The best intentions

Mount Stirling, not far from Mansfield, was the scene of my first bushwalk, a hike to the summit in summer. It left me wanting to return in winter when it would be snow-covered. I eventually did return – a number of times – skiing the lower slopes and occasionally, when the weather was suitable, the summit, though more often than not it was a giant ice block and our skiing restricted to the slopes below the tree line.

My last ski trip to Stirling was in the 1990s I reckon. It was certainly before kids changed what filled my weekends. I had made other trips – mainly to Lake Mountain, once or twice to Mount Buffalo – but Mount Stirling stands above those two. It has slopes. It has memories. It was time to revisit.

Greg was coming down from Brisbane. His skiing had taken a backseat since moving to Queensland. The little bit of skiing we had done together since he moved was all downhill. So I offered him the choice – Buller for a day on the tows, or Stirling. Stirling was chosen.

The plan was to head up to King Saddle then towards GGS Hut and onto the summit if it was suitable for skiing. We filled in our trip intensions form, neglected to drop into the box, and, rather than follow 37 school kids to King Saddle, immediately headed off in a different direction – trudging up Bluff Spur. The new plan was to have an early stop at Bluff Spur Hut, ski around Stanley Bowl and over summit (regardless of what it was like) and return down the other side. Heading past a sign warning that “The summit is not an area for beginners” didn’t alter the plan.

Bluff Spur is a good route up to the summit but became a bit of a trudge due to lack of fitness. What I thought would take maybe an hour dragged on for over two, with stops to take photos (catch our breath) becoming more frequent as we climbed. Bluff Spur Hut was a welcome relief and good spot for lunch and to patch a blister that was preparing to explode on my foot.

The sky was overcast, not much wind, no rain or snow falling, so we headed towards the summit. The temperature was somewhere below zero; the trees remained coated in snow and ice. I whipped off my gloves, pulled out my camera and took as many pictures as I could manage before my fingers froze over. 

As we made our way out of the trees I realised that Stanley Bowl and the summit were going to be unskiable.  There was no-one else around and we tentatively and slowly headed across following the line of snow poles. It is only about 1000 metres to the GGS Hut and after a brief discussion about heading back and trying the track below the western side of the summit, we decided to push on.

It took us about three quarters of an hour to get our “haven’t done this for years” bodies in the door of GGS hut, where a fire was still burning. A rest, a warm cuppa, some more photos and soon we were heading back down. 

The trip down was a delight, with reasonable snow… until near the end. Just as we were starting to get really weary the snow started to give out. We could fly along and then a patch of slush would stop the skis while our bodies continued forwards in a rolling in the mud kind of way. Slowly we came to the realisation that we would have to remove the skis and walk. A quick check of the map and we calculated that it was only a couple hundred metres to the carpark so we didn’t mind and started happily strolling through the darkening forest, past a sign pointing the way and stating that it was over 2km to the carpark. We laughed, amazed that the resort staff could get the distance so wrong.  

Our laughter slowly disappeared and our feet quickly became sore as the first few hundred metres were followed by a couple of thousand more. Eventually we arrived back at the carpark. A ski patroller, with a fistful of trip intentions forms in his hand, asked “Is that your vehicle?” pointing to the last car in the carpark.

“Um, yep.”

“Good, we can cross you off then.”

“Um, yep.”

Here is a link to MY FLICKR PAGE, with some more photos.