Back in the Saddle: Part 2

The rain came in the evening, steady and solid. We were glad of the hut’s shelter and relative warmth. Our dinners: salad roll for Jim, rehydrated curry for me, were accompanied by red wine. We fed the fire too, although our limited stock of firewood, and the thermometer’s resistance to rising, prompted us to have an early night.

Fungi light up our dark, wet forest

It rained all night, all through breakfast, and for the rest of the morning. We only went out for firewood and toileting. Water pooling at the verandah’s edge didn’t encourage us to be out walking. Instead we chatted, read, made more coffee, and ate, congratulating ourselves on our wise choice in finding a hut to stay in. But eventually cabin fever set in, and we went for a wander around outside the hut, finding various logging artefacts, including a sled/cart and a couple of logging shoes. 

Logging shoes and trolley outside the hut

Before there were skidders and tracked vehicles, old-time loggers attached a metal “shoe” – curled like the front of a snow sled – onto the leading edge of a log. Bullocks or horses would then haul the log down the track, the shoe acting like the front of a sled and helping the log to slide more easily. This was a reminder that the original hut on this site had been built as a shelter for logging concessionaires back in the 1960s. And logging in the area started well before that.

When the drizzle turned to rain, we retreated to the fireside for yet another brew. But cabin fever – more accurately hut fever – soon set in again. So, when the rain eased a bit, we put on our wet weather gear, packed some food, and headed up the hill to see what we could see. I knew there was another smaller hut “a little further up the track”. What else do you do with hut fever than go looking for another hut?!

We hadn’t walked far before yesterday’s version of steep was greatly surpassed by today’s. At times it was like walking up a waterfall, albeit a very lush and green one. As we hauled ourselves up slippery rocks and around dripping ferns, we were more than thankful that we weren’t carrying full packs. (Yesterday we had actually considered the possibility of walking up to the second hut, if the first hut had been occupied.) 

Steeply uphill

We slipped and stumbled and sidled across the steep slope before finally reaching a plateau of sorts. And here the eucalypts, mosses and ferns gave way to smaller, thinner, lichen-dotted myrtle beech and teatree. The rain had eased, to be replaced by a cold, moist mist. We were literally walking in cloud. The track was already vague, so careful navigation now slowed further. The little blue dot on the map app became our friend. Somewhere in the fog, the map assured us, there was a small hut. 

Are we lost? Jim walks into the mist

In clear weather this would be easy walking. But in these conditions, we found ourselves back-tracking whenever we couldn’t see a tape or other track marker ahead. Eventually we reached a track junction, marked by a sign indicating the hut’s name. The blue dot confirmed that we were near our destination. As we were now soaking wet and tired, this was good news. However, the sign didn’t have an arrow, and the track went steeply up to the left. We couldn’t see a hut that way, and a slope like that seemed an unlikely place to build a hut. Instead we poked around in the misty forest for several more minutes until we finally saw the tiny hut. It was barely 50 metres away, but well camouflaged against surrounding trees by its own lichen-covered timber cladding.

The tiny hut in the mist

The neat but very humble hut was built by snarers close to a century ago. Its walls and roof were built entirely from rough-cut timber, though the substantial-looking fireplace was stone. Atop that sat a galvanised iron chimney – possibly a later addition. We stooped to enter through the tiny door, which creaked like an old-timer’s bones. Above the door was a small window, which let in minimal light. Immediately to the left of the door was the deep stone fireplace. It had a crude mantlepiece on top, dotted with a few old hut conveniences, including a mug, a candle and a small billy. Opposite the door were two small bunks and a slender bench. I dropped by pack and sat there, while Jim took a smaller seat in front of the fireplace.

 

Me inside the tiny hut (photo by Jim)

Despite being cold and wet, we quickly decided against lighting a fire. Our experience with the wood heater in “our” hut showed us it would be a long time before an open fire would heat us up, even in this tiny hut. 

Jim about to exit the snarer's hut

Instead, after a bit of scroggin and a cold drink, we closed the hut door and walked back into the misty forest. And back to the first hut. We’d only been out a couple of hours, and yet it felt vaguely epic. It felt even better once we had that fire cranked up again.

Getting the home fire burning again