Getting to know my local landscape

One of the many features that drew us to purchase our property at Axedale in 2022 was the view from the front of the house across to Mount Sugarloaf, a low ridge standing around 230 metres above the surrounding plains. In the two years since moving here, I’ve never once grown tired of watching the sun (or moon) rise above the rocky peak, or exploring the wildflower laden Box-Ironbark-Yellow Gum forest of the Sugarloaf Conservation Area at its base. Somewhat embarrassingly though, up until now, I’d never actually explored the ridge line itself.

After the severe storms of October 2022 and January 2024, a number of the tracks in the area have become washed out and impassable to vehicles, however there is foot access at least via a very rugged trail that runs straight up onto the ridge from Murphy Track, one of the main roads that traverses the Sugarloaf Conservation Area and Wellsford Forest.

After a brief stop to admire the reflections of the yellow gums in a nearby bush dam, I parked the car at the base of the walking track. My first move was to make a short detour in the opposite direction along another track, towards an anomaly I’d noticed on Google Maps along a trail named Soil Pit Track. After passing through a short section of stringybark and yellow gum woodland, thick with grevilleas and fringe myrtles, the track opened out into a large area of excavated ground. It wasn’t exactly clear what the purpose of this area was, but it looked like some sort of open cut mining venture, as there were large “mullock” heaps everywhere and it seemed to follow the line of the Sugarloaf, which was a well worked reef line that had been mined for gold since the 1890s. Unfortunately, it’s not the easiest place to find the history of, so for the most part I’m just guessing at that.

Back at the ridge track, I headed up past the concrete barrier and was soon climbing steeply through thickets of stunted Red Stringybarks (Eucalyptus macroryncha). Having spent a fair bit of time exploring this reserve and the adjacent Wellsford State Forest in recent weeks, it amazes me just how different the vegetation is along this ridge compared to the taller forests below. Here the predominant understorey of wattles and melaleucas gives way to a sea of golden flowered Hibbertia crinata, pink fringe myrtle (Calytrix tetragona), gnarled, Bushy Needlewood (Hakea decurrens ssp physocarpa) with its vicious spines, and the occasional hairy Geebung (Persoonia rigida).

What is really amazing about the vegetation along the ridge is how quickly it changes as you climb – as the soil begins to thin out, the plants that have dominated the deeper sands and gravels below are very quickly replaced by hardier species. Even here, there are dramatic changes in vegetation from one spot to another, with almost pure stands of red stringybark giving way at times to Grey Box (Eucalyptus microcarpa) and even some stands of Bulloke (Allocasuarina leuhmannii) and Drooping Sheoak (Allocasuarina verticilliata). At one point along the way I found a large patch of Austral Indigo (Indigoferra australis) – a common shrub in Victoria but one I had not seen in this reserve until now.

By this stage I had left the old 4WD trail behind, preferring instead to traverse the edge of the ridge, where it offered better views of the land between here and Mount Alexander, 70 kilometres away to the southwest. The walking was steep at times, but it was pretty easy going, as the vegetation here was very sparse and low growing. It certainly looked easier than the track, which undulated wildly through several deep gullies that criss-crossed the ridge in places.

Not long into the trip I started seeing signs of the area’s gold rush history, with a number of abandoned diggings scattered around, and some precariously deep vertical shafts that had been sunk to chase the seams of quartz that ran deep through the mountain. While not as famous as the nearby Bendigo goldfields, there were still fortunes made at Sugarloaf, although it looks like the going was pretty tough, and by all accounts many of the most promising leads often petered out all too soon.

As technology changed, and the ability to dig deeper and extract more gold from the ore became a reality, these seams became highly sought after again. To this day, the Fosterville Gold Mine, adjacent to Mount Sugarloaf’s eastern flank, has become one of the richest and most productive gold mines in Australia. You catch occasional glimpses of it through the trees, and the constant hum of machinery and pounding of the ore crushers reminds you that it is there, but for the most part it is just background noise, drowned out by the numerous bird calls you hear as you walk.

After over an hour of walking I re-joined the main track at a large gap in the ridge. Here, a steep gullies gouged their way down each side of the ridge, dry for now, but showing obvious signs of the torrents of water they would disperse during a rain event. One that dropped to the west followed an exposed seam of quartz that the diggers had obviously been chasing – waters from this creek eventually find their way into Kangaroo Creek, a tributary of Axe Creek that joins the main creek just upstream from our house.

By this stage my legs were telling me that I should head back, but the scenery ahead kept me pushing on, determined to reach a point along the ridge where I could get a glimpse of our house below. At a junction in the track I was surprised to see a dumped car; and while for the most part I cursed at the mongrels who would do such a thing, part of me did have to admire the tenacity of those who would drive an ordinary sedan that far along a track that I’d struggle to take my 4WD onto.

Putting the vandalism behind me, I made my way up the steep slope, past more gold diggings, until the track began to level out again at the top of the ridge. Here it was possible to leave the road behind again and walk closer to the edge, which afforded much better views to the west. In places, the understorey here gave way to what appeared to be a lush lawn, but on closer inspection turned out to be masses of Rock Fern (Cheilanthes austrotenuifolia).

The ridge line continued in a dead straight line until it reached a point where Sugarloaf Track intersected the ridge line. Here, there was a large gap between the peaks, before the main ridge started again slightly further to the west. By this stage I had been walking for well over two hours, and I was starting to get some not-so-subtle reminders from my legs that I’m no longer young, but I still hadn’t managed to spot our house, so I willed myself on across the rise and made my way up to the next track, which climbed almost vertically to the highest point of the range.

After scrambling my way up what was no better than a goat track, I finally made it to the top, to be rewarded by the sight I’d been after – there, through the trees, I could see our house! I walked around on top of the peak for a while, trying to find the best vantage point to take a few photographs. I was a little surprised at just how clearly I could make out the new planting I’d been doing along the edge of the dam, the very thing that had inspired my interest in researching the local flora in the first place. I’m keen to go back up there in future, to see what difference this revegetation project is making to the overall view.

One of the challenges I have set myself with the dam revegetation project is to try and mimic as closely as possible the vegetation communities found here in the Sugarloaf Conservation Area. This means I’m not only looking at planting the same species of plants that are found here, but also planting them alongside other plants that would naturally be growing with, and in areas they are most likely to be found in the wild. For instance, in amongst the stringybarks, a lot of the sub storey plants are small and spiky, offering great protection to the little robins, thornbills, and wrens that abound in the area. I’ve tried to duplicate this with the dam plantings by surrounding my taller trees with lots of spiky plants like Spreading Wattle (Acacia genistifolia) and Bushy Needlewood (Hakea decurrens ssp. physocarpa).

For my walk back to the car, I decided to mainly stick to the track, to see if there were any interesting features in the gullies that I might have missed while traversing the ridge. I did see a number of additional abandoned gold diggings, including a couple of areas that were dotted with deep shafts, and even a horizontal “adit” that had been driven in towards the main seam.

As I reached the junction that featured the exposed quartz seam again, I couldn’t help noticing a single Eucalyptus tree that seemed obviously different to those around. On closer inspection, I believe it to be a specimen of Long-leaf Box (Eucalyptus goniocalyx), which would make sense, as the location was a close match for one of two sites within the reserve where that species has been recorded.

Climbing up from the diggings again, I had a sneaking suspicion that I was being watched. Sure enough, as I stepped closer to the outcrop where I’d previously spotted the Indigo bushes, a family of Black Wallabies (Wallabia bicolor) scattered off into the undergrowth, each one pausing after a few bounds to stop and watch me from the safety of the trees.

With the morning having given way to the afternoon, and the prospects of a late lunch looming back at the house, I retraced my steps back along the ridge to Murphy Track, and headed for home. I think the next time I do this walk, I’d like to coordinate it with some fellow walkers, which would allow us to park cars at both ends of the ridge, and do the full traversal along the entire length of the Sugarloaf. I’ve already put out some feelers with various other interested parties, so watch this space.