Expand your horizons with Australia’s longest running wilderness adventure magazine. With in-depth features and stunning photographs from some of the world’s greatest adventurers, WILD will keep you up-to-date on all aspects of wilderness pursuits.
The snowdrifts on the upper glaciers were enormous that season, allowing an opportunity for easier access and a unique shot. Justin and I were scouting ice conditions on NZ’s Douglas Glacier on our first day at Pioneer Hut. We’d just stopped for lunch at the base of Mt Alack, and I took the opportunity between bites to frame the shot as Justin gazed off into the distance. I usually prefer to shoot photos on the move; I pull the camera out, take a few quick shots then get back to the task at hand; this occasion was n esception. After lunch, we started climbing the southern side of Alack, realising shortly after that the attractive white blanket was actually fragile, warming rime ice. It didn’t hold ice screws or tool…
[Letter of the Issue] OVERWHELMING GREATNESS Dear Wild, The dilemmas Rebecca Burton raises in her article ‘When Is a Trail No Longer Wild?’ are real and close to the mark, but I think they miss a few important points. I live in South Durras halfway along the Murramarang South Coast Walk. I suggest authorities had decided the track was going to be built well before any consultation was open to interested parties [and] the consultation process appeared to be no more than ticking the box. The claim that the NSW Great Walks are gentrified for safety, sustainability and environmental preservation is debatable. The Murramarang track passes through an important shorebird-nesting area, but no signs warn the now 15,000 walkers a year of that, and no information is given on NPWS…
“Again?” asked my wife Alexis. “You say that every time.” “No,” I responded, in an effort to save face. “I don’t.” “Yes, you do.” But I didn’t bother pushing the point, because I knew she was right. Well, she’s always right. But I kind of have to say that, don’t I? Actually, but wait! Do I? Do I really have to say that? She never reads what I write, ever, so I could—given she’d never know and thus couldn’t refute it—just come out and state that, in my disagreements with her, I’m the one who’s right. 100% of the time. Perhaps more. On this occasion, though, she was right. I’d just moaned to her, as I do pretty much every issue, that I had no idea what to write for…
Absolute waterfront! The rock shelves at Newlands Cascades are a good place to sit out a flood on Tasmania’s Franklin River. With heavy rain forecast for the catchment, we raced through the Great Ravine then spent three nights here watching the spate as it rose several metres. When the aforementioned cascades disappeared, it made the higher ledges most attractive for anxiety-free slumber. by GRANT DIXON Sony A7R III, 20-70mm f4, 0.8s, f10, ISO 100 I took this photo on the climb to Camp 4 on Kanchenjunga. A halo had formed around the sun, caused by ice crystals high in the atmosphere. These halos often signal an incoming change in weather, and that’s exactly what happened. We rested just over two hours at Camp 4 before setting out for the summit…
meganholbeck.substack.com meganholbeck.com @meganholbeck There’s something disgusting about leeches. Scrap that—everything about leeches is disgusting. Their slimy skin, the way they stretch if you try to pull them off*, the little dance they do when they’re coming for you, waving their heads around in anticipation of latching on to your warm, delicious skin. The fact they suck your blood, like tiny wriggly vampires, slurping down a few times their own bodyweight before dropping off into the bush like the happy fat blood slugs they are. Over the decades, I’ve had several memorable encounters with leeches. I was a teenager when my family visited Queensland’s Lamington National Park, finding scores of beautiful waterfalls, hundreds of shades of green and plenty of slimy bloodsuckers. I still vividly remember Dad’s sock, soaked red, a…
Not long ago, I attended a talk given by Australian mountaineer Matt Rogerson about his small team’s third ascent of the highest mountain within Australian territory—Mawson Peak. The 2,747m peak is on Heard Island in the Southern Ocean, 4,000km equidistant between Australia and South Africa. Being where it is, the weather poses great hardship for any attempt, as the actual climbing appears not to be too hard. But the chief reason for there being so few ascents is not so much the weather, but the difficulty in getting there. The two previous ascents had utilised the most obvious but relatively expensive option of chartering yachts. Expense is often the greatest hurdle hindering expeditions to remote places. Matt’s team solved their problem with some lateral thinking—they hitched a ride on a…