Hiking Mount Cole - Our first overnight trip

So now that James and I have completely recovered from the blunders and pitfalls that was our first overnight trip, it's finally time to put pen to paper and tell you all about it.

We set out on a Wednesday morning, leaving James' house at about 9:30am and finally arriving at the foot of Mount Cole at around 10:30. I didn't see this as a huge deal as I figured that we take around eight hours to arrive and should get there with at least a couple hours worth of sun to spare. I was wrong on so many levels.

We parked the car at Richard's camp ground and threw on our packs. This was when I knew this was going to be more difficult than anticipated, my pack was far heavier than I had planned for. I had over-packed in both weight and pack capacity. This resulted in sore chest, shoulders and back as well as increased strain on my knees and hips.

Let the pain begin

The first leg of the hike was a hike we had made around a year prior up to Raglan Falls, which was painful enough the first time but somehow making it a second time did not ease the suffering. We had already taken several breaks at this point and were both sweating profusely. The views along the way were absolutely spectacular, which made my aching muscles and joints just tolerable but did nothing to ease my breathlessness.

It honestly looked like something out of Avatar

It was after we stopped at a lookout giving us a view of the path we had just traversed, as well as Mount Langi Ghiran a few kilometers away, that James informed me that we would not be making it to the Beeripmo camp grounds at our current pace. I had decided to munch on some plumbs and bananas while we were there and dismissed him as being pessimistic. Yet again, I was wrong on so many levels.

The view from the lookout. Such lovely scenery.

Reluctantly, we threw our packs back on and pushed on at a snail's pace towards our destination. It was about two kilometers from our next destination of Cave Hill that James suggested a shortcut, which would shave off quite a large chunk of our walk, however we would still likely get to camp well after dark. I should also mention that this occurred when we had passed Ditchfield camp ground and could still see it in the distance.

We decided to stop for lunch at a very conveniently placed park bench that had been carved out of a log. We sat and pondered the decision whether or not to continue whilst we ate, eventually coming to the conclusion to see how we were looking after reaching Cave Hill. We pushed on and the terrain seemed to almost even out, whilst still walking at an incline it was an acceptable incline given the hell that we had just hiked up.

We reached our next preliminary destination and re-evaluated. Broken down and beaten, we conceded defeat and sulked back down to Ditchfield camp grounds. Whilst it was not our first choice to camp for the night, it was actually a lovely camp ground. There was tank water available, a large and open grass patch for people to pitch their tents as well as numerous fire pits around the area.

James and I found a nice grouping of trees close to a fire pit,  hung our hammocks, collected some fire wood and decided to relax for a little bit. The sky was clear, the sun wasn't too hot and the breeze wasn't too cold. It was relaxing, the scenery was pretty, the smell of eucalyptus hung in the air and the company was great. Things seemed to be working well for us. For the third time that day, I was wrong on so many levels.

Relaxing in the hammock before putting the tarp up

We got a fire going not long after setting up camp and I very stupidly decided to unload my gear from my pack. Not just my food and my billy can, but my spare clothes, my compass, my tea and coffee kit, my fire lighting kit, all of my cutting tools, all of the spare blankets I had brought and to go all out moron I even took my shoes off and left them on the picnic bench, uncovered and unpacked with the rest of my gear. I figured with only an eighteen percent chance of showers that we would not get rain. Once more, I could not have been more wrong.

Honestly, would you be expecting rain?

We made dinner, which consisted of rice, salmon, beans and Stagg chilli. James neglected to mention when he started cooking the chilli that he was intending to share, so I had already eaten my salmon and decent portion of rice beforehand. Needless to say, we were very well fed that night. It is worth mentioning that we had some friends hanging around whilst we ate in the form of European wasps. Whilst the wasps went away after the sun went down, after we had finished dealing with the wasps, the bull ants decided to come out. How did we discover this in the dark? Well my right foot must look very tasty to a bull ant because I felt a huge stinging pain on the instep. It was by far some of the most excruciating pain I have ever felt. With that horrible experience, I decided to go to bed for the night.

After struggling for a couple of hours to get comfortable, I finally got to sleep. I'm not sure what time I got to sleep but I was rudely awakened at around 02:00am by some wetness on my forehead. Unfortunately, the way I had put the tarp up, it had left my head exposed to the sky. I did not see this as a big deal at the time due to the low chance of rain, however it certainly came back to bite me in the ass. The rain did not let up and steadily became heavier. I shout across to James and woke him up, before collecting my gear from where I had left it and placed it under the tarp, only to see James simply get up, grab his pack(with all his gear in it) and punch a one way ticket to the hut.

I spent the better part of about half an hour messing around, trying to pack up my gear in the rain and followed him into the hut. Luckily for us, the case that I keep my fire making kit in happens to be water proof. We spent some time getting a fire going and drying off. I had the sense to collect my blankets and sleeping bag, lay them out in front of the fire and at least try and get some sleep. It was around 04:00am before I had decided to try and get to sleep, although it wasn't very restful.

My wet gear laid out as soon as we got into the hut

Drying our stuff out and my makeshift bedding

I was awakened in the morning a little more gently than I had been during the night. Instead of waking up to rain on my face, I woke up to the sound of James getting more fire wood, birds chirping outside and to the smell of baked beans cooking on the fire. I spent the better part of the morning trying to get my pack together and reduce food weight, whilst James waited, ready, with his back packed a good two hours before we even stepped out of the hut.

The walk back down took us around forty-five minutes, as far cry from the hours of hiking we had done the day before and it was much easier. The hike back, whilst not painless, was very much the easy part of the camping trip. Despite all of the pain and mistakes, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip and learned alot of lessons along the way.

My main take away points are to make sure that before I go to bed for the night, all of my stuff is packed away. Regardless of whether or not I think it is going to rain, there is still a good chance that it will. Secondly, my woolen socks are an invaluable part of my kit. Even when they were soaked, they still kept my feet warm. Third, I need to downsize my kit. I carry far too much and need to learn to get by with less, which leads into my last point. I simply need more dirt time. The more time I spend out hiking, the better equipped I will be as far as my skills go, which means that I won't have any need for so much kit.

Devils Kitchen Geological Reserve - A lesson learned

 Today I decided to take a walk somewhere I haven't been in quite a long time, Devil's Kitchen in Pigoreet. Whilst I had been there about six months ago and the terrain, whilst still very harsh, was nowhere near as harsh as it was this time. I will admit however, that the terrain was every bit as pretty as it was harsh.

 The first thing that I will mention is the drive into Devil's kitchen from nearby Scarsdale always gives me the strangest of feelings. The road constantly winds and dips in such a way that you are never able to see anymore than twenty or thirty meters in front of you. If i was a religious man I would say that it is almost a feeling of going straight into hell itself.

 When I arrived at the trail head and got out of my car, I was surrounded by cliffs and ridges of which you could see the rock formations as they changed with the height of the cliff. The rocks closer to the ground were dark, almost black, however the further up the ridge the rocks got, they began to take on a much more reddish hue. I am unsure whether or not it is from these rock formations that Devil's Kitchen gets it's name, but it would not surprise me.

 In the background, the red rock formation characteristic of Devil's Kitchen

 The first mistake I made was despite clearly seeing that the entire area was swarming with blackberry bushes, I simply put my pack on without bothering to strap my machete to my belt. I threw my pack on, having already attached my belt-knife, it was not until I reached the first lot of blackberry bushes blocking the track that I realized I would need my machete. Whilst it wasn't a huge inconvenience to have to put my pack down and put it back on again, it was the start of what would a series of mild annoyances throughout the trip. 

 I was able to fairly easily hack my way through much of the harsh scrub, it was both good and bad that it was blackberry bushes specifically. My left leg ended up with quite a few minor cuts and abrasions from the thorny bushes, however due to it currently being summer, I was able to snack on the ripe blackberries as I made my way through.

One of many blackberry bushes scattered through the area

 Whilst the slicing and dicing of bush gave me an ever fleeting feeling of masculinity, it was abundantly clear that I was not on the correct track, so I was forced to turn around and once more cut my way through to where I had originated. I will admit that at that time I was very tempted to accept defeat and call it a day. Beaten but not broken, I decided to push on.

 I walked the opposite direction to where I had parked my car and eventually came to the trail I was searching for. The trails through the entire reserve were very rocky, but this track was much easier to make my way down than the first. There were still alot of blackberry bushes, however there were much less that were actually blocking the path.

The main walking track was much less harsh than the original track found

 Around one hundred meters into the walk, the track gave way to an open plane of grass, shrubs, blackberry bushes and gum trees. There were several rock formations fashioned into circular shapes on the ground where people had made campfires, there were two particularly large gum tree from which I would be able to hang my hammock on future trips.

 It is interesting to note that the Woady Yaloak river runs straight through Devil's Kitchen, however on this particular day the river bed was completely dry. I'm sure that if I had followed the river far enough upstream I could have found a small pocket of water, however this was not my main concern whilst I was there. 

 

 I walked a few of the small tracks around the camp area, even moving down onto the riverbed at one point. It was a strange feeling as large rocks and dirt gave way to quartz and sand. It sounded and felt as if I was walking on a strange, secluded beach. It quickly became very apparent from the cool breeze and muddy areas below the sand that this area would normally have water flowing through it freely.

 I slowly made my way back to the main camp area, taking in the sights and sound of trees, birds, foxes and even the sheep over the ridge. I began to plan out in my head a future overnighter that I hope to take in the area, hopefully at a time when there is more water in the river and I am more organized with my planning.

 I made my way back to my car via the main walking track and found a plant on the side of the track. I was fairly certain that they were wild rose hips, and a Google image search confirmed my suspicions. The plant was thorny like a rose and the fruit was around the size of my thumbnail and elliptical.

Wild rose hips found in Devil's Kitchen

 I picked and cut a fruit, however I was not able to get a very clear picture. This was the clearest picture I could get.

Inner flesh and seeds from wild rose hips

 I quickly made my way from this location, up the hilly track and back to my car, taking away some blackberries and a few very valuable lessons. Firstly, no matter how difficult it is to find pants that fit, I should invest in long pants and my legs won't get carved up by blackberry bushes. Secondly, if I think I'm going to need my large blade then I should just strap it on, it will save me alot of headache later on. And last but certainly not least, my working gloves are an invaluable part of my kit and I'm so glad that I keep them in my pack.

Balisong laws and why I think they suck

Whilst this is not a blog in regards to any outing that I have had, this is an issue that has been on my mind for quite some time. For those who are unfamiliar with them, a balisong; otherwise known as a butterfly knife, is a blade which is folded between two pieces of metal. The two pieces of metal are then connected to two hinges which fold away from the blade in opposite directions and held together by some kind of locking mechanism, forming the handle. Here is an example:

  Current legislation in Victoria, Australia states that a balisong is classed a prohibited weapon, which means that it is illegal to buy, own, import or carry a balisong in the state of Victoria without a valid permit. Whilst I tend to agree with almost all of Australia's weapon and knife laws, this is one that is perplexing for a number of reasons.

  Whilst I certainly do not believe that anybody should be allowed to carry a knife on their person for general use in an urban or suburban environment, a single edged blade can be purchased by any individual over the age of 18. These can range from a five centimeter folding knife to an eighty centimeter, full tang machete and are not legal to carry in urban or suburban areas without a lawful reason. Once again I must state that as much as  I enjoy using my blades as camping and survival tools, I completely agree with these laws and do not believe that they should be overturned.

  This brings me to my main question, why is the balisong singled out as a prohibited weapon? Is it more dangerous than other folding or fixed blade knife? Is it more easily concealed than other folding knives? Is it easier to obtain than any other blade? My honest opinion on all of the above points is no.

  Whilst I understand that a balisong may look menacing and intimidating, the average blade length is only around twelve centimeters, which is no different to the size of your average folding knife. This also means that they are no more or less concealable than your average folding knife. In fact, the majority of folding knives even come with pocket clips so that they can be easily accessed when needed. I will say that the price of a balisong online is quite cheap, but once again I must also state that most folding knives are not expensive. There are high end folding knives which tend to get very pricey, however a folding knife can be picked up at most outdoors shops for around fifteen or twenty dollars.

In summary, I believe that inconsistency coupled with misunderstanding of the product has lead to an unfair ban on what is essentially an average sized pocket knife.

My first blog post and walk through Bungal Dam

  I'm quite new to this whole blog thing so I'm not quite sure exactly what is expected of me, but I created this blog in an effort to share my experiences in the outdoors with everybody. I figured that I would most likely be going bushwalking or camping anyway, I may as well write about it. I most likely won't write about every walk I do since I tend to revisit a lot of places in order to get to know the tracks, however I will endeavor to write about every new location I visit, or at least every location that I have not yet written about. I'll do my best to take a few snap shots along the way and catalog them in each post.

  I very recently went for a walk with a close mate to the Blast Furnace picnic area near Bungal Dam. Since my initial attempt to drive into the picnic area alone failed epically and resulted in me nearly getting my car bogged on the initial descent, I thought I would try walking down to the camp grounds when James and I returned a few days later.

  So we left the car at the top of the hill, got our packs out, strapped them on and trudged down the walking tracks. The first thing we noticed was, despite the fact that the signage was pretty clear that these tracks were supposed to only be walking tracks, we were obviously sharing the track with trail bikes. Despite the roughness of the tracks, the walk was actually quite pleasant. It was a pretty steady downhill decline, which sucked for my knees and hips but it meant that I didn't expend much energy getting down there.

  It was mid-evening, about 7:30, by the time we got to the Blast Furnace picnic area. The camping grounds were fairly open, however it was sectioned off with bollards. There were several fireplaces, ALOT of dead-fall trees and I particularly took notice of the lovely gumtrees. There were quite a few that looked quite large and close enough together for me to hang my hammock. We looked around the camp site for a few minutes, before continuing on the tracks of the historic walk and on to Bungal Dam.

  We took a track that lead a little further down hill, before it stopped abruptly at a fenced off sheer cliff. We walked along the top of the cliff for a minute or two, before we came to the lookout in front of the very blast furnace that the picnic grounds are named for. Whilst we weren't able to actually walk down to where the blast furnace was, the view was spectacular none the less. Just looking at it gave me images of old iron mine workers carting iron ore down the bridge and loading it into the smelter, filling the air with the smell of molten metal.

The remains of the old blast furnace with my knife in the foreground

  We continued along the cliff before making our way back uphill to what appeared to be a large courtyard area that had road access and a gate blocking the path. It quickly became apparent, however that this was the lookout area to Bungal Dam. Whilst I did not think to snap any pictures of this particular area, it really was a sight to behold as nature met technology. It may just be that I'm a massive nerd, but I even remarked to James that it reminded me of The Facility out of Goldeneye. 

  We didn't spend much time at the lookout, we basically caught our breathes, had a quick drink of water and kept moving. We walked up a road that appeared more suited to a four wheel drive than my fat feet and we hadn't gone anymore than maybe fifty meters before we were back at the Blast Furnace picnic grounds. I laughed and then almost cried when I realized that what had been a "casual descent" was now going to be a nightmare of a walk to get back to my car.

  Luckily for me James had the forethought of walking back up via the car tracks, which still made a painful walk, but nowhere near as painful as it would have been if we returned the same way we came down. We eventually made our way back up to where we left the car, occasionally stopping to enjoy the view, both in a tired, sore and sweaty mess. All in all it was an enjoyable walk, and Blast Furnace is a site that I wouldn't mind spending an overnighter in the near future.

  I hope that I haven't rambled too much and I certainly hope that this post has been informative. I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.