Tipperary Springs to Bryce's Flat and Back Again

 The Hepburn Regional Park is an area that surrounds the small township of Daylesford. Gum trees, and Wattle trees are abundant through the entire area, as are creek beds and mine shafts. On this particular sunny afternoon, I had decided to head down to Tipperary Springs and try the mineral water. I figured while I was there I might as well bring a small backpack and take a walk through the area. I had not long ago purchased new hiking shoes and figured a good walk to test them on was Bryce's Flat, which was only a seven kilometer circuit.

  I started off, as expected, at Tipperary Springs. I had been looking for somewhere close to the Daylesford area that I could hike and find a campsite for a future overnighter but it seems that most of the sites along Hepburn Regional Park are strictly no camping. I can't say that I blame Parks Victoria, given the sorry state that I see many of our state forests in I'm surprised that the whole area is not closed to the public. I brought some basic gear with me in a small backpack: water bottle, coffee cup, a few tea bags, first aid kit, hammock and of course I threw in my scouting survival kit.

The sign saying "No Camping". I really shouldn't be surprised.

I tried the mineral water at Tipperary Springs, which was strange to say the least, then headed off towards Bryce's Flat. As expected in South-West Victoria, the trail was very uneven, hilly and the terrain was varied. The forest was full of various types of trees that I could not identify nor name, though I did recognize the Gum trees and Wattle trees as well as the Blackberry bushes lining the shore of the creek.

The Gum trees and Wattle trees.

One of the many thorny Brambles surrounding the banks of the creek.

  Whilst there wasn't much wildlife out, the walk was not as unpleasant  as I had expected. I had been expecting to slip and slide on the muddy and rocky tracks, however due to having recently purchased my first pair of hiking boots, I was finding the walk very easy on my feet. At times I found myself virtually skipping along and had to slow myself down so that I could take in the views through the forest. Most of the terrains was well above the level that the creek was on, so I had a lovely view of where the creek ran and the vegetation surrounding it.

This was the clearest shot I could get. It really was spectacular

Shortly before I came to the clearing that was Bryce's Flat, I found what seemed to be an old abandoned mine shaft or a cave formation. The opening was quite small, but if I slightly bowed my head I could make it through. Those who do not know me personally may not be aware quite how vertically challenged I really am, standing at a stout 165cm in thick-soled boots. I walked a couple of steps into the mouth of the mine shaft, but that was as far as I dared to venture as they are notoriously unstable and prone to flooding.

The mouth of the rock formation. The camera did not pick up the wooden beams on the roof of the entrance.

  The clearing that is Bryce's Flat appears quite suddenly on the trail, though it appears suddenly at the top of the stairs leading down to it. It's not far from the road, has the creek running right next to it, has plenty of trees to hang a hammock and has a small picnic table in the middle of green grasses and tall trees. I had decided to stop for a few minutes on the picnic table, have a drink and have something to eat.

The entrance to Bryce's Flat.

One of the many pictures taken while I sat on the picnic table

  I debated whether or not to walk the extras three kilometres to The Blowhole and back to the main track, however time dictated that this time I could not deviate from my current course and I pushed on back to Tipperary Springs. The second leg of the trip was much stranger than the first, with much more varied terrain and what I first thought was an old hunter's cottage. When I approached the construction made entirely on wood and corrugated iron, it turned out to be a sealed up mine shaft, though this one I could clearly see into.

It simply appeared to be a shelter for hikers

Closer inspection revealed a sealed up mine shaft

   The rest of the walk was as expected, varied terrain with alot of hills, rocks and bumps. There were fallen trees blocking the path at times, however they were easily avoided, The creek continued to run along side the walking track with a steady growth of Brambles on bank and the warm, spring sun continued to shine.
  When I arrived back at Tipperary Springs drenched in sweat, I once more drank some of the mineral water from the bore and took a few minutes to rest and cool down before getting back in the car to make my way home. I absolutely love hiking in the Hepburn State Park, the surroundings, the creek, coupled with the wildlife and the various mineral springs make it an area well worth visiting again and again.

Survival lessons learned from the hospital bed

  As some of you may or may not be aware, the main reason why I have been so inactive over the last month is in no small part due to having just spent the better part of June in and out of hospital with a very nasty bowel condition known as diverticulitis. Whilst I will not go into too much detail as to the ins and outs of the condition, I will say that it was excruciatingly painful and gave me a new found appreciation for water sanitation and plumbing that is in working order.

  You may be asking how this relates to hiking or even survival. I haven't yet touched on urban or wilderness survival in this blog, but it a keen interest of mine and something that is always on the forefront of my mind. This was especially evident when I was first informed that I would be required to spend the night in the hospital in order to receive a course of IV antibiotics. The first thing I thought was "Great, this is how all the zombie movies start.", though thankfully there was no zombie apocalypse. But in order for me to tell the story of lessons learned, I first have to tell the story of how I came to be in the hospital in the first place.

  It started on a chilly Saturday afternoon at my nephew's birthday party, he was turning twelve and had never had a birthday party before so my mother in-law decided to throw one for him at her place. We ordered pizzas for lunch, all of the kids were having fun playing games, the birthday boy was enjoying his presents and we were all eating way too much. This was up until I began to double over in pain from a long, dull pain in my left-lower abdomen. Due to what I had been eating, I assumed it was my gall bladder but figured it may also be my appendix. I thought I would be able to last the afternoon out then head to the hospital when all of the kids went home. When it quickly became apparent that the pain wasn't going anywhere I made my way to the Emergency Department at the hospital.

  I waited a couple of hours in the emergency room, they poked and prodded, loaded me up with pain killers and sent me home with instructions to come back first thing in the morning. Cue the next day I came back in with even worse pain than the day before, once again they loaded me up with pain killers, poked and prodded me, took some blood, did a CT scan and the diagnosis came back as diverticulitis. I was promptly admitted, given IV antibiotics and discharged the following day with two courses of oral antibiotics.

  This worked to an extent, the pain reduced however it didn't entirely go away. I returned to work and when a co-worker noticed I was doubling over in pain throughout the shift, she rightfully expressed her concern to charge nurse and when I came to work the following day in cold sweats, I was sent home by the same charge nurse. It is worth mentioning at this point that I had been awake the night before with nausea, diarrhea and vomiting.

  I took the day off, slept it off and went to the doctor's the following day for a doctor's certificate, hoping to return to work the following day. He poked and prodded, ummed and arrred, then told me to head straight to hospital. Once again I went to the Emergency Department hoping for a quick examination, but a few litres of IV fluids and a CT scan later I'm being informed that I have a  three centimetre(or roughly one inch) abscess on the left side of my large intestine. Once again I was admitted, given IV antibiotics for the better part of four days and discharged with oral antibiotics.

  Now that you're up to speed on my situation, I feel that it is important to list what I have learned and how it relates to survival as a whole.

Australia has one of the best healthcare systems in the world - I believe that this is something that we as Australians tend to take for granted. It is a simple concept, free and accessible healthcare for every citizen. Aside from the days off work that I have missed, I am only forty dollars out of pocket, which is the cost of the medication that I needed after discharge. When I see so many people preparing for civil unrest and economic collapse by stocking up on guns and knives, it boggles my mind that those same people do not make the connection that free and accessible healthcare is a step towards preventing both of those things.

It doesn't matter how prepared you are, illness will still get you - Once again this ties into my previous point, people like to romanticize the idea of a SHTF situation or even worse TEOTWAWKI. The idea of the lone survivor traveling the wasteland, his dog in tow, nothing but a shotgun, a knife and handful of bottle caps(or maybe I'm just a little too excited for Fallout 4) is something that far too many people think is both realistic and achievable. No matter how many knives you have, how much ammo, food or water you have stocked, how many Bug Out bags you have, how many caches you have along your Bug Out routes, it  is all useless if your bowel decides to pack up and go, if your appendix decides to burst or if cancer decides to rear it's ugly head.

Being prepared is not just about external disaster - I learned that I need to be more prepared for things to not only go south in nature, though living in a high risk area for flood and fire will do that; but to be prepared for things to go wrong internally too. Survivalists don't often speak about less testosterone-driven endeavors such as ensuring that your have enough cash on hand to live on if you're unable to work for a few weeks. This is a harsh lesson to learn, however it is very valuable.

Nurses make the worst patients -  Not so much a survival lesson and more of a personal lesson than anything else but I have no doubt that I was an absolute pain to take care of. Constantly asking questions, checking my med chart and butting in when the nurses were talking, they were extremely patient with me but I have no doubt that I annoyed them.

  All in all the biggest thing that a stint in hospital has given is a newfound appreciation for my freedom and good health. Nothing makes you appreciate good health more than having it taken away from you. I will be happier when I am finally able to return to work and hit the trail once more, but for now I have no choice but to rest and heal.

Car camping at the foot of Mount Cole - A strange night at Richard's Camping Grounds

On what was intended to be a relaxing and uneventful weekend, James and I set out for Ditchfields Camping Grounds. We left at a decent hour, given that we weren't in a huge hurry and the drive up was peaceful and very relaxing.

  We arrived at Ditchfields around 11ish thinking that this was where were going to hang our hammocks, set up our camping chairs and have a few beers. When we arrived we were greeted with the ghastly sight of two large camper vans parked illegally on the grassy space reserved for tents, with one of the bollards removed where they had driven their camper vans onto the grassy area. We were also greeted with the sight and sound of around five motorbikes speeding around the area with the riders of varying ages, although it is worth noting that the majority were children. We decided to simply leave it be, although at one point we did contemplate calling Park's Victoria and alerting the ranger.

  We continued driving along the track to Mugwamp Hut, which was admittedly a very unsteady drive in James' car, though the end product was worth it. The site was very small, with a single firepit, a toilet, three gum trees in a very convenient formation for our hammocks and a quaint little hut. James and I both agreed that the hut looked like something out of Deliverance and a group of hillbillies were going to jump out at any moment. With that in mind, we parked the car near the stream and decided to take a bit of a midday stroll around the trails surrounding it, given our previous failed attempt at making it to the summit, we wanted to at least see if we could find the lookout to Mt Buangor. Whilst we did not find the official lookout, we found a nice little clearing overlooking Mt Buangor, stopped for a few minutes and made our way back to set up camp for the night.

 

Squeal like a pig!!

  When we arrived back at the camping site and were going to unload our gear, we were greeted by the aforementioned hillbillies. Well, not quite, we were greeted by a middle-aged woman who was traveling with two teenage boys. We figured that the last thing we wanted was for said teenage boys having to put up with our drinking, screaming and obnoxiousness and decided to move on.

  It was at this point that we decided to simply head down to Richard's and try our luck at the very base of the mountain. We figured it would be less cold, and hopefully there would be less people down there. We drove down the same way that we had came, even briefly stopping once more at Ditchfields to see if it was a viable option, but eventually decided on Richard's. We felt a brief sting of disappointment when we arrived at Richard's as we saw that there were already alot of cars parked at the site, however when we got out of the car we found that the camp site was completely deserted. We did a little hop, skip and jump then proceeded to unpack our gear, hang our hammocks and build a fire.

  We had just built the fire, opened a can of cider and were roasting marshmallows when I heard a voice and some rustling behind me. It was a young lady, most likely in her early twenties, who had just walked down the hill from the toilets. She was friendly and began talking to us, we even shared our marshmallows with her. She mentioned that she was backpacking from Tasmania and staying at the camp site out of her van. We shared some pleasant conversation and some marshmallows, after some time she then got up, got in her van, drove off for a while and we did not see her again for the night. The reason I mention her visit is because she had completed the Beeripmo walk in a single day. This is the very same walk that James and I had failed to complete two months prior over a two day period. To put it in comparison, she had completed twice the walk, in half the time. Whilst it put a huge dint in my ego, my hat goes off to her.

  The rest of the night was fairly uneventful, we cooked a stew in the dutch oven, ate, drank and froze our asses off. That is to say, it was uneventful until around midnight when a car pulled up and shone it's lights directly on us. I swear I jumped a country mile and instinctively reached for my bowie knife, it's probably a good thing that I had put all of my blades away at that point as it was simply a young couple who had left home late. We gave them a hand putting up their tent and invited them to stay up and have a drink with us, however they pretty much went straight to bed.

Probably a good thing that I put it away.

  James and I were also getting tired and decided to go to retire to our hammocks shortly after. Well, that
 is to say that I retired to my hammock and James decided to be a pussy and sleep in his car. In hindsight, I probably should have just taken his hammock as mine was rigged very poorly and I ended up on the ground, I'm just glad that I pack sleeping pad.

  Before we left in the morning I spoke with the young couple who had arrived late the night before and saw that they were foraging for something. Whilst I don't mind finding and eating wild edibles, there is a point where I draw the line and wild fungi is pretty much it. When I asked them what they were doing, they told me that they were collecting magic mushrooms, that these particular mushrooms cause you to hallucinate and that Richard's is one of the best spots to find them. A strange ending to a strange weekend.

If you read about a young couple from Bendigo who died at the base of Mt Cole from an unknown poison, this is what they ate

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.