Cathedral Ranges

A climb to a reverie

By Thomas Feng

July 14^th, 2016

Dear July,

I am still the same malleable being who writes about their own life stories, feelings and creative thoughts, but I now live a completely different life. Starting work full-time has been one of the most incredibly rewarding experience I have ever had, yet the schedule too busy to lend as much time to writing about my latest reverie. But July, you have always inspired me to think differently and let the thoughts flow.

My friend Jonah, his housemate Stephanie and I recently went to the Cathedral Ranges and we accidentally climbed up a mountain and I hope you don’t mind if I spill my thoughts to you.

The drive there was a couple of hours from Melbourne’s northern suburbs. We passed through the charming country town of Healesville before winding around the road underneath the beautiful forest canopies of Fernshaw. As we passed under the trees I felt protected; and it seems no matter how I feel prior to entering the forest, I am always lost in awe of its swallowing greatness; consumed by peace inside the walls of nature.

A right turn soon after cruising through Buxton and we found ourselves in the Cathedral Ranges National Park. Jonah recommended starting at the Sugarloaf Saddle which was appropriately perched at the base of Sugarloaf Peak. As we climbed up, we soon realised that this would be nothing like the Thousand Steps. The dirt path quickly turned into steep rocky terrain, as optimism quickly turned into angst and uncertainty.

When I do anything for the first time I often psych myself out, but my thrill for adventure and nature pushed me onwards. With each boulder climbed I became more confident in my ability to find grips to carry myself up, like somehow I was my clueless self in Grade 1 climbing up on top of the monkey bars.

For a while we ascended the mountain boulder by boulder and followed orange arrows pointing us along the “track”. Suddenly we stood in front of an incredibly steep rock face. Our heads shot up and saw the magic orange arrow.

“I am not ready for this,” I uttered in my cape.
Why did I wear a cape? Why did we decide on climbing here?
“Fuck you Parks Victoria. This is not a track. This is ridiculous.”
July, I was really scared.

The clouds shrouded our visibility beyond 4 metres and there were no trees, just slippery rocks and dewy shrubs dripping from the build-up of water vapour. Soon we were freezing and there was no way to warm ourselves up but to climb up the rock face.

“Minimum three points of contact, otherwise one of us will fall.”
I knew I learned something in Year 9 when we went rock climbing on one of our camps. I was going to drag myself up there and ignore the voices in my head; I was going to use every ounce of my strength, even if the rock face was infinitely tall and we were climbing to the heavens.

We somehow made it up and soon enough we reached Sugarloaf Peak, the highest point of the Cathedral Ranges. The sun shone bright through the fog, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Whilst the fog hadn’t dissipated, my angst certainly had. The view was incredible July; we were at the top of the world.

Soon the sky cleared and we could see streams of fairy-floss rushing through the crowded carnival of forests from above.

“I can hear your voice properly here,” said Jonah.

The words struck me July. Perhaps in nature is when we truly listen; where silence means that the birds are not calling and the trees are waiting for a fresh breath of wind to bristle their leaves. A voice reverberates through the whole mountain: momentarily a rock shuffles for the first time, a shrub blooms its flowers and a mind clears its conscience. In nature, a voice is a voice and a human is a human and we are ever seemingly small, sentient beings who forget about themselves; we remember that we stand at the mountain peak not to conquer but to appreciate; we remember that we must not succumb to becoming bitter in the cold, that our minds and our hearts can be warmed and soothed by exploring the forgotten beauty surrounding us.