Stirling Ranges, get lost & found

South West WA - Stirling Ranges, get lost & found

Wispy grey tendrils of mist are swirling around me

Creeping around corners and seeping into the crevices of the craggy peaks ahead and as I wander down the track, the strange and bulbous flower spikes of towering grass trees pluck at my clothes like the bony fingers of a witch.

We haven't seen another soul for hours, but as the mist thickens into fog I can barely see more than a few metres ahead and I can't shake the strange feeling that there are hidden eyes watching me as I walk through this ancient and otherworldly landscape. I'm suddenly gripped by an irrational fear that if I keep going, I'll never come back, and as the rain sets in and the temperature drops I scamper back to the familiar safety of the car, leaving my bewildered partner trailing in my wake as I decide that today is not the day for getting lost in this very lonely wilderness.

I'm at Bluff Knoll, one of the highest peaks in Western Australia, deep inside the heart of the rugged and wild Stirling Range, and it's only afterwards that I learn that the Noongar people, the Aboriginal custodians of the area, call Bluff Knoll Bular Mial, or 'many eyes'. They believe that the clouds that curl around Bluff Knoll are the visible manifestation of Noatch, a lonely spirit that cannot hold any one shape for long, and those that stray off the path can be lost in her misty embrace.

Not all great wilderness journeys need to be about slogging it out on foot or by tiny paddle-powered canoe - there are some remarkably wild journeys that you can do by car. The drive across the Stirling Range in southern Western Australia is one of them.

One of few truly rugged mountain ranges in the west, it's also one of the few areas that is high enough, and cold enough, to get dustings of snow in winter, sometimes as much as five centimetres on the highest peaks. Around 100km north-east of Albany, the 65km-long range rises abruptly from the surrounding farmland plains, floating with a sometimes brooding menace above the endless paddocks of green wheat and golden canola. The jagged blue peaks reach more than a kilometre into the sky and they dominate the landscape long before you actually reach them. Called Koi Kyeunu-ruff (mist moving around the mountains) by the Noongar, they are famous for spectacular cloud formations that cling to the granite peaks like a gauzy veil, even when the rest of the sky is clear and blue.

First sighted by Matthew Flinders in 1802, and named after the first Governor of WA, Sir James Stirling, almost the entire range is protected by national park. It's one of the world's most important areas for wildflowers, with an astonishing 1,500 species (many of which grow nowhere else) packed within its boundaries. According to the national parks leaflet, more species occur in the Stirling Range than in the entire British Isles and 87 plant species found here occur nowhere else on earth.

Unlike other areas in Western Australia that are famous for their carpets of springtime wildflowers that stretch horizon to horizon, the Stirling Range blooms in patches, hidden behind the prickly scrub that lines the road. Follow any of the paths that lead off the road and within a few metres you'll stumble across thickets of exquisite ground-hugging flowers and stands of flowering trees, like the brilliant red domed scarlet banksia nodding in the breeze, masses of orchids, the white starlike flowers of the southern cross, spiky yellow dryandra, fluffy pink pom-pom-ish pixie mops and the famous red mountain bells.

Of course, we were yet to discover any of this as we set off on what was originally going to be a short cut from the Albany Highway across to the South Coast Highway on our way from the karri forests of the south-west to the white sand beaches of Bremer Bay and beyond to Esperance. Despite being Western Australia's third oldest national park, we were blissfully ignorant of the Stirling Range's alpine credentials - like many east coasters I had subscribed to the mistaken belief that if you want a true mountain drive you head to the snowy mountains of NSW or the alpine ski fields of Victoria. But as we cut across the green and yellow chequerboard fields and began climbing into the range following an ancient river path, now known as Red Gum Pass Road, craning our necks to catch glimpses of the conical peaks shrouded in cloud, my perception of the west as a largely flat and arid place went flying out the window.

The Stirling Range Road, which cuts through the heart of the range for 42 kilometres, is unsealed and a bit bumpy and dusty in sections, but we have it all to ourselves, which is just as well as we seem to manage to drive just a few kilometres at a time before a flash of colour grabs our attention and we pull over again and again to go wildflower hunting on the side of the road. Peak after peak rises up beyond each twist and turn of the road, and we drive on in silence, mesmerised by the unfolding grandeur of the scenery as brightly coloured rosellas dart across the road and wedge-tailed eagles ride the thermals high above us.

Despite being so easily accessed by road, these mountains are seriously wild and not to be taken lightly. In almost all of the Aboriginal stories told about the Stirling Range the mountains are referred to as dangerous, and it's easy to see why as you stare up at the rocky cliff faces. Weather changes suddenly, and a bright sunny day can be shattered by rain and hail in an instant, and always, the clouds come and go, shrouding the summits in an air of impenetrable mystery.

Walking trails spear left and right leading up to the many peaks, and are all categorised as difficult and demanding and best left for experienced and well-equipped walkers. We, on the other hand, are happy enough to continue our slow drive across the range, stopping for a picnic lunch at the wonderfully named Mt Magog and pulling over to admire view after view along the way. It takes us the best part of half a day to meander our way along the 42km stretch of road, and by the time we meet up with the sealed Chester Pass Road that bisects the range from north to south, we realise that our short cut is nothing of the sort, and decide to head up to the park's most popular attraction and highest peak, Bluff Knoll. There's a boardwalk at the top of the winding road that leads out towards the 6km track that climbs up to the summit, 1095 metres above sea level. It's a tough four-hour return hike, and the sun is already low in the sky, so we decide to spend an hour or so getting high enough to look down on the peaks and plains below, a plan soon abandoned when I get thoroughly spooked by the sudden change of weather and the ghostly mist working a little too hard on my hyperactive imagination.

When we return to our car we meet the first fellow traveller we have seen all day. For many visitors to the park this is all they see, either not aware of the scenic range road or not inclined to brave the dirt and dust. It may not have been the short cut we had originally planned, but we'd discovered something much better and completely unexpected; Stirling Range Drive gets my vote as one of Australia's greatest mountain drives.

Article and images by Lee Atkinson, January 2009.