New Day Rising – Days 21-22

Castleburn Creek CG to Jimmy Iversons CG

Gunaikurnai Country

15-16 March 2025

There’s no reason to be up early. I’m not going too far and the weather should be fine. But once I’m awake, I’m awake, so why not get up? The dew is not going to dry on the tent before I’m ready to leave. 

So it’s another early morning ride in the moisture-laden air. The sun is up, the fog is lifting and the wind has not yet woken. We cruise right on down the valley with its steep walls. 

We eventually round the corner of the spur, leaving Castleburn Creek to join the Wonnangatta River which will soon join the Dargo which will soon join the Mitchell. We’re heading higher in the catchments that all drain to the Mitchell which dumps into the Gippsland Lakes at Bairnsdale. In the watershed leaf analogy, we are heading up toward the leaf tips from the stem.

We then ride gentle undulations on the slopes above the Wonnangatta through mostly private property. It’s all grazing land down in a valley smooshed between the ridge we just followed  down and Mt Thomson to the north. 

The road crosses the river at Waterford and immediately after is a short, steep hill that goes up and over a spur instead of following the river valley upstream. We join the river again near the old caravan park that finally gave up when the new fire safety regulation came in (it requires much more in the way of spigots and hose reels, etc). 

We then pass the turn-off for the Wonnangatta Valley. This road leads up to a dead end where the Moroka River joins. This is the way to go for the Crooked River Track or Billy Goat Bluff or Herne Spur into the upper Wonnangatta. 

I’d like to do that first track, and it might be worth just riding up and back in the lower valley (it’s about 55kms to the dead end), but I’m not wanting to do it on a weekend (now). I think there will be more people than normal, also, because all of the tracks in the upper valley are closed due to a bushfire (escaped planned burn). So those go on the ‘next time’ list.

The road then heads up a tight and twisting valley with a small creek down the bottom. It’s pleasant. I was expecting a steeper climb, because I remember the downhill going the other direction in 2023 being pretty fast. 

But it’s not bad at all, and very nice to be doing in the shade of the morning. It will be hot again today and the wind will come out of the north later.

My memory is faulty not only on the grade, but the length of the climb also. I think the climbing should end near the junction with Shortcut Road. But it doesn’t. I find myself spinning onwards in that cool, moist morning air for another kay or two. 

Finally, we crest that little divide between the creek flowing to the Wonnangatta and the drainage heading toward the Dargo River. And then it’s a nice, fast, easy three or four km run into Dargo. 

The camping area at the Dargo River Inn looks pretty full as we ride into the outskirts of town among massive deciduous trees. None of the leaves have started to turn yet. It still feels like summer riding. 

Dargo isn’t much more than the pub, general store, tiny bush medical centre, church and public hall. The school hasn’t had any students since 2009. But the pub is a mecca for the 4WD and trail bike crowd. The town is considered ‘remote’, though I’ve never thought it felt like that. It’s an easy hour or so drive to Bairnsdale and the town gets totally packed out on weekends. Doesn’t feel remote to me!

It is definitely hopping at 10am. There are a heap of people milling about between the pub and the general store across the street. Trail bikes are zooming off in groups and other groups are loading trail bikes onto trailers. The camping area behind the pub is totally packed out right up to the entry gate. 

I ride on through and head up to the public toilets. You can refill water there. A group of a few guys and two girls are coming out of the public toilets as I roll up, and three of them look at me with smiles. They are in their late 20s or early 30s and are wearing hiking apparel. 

The one guy says, “well, congratulations, wherever you’ve come from was a tough ride.”  I laugh and say I was just camped at Castleburn Creek last night, so it was hardly a tough ride. I ask what they are up to. They are heading up to Mt Feathertop. They’ll hike in tonight to Federation Hut and then summit tomorrow. I wish them luck as the weather is meant to really turn tomorrow and that is an incredibly exposed hike for its entire length from the GAR (I did that one back in Oct). 

I roll back down the road a little bit and sit in a picnic shelter and use the mobile reception to get an updated forecast. I reassess my food stocks just to be sure I’ve got enough to get us to Omeo. I doubt there is anything in the pantry section of the general store I can eat, but maybe they’d have a jar of peanut butter. Last time I came through, they did not, and I ended up buying Nutella (never again, it’s sickly sweet and has terrible ingredients).

But my food stocks are fine – we have been out for two nights so far, and I bought food for eight. So when I head back to the general store, I just purchase a burger. No extra beetroot slices, so I eat it with a fork while I stand at an outdoor bar facing the street. I watch all the trail bike guys getting their gear together and note that it’s a mix of old and young guys. They all look pretty fit though – I guess you need more muscle and fitness to ride trail bikes, whereas you don’t need any fitness at all to drive a 4WD. 

There are still tons of people about, so it’s interesting to watch all of them milling about. There are just general sight-seeing folks out for the day mixed among the 4WDers and trail bikers, and the store and pub are making good money. I talk to one bloke who is filling up with petrol on the other side of the bar (there is one bowser). He is from Brisbane, came down to Melbourne to buy a trail bike, and stopped in Dargo to ride some trails with mates on his way home. But his butt is not used to riding, so yesterday killed him, so he’s having today off. He is interested in my bike and can’t believe I carry over a week’s worth of food. He says, “And you must have done enough kms, your bum doesn’t hurt.”  I assure him that, yes, I’m far enough into the ride that my butt is fine.

After lunch, I head up through the valley. The road stays flat to start. There are some new houses along here and lots of grazing land that sit beneath a tall ridge behind. The road climbs around a hill and gives us our first views of the Upper Dargo valley.

We then get into the first kilometre of the Dargo High Plains which kicks the grade right up. The Dargo High Plains Road averages 12% for the first 12 kms. The first km is enough for us today. I have some roads I want to ride up that way, but not on a weekend, and not with fires in the Upper Wonnangatta. Maybe we’ll approach it from the Great Alpine Road when we do those tracks, too. I really do not need to ever ride through Dargo and its redneck crowd again.

 Today we turn off onto the Upper Dargo Road. The plan is to camp in one of the four or five camping areas along this road. The first one has a picnic shelter that could be handy for the rain, but it doesn’t appeal. The next one, Italian Flat, sits down below the road and is packed out with caravans. This one is kinda narrow and long, strung out along the river. 

Just beyond, on a narrow bit of road, I meet a cow and calf and about 5 people walking behind. I say, “Is it just coincidence, or are you herding them?”  They are three older couples from Traralgon up for the weekend. They said they were trying to return the cow/calf to the rest of the herd so they wouldn’t be on the road. They are interested in what I’m doing and can’t believe I can get the bike up all the steep roads and tracks I’ve said I’m heading for. They say they couldn’t even imagine doing it on a bike when they were my age. I tell them that I am out doing it while I can, while I have the muscle and the toughness to not care about comfort, convenience and cleanliness. They laugh and then I head on.

The road is in terrible condition as it climbs and falls along the valley wall above the river. When I went the other way, this road was in good shape. It was the only saving grace on a day that had terrible roads/tracks the first 40kms. I was really flagging by the time I got here and wasn’t expecting all the ups and downs. But at least the road was good. Today it’s really rough – down to the rock base in a lot of places, lots of potholes and corrugations. I’m thankful to float over it all on Atlas.

We stop at the next camping area. There’s no one around. So I grab the nicest spot with a picnic table. There is so much rubbish around – another reason I hate camping in campgrounds. You’d think the 4WDers would appreciate the bush enough not to leave rubbish everywhere. But….

I spend forever trying to gauge where I might be able to set the tent where it won’t get caught in run-off or end up in a pool of water or be subject to falling branches. They are still predicting 40-50mm of rain tomorrow. I walk around, eyeing off different spots, using my mental ‘level’ to find the right spot. Eventually, I decide on a spot near the picnic table for tonight. Then I’ll move the tent tomorrow morning to a high spot that is near the river but far from the picnic table. 

Done. Kermit goes for a swing and then both guys go for a float while I filter enough water to fill up all of my pouches and bottles (5 litres + 1 litre dirty bag). I am not quite sure when that rain will come, but 40-50mm will make the river muddy. So I want to filter it while it’s still clear.

Then we spend the arvo just watching various cars come and go, while we hang in the shade. It’s hot and humid, and all the dust just hangs in the air from the 4WDs and trail bikes tearing by on the road. One particularly bogan-looking group comes through and I’m sure they would have liked to have my site. They look like they could be family members to the folks I met on Day 1. They head on and cross the river, even though there are signs next to the small track saying it is illegal. At least I don’t hear much of them or smell their campfire smoke way over there. 

In the morning, a few pitter patters of rain sees me in action early. I get the tent moved down to the high spot and stake it out well. I use some rocks from a campfire ring to line the bottom edge of the tent where the water will drip off. I tilt the rocks so the water will land on them and run away from the tent. 

And then I sit in the warm, still, humid air and wait for the rain to come. 

Dark clouds come and go, as do many people, before the wind picks way up around 1pm. The tops of the trees sway back and forth and all the dust gets whipped through the air. I lock the bike to the picnic table with the drivetrain side under the table. I tie down the plastic I put over the not-waterproof framebag and retreat to the tent.

The rain comes. And comes. And comes. For 8 hours straight. It lessens a few times, and I take advantage to get out and pee. But most of the time it is a very steady and sometimes quite heavy rain. I’ve got the painter’s drop cloth between the fly and the tent, hoping to redirect any leaks past the inner mesh. The tent leaks a bit where the clips press against the fly, but we stay nice and dry and warm in the tent. 

About 7pm, the wind swaps to the southwest and that cool Antarctic wind buffets the tent. Aahhhhhhhhhhh. After 6 months of summer, it’s like walking into an air-conditioned building on a very hot day. Oh, how I love that. It’s still not cold enough to get into my sleeping bag, but it is deliciously cool enough for a great night’s sleep there in my little tent. 

The wind whips about all night, even after the rain stops. But I’m not under or near any trees, so I sleep well. We’ll enjoy the cool while it lasts. The long-range forecast has it getting hot again pretty quickly. Like everything in life, enjoy the good while it lasts.