Muster Point
Leaving the Sydney suburb of Parramatta I headed west, through the Blue Mountains, past the town of Bathurst (which had been proclaimed just 27 years after the 1788 European settlement of Australia) toward Mount Canobolas, the highest peak in the area, where Mitchell had first had his team group and assess their planned route although, he had been this way on two previous occasions.
I rode to the summit of the extinct volcano and marvelled at what Mitchell must’ve seen so long ago; a 360-degree view of the vast plains, punctuated by the occasional bump on the distant horizon. Looking at that beautiful view above the surrounding plains, I thought back to what Mitchell had described. I needed to find a camp, a refuge for the night, somewhere near the peak of this majestic mound, at 1300 metres surely one of the highest camps I’d ever had in Australia.
Leaping From Peak To Peak
Sunrise cast a giant shadow toward the west, roughly the direction I needed to head. In a time when ‘adventurers’ have become reliant on modern, highly detailed maps or GPS devices, it became apparent how Mitchell would’ve navigated 180 years ago. His journals made reference to seeking out the highest peak, climbing it, and then seeking the next highest peak. Sitting atop Mount Canobolas I could see a high peak on the summit, Mount Nangar, my next destination.
Mitchell’s route took him west following the peaks until the great flatness of Australia eroded any chance of following such hills. I too found the same problem, in fact, many of Mitchell’s issues became mine. When he needed to leave his travelling party and climb to the top of many peaks I too had to leave my trusted new friend (the GSA) and walk to the top of many peaks.