17.9km +592m -517
Not a long day today: about 16km to Tin Mine Huts. A very foggy start. It would not have been a good day for climbing The Pilot, even if I were in the mood for it.
Saw some horses, then some deer:
Then some more horses; possibly a stallion, mare and foal, grazing on the path we were walking down. We also heard the helicopter not far off and the sound of rifle shots as they culled the feral horses over the next ridge.
The big black one seemed a little protective, so we were pretty cautious in proceeding. He seemed to take a few provocative steps towards us. You can hear Rod taking photos with his DSLR. (Warning: the first video is 3:20 long)
We saw more horses shortly, and crossed a weird slatted bridge
I found an antler, and it’s a good‘un! Since seeing a couple of antlers on display at Cleve Cole hut, I’ve been keeping my eye out, really hoping to find one. Now I’ve caught my fish and found my antler, and revisited Mount Buggery, all that’s left is to boop the snoots of Kosi and Bimberi, so that alongside Mount Bogong I’ve done the highest peaks in the three states that the track goes through.
Tin Mine Huts is a nice spot. And the weather cleared up nicely. A bloke named Charlie Carter used to live out here on his own about ninety years ago. He was a bit of a character, with his own cancer cure composed of crushed bluestone, salt spirits and petroleum jelly. Good for the hair and kidneys and hooves too, apparently. He made a living catching brumbies and breaking them in, then taking them into Jindabyne to sell. One winter his horses got away from him and he died chasing them. His body was found after the snowmelt, bridle in hand. Some say his cancer cure may have hastened his demise.
Our shoes were soaked from a morning of walking through wet grass, so we got a cheerful fire going in the ample fireplace of the larger hut and set about drying them out. A long walk to the creek for water shows more of the huge piles of horse dung that we’ve been seeing since around Buckwong, and as with most of the watercourses around here, it’s trampled and muddy with hoof prints. A few million years of evolution separate from the rest of the world has engendered an ecology with little resistance to the damage caused by hooved animals; feral goats, pigs, camels, deer, and of course horses all wreak havoc on biomes that, while rugged and harsh are nonetheless delicate and susceptible to collapse.
A little later, Tim and John from the Nordic ski club turned up and shared our fire. When I mentioned I was a member of the Canberra Bushwalking Club they said they know Linda, who is a fantastic leader in that group and has been instrumental in the campaign to have the brumbies culled. Small world. They’re heading over the ridge to the east tomorrow to check out some alpine rainforest that apparently exists there in the deep gully, sheltered from bushfire.
The wind has a chill edge to it as it flows over the plain to break against the huts and trees.
