You may not be surprised to know we've been busy in the holidays this summer (or, for our Northern Hemisphere friends, the winter). To start off, some friends visited over Christmas. Then we went off on a small trip to the Nightcap Range.
The Nightcap mountains are well known as being the home of the hippie town of Nimbin. Nimbin, closely linked to the coastal town of Byron Bay, is a big tourist attraction and a diversion from the colorless Pacific highway. We never visited it on the trip, but drove up a steep dirt road to a campsite within the range itself.
Nightcap Range is shaped like a C and is much wider than it is long. It gradually gains altitude from the Nimbin valley north, transitioning from hilly farmland to cliff-riddled rainforest. At around 800m of altitude, it slopes off in a dramatic and crazily steep escarpment to a coastal valley. Nightcap is just one ridge of many that make up one massive and perfect circle of mountains and cliffs known as the Tweed Volcano. Standing high in the centre of the crater, alone, is the imposing spire of gray rock known as Wollumbin.
Wollumbin, or Mount Warning as it was named by Captain Cook, is 1150 metres high (that is, from the summit to the valley floor, it measures over a kilometre). It is a remnant of the Tweed shield volcano, which used to be (and still is) so wide it could cover the state of Vermont. We only stayed on the eroded southern slope.
On the first day, we took the longest walk available in the area.
The walk began at the campsite, which appeared to be infested by goannas (or just one that seemed to be devoted to stalking me constantly). At arrival, I noticed signs of logging around the campsite, such as a stand of hoop pines lined up in rows, and a disused logger's cabin that was falling apart. I learned from information boards that logging had stopped here in the 1980s.
After having breakfast, we began walking down the creek. The path here wove through dense rainforest. Whenever the creek came in sight, it looked like a stagnant puddle. Soon the forest opened up, and the path clung to the creekside as it tumbled over rocks and wove through scrubby eucalypt forest. After forty minutes, the path ended at a lookout platform perched on the top of Minyon Falls.
Minyon Falls was where the creek we were following plunged into a broad gorge surrounded by tall, sheer cliffs. About four kilometres down the gorge, the walls opened up and the gorge joined a valley. We had to hike over there and back in order to reach the base of the falls. The first leg of the hike involved walking out and ascending to a point, with unfenced cliffs on both sides. The second leg was much more beautiful. We walked through beautiful rainforest dominated by massive strangler figs and swaying palm trees. Then we crossed a rocky creek, and ascended a debris field to the waterfall's plunge pool.
The waterfall was so high, it disappeared before reaching the bottom. I noticed outcrops of hexagonal rocks on the cliffs and down below. I had seen these peculiar rocks in other places, too.
The walk back up to the lookout, which travelled up the other side of the gorge, was much quicker and steeper. We reached the campsite in time for dinner.
Wollumbin is popular for being the first point in Australia, and every other mainland country except for Russia, to see the light of day. Wollumbin (Mount Warning) is one serious mountain, and is proof height does not equal hardness (so is Kosciuszko, but in a different way). The track to the summit is steep, zigzagging, and endless. Near the top is a seventy degree rock wall with a chain.
On the morning of the second day, we got up and hiked to the top.
The drive into the crater was pretty long, since we had to drive around the steep crater escarpment first, to a gap in the cliffs. From the gap we drove through some beautiful but very hilly farmland, and at long length reached the road that zigzagged up through Wollumbin's lesser satellites to a "carpark". The carpark itself, which we had the privilege to park in, was only about eight spaces and cars clung to the side of the road up to a kilometre away from the trailhead itself! (and we were there in the shoulder season).
Anyway, the walk began as a paved concrete path with no steps. As we climbed up through some beautiful woody rainforest, the path became brick. Then the path contoured upward. The path, which was dominated by steps this time, became a well-drained dirt path with wooden steps and information boards.
I had never before been on a pathway that was wheelchair accessible for the first 200 metres, and a near vertical climb in the last 200 metres, but that was what the path was like. Once we left the open rainforest and began climbing through what was basically a massive tangle of vines, the wide path degraded into a very rocky and muddy dirt trail with no steps. It stayed this way almost to the top. About 1200 metres up the track, we reached a massive clearing (with a view!) in the middle of which stood a helicopter platform. There were no less than four of these on the way to the top.
Half an hour later, when we reached Helicopter Landing Point 2, absolutely nothing had changed. We were still zigzagging steeply through a damp and muddy vine rainforest. We were 2.2 kilometres from the carpark this time. The views had gotten better, but they still weren't very impressive. Then, not far from the platform we reached a sign that announced our arrival at the halfway point. From there, the forest changed.
Earlier, we had been seeing coachwood trees and other rainforest plants. Now we began seeing eucalypts, and the forest just began to dry out. The track stopped zigzagging, and began to head consistently to the right. Soon the trail became a hard dirt trail, reinforced by rocks. In what seemed like no time, we reached helicopter point 3, which was 3.2 kilometres from the carpark and just 1.2 kilometres from the summit.
This place was the first real view. I could see out to the sea, but I could also see what was directly above us; a cliff of massive proportions. I had no idea how the path could get to the top of this.
Although the trail kept on zigzagging up, it never really reached the cliff. Maybe we were slowly circling the mountain the whole time. Anyway, helicopter point 4 was in a large grove of spear lilies, found nowhere on Earth but a small collection of high mountains around the NSW-QLD borders. It was a scarce 300 metres from the top, and a mind blowing 4 kilometres' walking from the trailhead.
For about five minutes, we walked through an ancient mountain forest filled with mossy Antarctic beech. The forest ended finally when the track stopped dead by a picnic table, at the base of the cliff I had seen earlier. The track seemed to go straight up this cliff. The climbing had begun.
At close inspection, the cliff had plenty of holds and I could almost walk up it. Soon enough, we arrived at the summit. There was no one view, but five separate view platforms ringed the summit. I could easily see the whole crater. It was great summiting.
The trip back down the mountain was uneventful. I went to sleep happy.
On the third day, we ventured to the coast and Byron Bay. I visited the lighthouse viewpoint, and walked to the easternmost point in Australia. We stopped at a lookout in Ballina, a nearby town.
The Nightcap mountains are well known as being the home of the hippie town of Nimbin. Nimbin, closely linked to the coastal town of Byron Bay, is a big tourist attraction and a diversion from the colorless Pacific highway. We never visited it on the trip, but drove up a steep dirt road to a campsite within the range itself.
Nightcap Range is shaped like a C and is much wider than it is long. It gradually gains altitude from the Nimbin valley north, transitioning from hilly farmland to cliff-riddled rainforest. At around 800m of altitude, it slopes off in a dramatic and crazily steep escarpment to a coastal valley. Nightcap is just one ridge of many that make up one massive and perfect circle of mountains and cliffs known as the Tweed Volcano. Standing high in the centre of the crater, alone, is the imposing spire of gray rock known as Wollumbin.
Wollumbin, or Mount Warning as it was named by Captain Cook, is 1150 metres high (that is, from the summit to the valley floor, it measures over a kilometre). It is a remnant of the Tweed shield volcano, which used to be (and still is) so wide it could cover the state of Vermont. We only stayed on the eroded southern slope.
On the first day, we took the longest walk available in the area.
The walk began at the campsite, which appeared to be infested by goannas (or just one that seemed to be devoted to stalking me constantly). At arrival, I noticed signs of logging around the campsite, such as a stand of hoop pines lined up in rows, and a disused logger's cabin that was falling apart. I learned from information boards that logging had stopped here in the 1980s.
After having breakfast, we began walking down the creek. The path here wove through dense rainforest. Whenever the creek came in sight, it looked like a stagnant puddle. Soon the forest opened up, and the path clung to the creekside as it tumbled over rocks and wove through scrubby eucalypt forest. After forty minutes, the path ended at a lookout platform perched on the top of Minyon Falls.
Minyon Falls was where the creek we were following plunged into a broad gorge surrounded by tall, sheer cliffs. About four kilometres down the gorge, the walls opened up and the gorge joined a valley. We had to hike over there and back in order to reach the base of the falls. The first leg of the hike involved walking out and ascending to a point, with unfenced cliffs on both sides. The second leg was much more beautiful. We walked through beautiful rainforest dominated by massive strangler figs and swaying palm trees. Then we crossed a rocky creek, and ascended a debris field to the waterfall's plunge pool.
The waterfall was so high, it disappeared before reaching the bottom. I noticed outcrops of hexagonal rocks on the cliffs and down below. I had seen these peculiar rocks in other places, too.
The walk back up to the lookout, which travelled up the other side of the gorge, was much quicker and steeper. We reached the campsite in time for dinner.
Wollumbin is popular for being the first point in Australia, and every other mainland country except for Russia, to see the light of day. Wollumbin (Mount Warning) is one serious mountain, and is proof height does not equal hardness (so is Kosciuszko, but in a different way). The track to the summit is steep, zigzagging, and endless. Near the top is a seventy degree rock wall with a chain.
On the morning of the second day, we got up and hiked to the top.
The drive into the crater was pretty long, since we had to drive around the steep crater escarpment first, to a gap in the cliffs. From the gap we drove through some beautiful but very hilly farmland, and at long length reached the road that zigzagged up through Wollumbin's lesser satellites to a "carpark". The carpark itself, which we had the privilege to park in, was only about eight spaces and cars clung to the side of the road up to a kilometre away from the trailhead itself! (and we were there in the shoulder season).
Anyway, the walk began as a paved concrete path with no steps. As we climbed up through some beautiful woody rainforest, the path became brick. Then the path contoured upward. The path, which was dominated by steps this time, became a well-drained dirt path with wooden steps and information boards.
I had never before been on a pathway that was wheelchair accessible for the first 200 metres, and a near vertical climb in the last 200 metres, but that was what the path was like. Once we left the open rainforest and began climbing through what was basically a massive tangle of vines, the wide path degraded into a very rocky and muddy dirt trail with no steps. It stayed this way almost to the top. About 1200 metres up the track, we reached a massive clearing (with a view!) in the middle of which stood a helicopter platform. There were no less than four of these on the way to the top.
Half an hour later, when we reached Helicopter Landing Point 2, absolutely nothing had changed. We were still zigzagging steeply through a damp and muddy vine rainforest. We were 2.2 kilometres from the carpark this time. The views had gotten better, but they still weren't very impressive. Then, not far from the platform we reached a sign that announced our arrival at the halfway point. From there, the forest changed.
Earlier, we had been seeing coachwood trees and other rainforest plants. Now we began seeing eucalypts, and the forest just began to dry out. The track stopped zigzagging, and began to head consistently to the right. Soon the trail became a hard dirt trail, reinforced by rocks. In what seemed like no time, we reached helicopter point 3, which was 3.2 kilometres from the carpark and just 1.2 kilometres from the summit.
This place was the first real view. I could see out to the sea, but I could also see what was directly above us; a cliff of massive proportions. I had no idea how the path could get to the top of this.
Although the trail kept on zigzagging up, it never really reached the cliff. Maybe we were slowly circling the mountain the whole time. Anyway, helicopter point 4 was in a large grove of spear lilies, found nowhere on Earth but a small collection of high mountains around the NSW-QLD borders. It was a scarce 300 metres from the top, and a mind blowing 4 kilometres' walking from the trailhead.
For about five minutes, we walked through an ancient mountain forest filled with mossy Antarctic beech. The forest ended finally when the track stopped dead by a picnic table, at the base of the cliff I had seen earlier. The track seemed to go straight up this cliff. The climbing had begun.
At close inspection, the cliff had plenty of holds and I could almost walk up it. Soon enough, we arrived at the summit. There was no one view, but five separate view platforms ringed the summit. I could easily see the whole crater. It was great summiting.
The trip back down the mountain was uneventful. I went to sleep happy.
On the third day, we ventured to the coast and Byron Bay. I visited the lighthouse viewpoint, and walked to the easternmost point in Australia. We stopped at a lookout in Ballina, a nearby town.
