Journey To The Top

This entry is part 4 of 18 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #52

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2021 was a year of challenges for Craig Baldwin. He faced low points, periods of darkness, anxiety, depression and hardship. But with the support of his family and Kramer, a Ténéré 660, he’s climbing up to meet the world eye-to-eye.

Where to next?
Author Craig Baldwin learned a lot on his journey.
Sometimes it’s hard to just sit and be, and to just observe and take in everything and be okay with that – essentially just being in the present moment.

I’ve had a lot of time off work to recover and seek my own internal peace of mind which I’m still seeking. During the search I was fortunate enough to spend some time with my brother on what was to be a three-week ride traversing Queensland, NSW and into the Flinders Ranges in South Australia.

For me it ended in tears when my XT660Z, ‘Kramer’, broke down and left us stuck in the Flinders Ranges seeking a way to ship the bike and myself back to Queensland.

After much deliberation I decided to rebuild Kramer and continue the journey to the top. I just couldn’t leave a mate behind. I wanted Kramer to ride again and seek redemption.

Seeing out 2021 on a high. The summit of Kosciuszko

Aiming high

I’d listened to the amazing Colin Brady discussing his massive feats of adventure and he made mention of summiting Mt Kosciuszko as part of his record-breaking attempt to climb the seven highest mountains across the seven continents. I decided my own journey should include ascending Australia’s tallest peak.

While I’d obviously heard of Mt Kosciuszko, the thought of visiting or climbing it had never crossed my mind – even though I’d spent a large part of my life living in NSW and not really a huge distance away.

I took the bike to the NSW central coast for Christmas with the family and headed off a few days later to end the year on a high, both physically and metaphorically.

Setting out at around 6.00am, trying to pick the gaps in the rain.

Packed and ready

The Kosciuszko trip commenced with an early-morning awakening to miserable conditions. I set out at around 6.00am after trying to pick the gaps in the rain and for the first few hours it was nothing but cold and wet conditions. But I was out on an adventure and a re-set of my mind, so I was happy to take any conditions thrown at me.

The morning’s challenging weather gave way to clear skies, hot sun, and the cooling, crisp, mountain breeze that blows through the Snowies, and after roughly six hours on the bike I arrived at the Adventist Alpine Village where I based myself for a couple of days. A hearty camp dinner and three-quarters of a bottle of wine set the day off perfectly.

With supplies packed for the next day I settled in for the night.

The rivers, lakes and streams made the walk simply stunning, while snow-capped peaks and snowy crossings made for an all-round great experience.

On track

A 20km ride into the Kosciuszko National Park the next morning had me at Charlotte Pass to begin the journey. There were quite a lot of people, and combined with the excitement, fear and, of course, some anxiety I made ready to start.

There are a couple of different routes to get to the top of Mt Kosciuszko, but I decided to take the nine-kilometre Summit
Trail.

It was a fairly easy hike with a gentle incline and not many real steep sections, and it overlooked some gorgeous countryside and strolled past Seamans Hut, built after two skiers had perished in 1928. The hut was built by one of those skier’s families the next year to ensure that type of tragedy didn’t occur again, offering a refuge for climbers caught out on the mountain in harsh conditions.

As I approached the summit of Kosciuszko, I admit I started to well up. To be standing on top of Australia’s highest mountain peak was a spiritual feeling and one that conjured up quite a few emotions for me after a really tough year. It wasn’t just the achievement of the goal. It was a waypoint on my journey.

Reaching the top was amazing, but it was the descent that left me in absolute awe.

I followed Main Range walk, approximately 11km, and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. The rivers, lakes and multitude of little streams made the walk simply stunning, while snow-capped peaks and snowy crossings made for an all-round great experience.

When I finally made it back to the start point I was drained, excited, overwhelmed, proud, content and centred. The best feeling of all was genuine happiness.

I could honestly say I’d seen out 2021 on a high.

Built after two skiers had perished in 1928, Seamans Hut offers refuge for climbers caught out on the mountain in harsh conditions.

Good result

The next day took a little while to get started.

After such an epic experience the day before it was tough to get back to that level again. Once on the bike I found a nice little loop around Snowy River Way and back to Jindabyne.

I wasn’t very motivated, but rolled over some wide, open land which started to pick me up a notch, and after a bite to eat at Jindabyne I decided to head back out to the Kosciuszko National Park so I could pick up a sticker for the bike.

The Flinders Ranges trip earlier in the year had started a sticker section on the XTZ to remember each trip taken, and Kosciuszko now had its own dedicated spot.

It was along Alpine Way to Thredbo I got my mojo back.

The scenery was spectacular to say the least, with kilometre after kilometre of twisting, winding roads. While Kramer wasn’t specifically built for that type of riding it was still bloody good fun nonetheless. What started out as a bit of a ‘meh’ morning ended up with some amazing riding and I was thankful I’d dragged myself out to enjoy it.

“Kramer, my mate, you did it.”

Wants versus needs

I bid farewell to Jindabyne and the Kosciuszko region the following morning, holding close a special achievement and memories that would last forever. But it was a weird day for me. I was up, down, sideways and every which way. Most of the day was spent covering distance to get to Wombeyan Caves, just over four hours away, but I did allow time to take in Parliament House and Goulbourn’s Big Merino.

I was keen to get to Wombeyan Caves so I could explore some of the caverns in the area, but as I climbed off the bike I decided to just take time out and relax in the creek with a few drinks. The caves could wait until the next day.

I was met with all kinds of wildlife while relaxing in the creek, from a goanna to kangaroos and some great bird life. It almost felt I’d stumbled on a hippie commune. There were a heap of campers having a good time, relaxing in the creeks, listening to all kinds of music, fires were going and everyone was genuinely enjoying themselves. It was quite refreshing compared to what’s normally seen in the nine-to-five, and this got me thinking about what we actually need versus what we want in life. We build our castles of ‘stuff’ and then for fun and holidays we go away with nothing but shelter, food and the want for some laughs and good times with people we love.

Being alone on New Year’s Eve was what I wanted and I enjoyed it, but it was a time to reflect on those I had close around me, hoping what hadn’t been the best year for me would roll over to a year of happiness and joy with those I love very much.

The following day, New Year’s Day, Bathurst awaited with some Mount Panorama fun.

A big day

The fifth day of my journey was a chilled, fun day.

I was in no rush to get started as I only had a two-and-a-half-hour ride to Bathurst, so I decided to take a wander through one of the caves before leaving Wombeyan campground. The only cave open was Fig Tree Cave, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. It was a self-guided tour, and that was right up my alley because it meant there were no crowds to deal with.

Again I was left in awe of the beauty thrown up to us if we’d just take the time to look for it. Sometimes it can be literally right under our feet.

The road from Wombeyan Caves to Oberon was good fun with plenty of fellow riders cruising the fast-flowing twisty roads. As I rolled into Bathurst I caught sight of the Mount Panorama sign up on the mountain and knew I was firmly in the motor-racing Mecca of Australia.

The history of that place includes names like Peter Brock, Dick Johnson, Allan Moffat, Mark Skaife, Craig Lowndes and many, many more. And now Kramer and me. It was our turn to conquer the mountain.

While it was done at a steady 60kph and under the very watchful eye of a motorcycle police officer, it was still lots of fun.

I even ran into the group of riders I’d met at Thredbo a few days before, and that made the lap of the circuit that extra bit enjoyable.

It was a late arrival into camp, which I wasn’t pleased with, but that’s something I need to work on. I need to make sure I don’t sweat the small stuff like that when I’ve had such a wonderful, fun-filled day.

The next day was scheduled to be a big one for a couple of reasons. The original campgrounds I’d booked had cancelled due to roadworks leading in, and it would also be my 43rd birthday. I was looking forward to spending the day out on the open road doing what I love. You really can’t ask for much more than that.

A sucker for open-field farms.

Unplanned stop

I’m a sucker for open-field farms and rolling hills dotted with sheep and cattle, and that’s what the next day threw up.

Travelling from Bathurst to what was going to be my campsite in the Warrabah National Park, I was continually met with rolling, multi-coloured fields and pastures as far as the eye could see. It was a great ride on some nice, flowing, long, twisty roads. I also traversed multiple vineyards on the outskirts of Mudgee which made for some nice riding and great temptations.

I don’t normally ride with music playing,but this was the day for it. It was my birthday and I was in the mood for some tunes, so Tool was locked and loaded and made for a great ride. It was a fairly long day in which I did my best to stop and take in the sights along the way. I even stopped at Frog Rock, which was okay.

It was a stretch, but I could kind of see a frog carved into the rock.

My last stop for the day was Gunnedah, and when I got back on the bike I just wasn’t feeling it. I was tired and ready to set up camp and have a few birthday drinks. About an hour from where I meant to camp I stumbled across a great, open, free campsite on the banks of the Namoi River at Manilla, so I decided to stay there the night. It was a top little spot with a nice flowing river and plenty of room to spread out.

The first week was done, and I was amazed at how time flew on the open road exploring our land.

I needed to find a COVID-19 test kit so I could cross back into Queensland, but for that moment it was ‘cheers’ to another great day while I sat by the river with a drink in hand.

Time for a self-guided tour of Fig Tree Cave.

Ups and downs

The next morning a guy camping just up from me started chatting and asked what I was doing for the day. He mentioned another free campsite at Bingara that was right on the Gwydir River with plenty of open space, plenty of shade and plenty of relaxation.

Sign me up!

The decision to have a day off the bike was dashed, and within about 30 minutes I was packed and on the road. The camp-ground at Manilla was nice, and all I can say is the guy I spoke to was not wrong.

The track into the campsite at Bingara was a bit sketchy with some large rocks and boulders, but boy was it worth riding in for. I even found a site with enough firewood for close to two nights. All in all I classed the day a win and sat back, relaxed, watched the river flow and listened to the cicadas and birds singing in the evening breeze. I couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow had in store.

One of the issues with anxiety and depression is that one minute you’re okay and then the next you’re knocked on your arse and feeling extremely low. That was me that night, to the point where I just wanted to pack it all in and ride home.

Theme-park roller coaster rides have nothing on these real-life ups and downs.

New Year’s Day, and some Mount Panorama fun at Bathurst.

Sinking feeling

I understand opportunities to spend a week or so with no time constraints and set destinations don’t always present themselves, so you need to make the most of them. That’s something I’ll be working on in 2022: to be fully thankful for every opportunity and not to let the self-doubt and loathing creep in. I’m extremely lucky to have a wife who understands and is happy for me to take time out when I need it.

The funny part was, the previous night I’d felt fantastic in a way I hadn’t felt for a very long time. I was happy, I’d had some music playing, food in my belly, was messing around with my photography and all was good. I’d managed to get some nice evening and night shots before the bad-feeling bugs rolled in and started to carry me away.

I felt slightly better the next morning as I woke to the sounds of the Gwydir River flowing quite rapidly and little kingfisher birds divebombing the water to find themselves breakfast. It was a rest day while I got COVID tested so I could cross back into my home state of Queensland.

I did some laundry, seeing as my clothes were on the verge of walking themselves into town for a rinse.

I think one of the reasons I started to feel so low the night before was there were no plans, no agenda and nowhere to be, which was a first for this trip. I some-times find it hard to just sit and be, and to just observe and take in everything that’s in front of me, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, an hour or a day, and be okay with that – essentially just being in the present moment. That’s something else

I need to work on in 2022.

I did however manage to observe the river flowing….and swelling…and flowing and swelling, to the point where I wondered if I’d have a waterbed that evening. The old fire pit had to be relocated to higher ground and I’d prepped my tent ready for a quick retreat during the night if needed. I was concerned enough that I set my alarm for midnight to see if the river had risen closer to my tent.

I’m happy to report while I did have an ever-so-slightly closer water view, I was still high and dry and had no reason to be concerned.

The clothes were on the verge of walking themselves into town for a rinse.

Streaming

I moved on to greener pastures the next day mentally. And who knew? Maybe even physically, too?

As I sat in town contemplating the ups and downs of the previous 24 hours I happened to catch a glimpse of a building I’d walked past a few times but not thought too much of. It was the Roxy Theatre.

Although it didn’t appear to be a working theatre, I wondered about its history.

It turned out the Roxy was work of three Greek immigrants who set up a number of cafes in and around the Bingara and Barraba region in the 1920s. The Roxy grew from a cafe and expanded into a major entertainment hub that, at the time, the local ’paper deemed the ‘dawn of a new era in Bingara entertainment history’. The Roxy was the most modern establishment outside of The Big Smoke – Sydney – at the time.

Then there was a cinema war within the town when other proprietors moved in. Over the next few years each establishment tried to outdo the other before finally, in 1936, the owners had overextended and filed for bankruptcy.

In 2004 the Gwydir Shire Council bought and refurbished the Roxy to its glory days. It now houses multipurpose cinemas, performing-arts venues and function rooms. It also houses a museum dedicated to celebrating Greek immigration to rural Australia.

It’s funny how many times we walk past these buildings in towns we visit, or even in our own towns, and never know the history behind them.

In the afternoon I decided to ride out to Copeton Dam, a rolling, flowing 40km road with various dirt tracks that darted off in every direction. I snapped my head back and forth like a kitten attacking a laser pointer.

After a few tracks were explored I continued on to see the dam. It was quite an impressive site and revealed why I’d had ever-closer water views at my campsite downstream. The flood gates were open and gushing water downstream.

In 2004 the Gwydir Shire Council bought and refurbished the Roxy to its glory days.

History

The following day was a lot of sitting around waiting to get my COVID-19 test results so I could cross the Queensland border, but I had the feeling on this day there was something in my heart and head telling me to get off my backside and explore and learn.

Whatever it was I’m very grateful.

Once I got on the bike I could’ve taken any number of roads or tracks, but I turned down Whitlow Road just out of Bingara. It was a nice, free-flowing track that weaved through some beautiful countryside. About 20 minutes in I came across what I thought was just a rest stop, so I pulled over and was confronted with a stark reminder of our past. It was the site of the Myall Creek Massacre.

Sadly, I had no knowledge that 11 stockman massacred 28 Wirrayaraay women, children and elderly men on June 10th, 1838.

The memorial was done in a very respectful way, snaking along 500m of trail with details and facts of the event, and which finished at the site of the massacre. By the end of it I had goose-bumps and all the hairs on my neck were standing upright.

I really encourage everyone to read up on the history of what happened at Myall Creek.

After a reflective afternoon and evening I packed it in for an early night. The next day was the final leg home.

Stopping to take in the sights along the way.

A good finish

Well Kramer, my mate, you did it.

After a new engine about six months ago you’ve now taken me from the NSW central coast down to Jindabyne where I climbed Mt Kosciuszko, then through to Wombeyan Caves for NYE and to explore Fig Tree Cave. Then you carried me to Bathurst for a number of laps around Mount Panorama for my birthday, and through the quaint country towns of Manilla and Bingara for some amazing free camping before arriving back home in south-east Queensland.

You did it all without fuss and redeemed yourself from the Flinders trip that was drastically cut short in March 2021.

My trip started wet and windy and finished the same way. It seemed fitting.

This was a much-needed break with an agenda to finish a rather low year on a high, and that I did. I was completely blown away by the beauty of the Mt Kosciuszko region and I now have some sweet, lifelong memories of having climbed to the summit.

I still have some things I need to work on with my anxiety and depression which this trip has taught me, but I knew these were never going to be quick fixes. The fact I’ve been able to highlight and share them is a step in the right direction, I guess.

Our country is vast and diverse and has many hidden gems if we’re just prepared to take the leap, get out there, find them and learn.

I’ve learned a lot on my journey, but I still have a lot of learning to do, mostly about myself, but also about our country and its history and hidden gems.

Now the question is…where to next?

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