A chilly night with a full moon lighting up the clearing and a foggy morning filled with birdsong. I’d say it probably dipped down to near freezing, but I was plenty cozy in my down quilts, which is reassuring. I’m starting to think this might be a cold walk and in my mind I’m cramming extra warm clothes into an already full pack.
Doug and I had a hurried breakfast and quickly packed up in order to make an early start. Our next food drop, where the AAWT crosses Benambra-Corryong road was only a few minutes down the road. With our precious booty suitably hidden and treasure maps hastily sketched on old parchment, we continued through the high country.
We reached Mt Hotham in short order. This town will mark the one-third point when I’m walking through, and I have two nights accommodation booked at Marouka lodge under the auspices of the ever-helpful Emily. The views up here are phenomenal, and there’s still a dusting of snow here and there from a week or so ago.
Ron got a text through saying he expected to be at Rumpff saddle around lunch time. Our own arrival time was somewhat less predictable. The Jamison-Licola road is closed each year through winter and had just reopened a couple of days earlier. The road was perfectly passable though, and though I finally elected to let some air out of the tyres, the Corolla we met going the other way belies the manageable-if-rough condition of the road.
The Barkly River Logging Road into Rumpff Saddle was another matter entirely: rough and challenging for a lowly Subaru, thankfully somebody has been through with a chainsaw and cleared many of the fallen trees. Still, there were a number that leaned across the track and we had to duck under. A Landcruiser with rooftop tent would need to clear trees or else turn back.
Finally we pulled into the saddle, where Ron was waiting along with Shane, whom he had met on the trail and been walking with, and Marissa, who had just arrived after completing what had taken Ron six days in a blistering four.
Snacks are distributed (I had asked Ron’s wife what he might like, and the cans of Coke and ham and cheese sammiches are greedily devoured) and the conditions of various tracks, trails and roads discussed. A chill wind rips across the saddle, stealing warmth and whipping about the tops of the tall snow gums. We each head off to bed well before dark, seeking the warmth of sleeping bags. If I do not wimp out and move to the still comfort of the Subaru’s now-empty cargo space in the night, I’ll consider that a win,
