MY WAY IS THE HIGH WAY
SOUTH RIDGE TRACK, MOUNT BARNEY NATIONAL PARK, QUEENSLAND
SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY poet Joseph Addison claimed that happiness boils down to three things. Something to do, something to love and something to hope for.
Gazing up at the craggy silhouette of Southeast Queensland’s second-highest peak spearing the cobalt blue sky, I think I’ve just chanced upon all three.
Part of the Southern Scenic Rim, Mount Barney has long seduced adventurers with the first recorded ascent in 1828 up its steep north face.
These days most hikers tackle Mount Barney via the South Ridge which, although easier, still involves an arduous climb classed as one of the “most challenging” in mainland Australia.
We set out as the sun broke over the range, rousing a flock of glossy black cockatoos and bathing Mount Barney in a brilliant orange glow.
A four-kilometre walk from Yellow Pinch carpark along a disused 4WD track brings us to the start of the South or ‘Peasants’ Ridge trail. Flanked by stands of eucalypts splashed with the purple of wild orchids, the ascent begins immediately and we’re soon peeling off clothes despite the morning chill.
Snaking upward, pockets of subtropical forest reward with cool respite while tree roots form natural stairs to ease our path.
The first challenge arrives an hour in as we encounter a sheer slab of rock. A convenient crevice provides foot holes and a tenuous grip for the upward clamber. Further on, the rock face is split by a natural staircase wide enough to brace against as we tread the steep stone steps.
Climbing higher, breaks in the trees provide dazzling views across to the sheer tiered cliffs of nearby Mount Lindesay and a preview of Barney’s east peak, wisps of cloud brushing its brow.
After two-and-a-half hours we reach the saddle, a natural dip in the landscape before the final approach to the summit. Here the defined track ends and the last leg involves scrambling through a maze of rhyolite boulders and montane heath.
False summits tease as the giddy panorama expands to encompass the entirety of Mount Barney National Park, its cluster of kilometre-high peaks and the distinctive cap of Mount Warning in neighbouring NSW.
Finally standing at the true summit 1351m above sea, the only sound is the eerie whistling of the wind and we don’t have long to contemplate our conquest as a fastforming white-out hastens our retreat.
Watching the towering buttress of Barney recede in the rearview mirror, I consider Addison’s recipe for happiness. With things to do and things to love sewn up, it just leaves hope. And me, I’m hoping for many more hikes in this heavenly high country.