Bikepacking the Pilot Wilderness
This story was first published in the Summer 2024 print edition of Lamont Magazine.
Sometimes the remote Alpine backcountry reminds us who’s boss. Just 20 minutes into our 26km return trip back to the car a resounding pop broke the monotonous hiss of the rain. Our heads whirled around to Matt, riding at the back, who was already off his bike and reaching for his spares kit. “I’ve flatted”, he called out. We u-turned and rode back to help.
Flats are a frustration whenever they happen, and flats in the rain are worse. This one, though, wasn’t your ordinary flat. As Matt reinflated the new tube, we watched it bulge out of a 5cm hole in the sidewall, like a day-old party balloon being squeezed. He’d somehow managed to rip his sidewall away from the bead. Some MacGyver-style work was going to be necessary to sort this one out.
We were on Cascade Trail, part of the Australian Alps Walking Track, roughly 2km north of Tin Mine Huts camp where we’d based ourselves for two nights. Backcountry trips don’t always need a purpose, but we had a couple. Matt is on a multi-year mission to section hike or bike the full length of the AAWT and this section between Thredbo and Cowombat Flat was on his hitlist. For the rest of us, we were keen to reach the source of the Murray River. Matt’s out-and-back route was so close that it seemed like a good idea to try to reach it. A useless goal, but an interesting one.
We’d set off two days earlier after leaving the car at Dead Horse Gap near Thredbo, riding south to Tin Mine Huts to set up camp. The trail meanders through the Alpine National Park, at first sending us up a generous selection of solid pinches that tested our ability to pedal our loaded bikes uphill without falling off. After spending the first 5km in my 52 cog and fording swollen stream after swollen stream, my thoughts were turning towards Matt and his ridiculous ideas, but thankfully the track became a downhill run to Cascade Hut before mostly following contour lines to keep things relatively flat to Tin Mine.
At camp there was no declared contest to be the first to set up, but we were four blokes, so naturally we raced each other whilst pretending not to. As I recall, Ian won, but the suspicion is that he simply started cooking first and under the cloak of his excellent homemade tarp his sleep system and clothes were a disorganised mess. He denies that, of course.
Rehydrated dinner was followed by games of Euchre and some quality Rutherglen muscat and Japanese whisky next to the fire (bikepacking weight penalties are unimportant when it comes to appropriate evening refreshment). Reflecting on those two or three hours after dinner, it’s funny how day to day we’re all in this constant battle to survive life, earn money, accumulate stuff, yet when you’re with a few mates in a hut a long way from anywhere contentment is as simple as warmth, a mug of something, and a plan for tomorrow. I need to take that thought into my non-bikepacking life.
The mood was high as we rose early on day two to blue skies, which would give our gear plenty of much-needed time to dry out. We had around 17km and 370 vertical metres to cover by bike to reach Cowombat Flat, and then roughly 6km of hiking to find the source of the Murray before returning via the same route to camp. Revelling in the capabilities of our bikes and the fact that they were now kilos lighter without the bags and gear, we sent it down bush track descents strewn with branches and loose rocks. Steve even toyed with the notion of jumping his bike over the Murray once we’d reached it, but the realisation that we were a long way from help kicked in and he shelved the idea. We conveniently ignored the fact that we’d been just as far from help when unnecessarily blitzing the descents at warp speed moments earlier.
If there’s one thing we stuffed up it’s our source of the Murray navigation. On the map it looks like a tame 3km cross country upstream ramble from Cowombat Flat, but after the first 500m the going got rough, boggy, and tiring. What we should have done is study the map more closely and perhaps detoured off Cowombat Track about 3km before the Flat, following the 1,410 contour line around until we reached the trickle. Hindsight, eh? It was a great day nevertheless, and the cards and drinks flowed once again after dinner that night.
The next morning, one of the topics of conversation over breakfast was our collective surprise that nothing had broken, failed, or gone wrong. Despite the rough conditions and wet weather each of us was happy with our individual bikepacking setup, and things were looking good for Ian and I and our attempt to complete the Hunt 500 from Omeo to Canberra in a fortnight’s time. Which brings us back to the loud pop of Matt’s sidewall explosion.
The tyre was unfixable even if we’d had a needle and thread (we didn’t). What was also clear was that we still had 24km between us and the car. But on the plus side, nobody was injured and given our early start there was still plenty of daylight. With very few options available to us, we tried hacking a fix with a second inner tube and cable ties, but a quick test ride showed the makeshift sidewall was never going to cope over 24km with the combined weight of Matt and his gear. A plan was hatched for the faster riders Ian and Steve to hightail it back to the car where Steve (somewhat randomly) had a spare 29er tyre, then ride back to meet Matt and I, who would be walking/running as fast as we could manage.
Four hours later than planned Matt and I were within 3km of the car when Ian appeared over a crest with the tyre slung over his shoulder. We were too close by now to bother changing it, so we pressed on through the now even more swollen streams before whooping and hollering on the final downhill roll to the car, Matt caressing his bike over the rocks and stones with what must have been less than 10psi in the rear tyre. Before we knew it, we were changing into dry clothes, demolishing the stockpile of snacks we’d left for ourselves, and laughing about how Matt had just completed a half-marathon pushing his bike. For him, there was the additional irony of how he’d designed this trip to avoid walking this section of the AAWT, but he ended up walking it anyway. To celebrate, he rounded off his adventure with an icy swim in the Thredbo River.
On the drive home, still basking in the afterglow of a trip knocked off, we made plans for 2023. This time we’re heading a little further north towards Mount Selwyn, completing another section of the AAWT for Matt. Most of the route sits above 1,500m and we’re expecting twice as many creek crossings but hoping for 100% fewer flats. We can’t wait.
