A walk over Blue Knob to Sphinx Rock......
A walk to Sphinx Rock.
Ringed by sheer cliffs and rising 800 metres above the surrounding farmland, Mount Burrell looms as an impressive landmark. I can see it from my place and have often wondered what it would be like to be up there in a lost world. Too inaccessible, it has never been logged or farmed. I only know a few people who have been up there. They spoke of an ocean of lawyer vines. There were some who claim to have been on the top of Mount Burrell, but when questioned details became vague. It was as if their memory had been erased. A few mentioned not being able to go further due to a paralysing fear. There is a sacred cave up there somewhere. Others reported seeing little shrines and meditation places where locals come to be with the universe, or something. Mount Burrell (possibly derived from the Aboriginal word 'burrul' meaning wallaby), is in the north-eastern corner of NSW and dominates the skyline to the north of Nimbin. Most locals know it as Blue Knob. Mount Burrell is the highest point on the Blue Knob Range and forms part of Nightcap National Park. However, access to it is limited because it is largely surrounded by privately owned land. Most of these land owners are concerned with liability and that is reason enough to deny entry.
I put an advertisement in ‘The Nimbin Good Times’ newspaper for a walking companion to spend two days on the mountain and three people responded. Between us we knew enough people on the surrounding ‘intentional communities’ to get permission to do the walk at one, and finish it at another. The plan was to walk the whole length of the Blue Knob Range (4 km) and try to get on to Sphinx Rock from the west. Sphinx Rock, another remarkable landmark, is a mysterious, enigmatic slab of rock that resembles, in profile, its namesake in Egypt.
I knew Neil (new tent, rucksack and sleeping bag), from us both being members of the Nimbin Bushwalkers Club. The other two were teachers at a local High School who I had not met before.
Early one morning four bods silently padded past the shacks, dwellings and steep driveways of community people and climbed the ridge that would take us ever up to the top. Afoot were clumps of soft grass and centuries-old blackboy trees. We met with a fixed rope on a vertical cliff face and took our chances. If the rope breaks you are dead. A madness of fear and adrenaline got us all up the roped sections and on to the Range proper.
From civilisation below, Blue Knob has the shape of Ayres Rock, looming and spiritual. From the air, Google shows it to be scorpion-like, long and narrow with leg-like buttresses each side, and a tail leading to Sphinx Rock, the stinger. Along the top we passed through eucalypt forests, then rain forest, the ground littered with kilometres of lawyer vine. We wore tough clothing and leather gloves to deal with the backward-facing hooks on this slasher of flesh. We could have come across anything here. You will find this hard to believe, so check it out at
www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2008/02/26/2172927.htm where you will find fifty accounts of Tassie Tiger sightings in the area around this mountain. Rob (new volleys), kept them away with his ‘Condamine bell’ a clipped-on metal mug that clinked and chinked against the embracing undergrowth. Huge trees, after growing unmolested for centuries, had died, collapsed and rotted where they were born. Scrub turkey nests were everywhere. Catbird and wampoo pigeon called to keep in contact. Olivier (new tent and sleeping bag), a stick-insect of a man, high stepped the forest litter in his size 13 shoes. His blue foam sleeping mat, strapped outside his rucksack, was losing chunks to the spiky undergrowth and ended up looking as if he had used it to fend off a mob of snarling thylacines.
We were seeing the ‘Big Scrub’ as it had always been. Nearing the top, the loamy soil gave way to rocks and finally, after six hours of walking, a trig station called Blue Knob. I left a visitors’ book here and we put up our tents. We had walked the scorpion’s back and it was time to slide down its tail to the stinger, Sphinx Rock just visible a kilometre away. The ridge we trod was narrow, about 5 metres wide, and had a steep drop on both sides. Half of its length was covered in a type of giant lily with stiff leaves three metres long. At times these leaves embraced us or tried to push us back. It got more and more serious, until we found ourselves on the knife edge of the Mount Warning caldera. We propped in very fear at the prospect of going further. Just 200 metres short of Sphinx Rock was a ledge, one metre wide, bare but for loose dirt and crumbling rock, with a sheer drop of 200 metres on both sides. I offered to rope somebody up if they wanted to cross it. No one was game. We took it in turns to cling to the last stunted tree in this wild and spectacular place and gaze upon Sphinx Rock in its terrible isolation. Rob wandered back to a spot where he could not see the anxious place we had ended up, and sat down, leaning up against an improbably placed scrub turkey nest. A metre above our heads we heard a whoosh as a falcon tried to see us off. It was time to play happy campers and return to our tents to enjoy the vibe of this special place, 933 metres above sea level.
According to Bundjalung mythology there is a sacred cave high on the mountain at Blue Knob (a dangerous place). It is home to an old woman who had a role in training the men who wanted to become clever men. They went to this witch to learn the things that such men should know. At the finish of the training the final test came when the witch threw them over the cliff to see if they could save themselves. Whatever the outcome the witch used her magic power to stop them from coming to harm.
At nightfall it got windy and a deep cold came over us. We crawled into our tents just as it started raining. My home-made shelter, weighing just 400gm, was now being tested. Through the night I listened to heavy forest-drops of rain hitting the material. This would send a fine, barely noticeable, spray of condensation over my face. Warm and snugly, I drifted off, to dream of a family of thylacines wandering through our campsite.
We woke in the clouds. I, (new EPIRB), set a compass bearing that would take us down the correct ridge. We were home to our other lives before lunch.