Thursday 7th May The day began with a bright sunrise and fog filling the valleys to the north and south of our camp. We broke camp in a leisurely fashion and embarked on what was to be a most gruelling day at 8:15am.  The Gingra Range is rather pretty. It is attractively wooded by eucalypts, in sections nicely grassy and with a variety of low vegetation; I noted lomatia, lomandra, acacias, bottlebrushes and what I would like to call hakeas – very prickly. On paper the range looks to be rather considerate to the walker, with a span of some 15km rising only some 300m or so after the initial climb from the Kowmung. In sections this gentle slope is realised, allowing anyone walking there to enjoy the Te Willa Range to the north and the Scotts Main Range to the south, with gently dappled sunlight bathing the immediate scenery. However, for much of the range there is a repetitive undulation in height, so that the actual variation of altitude along the whole length is greatly in excess of the hoped-for 300m. The undulation also served to make determining an accurate location rather difficult, as we were inclined to identify each peak attained as one of the six “Tops” featured on the map. Our skills in identifying the Tops was, in fact, so lacking that our campsite of the previous night, which we firmly believed to be Sixth Top, was merely a small knoll on the climb up to Sixth. This pattern of identifying intermediate bumps as Tops continued for much of the day, though we did manage to correctly pick Third and Second. Second Top was also notable for having an abruptly distinct change in vegetation, quite localised to the hill itself.  The Range, while pretty, is long and tiring to conquer. By the time we finally reached the turnoff to Bullhead Ridge we were thoroughly worn down by the distance, the incessant undulation and the unremitting weight of our packs. At one point I passed the time counting my footsteps – 1278 between arrows cut into two trees showing alternative routes down to the Kowmung. To our great relief we eventually left the Gingra and were reunited with the caches of food and clothing which we had stashed two weeks earlier. They had been happily undiscovered and quite untroubled by the rain. As it happened not all of the supplies were deemed necessary or worth taking, but those items which did have a purpose were nice to collect. The surplus was reburied, to be collected at a later date. This stop coincided with a slightly late lunch, and although we would very much have liked to have had an extended break after the exertions of the morning, time was against us. We had still a significant distance to cover before descending yet again to the Kowmung, and with limited daylight hours, especially in the valleys, there was no time to lounge around. The Bullhead Ridge was, in a word, tedious. It imitated the more impressive Gingra by undulating unmercifully in a way that seemed almost spiteful. Having walked this route very recently we did not even have the interest invoked by novelty.  With some effort of will we eventually reached the Cambage Spire, where this otherwise dull ridge plummets to the valley floor over a spectacularly short horizontal distance. Several treacherous sections enlivened an enormously long, steep and knee-jarring descent. Along the way Sullen Tor interrupted with a brief, sullen uphill, but in general the route resembled a broken rock wall which has veered off the vertical very slightly.  By the end of the descent we were absolutely done in. It was 4pm and the sun had already abandoned the valley for another day. However, a fabulously well-appointed camp area was immediately to hand, and so before the heat of the day’s labours had a chance to cool I raced to the river and waded in. It was COLD, very, very cold, but I took the opportunity to wash myself and enjoy the amazing view. Dinner preparations and a fire occupied us for a short while, but soon, as the stars shone overhead the cold air rolled in, we headed for our tents.  Walking time: 8:15am to 4pm (minus breaks, which were frequent but unsatisfyingly short) Casualties of the day: I tripped, again. |