Take only memories...

I was once told, if you trail your left hand along the wall when inside a maze you will always find your way out.
I was hoping this theory applied to the world beyond mazes as I drove along a crudely-slapped-together, dusty road in a borrowed car of the same description. I’d been trailing 12km of fence line to my left for almost an hour; still I was lost. Only, I didn’t want to get out – I wanted to get in.
The guide on the phone had given just three instructions. “Rug up warm; arrive at dusk; follow the feral proof fence.”
How hard could it be?
I’d heard talk of an earthly sanctuary set amongst the imposing, granite ridges of the You Yangs, 40km southwest of Melbourne. A place protecting some of the most endangered species and fragile ecosystems on the planet. I was drawn to the appeal of this obscure patch of Earth. A place that every person on the planet should visit, yet few do...
There are no billboards; no public transport. Even the locals seem unaware of its existence. This is not a tourist destination for mass consumption, but rather a voyage one takes when travelling to souvenir something more than curios and trinkets.
It’s easy to miss the driveway that begins where the feral proof fence deceptively tapers off. Even easier to miss the unremarkable wooden sign positioned just below eye level on the first of many gates leading in: Mt Rothwell.
Despite layers of insulated ski gear and thermal underwear, I had still underestimated the stinging cold ferocity of the autumn wind. A wind that slaps one on the back as if to say, Well done, you made it, then just as quickly across the face to say, And that’s from Mother Nature!
As dusk gives way to night and the nocturnal trek begins, magic happens. Torch-lit eyes glow as populations of endangered critters wake from their dreys to explore freely in 453 hectares of restored habitat. Picture book-like characters: Potoroos, Quolls, Rufous Bettongs, Fat-tailed Dunnarts, Phascogales and Bandicoots, some of the last of their kind forage at our feet, unperturbed by our presence, unaware of our awe.
Prepare to be disarmed by Mt Rothwell – I wasn’t. It leaves one metaphorically wanting to take one’s hand off the labyrinth wall to get lost in this land before time. It also leaves one reflecting on both the joy and responsibility of discovery. The true worth of a hidden gem must not be in its discovery alone, but in the preservation of all that is unearthed with it – minus the snow globes and themed t-shirts.