High Plains Trek

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

I remember that trek as if it was just yesterday but my aching old bones tell me it was a long time ago now. Sitting a horse in steep country for a full day is no longer on my list of fun things to do nor is sleeping rough in regions that the vagaries of weather can kill you.

The High Plains that run from Northern Victoria through to NSW in Australia are some of the most stunning landscapes you could wish to experience but they also require respect, as did the early cattlemen of this area. Before government banned cattle from the High Country it was a tradition to free graze through the summer months to fatten the cattle up prior to the hard winters. Cattlemen would push a mob up into the Alpine areas and live alongside them, moving them along as needed. There are still Huts up there that were used by cattlemen or travellers. A rough camp but protection from the sometimes harsh elements. A place to sleep, some wood for the fire. A fenced yard to leave your horses loose instead of hobbled. No electricity, just the basics.

That late afternoon my horses climbed up the last ridge before the area opened up ahead of us and I could see the cabin and yards not more than a mile ahead. This would be the second cabin stop over in my Trek over 14 days. I had two horses with me, one to ride and the other was pack animal along with my two dogs, mongrel crosses that were fit from so much hiking.

The horses breath could already be seen in the chilling air and I was keen to dismount and get a feed into our bellies. The dogs were trotting tiredly at my stirrup, tongues lolling but still too proud to share my saddle though. Oddly I could see a flickering light, as if somebody was already in residence yet there were no horses in the yard or other vehicles. Hiker maybe? These cabins, or huts as they are called up here, have been abandoned for years as very few still follow the old drover paths for recreation since the cattle have left the high country.

I dismounted and led the horses into the yard, unsaddled and wiped the sweat from them with the rags in the saddlebag. I checked the trough and there was water from the roof runoff. The dogs were sniffing at the base of the huts door, eager as me to get inside and out of the cold. The sweaty saddlecloths were over one arm and my swag roll gripped in my other hand so my knock at the door was awkward. I waited...no reply.

Hooroo! anybody here? Still no reply. That's odd I thought and carefully juggled the gear as I opened the door. The hut was empty with an eerie stillness, it smelt musty and long unused as i had expected it to be prior to seeing the light. That light, where was it? ah there it is, just a dirty stub of wax sitting on the sill in front of the grimy glass. A small pool of melted wax stuck to the weathered window frame and the smoke haze on the glass itself. Meanwhile the dogs were mooching into corners checking for wildlife or opportunities from dropped food. They soon settled and looked expectantly for their soon to be dished up supper.

I looked around for any gear that may identify who was here first, should I move on? Were they Ok? should I look for them before full dark descended? No gear, just lots of dust and the bare essentials of a pile of wood ready for the fireplace and an old billy can hanging from the hook near the hearth. I shrugged and figured I may as well get the fire going to warm the place up as well as get that billy onto boil for the much needed cuppa. The fire didn't take long to catch as the wood was long dry.

I poured water from my travel canteen and got a tin mug out and ready with tea bag and sugar, debating if I should set up a second mug for the still absent occupant. The dogs interrupted my musings by low growls and staring at the doorway, sure fired way to let me know somebody was close by. Leave! I commanded them and sent them into a drop position, the last thing I wanted was a bitten returned traveller. The doorway stayed empty so I stood on the step and looked out into the now darkened landscape. Hello? Anybody there? No reply. The horses were stood at the rail, heads lifted and looking out at where I stared. No movement, no sounds but I could feel a presence, a stillness like a waiting/watching feeling.

I retreated inside and shut the old wooden door behind me, quelling a shiver as I did so. The billy still sat there, cold and uninviting so I sighed and hung it over the now merry flames and looked forward to my tea. As I waited for that billy to boil I unrolled my swag on the hearth and rummaged through the meagre supplies I kept for a camp dinner. Powdered soup, some damper I had cooked at the last nights campsite along with some dried fruits and nuts trail mix. The dogs got the even more boring kibble, not their usual fare but had to make do on the trail as did I.

The candle on the sill had burnt down to a sputter now but the fire was throwing out enough light in such a small one roomed space that I didn't feel the need for my torch as yet. It would sit next to my swag when I slept in case of need, or that late night trip for toileting. My billy water was bubbling so I hooked it off and poured into my tea mug then set up the second mug for my soup. I ate and settled into my swag for the night, adding an extra bit of firewood before settling down.

The noises that woke me seemed like a dream at first, quiet sobbing and then the keen wailing of one that is utterly heart broken and alone. My eyes stared into the darkness, disorientated and confused. What the? I could feel the warm bodies of my dogs pressed in on either side of me and they too were shaking and staring into the darkness. As my eyes adjusted I could see a lightness, just a hazy shape in front of the window. Sat in the fragile old wooden chair that I had decided too frail for me to use. What ever it was looked out that same window as the candle sat in, staring out into the night and waiting, grieving. The longer I watched, frozen to the spot, the more I could make out the shape of a woman. She wore a full length dress of those from the 1800's complete with bonnet. I could feel rather than 'hear' grief rolling off her, pain of loss edging on anger at her predicament.

The intensity of the physic blast intensified until it felt like a cyclone in my head, totally overwhelming me and sucking me down into a maelstrom of intense images and emotions. I felt like I was drowning in my own head, immobilised and battered, clinging to my dogs fur in the hope of holding onto just a fragment of reality while the world spun away from me.

And then...it was just gone. Silence, vast hollow silence. I slid into unconsciousness, blissfully released from the pain.

When I woke in the morning my head was pounding and the dogs were restless, needing their morning toilet run. I could hear the shuffling feet of the horses in the yard against the hut wall and the sun was already slanting in through the grimy window. What time is it? What the hell happened last night? My eyes turned towards the chair and then the candle stub on the window sill. Did I dream all that? Did it happen?