass, heading roughly due east before we turn right into Station Flat Road,  and begin heading along the creek back toward the township.

Clunes is a unique place (as you know) and one of the evocative things about it is the quirky Eternity sign to be spotted as you meander along Cattle Station Flat Road. There it is, painted in a kind of faded lemon yellow in a flowing yesteryear cursive script and afixed to a rusty gate that leads to … well eternity really.

I love this walk, too, for the landscape right here with its remnant mining mullock heaps plus palm tree. Makes you feel like you might be in Egypt or somewhere else fairly exotic… which of course, you are.

We continue along Station Flat Road, passing historic relics of the Port Phillip Gold Mine, until we again reconnect with the bottom of Scenic Drive. To neatly complete this walk you could either cross the ford again and  turn left to take in the far end of Fraser Street headed back to Collins Place. Or you could just keep ambling along creekside for a beautiful leafy end to the loop, back across the first footbridge.

This walk is very similar to the ‘Original Homestead Walk’ included in the new Clunes Town Walks brochure that was produced as a collaboration between Clunes Neighbourhood House, Creative Clunes and the Clunes Tourism and Development Association.

The new brochure details four good local ambles ranging from 1.5 km to 4.5km in length: the Clunes Creek Walk , Eighteen Miners Steps Walk, Gold Mines Walk and the Original Homestead Walk. It comes complete with historic insights, a handy map and QR codes giving extra info for each walk.

Clunes Neighbourhood House manager Lana de Kort says the Clunes Town Walks brochures can be picked up free of charge at various retail outlets throughout the town, and other outlets like the Neighbourhood House.

Words & Images: Eve Lamb

with Eve Lamb

Mount Greenock Geological Reserve summit and return

We’re “guinea pigs” today, joining the Great Dividing Trail Association on a walk led by Professor Barry Golding. It’s a kind of test run for a walk forming part of a fairly spesh little public tour series that Prof Golding  will lead in early December. More on that later.

The walk we’re tackling this fine Sunday is described on the GDTA website as focusing on a number of lesser known legacies associated with Mount Greenock volcanic crater in southern Dja Dja Wurrung Country.

These include a Deep Time perspective, Major Mitchell’s visit, deep lead mining and a history of licenced and unlicensed grazing on the present-day Mount Greenock Geological Reserve.

After we climb Mount Greenock we’ll also visit the  public Scenic Reserve across on neighbouring  Mount Glasgow before we head on to nearby Merin Merin wetlands reserve, steeped in Aboriginal heritage going back thousands of years, for a lunch stop.

It’ll be 5km walking and 20km car travel between sites all up but for the purposes of this article, I’ll focus on Mount Greenock.

The Mount Greenock Geological Reserve is located between Talbot and Clunes, accessible off the Marybrough Road, on the right  just past McCallum Creek as you head toward Maryborugh.

Paddy H and I roll through the gate of the public car park, entry to the 120 hectare  Mount Greenock Geological Reserve, fairly early for a Sunday, to rendezvous with members of the GDTA including Prof Golding.

Prof Golding is soon to launch a book featuring  six of the  notable peaks of this wider region, Mount Greenock included, and the notable legacies that surround them.

There’s 15 of us walking today and after a bit of obligatory chit-chat we set off. It’s only about one km up to the top. Not far, but a really punchy little walk to the summit that stands 385 metres  above sea level.

“There is no track. There is no right way up. Choose your path,” says Prof Golding,  a tad Buddhist- koan-like, as we move off as a group.

As we slowly gain elevation, Prof Golding stops to tell our walking party about the volcanic rock we’re now seeing strewn about, while also keeping a careful weather eye out for snakes at this time of year.

“Once you get up here you get basalt,” he says.

“And this is ropey lava with a flow structure,” he says, picking up a largish chunk. The basalt to be found here is so light it can just about float in your bath.

There’s scoria and  “tear shaped volcanic bombs” some containing the semi-precious gemstone olivine, ancient and dating back to the time of the volcanic activity that formed this landmark local peak “an estimated half a million years ago”.

“It’s quite young in geological terms,” Prof Golding says.

As we climb, the vista above is profoundly photographic, the sky huge.

Prof Golding talks about the importance of this place to the Indigenous people over many thousands of years, as all around us the view expands.

Below and beyond the grasslands stretch and sing.

“What you see now is what was here on contact,” Prof Golding says of the extinct  volcanic cone that is Mount Greenock itself. “Major Mitchell who climbed up here in 1836  described a bald green hill…”

“The rich grasslands were like a highway for the Aboriginal people. There were emus, kangaroos, wallabies, lots of small mammals.. There were silver banksia, bulloak, sheoak.

The grassland “highway” could be followed all the way to the coast at Portland, something  f which Major Thomas Mitchell also made good use, we learn.

About half way up, Mount Kooroocheang appears on the horizon and with each step we take toward the summit of Mount Greenock more volcanic hills and peaks can been seen all round.

“We’re high enough here at 385 metres to see back over the Divide to the south,” our guide says.

Here, at the top there’s a stone monument to Major Mitchell’s trek  in  1836. We stop and Prof Golding talks about the impacts on the Aboriginal Traditional Owners that followed the arrival of the  Europeans with their grazing ambitions in this area.

It’s not a happy history and is something that Professor Golding does not shy away from in his soon-to-be-launched new book, Six Peaks Speak: Unsettling legacies in southern Dja Dja Wurrung Country. He is also keen to highlight the rich Aboriginal legacies that remain in the landscape today.

In the days leading up to the book launch on December 11,  Prof Golding will lead a series of walks associated with the six peaks that act as focalisers in the book.

Mount Greenock is one of the six, and the walk we’re on today will be repeated for anyone keen to sample it at first hand. You can find out more and register to participate in the upcoming led walks through the  Great Dividing Trail Association website. Just go to ‘ Events’.

But now, we “guinea pigs” are finally standing  atop Mount Greenock. And the view is amazing – 360 degree of shimmering panorama. Peaks, volcanic grasslands and  hills.

“I suggest you download the PeakFinder app,” Prof Golding says. One of our party, a local teacher keen to  know more so as to share that knowledge with his students,  immediately does so  – for a cost of $8 apparently.

From where we now stand, we learn, there are 180 “visible” peaks – weather and treeline dependent – including Mount Buninyong and Mount Warrenheip way off near Ballarat, and even Mount Cole and Mount Warrenmang roughly to the west.

 It’s a view more than worth walking for. Be sure and pack a picnic.

Words & Images: Eve Lamb

With Eve Lamb

Macedon Ranges Walking Track: Sanatorium Lake to Camels Hump and Return, 9.5km

While researching possible walks in the Macedon Ranges, it’s the name that catches my eye; the Sanatorium Lake Walking Trail.

Sanatorium? … More on that later.

It forms part of the Macedon Ranges Walking Track (MRWT) and at a very leisurely 2.6 km, joins nicely with a lengthier hike up to the Camels Hump, the highest point in the Macedon Range, making a more respectable 9.5km return walk all up.

So lunch, thermos, waterproof coats, camera and backpacks sorted we head off on an almost sunny Sunday.

Traveling to the Macedon Regional Park via Woodend we start to gain elevation and encounter a phalanx of motorcyclists out to grind their pegs on the sharper Mount Macedon bends.

Turning left off the main road that continues through to leafy Macedon, we instead take the Lions Head Road and continue on past Days Picnic Ground, navigating gravel and a serious pothole or two to arrive finally at the Sanatorium Lake car park.

Nearby a group of folk are on bent knees, all turned to Mecca, for afternoon prayer.  

But for us, first up is the lake. From the car park it’s a quick little saunter to the tiny lake’s edge, beside which, towering exotic conifers are impressive while the native forest too presses in around the water’s edge.

Signage provides a potted history of this little artificial water body in the bush. The lake was built around 1899 to supply water to a tuberculosis sanatorium that was located several kilometers to the south.

Perhaps it’s the predominance of shade and shadow, or perhaps some lingering ghosts of history, but I find this little aquatic feature just a tad eerie, pretty rippling forest reflections notwithstanding.

We complete a lap of the little lake and then follow the Sanatorium Eco-Tourism Trail, part of the Macedon Ranges Walking Track, on to the Days Picnic Ground that we drove past on the way here.

“Keep an eye out for horses… and stags,” advises my sturdy walking accomplice, Paddy H.

“What?”

 “We’re on a shared horse path on this section, and ‘stags’ is a name given to the big old dead trees that have become hollowed. Invaluable for wildlife, micro bats and the like,” my walking companion informs.

Turns out his assertion is spot on, confirmed by information signage a bit further along the trail.

We soon part ways with the horsey section and arrive at the Days Picnic Ground for our packed lunch and coffee with free entertainment courtesy of a large Aussie-Indian group locked in fierce cricketing combat.

Fortified, we again shoulder our packs and pick up the signposted MRWT just beyond the picnic ground’s composting loo block.

From here the trail quickly leaves the picnicking day trippers behind and wends through bushland including some imposing stags.

Carefully, we cross the main road that leads to Macedon, and we continue on the other side following the trail. From here the forest increasingly comes into its own.

Splendid tall eucalyptus tower while on our left glimpses of ancient rock formations impart a sense of drama in keeping with the fact that the Camels Hump is actually the weathered remains of a mamelon – a mass of sticky lava that oozed from the earth’s crust about six million years ago.

The walk now becomes a gradual gaining of elevation and by the time we emerge from the tall forest at the Camels Hump car park my walking companion and I have both worked up a respectable sweat.

From the carpark we tackle the last 1km push up to the summit. Short but sharp. The Camels Hump is 1011 meters above sea level and we’re rewarded with sweeping views across the northern plains.

We count our lucky stars that the rain which has vaguely threatened all afternoon has receded to be replaced by cool sunlight that now adds dazzle to the far-flung vista stretching before us.

But the wind is bloody cold and boisterous and we can only stay here so long to pay our due respects.

Just before hypothermia sets in we head on back down and retrace our steps all the way back to the start point at the Sanatorium Lake carpark to find the previously prayerful have departed, and ours is the only vehicle that remains, aside from a lone motorcycle.

“What stays with you the most about this walk?” I quiz my co-walker as we drive on to Macedon, reflecting on our expedition.

“The tall forest. The poignancy of the Sanatorium and the suffering of the people who had TB.  And the resonance of past Melbourne glories when this area was a summer retreat for the wealthy, when the beach wasn’t so hallowed,” he muses thoughtfully.

And I have to agree. I also think this walk provides just the right degree of exertion and variety for a decent day hike. A gnarly little slice of elevation without leaving you too smashed to enjoy a trip to the Macedon Hotel for afters.

Words & Image: Eve Lamb

with Eve Lamb

Mount Beckworth summit via the old Feldspar Mine, Clunes, 5km loop    

We’ve walked to the famed lollipop tree on the summit of Mount Beckworth near Clunes many a time, but never before from the western flank of the little mount, via its old Feldspar Mine.     

So today’s the day. Our starting point is the Cork Oaks camping ground which means we’ll be setting out through the remarkable old plantation that’s part of Mt Beckworth Scenic Reserve and which we visited in a previous edition of this series.

This historic and rare plantation is always a treat, especially when it’s sunny and today, after the howling gales of late, it’s (poor pun alert) a corker.     

The Feldspar Track to the summit is signposted from the Cork Oaks camping ground, and it’s pretty easy to follow on and up toward the Beckworth zenith with its 1918-planted lollipop tree, a Monterey pine.     

As most longer-term locals around here will tell you, back in the 1940s during  WWII, the lollipop tree was used as a beacon for trainees from the RAAF No. 1 Wireless Air Gunners School based at Ballarat Airport.

These days the lollipop tree serves as a welcome home landmark for residents of these parts, its unique silhouette discernible from many miles across the rolling plains.

Today I notice with striking clarity that the upper ridges of Beckworth’s rocky, granitic skyline are really quite tremendous.

And it’s not long either, about 200 metres, before a striking little reminder of this area’s dramatic volcanic past appears  to our right as we follow the track, climbing gently upward.

“Baby Seal Rock,” muses my walking companion, Paddy H, spontaneously christening the feature as we pause to admire this large boulder sitting rather dramatically in the midst of a sea of sturdy bracken fern.     

“Ye–es. I guess it could be,” I marvel at my walking companion’s creative genius. And the rock in question does get the imagination ticking over the millennia that have given rise to these geological features.  

We climb on and it’s such a pleasure to be out here with a fantastic view opening up behind us to the west. After the rugged weather of late, today is very,  very still and when we stop and look back it’s a surprise to see that a fine little fog has settled across the landscape below us, despite the fair skies above.     

The elevation ahead becomes increasingly steep, demanding a bit more walking effort that’s quickly rewarded after a few hundred metres with the discovery of the old feldspar mine site.

There’s a small but distinct mullock heap, with rock strewn like scree, while other aspects of this mine site are obscured by herbaceous growth.     

“So what the hell is feldspar?” I hear you ask…

A Resources Victoria government website states: “Feldspars are aluminosilicate minerals containing varying amounts of potassium, sodium and calcium. They are the most abundant mineral group, constituting about 60 per cent of the Earth’s crust.

“The most common economic deposits of feldspars are in pegmatites (coarsely crystalline granites or other igneous rocks with crystals several centimetres in length).

“Feldspar is an important source of alumina in the glassmaking and the ceramics industries. It is used in glazes and enamels and is an important mineral filler in paints, plastics, sealants, and adhesives.”

Beyond the site of the old feldspar mine, which I later find referred to also as “the Mount Beckworth Mineral Occurrence”, we enter a sweet little patch of native forest with some superb old yellow box trees and interesting large rock formations, that loom up particularly to our left.     

After about an hour of leisurely walking, and occasional stopping, we emerge at the summit that sits at 634 metres elevation and are greeted not only by the grand old heritage-listed lollipop tree itself, but also by wedge-tailed eagles – three of them – surfing gentle thermals in a benign sky to the east.     

We plonk down to make short work of the picnic lunch in our backpacks and there’s a repeated trilling bird-call that I recognise to be that of a bird of prey – though I’m not sure which type.     

Kookaburras also contribute energetically to the soundscape as does Paddy H with a few personal ponderings on the nature of this walk.     

Anyway, after we’ve lazed about soaking up the sunshine on the summit, we re-trace our steps, noting that the walk, done well, takes about three hours, allowing time to stop at points of interest and to ease back on the summit and appreciate the vista.

Back around the base of Beckworth, wattles are in bloom and small grey fantails flit and gossip and as we bid a fond farewell, those enviable eagles are still up there having a ball.    

Words & Images: Eve Lamb    

with Eve Lamb

Hanging Rock summit and base walks

It’s curious how long you can live with an iconic slab of national mythology sitting on your doorstop and never actually go check it out.

In a way Hanging Rock, just the other side of Woodend, has long occupied a mythical place in the Australian psyche. Now, as my trusty walking companion Paddy H and I set off for our debut sample of the famed rock’s summit and base walks we puzzle at why it’s taken us so long.

Thinking on this, I’m pitched back to my early childhood. As a small child, just traveling past Hanging Rock elicited so much trepidation, due to the stories I’d been fed about it, that I refused to even peer in its direction.

My mother had me well versed in the mysterious and opaquely sinister disappearance of the pubescent picnicking schoolgirls. Somehow I’d got it firmly locked into my young head that these girls had been abducted by aliens and then placed into a sort of extra-terrestrial harem where they would likely be utilised for an inter-species breeding program.

As mentioned, I was consequently so petrified by the place that as my father drove us past it, cheerily informing: “That’s Hanging Rock over there kids,” I’d determinedly swivel my head in the opposite direction. I may even have ducked down into the passenger foot well until we were safely beyond view of any potential lurking alien abductors.

“Of course the whole Picnic at Hanging Rock thing, the movie and the book by Joan Lindsay on which it’s based, is pure fiction,” observes Paddy H as we arrive at the site and successfully navigate the boom gate entry into the Hanging Rock Reserve.

On the way here we’ve stopped at the Woodend Visitor Info Centre where two helpful women on the desk explain that it costs “$10 per vehicle, not per person” to obtain a token to operate the exit boom gate and get back out of the park once you’re in. Potentially a sort of abduction in its own way!

There’s a prominently displayed ranger mobile number in the reserve, should you find yourself in a predicament. We park beside the picturesque Hanging Rock Race Course and it’s clear that this place has enduring visitor pull as evidenced by the number of people that are here even on such a brrrisk Sunday in the middle of winter.

The Bureau is spot on in its forecast of occasional sunshine – and showers – and as we prepare to get cracking on the 1.8 km (circuit) summit walk I’m super glad I’ve packed that extra coat.

We easily find the start of the walk, just behind the cafe and immediately I’m impressed by the sheer array of rock formations. I mean we all know there’s a Hanging Rock, but what I hadn’t expected was the number and variety of visually interesting rocky outcrops, monoliths and formations.

It’s a nice little climb up ahead to the top. At about the half-way mark we reach a point where walkers can either veer left and take a ramp to the summit, or veer right and take steps to reach Hanging Rock.

Since our goal is to reach the summit we veer left. Later on it becomes clear that both options together form the loop walk and both ultimately get you to the top where the profusion of volcanic rocky features make for plenty of visual interest while the silvery vista that stretches out below rewards those in need of a thermos stop.

While Paddy H gets stuck into the coffee, I strike up a conversation with three dudes, one of whom is sporting a sweatshirt with the word SCIENCE printed across the back. I catch a glimpse of a University of Melbourne insignia.

Having found themselves a panoramic vista, the three have settled atop a kind of rock island outcrop and are preparing to enjoy a game of cards there – despite the uncertain weather.

“G’day where are you guys from?” I venture.

“Melbourne.”

“Have you visited here before?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps Paddy H and I are the only people in Victoria who haven’t?

“What brings you back?” I ask.

“Well I like rocks and trees,” one of the card-playing trio replies.

“Looks like you’ve come to the right place then,” I observe, unnecessarily. But they all happily agree and settle down to their card game.

Not a bad idea, on reflection. Could catch on. You could call it something like ‘Cards in Volcanic Places’.

“Miranda… Miranda,” someone calls from somewhere beyond view, their voice drifting up to us.

“You can see how this place inspired the story,” Paddy H muses as I rejoin him and the thermos.

“How so?”

“The way people sort of appear and disappear into the landscape.”

And I do see. The plethora of rocky formations makes this place a kind of striking obstacle assemblage, and a treat for the photographically inclined.

And just for a tiny moment, while we’re working out which way to head on back down, I do actually lose Paddy H.

When we each take a different turn, he is momentarily swallowed from view behind the riot of geomorphological formations.

Finding each other again, we laugh.

Fortunately there are really only two options down, the stairs or the ramp that I mentioned earlier. So this time we go for the stairs which take us to the actual formation known as the Hanging Rock itself. It’s a bit Middle Earth.

Official literature advises that the overall Hanging Rock formation is a volcanic eruption point that produced lava. Dating of Hanging Rock lava indicates a late Miocene age, about 6 million years ago. Possibly 6.5 million.

Cooling of the rock produced numerous vertical features which shape the cliff faces and have been enlarged by weathering to produce a complex of pinnacles, craggy overhangs, small caverns and boulders on the slopes.

Also known by its traditional Aboriginal name, Ngannelong, this ancient former volcano lies 718m above sea level (105m above plain level). Arriving back at its base, we pause to enjoy our own picnic at the foot of Hanging Rock, before setting out to sample the 1.8km circuit base walk.

We pick up the well-signposted base walk start from just behind the cafe area and head off in a clockwise direction, admiring this different perspective and the natural bushland that surrounds The Rock.

While there were plenty of fellow walkers doing the summit, we encounter just one other solitary walker doing the base hike, a middle-aged woman with a serious camera.

The base walk concludes with a wander beside, or if you prefer through, the racecourse grounds. And what a pretty little racecourse it is with its heritage features and small lake centerpiece catching the late afternoon light.

“It hosts two annual race meetings. One on Australia Day and one on New Year’s Day,” says Paddy H who has been known to enjoy a day at the races.

Finally, arriving back at the car park we pay our $10 into the vending machine to receive the coupon that will enable us to leave Hanging Rock Reserve, through the boom gate.

We leave duly impressed by our debut expedition to Hanging Rock, vowing to return for a race meeting next time.

Images: Eve Lamb

Words & Images: Eve Lamb

“This would have to be the classic Daylesford walk,” enthuses Paddy H as we head off beneath an ominous sky to sample the Two Lakes 8km loop. 

“You’re probably right,” I reply after we’ve exchanged pleasantries with a beaming couple and their well rugged-up Italian greyhound.

Ahead, our walk will take us from Lake Daylesford to Jubilee Lake, and return, through some lovely remnant native bushland and past some notable physical remnants of Daylesford’s colourful 1800s past.

We’re responsibly equipped with a printed walk description and map that I picked up from the Daylesford Visitor Information Centre much earlier in the year when the days were still warm.

Now, heading out clockwise around Lake Daylesford, from the main car park off Bleakley Street, we reach the spillway, its guidewires festooned with lovelocks, poignant little emblems of personal commitment.

The words “40 years married,” are etched onto the nearest lock on which my camera lens lands.

Sauntering along, discussing diverse things and feeling fairly glad we’ve worn serious coats, we complete the Lake Daylesford circuit and cross Bleakley Street, heading left along the path that takes us past the rear of the Lake House to Wombat Flat Springs.

We then follow the lake edge to reach the boardwalk and continue on to the end of the boardwalk. Here we need to wake up and pay attention as about 30 metres or so past the boardwalk we must take a grassy and indistinctly marked uphill track to our left, and follow it until we reach bitumen Burrall Street.

There we turn left and continue on, the caravan and cabin park on our right, to the intersection with Ballan Road near the entrance to Victoria Park. From here we cross the Ballan Road and walk just a short way to our right to pick up the Jubilee Lake walking track that’s marked with a weather-faded sign.

The walkers who were braving the elements at Lake Daylesford are now nowhere to be seen. It’s instantly just us and the kookaburras.

The track meanders along, continuing straight ahead, through the bush and past private properties until it reaches the bitumen Lake Road.

Here we turn left and walk about 30 metres to spot an ever-useful Great Dividing Track/Goldfields Track sign marking the way ahead, on the other side of the road.

From here the beautifully tree-lined track leads gently uphill until we reach the old railway footbridge at the far northern end of Jubilee Lake.

We cross the old bridge beneath which water rushes after a little recent rain, and we keep walking in an anti-clockwise direction around the glittering lake edge toward the kiosk with its damply upturned colourful canoes dreaming of summer.

Suddenly a brilliant, sparkling burst of gorgeous winter sunlight turns the lake surface to a sheen of dancing diamonds.

Paddy H and I choose a sun-splashed park seat alongside the silvery spectacle on which to have a late lunch and coffee. But no sooner have we unravelled the first sandwich than the delicious sunlight vanishes, to be swiftly replaced by a scud of dark cloud that dispenses first drizzle then decisive showers.

We grab up our camera gear, backpacks and lunches and go helter-skelter for the nearest shelter, counting our lucky stars there’s one to be had.

And here we sit for a good half hour, lunching, reading the walk notes for the section ahead and waiting for the cloudburst to end.

After a while it does and we resume, following the lake’s edge, keeping it to our left for a kilometre or so until we reach the mossy wooden footbridge at the lake’s southern end.

We cross and continue on, anti-clockwise, headed back around the lake toward the old railway bridge. At the entrance to the old bridge we now turn sharp right and climb up a steep short flight of steps to enter the old railway line.

Later, a spot of research enlightens us that: “opening in 1887 and closing in 1953, the Ballarat to Daylesford railway line ran from the North Creswick railway station northeast across Jubilee Lake to connect with the existing Daylesford- Carlsruhe (Bendigo) railway line, launched in 1880.

“The construction of these two railway lines was part of the railway-mania that accompanied and fed the property speculation boom of the 1880s. Every town and hamlet agitated for a railway line. They were regarded as both a symbol of progress and a passport to prosperity”.

Admiring the tall eucalypts, noting evidence of wombat habitation, we walk on until we reach the intersection with a gravel road where an Italian Hill sign is visible.

We turn left and walk downhill for about 50 metres to find a Great Dividing Trail sign. We turn right here and follow the track downhill and across a little gully, following GDT signs and then climbing fairly steeply up to Cornish Hill and its pine tree forest ambience.

From here we basically just follow the path past the old Cornish Hill gold mining relics down and back into town, emerging at the skate park and walking down to Ruthven Street.

We turn right and pick up the well-made path leading back to the lake edge to complete the last scenic little stretch of Lake Daylesford in a clockwise direction, reaching the car park just as the drizzle sets in again on dusk.

with Eve Lamb

Creswick Regional Park Walk II: St Georges Lake to Gosgrave Reservoir via the Old Koala Park,
Chinese Plum Orchard, and Eaton’s Dam. 9km return.

Paddy H and I are in luck as Creswick artist and keen bushwalker, Craig Barrett has kindly offered to guide us on one of his favourite local walks.

It will, Craig says, take in the old Creswick Koala Park, relics of the 1860s gold rush era, an old Chinese plum orchard and the notable stone walls of Eaton’s Dam.

“Sounds good,” I say as we plan the walk for Sunday when, the BOM forecasts, a lower chance of rain.

Craig explains that the walk starts from the St Georges Lake smaller, lesser-used south eastern car park, just out of Creswick, off the Melbourne Road. I’m particularly keen to see this Koala Park site that I’ve heard a fair bit about but never actually seen.

Off we set, carrying camera gear, lunches, a proper bushwalking kit including maps, compass, walk guide and first aid kit (in Craig’s case) and plenty of dark chocolate (in mine).

We are in the Creswick Regional Park, part of the traditional lands of the Dja Dja Wurrung People. In part, our walk ahead will follow a small snippet of the Goldfields Walking Trail (Buninyong to Bendigo) and in small part it also overlaps with where Creswick’s new mountain bike track is being built.

In fact there have been reports recently of some overly keen types ripping down protective temporary barriers to get at the new bike trail before it’s deemed ready to go.

Fortunately our prudent guide, Craig, has checked with the relevant authorities to gain approval for our walk today. Later, when I read authoritative warnings on this front, I am pleased he has.

But as we set off and morning sunlight splashes down through tall eucalypts lining our path, my mind is unfettered by officialdom. As soon as we set foot on the walking track headed south straight out of the car park, Paddy H and I can see this is a fantastic little hike.

“You should see it in spring,” Craig says. “Superb wild flowers.”

Gaining gentle elevation, striding through aromatic bushland for just under a kilometre, we soon arrive at the remnant boundary fence of the old koala park. In 1942, forestry students built the koala park by constructing a fence in a section of the forest to be used as a breeding area for koalas.

However, just a tad comically, they failed to adequately acknowledge koala climbing know-how and the furry little fellas swiftly decamped into the surrounding forest.

These days, the literature states, “there is just as much chance to see a koala in the surrounding Creswick State Forest as the old koala park. I look up a fair bit but do not see a koala.

Having finally visited, though, I can now say that the paucity of the much-loved marsupial does nothing to diminish the site’s value as a top walking spot, with a short 2km loop walk around the
entire former koala park another nice option.

Today, we stop here briefly to check out an old metal stile for helping humans, back in the day, to get into and out of the park, then we move on, following the Goldfields Walking Trail to the north of the koala park, running roughly alongside Creswick Creek. The creek used to be called Back Creek on old maps, Craig says.

Further on we pass alongside remains of an old gold mining water race running through the bushland, scars of 1800s picks still fairly evident in places.

Roughly two or so kilometres further along the Goldfields Walking Trail, Craig stops and points out the site of the old Chinese plum orchard, today a grouping of ghostly moss-encrusted fruit trees whose limbs stretch bare against the early winter light.

We take a little detour through this ghostly orchard and historic market garden site. “Black plums,” says Craig, and then recounts the vision of spring blossom that still blooms here all these decades on. It must be a sight.

And slipping back into the past, to a time long before any of us existed, Craig now points toward nearby sites where hotels once stood nearby – “the Springmount Hotel was there,” he says… “and the Munsters Arms Hotel … in that direction.”

We leave the old plum orchard and its ghosts and regain the Goldfields Track, continuing on until we reach the intersection with Jackass Road. Instead of turning left onto the road and continuing to follow the Goldfields Trail north here, we instead simply cross the road and rejoin the walking pad that heads on, eastward toward the historic site of Eaton’s Dam about half a k further on.

Our resourceful guide provides some literature which instructs that Eaton’s Dam is: “a well preserved example of a mining dam built in 1862 on Creswick Creek”.

The site was leased by American brothers Benjamin and Charles Eaton. While the dam was breached in 1933, and after that fell into disuse, there’s still plenty to see here including some pretty remarkable, high stone walls.

“It’s also one of my favourite places for forest bathing,” Craig muses.

In the cold summer sunlight, a mossy outcrop has something of the bushland shrine about it, complete with tiny exquisite wren attendants.

We stop and admire for a while and then Craig suggests we finish up by continuing on for a few hundred metres more to reach the Cosgrave Reservoir.

It proves to be an excellent place for lunch with two wedge tailed eagles circling above. As we sit there munching away, a man rolls up in a vehicle (the reservoir is accessible by car) and hops out brandishing swish Nordic walking poles.

“Where are you off to mate?” Paddy H enquires.

“Just walking around the reservoir,” says the bloke, bidding us all a cheery farewell and setting off.

Once we’re all fully fortified we head back, basically retracing our steps and listening to Craig recount tales of times well spent in France.

“And what do you like most about this walk?” I ask.

Craig pauses for only the briefest moment before replying.

“That there are great wildflowers. And there aren’t many people. I’m definitely a path less travelled type,” our guide says.

We continue on, all up covering roughly 9kms the round trip, and returning to a path more travelled to reflect on all we have seen and learned, over a warming red by the fire. It was a good day.

Words & Images: Eve Lamb

with Eve Lamb

Tipperary Track, Daylesford – Tipperary Springs to the Blowhole via Bryces Flat and return (8.6km)

‘One day,’ I’d always thought, while driving past the Twin Bridges picnic area on the Midland Highway just out of Daylesford.

Well today was the day. Sort of…

A preliminary reconnoitre visit revealed an officious little sign, instructing that The Tipperary Track between Twin Bridges and Tipperary Springs was currently closed. Although I could see folk – and their dogs – enjoying this “closed” section of the track that I had in mind to explore, I decided discretion was needed.

Afterall, the beauty of Daylesford’s Tipperary Track (total distance 16km from Lake Daylesford to Hepburn Springs) is that you can divide it neatly into sections.

So, with Paddy H along for company on a recent sunny Sunday, we set out to sample the section of the Tipperary that follows Sailors Creek, starting at Tipperary Springs and continuing on to Bryces Flat  (3.3km) … then a further 1km to The Blowhole, making a leisurely 8.6km the round trip.

Driving first to the Tipperary Springs picnic ground, (via the Midland Highway and then Tipperary Road) we first spent some time appreciating this beautiful little spot and Paddy H struck up a conversation with a man filling multiple bottles at the spring.

“Been drinking it all my life,” the man said, exuding good health.

Paddy H sampled some of the water. “Try it,” he suggested. “This one tastes good.”

Promising I would, later, we set off following the footpad that runs along the western side of Sailors Creek, and quickly affords very pretty views, from surprising elevation, down over the creek.

Stone relics from the 1800s mining days are visible along the way, and after 3.3 km Bryces Flat made a great stop for a creek-side lunch.

Paddy H struck up a conversation with a young man who was busy fossicking for gold in the creek.

“Found anything mate? Paddy H enquired.

The dude had. Some tiny, weenie little flecks of gold and also some garnets which he said he planned to “facet”.

Later, following this exchange, I thought it prudent to do a bit of research to determine the legalities around fossicking for gold in the Sailors Creek, and was relieved to find that: “Fossicking for gold is permitted along Sailors Creek – all adults must hold a current Miners Right to engage in fossicking”.

Fully caffeinated after our lunch stop, we continued on, crossing over the Bald Hill Road creek ford and resuming the walking track on the eastern side of the creek, after following the road uphill, and to the left, for a very short way, passing a house in the process.

A really lovely bushland kilometre further on we arrived at the Blowhole which features a newish boardwalk and lookout from which a beautiful view down over a tranquil pool below well rewarded the effort made to get here.

But to appreciate said Blowhole it was necessary to walk down to the bottom of the steps here, and then look up from which point this man-made diversion tunnel was suddenly evident.

At the top of the boardwalk section signage had offered a potted history of The Blowhole Gold Diversion Tunnel which is listed on the Victorian Heritage register for being both historically and scientifically important.

The tunnel was created by the diversion of the creek and estimated to have been built in the early 1860s when the area was being extensively worked by European and Chinese miners.

It was used to divert the creek waters, cutting off a section of the original creek alignment and enabling the resultant dry creek bed to be extensively worked by the gold-smitten.

A 2005 photo included as part of the signage shows the tunnel after heavy rain, and it is an impressive sight.

After lingering at this beautiful and history-rich landmark for about half an hour, we then retraced our steps, well pleased to have finally explored some of this great local walk and already looking forward to sampling some more of it into the future.

One word of warning, though: take care to watch your step on the Bryces Flat-Tipperary Springs path as the drop-off is both steep and very close to the edge in places.

Words: Eve Lamb

with Eve Lamb

Andersons Tramway Walk … plus. Mollongghip

Today we’re tackling the Andersons Tramway Walk at Mollongghip just east of Newlyn. This 8km (16km return) bushwalk is a bit of a surprise packet. Who could have guessed there would be a “tramway” running through the bush here?

When I say “tramway” what we’re talking about is the remnants of a cleared pathway through the bush where work horses, and later steam engines, once used to cart out heavy felled timber that was destined for the crazy ol’ gold fields of the day.

This walk basically follows that cleared haulage route that remains, over-grown yes, but still clearly visible as it makes its way to where the township of Wombat once existed back in those roaring days.

Now there’s nothing left to indicate the fact that a township ever existed here other than a cleared flat section that used to be the town’s railway siding. Adjoining this is the clear remains of where the old Ballarat to Daylesford railway line once ran.

The railway tracks have long since been taken up but the rail-line today forms part of what, for bushwalkers, has become the Wombat Station Walk – a 19km long hike from the old Wombat town site to Daylesford via Sailors Falls.

My walking accomplice Paddy H and I decide we will also do just a little bit of this walk as well as our main focus, the Andersons Tramline Walk, so as to check out the significant rail cutting that remains with walls that reach up to 20 metres high according to the literature.

This section, with the impressively high walls, immediately joins the end of our Andersons Tramway walk. It will add about two kilometres (four km the round trip) but is well worth it. Fortunately, when we set out we are fueled with the recent spoils of Easter and could use a good trek.

So to the start : The eight km Andersons Tramway Walk starts off from the Slater Road, Mollongghip, and follows the route of the old tramway through the Wombat State Forest along the top of the divide at 700metres.

According to my pre-walk research*, the Anderson brothers arrived from Scotland to try their luck on the goldfields in 1851. Instead of digging they cut and supplied timber to the ever-hungry mining industry.

Having cut their way through most of the timber at Dean they then built a horse-drawn (and later steam) tramway into the Wombat Forest. This tramway was no temporary construction as cuttings were dug, bridges and embankments built and iron rails laid for over 23 km of track. However, before long they cut themselves out of a job.

Starting again in another venture the unstoppable Andersons concentrated their attention on flour milling by constructing the massive bluestone mill in Smeaton in 1862. The imposing multi-story mill at Smeaton remains today as a monument to Victoria’s pioneers.

Reflecting on the spirit of those driven yesteryear sorts, Paddy H and I navigate our way successfully to the start of the tramway walk, parking near the intersection of McPhans, Gleesons and Slaters roads. We set out carrying maps and lunch. And it quickly turns out to be a beautiful bushland walk, the remnants of the old tramway, readily identifiable along the way.

About three kilometres in we meet a small walking party of three women, heading in the opposite direction to us, and all equipped with walking poles and determined expressions. We stop for a track-

side chat and they tell us they are Melbournians and are on a bigger, ongoing mission to complete the entire Goldfields Track, of which this walk is but a section.

“We’re doing it over multiple visits, one section at a time, all the way through from Bendigo to Mount Buninyong,” one of them tells us.

“And we always make sure that when we come back to do a new section we park the car at the exact spot where we ended the previous section so we don’t cheat,” another adds.

They obviously got started a fair bit earlier than we did today as they also tell us that they set out from Sailors Falls near Daylesford today.

“Did you see any other points of interest along the way?” I ask them.

“There’s the dam,” enthuses one of the three trekkers.

We bid them farewell and a bit further on stop track-side for lunch, accompanied by the mysterious musical calls of choughs, before making our way on to the dam. Mullens Dam which, my research informs, was built to supply water for the old gold sluicing works.

Today the Easter holiday break is still in full swing and Mullens Dam turns out to be hosting a couple of campers, very snugly set up with all the comforts. One man dozes in the afternoon sunshine. Anther looks very like he’s about to do the same. A wine glass rests languidly on the arm of a comfortable camp chair.

“Happy Easter,” says Paddy H who appears slightly affected by the season.

“Thanks,” says the man with one of the elaborate camp setups.

The late flush of Indian summer sun beats down. The bush-land all around hums with unseen life. The dam water is still and green, framed by eucalyptus leaves.

“Your Easter eggs might melt,” Paddy H helpfully advises the man.

“Nah Mate. They’ll be right. I’ve got a fridge,” he says.

“Camping aint what it used to be,” observes my walking accomplice as we move out of earshot.

From here we gain a little more elevation as we head on toward where the township of Wombat apparently once existed. Today there’s no trace, but the spot where this little gold town once stood may still be identified by a picnic rotunda that’s also accessible by vehicle off the Rocklyn Road at this point.

Reaching it now means we have now covered eight kilometres and completed the Andersons Tramway Walk. We stop for a coffee refuel, and then take a short 2.5km ramble along the Rocklyn Roadway toward where a yoga ashram now operates. We do this in order to photograph the skeletal remains of a timber railway bridge that formed part of the old Ballarat to Daylesford railway line which, the literature informs, opened in 1887 and closed in 1953.

Achieving this goal successfully we then return to the Wombat station site again and rally our energies to tackle a further couple of ks on the adjoining Wombat-Daylesford walk section, just so as to check out the railway cutting section with the high walls.

Almost immediately after embarking on this section of track, headed toward Daylesford, the anticipated cutting walls appear, rising up on either side of the trail, creating a small microclimate in which Paddy H and I notice three different types of thriving ferns including tree ferns.

The walls, are cut through clays and bedrock, and peering up at them we reckon the literature is not exaggerating when it says they reach up to 20 metres. We briefly wonder at what it is that motivates humanity through times past and present to tackle such undertakings.

After about two kilometres we reach the point where the Great Dividing Trail (GDT) was officially launched in October 1992. Signage marks the spot.

The GDT here also follows the remnants of the dismantled Ballarat-Daylesford Railway. At this point Paddy H and I have now covered a bit over 12 kms all up when you count our small addendum ramblings, and it’s well time to head on back.

Promises of a hearty dinner and a glass of wine provide useful motivation to help combat our increasing bone weariness as we retrace our steps through the bushland’s lengthening shadows.

As we once again pass Mullens Dam, headed back, the man with the fridge is flat out, blissfully asleep in his commodious camp chair.#

Words and Images: Eve Lamb

*Walks, Tracks & Trails of Victoria. Derrick Stone. CSIRO Publishing 2009

Words & Images: Eve Lamb

Wildcat Gully and taking the waters

The Jackson’s Lookout walk taking in Wyuna, Argyle and Golden Springs is a great option for going just that little bushland bit beyond the more heavily traversed tourist saunters out of Hepburn Springs Reserve – even if you’re strapped for time.

The way we did it was anti-clockwise starting out in that time-honoured place of much frequented classic charm that is the Hepburn Mineral Springs Reserve grounds. Lunch first.

Admired a squeaky flock of black cockies, and myriad little blue wrens bobbing about, above. Checked the map, then set off on this breezy little 6km trek heading first to Wyuna Spring where my trusty walking companion, Paddy H, took the waters.

“Very fizzy. Reminds me of bicarbonate of soda,” he surmised.

Anyway onwards, following the Argyle Creek, breathing in the bushland beauty redolent of so many happy wanderings over so many sunny Sundays, and exchanging various far-fetched and fanciful accounts of BBC (Big Black Cat) sightings across the wider region.

These were inspired by the evocatively named Wild Cat Gully that we would soon traverse.

But first we headed directly on to Argyle Spring where Paddy, more extrovert than I, struck up
a conversation with a couple sitting beside the spring, who shared that they were visiting from
“Brizzy” and had to catch a flight back later that day and be back at work tomorrow.

Feeling their pain, we munched on a bit of dark chocolate and then set off again, retracing our steps for a short way until we reached a sharp V-shaped (roughly 45 degree) diversion off to the right (as you’re heading back in the direction of the Hepburn Springs Reserve picnic grounds).

This is the path that leads onwards and gradually upwards, and traverses the Wild Cat Gully on the way to Jackson’s Lookout. Our destination.

Jackson’s Lookout

“Hepburn and Daylesford are still very much locales for romantic weekend escapades,”
Paddy H observed, reflecting on the various happy and less happy twosomes we’d passed
along the way to this point, some delightfully preoccupied with each other’s company, others
not quite hiding the fact that they were mid-tiff.

But from here our couple sightings petered out … at least for a while. In fact the beauty of this handy walk is the fact that just for a brief while the time-strapped walker does leave behind the tourist trails more trodden to obtain a more lingering and much less populated taste of the lovely sclerophyll forest.

The path ahead rises gently as it climbs to the lookout which opens up a good view to Mount Kooroocheang to the north. Here we whisked out the thermos while admiring two wedge tailed eagles gliding smugly in widening leisurely arcs across the wide blue above.

Then Paddy nudged me and pointed to where a couple, oblivious to our silent presence, had momentarily stopped their own walk to engage in a furtive snog in the forest. Ah true love. Ah
Hepburn.

So then it was time to sample the view from the tower atop Jackson’s Lookout. Jackson’s Lookout, so our research informs, was designed in the 1940s and restored in 2017. The tower provides excellent views of Hepburn Regional Park.

“Don’t say wobbly,” said Paddy H who by this time had obtained the top viewing platform while I stood below, staring up and taking a few snaps.

The tower offers a fairly fine view across to the Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens in Daylesford, and while we took it all in there was an accompanying soundtrack of currawong cries. From here we followed the well-marked trail towards Golden Spring, joining a section of The Great Dividing Trail in the process.

Sulphur and holiday homes

The trail passes through a little grove of whispering pines just before reaching Golden Spring, and when we reached the spring, Paddy gave it a whirl too.

“Smells pretty sulphuric,” he observed, astutely. But it didn’t stop him sampling.

“This one tastes quite fresh and clean. It hasn’t got a deeply sulphuric flavour,” he concluded. I gave it a miss having had a prior bad experience – in another location entirely – on the sulphuric front.

We stayed and soaked in the atmosphere, spring-side, for a while or three before retracing the path back and up fairly sharply to where it meets the first old weatherboards of Hepburn Springs weekender land, then followed the sealed road back to our starting point.

“There should be an acronym for these – RUHH – Rarely Used Holiday Homes,” muttered my walking companion politically as we concluded this very pleasant little walking adventure that could just as well be done in reverse.

Much later that night I remembered the “Brizzy” couple at Argyle Springs and, again, felt their pain as I recalled her asking plaintively: “can you suggest any other good walks here?