Some places are very special to visit but they’re a long way away and you have to be committed to make it there.  But other places are equally spectacular and only a short distance away, almost in your back yard, so to speak.  We tend to overlook such places because they’re not part of a longer or more elaborate journey.

This is the case of the Victorian Alps, locally known as the High Country, the southern portion of the vast Australian Alps which straddle the New South Wales and Victorian border.  And finally, after too long, here we were, exploring and camping in the Victorian Alps which are only a short drive from our southern base of Cooma.

The Australian Alps is the country’s largest and highest mountain range, home to the only ski resorts in Australia, a spectacular range of mountains, forests, rivers and lakes that are an adventure playground for anyone with a sturdy vehicle and a way to sleep out in the bush.  Like us.  And while we are much more familiar with what New South Wales has to offer, south of the border in Victoria has some equally spectacular places to explore.  And we were zooming in on exactly that.

After four days in Cooma with our beautiful grand daughters we drove south-ish through the Adaminaby and the northern sections of Kosciusko National Park in the New South Wales Snowy Mountains.  This area of the mountains down to the Victorian border are dominated by the massive Snowy Mountain Hydro project which was started in 1949 to deliver hydro electric power to the people of NSW and Victoria.  The Snowy scheme consists of nine power stations, 16 major dams, 80 kilometres of aqueducts and an astonishing 145 kilometres of tunnels.  It took 25 years to build and at the time was the largest infrastructure project in the southern hemisphere. 

In recent years the government has embarked on what is called Snowy 2.0 which utilises new technology to substantially expand the hydro scheme and leverage new forms of energy like wind and solar.  Down in these parts its all about Snowy 2.0 and this was in full view when we arrived in the company town of Cabramurra, at 1,488 metres (about 4,900 feet) one of the highest communities in Australia and built solely to house workers from Snowy 1.0 and now being expanded (and rebuilt after recent bushfires) for Snowy 2.0. 

After driving through beautiful burned out forests – yes, we decided, the scenery could be beautiful even if they were regrowing after being tragically burned out in early 2020 – we had lunch overlooking Cabramurra before heading down the spectacular winding mountain road to the distant southern valley below and the small town of Khancoban. 

This was a beaut drive, highly recommended, mostly through burned out (but regenerating) forests but past a number of large dams from the hydro scheme, up and over mountains, finally down into the valley that is formed by the Murray River.  From there we crossed the Murray, Australia’s longest river, at this stage only a fast moving mountain stream, and entered Victoria. 

We camped that night in Burrowa-Pine Mountain National Park, a seemingly forgotten national park in the far corner of the state, high mountains all around, a little babbling brook and tall gums the only things to keep us company.  Sitting around the fire that night we knew we were back in heaven again.

This Upper Murray region, as the locals refer to it, is full of wonderful surprises and we spent the next morning exploring this national park and doing an invigorating walk up to Rocky Knob on Pine Mountain for views all around. 

We lunched in a sublime spot on the banks of the Murray River before heading inland again and following a long dirt track up to the dramatic lookout in Mount Mittamatite Regional Park which provided helicopter views of the sprawling valley below.  We then headed back down the mountain and found a beautiful spot to free camp on the grassy banks of the Murray.  Whether you’re up in the mountains or down along the river this region delivers big time. 

They say life is one big adventure but sometimes there’s a bit more adventure than you bargained for.  The next day we eyed off a four wheel drive track through a rugged state forest which featured three historic huts that had been built ages ago by men trying to tame these mountains, or in one case, by men thinking they could set up a ski run in winter. 

We followed the Dunston Road up and around steep mountain ridge lines, enjoying stunning views of endless dense forested wilderness.  This area had been completely burned out by the fire three years ago (including the three huts which have been faithfully rebuilt) and inevitably we came to a closed gate on a track that had not yet been cleared.  Never mind, we looked at our maps and chose a longish detour that would still get us to the third hut.  No problem.

Big problem.  This obscure track was seldom travelled and had degraded to the point we should have turned around.  But no, not us, we pushed on, down super steep tracks in very poor condition, stopping frequently to get out and figure out how to safely move forward.  Wanda was performing fantastically but she was being pushed to the limit.  And on top of all this, our fuel gauge and computer was telling us – wrongly, I was sure of it – that we were almost out of fuel. 

On a Sunday where we had seen absolutely no one and the remoteness of where we were defied all our maps and apps, we knew the stakes were high.  When we came to a dodgy creek crossing Julie walked through it in her shoes to make sure there were no hidden holes or big rocks.  Without hesitation our mighty Wanda forded the deep creek. 

We headed back up the steep hill, our computer telling us the tank had zero kilometres left in it, and went back down another ridge to another raging creek (where thankfully a bridge had been installed after the fire), when Wanda finally conked out.  We should have had a third of a tank left – and we knew we hadn’t spilled a drop all day – but for some reason she was finished.  Oh bugger. 

Julie and I have found ourselves in awkward situations before and we knew the key to resolving the problem was making the right decisions.  We brainstormed all possible solutions, frankly none of them very attractive, but knew at least we were self sufficient for up to a week if need be.  It was pretty grim, I have to say, and while we were trying to find any bright side to our dire situation, Mick and Carolina and their two kids pulled up in their 4WD. 

Are you kidding?  A super helpful and friendly guy and his fabulous wife and two darling kids just magically appeared and 90 minutes later we had pumped 16 litres of diesel from his fuel pump back into Wanda.  Mick was prepared to do anything to get fuel from his Prado to Wanda and using some ingenuity I wouldn’t have thought of we managed to do it.  We swapped a few travel stories, insisted on giving them some wine and beer since they refused any money, and we each went on our way.  Thank you thank you Mick and Carolina!  Isn’t life grand?

We camped that night on the banks of the Nariel Creek, toasted our good fortune and new friends, and slept soundly to the melodious tunes of the creek bubbling past us.  Oh, and what happened with our fuel tank and gauge?  Best I can figure, some sort of air lock formed in the line while we were in those 4Low vertical positions because once we put those 16 litres in the tank the gauge sprung up to half full and all systems were back in order.  So we were never out of fuel but something went very bad and then came wonderfully good again.  Phew, what a day!