Mount Wills to Cleve Cole HutOvernight the weather had deteriorated slightly. Foggy, no view, windy, light rain a bit stronger, cool. The joy of putting on wet socks!

In January 1974 I led the first walk on the Alpine Walking Track. The 1974 AWT started at in Victoria at Tom Groggin, west of Thredbo, and then went to Mount Wills. When the Dartmouth Dam was built a portion of the AWT was flooded, so a new route was found, the one I had just walked, from Cowombat Flat. The AWT was later extended north to Canberra to become the Australian Alps Walking Track. The 1974 AWT approached Mount Wills from the north, turning west a short way before the summit of Mount Wills to go to Big River Saddle and then climb Mount Bogong. I was on Mount Wills going north to meet the 1974 AWT route.

It wasn't much, just a marker on the 4WD track showing a foot track west to Big River Saddle. But I had been here before, just once, on or about 8 January 1974. At this point I had now walked all the AAWT, albeit some parts when the AAWT was called the AWT. I thought of the people who were with me on the AWT, Frank, Ray, Terry and Tim. This was nearly 43 years ago, a lifetime of bushwalking.

Onward and downward. The bushwalking Olympic motto was very true: Slower, Lower, Wetter. The foot track was steep and

slippery, unsuited for racing, and it took an hour to squelch 2.5 kilometres down to Big River Saddle. Water and fuel were ingested then I slogged up Big River Road.

Up, up, up. Try to set a good pace, thwarted by too many logs. Rest every now and again. This Long Spur is well named! More logs.

The end of the 4WD track was reached at 11.45am, and the fun began. For about five slow energy-sapping kilometres from the sign the foot track varied between acceptable and horrible. The latter was chest-high scrub, unable to see the track, which I had to feel with my boots. Trees across the track required time to cast around for where it went. Much energy was spent pushing scrub, and more time was needed as I went slower. This is the bottom line in funding cuts to Parks Victoria, with what should be the best long-distance alpine walk in Australia barricaded with logs and scrub. NSW and ACT maintain the AAWT brilliantly.

Then the weather really broke. In 50 years of bushwalking I could not recall such a heavy continual burst of rain while I was walking. The track had 30-100 mm depth of water rushing down. There was no shelter, no Mount Wills rocks to hide under. So I pushed on and on. The guide book said good views. I had none. There are no photos for this section - too wet. Like yesterday walking to the Mount Wills Hut I was in clouds, a cotton wool cocoon that softly shrouded me, denying me the hard-earned views that I was looking forward to but never saw. Ah well, I can return in 43 years. I'll be 106.

the hut. The morning passed in a slow sloth of doing not much. A few people came by. I finished eating the cake I made the night before. Yum!

There was a log book entry, two people I knew 40 years earlier, Gordon and Terry, who had climbed Mount Cook the day before me. They left Cleve Cole Hut yesterday and descended Long Spur. We missed each other near Big Saddle in the murk. Bother. I would have loved to meet them again. We've since exchanged pictures and we have all got older. I doubt very much if we would have recognised each other at Big Saddle.

The log book had a number of interesting entries, like “Team smelly”. “Janice I'm 10 years old and this is the first time in this hut.” In November 2016 a party went from the Bogong High Plains then up and over the west ridges of Bogong. “Lots of dead fall on lower slopes of Quartz Ridge after crossing Big River. Although not a significant obstacle, the repeated over-and-unders are an embuggarance.” This is my new favourite word.

After lunch I left for the summit, a short stroll, three kilometres and 200 metres of easy climbing on the highest ridge in Victoria, with wide open slopes, gentle and steep, descending to the depths of the valleys over a kilometre below. The views were spectacular. To the north-east was Jagungal, about 120 kilometres distant, quite distinctive, even in the haze. The bumps to the right of the big jagged one must be the Main Range, above Thredbo, with Kosciuszko just another bump, indistinguishable. Pilot and Cobberas were a tad hard to spot, but I knew where they were. The Bogong High Plains were due south, with the Nelses closest, bare tops very obvious at 1880 metres. Feathertop was 25 kilometres south-west, standing tall and aloof, 1922 metres. West was Mount Buffalo, a very prominent mountain. Jagungal can be seen from about 200 kilometres of the AAWT, a much better bushwalking and ski touring mountain than many.

The signs used to have character, but have now been reduced to a common form. See the two Hells Gap signs from May 1980 and the current trip.

About 30 metres distant and 18 metres altitude from the summit, hopefully sheltered tonight, a series of hollows reside, just flat enough for camping. Sort out the kit, eat dinner, lie back and think about the last year, the last few weeks since Thredbo. A year ago on this evening I was on Gungartan. I thought of the people that had helped me, like NSW Trainlink, Michelle and Gordy. This was one of my toughest trips. Pilot scrub, heat and low water. Sundry portions of tracks that were not at all obvious. Long hard days, much distance and climbing. Hailed on twice, dreadful weather in a number of places, especially Long Spur. Relaxing at Glen Wills Retreat with Gordy for two nights, bliss. Mount Wills and Cleve Cole Huts that provided much-needed shelter after adverse weather. Happiness at being able to manage hard days at an age when many do far less. Any assertion that I'm barking mad is false. It's more of a growl.

As the light faded on the last day of the year I walked to the summit. Two people I met there earlier, Dean and Justin, were camped nearby and joined me as the year ended. We watched the Bogong Moths fly to their home in the summit cairn. Like them we were getting high on mountains. The setting sun threw a large shadow of Bogong to the east.

Two lights twinkled, probably the top of ski lifts at Falls Creek. Apart from that the hills were dark, not a glimmer to be seen. There were people at Cleve Cole and on the Bogong High Plains, but there was no sign of them. The Kiewa Valley lights were hidden by the whale back of Bogong's ridges. We were alone on the top of Victoria as the sun farewelled 2016. Millions saw fireworks this

night at thousands of places; I did not envy them. Three people saw the sun set from Mount Bogong. It was a privilege to be here. I first overnighted on the summit 44 years ago, within a week of tonight.