Memoirs of a different approach to Edeowie and surrounds, May 2024

Saturday, 25 May 2024

We arrived in the Flinders the night before, settling into Brachina Hut on Edeowie Station. A modest little shelter tucked off a side track about 8 or 9 kms down Brachina Gorge Road. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t ask much of you, and in return, gives you peace, quiet, and a fine base for walking.

Come morning, we packed up and drove back through the station to the Edeowie Gorge car park, a bare-bones affair, but it does the job. We left the car behind and shouldered our packs, each of us carrying about 12 litres of water for the weekend.  The plan being to have a base camp of sorts within the gorge. Some of the water we carried within our hiking packs, some in shopping bags, a real patchwork of hydration.  For anyone passing (unlikely), we would have looked like the support crew for a team of pantomime horses running the London Marathon.

We camped about 2kms into the gorge, up the creek and off the track, in a spot just above a dry creek bed. The view across to the range was lovely, and the place was thick with yellow-footed rock wallabies, more than I’ve ever seen in one place. They watched us like we were the entertainment.

Mt Abrupt Eludes Again

By the time camp was set, it was around 11:15 am, not ideal for a mountain like Mt Abrupt, which demands an early start and a full day’s grit. I’ve tried to reach its summit four times now, and each time it’s slipped through my fingers like smoke.

We set off from camp and climbed a steep creek, taking the left tributary. We reached the saddle around 1 pm, where a beautiful ridge led us through a series of rises to the shoulder of Abrupt. From there, the summit loomed, a sheer stone crown, unlike anything else in the Flinders.

We tried to climb it, poking around for a line, but without ropes it was too risky. We skirted the wall to the right, hoping for a miracle route, but none appeared. We descended the northern side, steep and unforgiving, and still found no way up.

Eventually, Dean and I climbed a 15-meter vertical wall while Matt and Dave waited below. From the top, it looked promising, scrambly terraces and smooth slabs stretched ahead. I pushed on alone to another tower, hoping to spot the summit, but all I saw was more rock and more questions.

Time was against us now, nearly 4 pm, and the summit still seemed at least two hours off. I tried to descend a different way, but the mountain wasn’t cooperating. After a long detour, I found a way down and rejoined the others.

Looking back at photos from our first position, we think we see a direct line to the top. Maybe next time.

Dean and I didn’t fancy going back the way we came, so we took a steep route down while Matt and Dave kept to the bottom. We met up on the main ramp and began a sharp, punishing descent through the creek to the foothills. We contoured our way back to the track and stumbled into camp in the dark, around 6:30 pm.

Edeowie Gorge and “Dave’s Refusal” 

Sunday, 26 May 2024

We left camp around 9 am with grand plans: walk through Edeowie Gorge, climb over the waterfalls, loop back along the opposite range, and return triumphant.

The spring marked on the map was bone dry. Not a drop to be found until we reached the bottom of the first falls (Malloga) where pools nestled in the reeds like secrets.

We climbed to the infamous “bad step,” a rock move so precarious it could make a goat nervous. One misstep and you’d be a cautionary tale. Dave took one look and said, “Not today,” and so we pulled back and looked to find another way up.

We contoured the wall, keeping height, and came to a rock face that practically begged to be climbed. Loose scree, shifting stone, the kind of terrain that makes you question your life choices. But up we went, hitting ledges and hoping for mercy.

I could say by “inspired navigation” on my part, although others may say by sheer luck, we found the only spur that led to the ridge. Hence a new route from Edeowie was born, to hereby be known as “Dave’s Refusal,” in honour of the man who wisely said no to the abyss at the step over to the falls earlier in the day.

At the top, the trees thinned and the ridge opened up. We followed it to an unnamed peak marked “638,” and it turned out to be a fine walk with views that could make a man believe in heaven. A sharp but easy descent brought us back to camp around 4 p.m., sunburnt and satisfied.

Yet another grand adventure in a glorious part of the world, which never fails to disappoint.