If you enjoy multiple creek crossings, with the water occasionally at waist level, then the Green Gulley Track is definitely for you. On our first day, my friends and I walk the first 17 km of our 65 km hike along a forest track with views across the Apsley Gorge, until the trail began to descend toward our first hiking shelter. From here it descends steeply down to the Green Gulley Creek and the first few crossings before a second shelter. We stay wet the entire 3rd day and wade back and forth across the creek over 30 times, following the fern lined Green Gulley Canyon. The water is crystal clear and we’re surrounded by rocky outcrops. The sky remains clear and sunny, but temperatures go below freezing at night due to a mid May cold snap.
On the third night, Cass, Lidia, Jen and I choose to sleep outside under a shelter and find it no colder than the tin lined shacks, though we layer up with layers of thermals before squeezing into our down sleeping bags. I keep my beanie on and it makes all the difference.
The same evening, Penelope the possum steals a plate off the table in full view of everyone, but fails to make it up the nearest tree with her prize, which is empty anyhow. More of a problem at nights is the plague of cute melomys mice. Our packs are hung from convenient hooks and our food stowed in safes, but the mice determinedly scamper along their miniature highways following beams along the tin walls. Other hopeful mice scurry across the floor searching our boots for food. They settle down fairly quickly though and allow us to sleep peacefully.
The Oxley River Park was originally cattle country sold to National Parks, and it has some interesting history as well as remnants of old stockyards near the heritage huts that we used. Life on the land in this remote location would not have been for the faint hearted. The terrain is steep and the creek unpredictable. We saw 2 large red bellied black snakes, so I imagine similar creatures would have added to the perils of the settlers’ lives.
A couple of us get a glimpse of the rare brush tailed rock wallabies that still survive in this area. Apparently 90,000 pelts were traded in a single year back in the day. It’s no wonder everything has become rare! Only when I hear figures like this can I truly grapple with how much has been lost.
On our last day, we are feeling fit and do a steep 600m ascent to meet the ridge-line without missing a beat. It’s frosty cold and our packs much lighter so we don’t even break a sweat. Back at Cedar Creek Hut, our spirits sink. A rat has eaten its way into the back of the car in search of food and done considerable damage to the back seats. But at least we’re not in North America and it was not a bear.
