Snowy Mountains

The journey to the Snowy Mountains ended up starting with one of the biggest days we have had in the car for the entire trip. We set out without a definite idea on where we would end and had a ball for much of the initial trip tooling along back roads that seemed to be heading vaguely in the right direction.

We eventually made it to Holbrook for lunch. Holbrook like a number of other towns we have visited) has a fantastic history. During the 1st World War it changed its name from Germanton (for what were then obvious reasons). a decision was made to name the town after a Victoria Cross winner – hence Holbrook. The medal had been won for an astonishing act of seamanship in the Dardanelles, in a submarine and since then Holbrook has maintained an ongoing relationship with submarines, even though it is located nowhere near the coast. This relationship includes a number of static displays and a submarine museum, not what we expected to come across as we re-joined the Hume Highway. Sadly, we were also told that the Hume was about to be diverted around Holbrook, and while this will obviously alleviate the need for people to slow down when they come tot he town I also expect it will significantly reduce the number of people who stop there on their travels as there will no longer be the visual cues, and at reduced speeds, to attract them, which is likely to have a considerable impact on the town.

After Hilbrook we continued up to Gundegai, then back up to Tumut and on to a camp site called ‘The Pines’ on the shores of Lake Blowering.This campsite was very different to the pictures we had seen as the lake level was much higher. It was also our first free camp for a while and we certainly noticed the cold!

Next morning we kept going up to Adaminaby, which was a beautiful little town with the best appointed general store I remember seeing. We then headed on towards Jindabyne – stopping at a recently rebuilt travellers hut, just as a Parks and Wildlife man was checking it. This resulted in an overview of the past few years, including impacts of bush fires etc. on the park. Max was very taken with a story of two men who died in the original hut – but I will leave you to read his blog to find out any further details…

At Jindabyne we spent a hour or two wandering around the visitor centre, which was a lovely building with a wealth of knowledge. Even following the cold of the previous night, while there we decided that another free camp, half way between Thredbo and Jindabyne was in order (a place called Thredbo Diggings). Although Liz almost froze, this turned out to be a fantastic decision. The site itself was nestled part way down the mountain side beside a little river.

In the morning the kids were greeted with the site of their bikes completely iced up, even though we didn’t venture out of bed until 8.30am. In fact, one canvas bed end on the caravan was still still covered in ice when I packed up a hour or so later.

We then worked our way back around and up to Charlotte’s Pass, where the kids and I then walked to the topmost chairlift on Charlotte’s Pass where we found enough remaining snow from the snowfall a couple of weeks previously for the kids to have what they thought was a snow fight (I eventually stopped it when they started chucking what were effectively just big lumps of ice at each other). we eventually headed back down the mountain and into Cooma, however didn’t stick around long as it was getting late and we had decided that we should round off the Snowy’s in another free camp since we had managed to survive Thredbo Diggings. The site we eventually decided on was about 20km’s further down the Monaro Highway, leaving us a relatively short hop into Canberra the next day.

That night however Liz and I decided that as we weren’t due in Canberra until about 4pm the next afternoon we should head back in to Cooma and take the kids through the Snowy Hydro centre. In addition to the place the Snowy Hydro Scheme holds in Australian history, this was particularly important to me as Mum had spent some time working in Cooma.

The centre itself was fascinating and, as we were about to leave, we were accosted by the manager who had been alerted to the fact that he had some visitors from Western Australia. It turned out that he had only moved to Cooma in the last couple of years, having previously managed the Perth Visitor Centre and he was always on the lookout for visitors from the west.

Mid-afternoon we headed out of Cooma again, picked the van up from where we had left it and made our way into Canberra, looking forward to catching up with some very close friends.