If there had been snow this morning that is what I would have left. There was a definite chill in the air as clouds settled atop the Grampians. Last night I arrived. I felt a breathe of fresh air leaving the open plains behind and entering the forested valley at the foot of the mountains. Obviously a bushfire had cleared the under story during the last year or two. The forest floor was green. Spring flower buds were about to burst.
Leaving the valley floor the road narrowed – lanes hardly wide enough for the vehicle – clinging the mountain’s flank. Cresting the summit there was a sign – McKenzie Falls. I stopped to investigate. There were a few buildings about, but mainly remnants of the past. The tin building housing the gift shop remained. I brick fireplace with chimney nearby. Everything else had been devoured by a bushfire. New ablution blocks were being built. Paths to the lookouts were repaired. New overlooks had been built. Trails beyond the attractions were closed.
First I walked to the overlook above the falls. Next I made my way down the narrow staircase to the base of the falls. Before realizing it the sun was setting. Again I had no place picked to camp. Respite – finally a park that allowed bush camping. I noticed a small track. Home sweet home.
Come morning I awoke to a full chorus of birds – no sleeping in today. As the sun rose I arrived at the Balconies – a series of overhangs along the ridges crest. There wasn’t another car parked here. I would have the trail to myself. Wallabies, startled by my appearance, bounced off the trail. A shrike-thrush trilled from a skeleton of a tree. A small, yellow-breasted robin sang from the brush. Scrub wrens dug through the detritus.
Distractions and I forgot my goal was to walk towards the Balconies. Thirty minutes later a tour group arrived. We exchanged leads. A few minutes later I passed them then stopped to watch another wallaby, then a singing honeyeater. After a few minutes of bouncing on the low branches the honeyeater pulled a few strands of fur from the branch. I watched hoping to find a newly constructed nest. Instead the honeyeater lost interest in the fur and hopped on the back of the wallaby then started digging for through its fur pulling out tasty bits off for breaky.
The tour group was approaching again. I could hear Jeff, the guide, talking with his clients. Did you see that guy walk past us? Does he remind you of somebody? Did you ever see the American documentary about Dan Adams?
One of the participants suggested Jeff Daniels – something I’ve heard often. Dumb and Dumber . . . I prefer Fly Away Home.
“No, No there was this guy who befriended a bear cub. The show was Grizzly Dan Adams. I think he looks like Grizzly Adams.”
They stopped to watch the honeyeater pluck insects from the fur of the wallaby and I moved on ahead. Between our stops we arrived at the overlook about the same time.
“Does anybody want to go out to the balcony? We could do it when I was a little bloke. We’re not called boring tours. Our name is ADVENTURE tours.” His group was visibly shaken by the suggestion. Apparently it was more adventure then they paid for – no takers.
At this point Jeff came over, “Have you seen Grizzly Dan Adams, the series about somebody with a pet bear?”
“Yes, one of my favorites.”
“Have you ever heard that you look like Dan Adams?”
We talked for a while before the group had to move on to the next attraction.
I started thinking about bears. The last bear I saw was in June, just before migrating south for the winter. I had taken an afternoon to ride the Going to the Sun Road from Avalanche to Logan Pass, 4,000 feet of elevation gain, in Glacier National Park. A grizzly bear with her two cubs were high on the cliffs nibbling the fresh sprouts of spring.
I’ll have to look for a bear.
