It was our last day in Thredbo, and the cross-country aficionado in our
group of skiers has planned an expedition to Mount Kosciuszko. We had rented the
gear in Jindabyne yesterday afternoon, so, after we wake and pack, all it
takes is twenty-eight dollar chairlift ride and the first hills of the Main
Range of the Australian Alps are in sight.
Now, Australia is the flattest, driest country on earth, and you would be
forgiven for thinking the only geographic relief is that great big red
rock in the middle of the desert. This is not quite the case. In the
south-east, roughly half-way between Sydney and Melbourne, the highest parts of
the Great Dividing Range rise above the treeline, and receive moderate
snowfalls in winter. Several ski resorts operate in these mountains.
However, unlike the tall, young, steep, and jagged mountains in neighbouring
New Zealand, the mountains in Australia are old, gentle, and worn
down. Mainland Australia has not seen any vigorous geological activity in some
time. My high school geography teacher explained, almost apologetically, that
once upon a time Australia used to have several glaciers. They are now long
gone, having left behind a couple of glacial valleys and a grand total of five
glacial lakes, all of which you can visit in a short day's walk.
The central issue that comes out of all this is that Mount Kosciuszko,
although technically the highest mountain in Australia and one of the Seven
Summits, is in reality a medium-sized hill, a six-kilometre stroll from Thredbo
top station over a gently undulating plateau. In summer, there's a
well-maintained raised metal walkway, complete with informative signs about
the native flora and fauna. At Rawson's Pass, it meets up with a road - you can
actually drive to the summit, although only authorized national park vehicles
are allowed now. In winter, the snowbound trail is marked with orange
poles. I've climbed it several times in summer, once with my family when I was a
kid, and later when we did it for a geography excursion.
The neighbouring Mount Townsend, Australia's second-highest mountain, is
much more serious looking, and was long thought to be the higher peak. There is
some controversy as to whether it was the mountain Count Strzelecki actually
named Kosciuszko. Australia's steepest vertical relief can be found between
Townsend's summit and the Geehi river valley to the north.
All this geographical trivia is somewhere in the back of my mind as we set
off from the top the chairlift. It's very late in the season, and while the
south-facing slopes still had plenty of snow, the northern ones were bare grass
and rock. We would ski up a snowdrift as far as we could, and then take off our
skis and walk a short distance to the next one. I've never been cross-country
skiing before - I've been strictly a downhill guy - but this isn't to hard. A
gliding walking motion, and damn, you can move so fast uphill. It does feel a
lot closer to nature, a lot less artificial. Plus the skis are so light, and the
boots are pretty much just hiking boots. Positively pleasant to walk in. The
weather is beautiful and there isn't a cloud in the sky. But it's
die-of-exposure-overnight windy.
Unfortunately, pretty soon my mate's girlfriend (who has never been skiing
before, and has been really struggling) hits a block, and
there's lots of falling and whining and tantrums and we take an hour to go the
first 100m. Eventually I lose it slightly and make some jab about shutting up
and actually trying, or going back to the restaurant and we'll cover your gear
hire. This seems to work. Soon we reach the Kosciuszko lookout and take a break:
the mountain is now visible in the distance, with the upper reaches of the
resort still visible down behind us.
So we slowly progress, following the biggest snowdrifts along the ridges. To
our left is the prominent tor called the Ramshead. We cross over heaps of
small rivulets; the headwaters of the Snowy River, made famous by Banjo
Patterson. We break for lunch at about the half-way mark, below the Etheridge
ridge and out of the wind. It's already past midday and we aren't moving
fast. It's proposed that the aforementioned struggling girlfriend could wait
here, while the rest of us make a push for Kosciuszko. It will probably take us
more than an hour. But we seem to converge on this plan, and she at least looks
relieved she won't have to ski any further for now.
So we put on the afterburners and push up another snowdrift to the top of
the final ridge. Lake Cootapatamba (one of the glacial lakes) and Rawson Pass
appear beyond. The permanent cornice above Cootapatamba is huge, about a
kilometre long, and snakes down the entire south ridge. I wish I had some
downhill skis. We walk across the bare saddle at Rawson Pass and click into
the skis at the base of Kosciuszko proper. This is the first serious climb, and
we start a slow zigzagging traverse up the eastern face, passing a few
hikers. It's actually steepish, and as we stop for a short break I sip from my
water bottle and bask in the sun and feel like I'm climbing a mountain.
The top...I break out of my pace and start sprinting or whatever you call it
on these skis. The ridge keeps rolling away in front of me, it's further than it
looks but there's the road and I now I can see the cairn at the
summit...
We have reached Australia's highest point. The roof of the Antipodes. One of
the seven summits. To be greeted by a group of bogan snowboarders drinking a
case of Victoria Bitter. Maybe, as my friend says, it's just a little too
accessible to the general public. We get one of the snowboarders to take a
group picture, and celebrate with chocolate.
Now, for the fun bit! We get to ski down Kosciuszko. Now I
really want some downhill skis...AAAAAAH MY HEELS ARE
LIFTING! PIECE OF SHIT TOOTHPICKS! **CRASH**. The events of
the previous sentence are subsequently repeated several times. I positively
bounce down Mt Kosciuszko on my arse. Suitably humbled, I regrouped with the
others at the bottom, and everybody made it back to the top of the chairlift
safely.
Based on
an
old blog post of mine. If you're interested in further reading about Mount
Kosciuszko and the Australian high country, you might try the books Skiing
the Western Faces - Kosciusko, by Alan Andrews, and Kiandra to
Kosciusko, by Klaus Hueneke.