What Luke Wright expected was action heroes and blazing bushrangers. What he got was alpine adventure and new outlook on life.

When Bertie and Anne waddled into the wine and cheese bar, I feared I was in for a dull day. They had been retired a decade or two at least. Was this a joke? I’d driven to Victoria’s high country for an archaeological training day, and although I hadn’t brought my fedora or bullwhip, I was keen to unearth a few treasures like my favourite archaeologist, Indiana Jones.

After all, this was the home of Bogong Jack, one of the greatest bushrangers to ever jump in a saddle, a rustler of the highest order. But the people gathered here did not look adventurous.

“G’day ladies and gents,” said a bloke who had an air of Bogong Jack about him, “I’m Daniel. I’ll be taking you all on your tour of Mt Bogong.”

The words ‘you’ and ‘all’ resonated in my skull. There’ll be no cattle-duffing today, I thought.

“I’ll call everyone’s name to see we’re all here for the Mt Bogong tour,” said Daniel.

“Bertie and Anne, Ken and Lorraine… Rugby and Lynne,” he said, faltering on Rugby. “And last, but not least, Luke!”

I’d been booked on the wrong tour. Indiana would have spoken up, but I said nothing about the misunderstanding and prepared myself for a day on Victoria’s highest mountain (1986m) with this gathering of jovial old folk.

In Australia, a land not known for its massive peaks, ‘high country’ has a nice ring to it. It reminds us we do have mountains here, with marvellous mountain towns and snappy alpine air. We call it the high country and we enjoy it. Victoria’s high country is dotted with little towns like Eurobin, Porepunkah, Wandiligong, Smoko and Bright and is a delight for food, wine and nature lovers.

There’s something special about a person’s life story when it involves worldwide adventures. It’s also interesting to see where such a person finally finds a place to call home. Daniel spent his first years in 1950s South Africa, but between the ages of five and 15 he travelled through Europe with his family. Then, on a whim, they went to northern Queensland. With almost no schooling, Daniel became a builder and later a safari guide in remote parts of the top end. On a holiday to Victoria’s high country, he came across Bright. The land, the people and the vibe captured him. He felt a true sense of belonging and has stayed ever since.

As we drove to Mt Bogong the microphone was passed around and everybody told his or her story. Each was unique, with a different history, town and profession. As dissimilar as we were, something bonded us all: a passion to see Australia. These people had packed their lives into caravans and cars and taken the challenge.

Rugby was a peculiarity for two reasons. The first is pretty obvious. The second was that he looked equipped to deal with Armageddon. From head to toe, he had the latest gear: trekking boots, gaiters, zip-off Mac-Pac pants, moisture-wicking outdoor shirt, 60-litre back-pack, and a topographical map, which he followed with his finger as we bumped and bashed our way up Mt Bogong in an ex-military vehicle.

We arrived at a clearing among tall alpine ash and snow gum trees. Daniel dubbed this “the best office in Australia”. The three-hour return walk to the summit proved a little daunting for some, so they opted to relax at the lunch spot, enjoying the views and the wine. Rugby, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to use a walkie-talkie and he set off at top speed, map at the ready.

We headed for the summit, taking in the alpine shrubs and grasses and dots of bright yellow wildflowers. The air cooled with the altitude. The view across the treetops and over the deep green valleys was stunning – a rare panorama of the state. There was a slight sense of achievement in being on Victoria’s tallest peak. The walk was steep and required moderate fitness, so only a few made it. Rugby was there at the summit.

Just when I thought I was the highest person in Victoria, Rugby shed his backpack and unloaded a colourful kite. After many hilarious attempts to get it off the ground, a good gust of wind caught the kite and it was away, higher than all of us.

We walked back to join the others, who had polished off a few bottles of wine. They did not seem to mind missing out on the summit – it was the journey, not the destination, they said. The view and the sunshine were all they needed.

Daniel knocked up a huge feast of lovely local produce and homemade bread and we ate and drank in the wilderness.

The Mt Bogong tour wasn’t about the mountain – it was about the people, young and old. They say youth is wasted on the young, and looking at these vibrant oldies, full of spirit and adventure, I had to agree.

While I still want to raid a Lost Ark and maybe uncover the mystery of Bogong Jack – who, they say, retired to the back country with a fortune amassed during his time as a bushranger – I’m glad I spent a day with these people.

Maybe Indiana Jones had a good point when he said: “It’s not the years… it’s the mileage.”

Open Road e-zine August 2008

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