Conquering Kozzy (Mount Kosciuszko)

The mission: To climb
Australia’s highest mountain, Mt Kosciuszko (pronounced
kahz-ee-ahz-koh) at 2,228 meters above sea level. The highest peak on
the continent. A feat for anybody aiming to climb the highest peaks on
each continent. A real notch for the climbing belt, if you ask me.

(Sshhh….don’t tell anybody that there’s a
chairlift that takes you most of the way up, and that our climbing
company for the day includes an eighty year old German couple).

Upon driving through the front ranges of the Snowy
Mountains and landing in Thredbo – at the base of Kozzy (as it is
adoringly and apathetically referred to by locals who are tired of
saying all four entire syllables over and over again – understandably),
we are surprised at what we see. Or rather, don’t see.

Thredbo, the popular resort town, and gateway to the “Australian Alps”, is empty.

First of all, I must address the whole
“Australian Alps” theory. Alps, they are not. If you come to the Snowy
Mountains in search of huge peaks and year-round powder snow, you are
on the wrong continent entirely. Although the Snowy Mountains are
majestic, they are so from a distance. Thredbo, at 1,380 meters,
involves a beautiful and very uphill 1 ½ hour drive from the entrance
to the Snowies. So once at Thredbo, mountains don’t loom majestically
over you. Rather, they cradle you, sloping gently upwards towards
peaceful rolling peaks. The alpine tundra above tree level is indeed
beautiful, craggy, splattered with granite boulders amidst the green
grass and delicate wildflowers in the summer, and gracefully blanketed
with a layer of snow in the winter. But Alps in the traditional
European sense, they are not.

The
fact that people die every year in this environment is beyond me. Then
again, the scenery is deceivingly kind; above the tree line anywhere in
the world, unpredictable weather rolls in without warning and Kozzy
sees snow generally once a month, with brutal white-out conditions
socking in the mountain frequently during the winter. Without proper
due diligence and preparation, people are lulled into a false sense of
security and safety up here. Heck – the path to the top of Kozzy is
pretty much paved the entire way up; how can you not be?

But I digress. In our journey to the top of Kozzy, we are still in the deserted town of Thredbo.

Infrastructure is set up for massive amounts
of tourists. Accommodation offices are scattered throughout the town,
which is small enough that no car is needed to get around.
All-inclusive resorts, lodges, apartments, and cabins are built up into
a green forested hill facing Kozzy. (Or rather, facing the ski hill
that fronts Kozzy – you can’t actually see the mammoth mountain from
Thredbo as it hides behind closer peaks). Expensive restaurants are
dotted throughout town, featuring award-winning wine lists and creative
gourmet mains that are rarely under $30.

But
most of the restaurants are closed, as are a good portion of the
resorts, lodges, and stores. I peruse the bevy of closed signs, and
search through the discounted ski wear uncomfortably strewn in front of
the numerous ski shops, making me feel that I should be wearing more
clothing when the temperature is in fact well into the 20’s. But there
are no summer stores here – only winter stores, hoping to entice
wannabe skiers with their wares in advance of the upcoming season.

I should have known. “You’re a little early
for the snow,” comes the parting advice of the woman we stay with
enroute to the Snowy Mountains.

“Lady,” I reply with a tired smile, “I’m Canadian. Snow is not a novelty for me. In fact, I’m in Australia to get away from the snow, not look for it.”

Snow is indeed something of a novelty in
Australia. It is only found at higher altitudes in the southern states
of Victoria, Tasmania, and parts of New South Whales. People pay big
bucks to drive hours upon hours and enjoy downhill skiing at the few
ski resorts to be found. To a Canadian or European, it seems like
madness for somebody to pay over $100 for a lift ticket at a ski resort
that resembles more of a glorified speed bump than the mountains we
have at home. But here, snow play is fun, full of child-like wonder,
and snow remains pretty, white, idyllic, and peaceful.

I have been jaded by too many years fighting
overflowing piles of grey dirty icy snow blocking the roads, nursing
annual back injuries from shoveling drives and walkways, and watching
my day’s plans crash to a halt with huge multi-vehicle accidents on the
roads due to icy conditions. For me, snow is far from a novelty. Oh
yeah – and I can’t stand the cold either. This is why I travel – I have
a quiet mission to permanently avoid winter. So far, so good.

And
knowing that Thredbo is a winter destination, I should not be surprised
that it is deserted. After all, I am here to scope it out for its
frugal discounts; the off-peak prices that make the area more
accessible to those without gads of money to spend on pricey
accommodation, lift tickets, and gear specific to winter. At
$160-400/night and up for a self-contained unit suitable for a couple during the winter, this place is out of the scope of many budgets.

But with prices often halved or more during
off-peak and shoulder seasons, Thredbo is a beautiful place to explore
during the spring, summer, and autumn seasons.

“Summer is insane here,” says a sporty fellow
who works at the local attractions store. “With kids on school
holidays, this is a big place to be during December and January. And
it’s actually pretty busy now, and getting busier each year,” he says
as he surveys the store.

I look around at more closed signs and empty walkways, and wonder what this place looks like when it’s really slow, if this is actually pretty busy.

But when I look a little deeper, I see a
current of activity around me. Because of the high altitude, athletes
come here to train at all times of the year. We spot an identically
clad and colourful foursome from Tahiti jogging down the road. This
weekend coming up is the Oceanic competition: a downhill bike race that
sees competitors from all over and serves as one of the qualifying
races for the Olympic team. And of course, Grey Nomads, who are
Australia’s ever-wandering retired population, fill out most of the
rest of Thredbo’s guests, enjoying the quiet serenity of the area.

It’s
not like there is nothing to do here during the summer and shoulder
seasons. Hiking and bike trails are rampant through the area. Horseback
riding tours and ranches are scattered throughout the ranges, in an
effort to help people create their own Man From Snowy River
moments. Whitewater rafting is big in the adventure-oriented nearby
town of Jindabyne, and there are some developed areas in the Snowies
that are in fact completely inaccessible during the winter due to
winding roads that become treacherous with ice and snow.

So why is it so bloody quiet here?

This I should not ask; instead I should be
pleased. And yet, all I am is confused. I feel like I’m in the twilight
zone, wandering the streets in the aftermath of some Armageddon that
wiped out most of the population.

In any case, we are here to conquer Kozzy. To
stand at the top of Australia’s highest mountain, something that is
only really achievable during the summer and shoulder seasons – all the
more reason to be here now, and not during the winter.

We decide to join a group tour to the top; not
because we can’t find our own way up (like I said, it’s basically paved
all the way up), but instead to meet and chat with other hikers and
learn about the flora and fauna of the area.

We prepare and dress that morning like any
mountaineer would; proper hiking boots, lots of water, lunch with extra
food provisions “just in case”, headlamps (again – just in case), first
aid kits, and a myriad of layers of clothing that will keep out the
cold, the wet, and anything else that comes our way on the 14km return
hike.

When we arrive at the designated meeting spot
to start stretching and find a gathering of about eight other people,
ranging from the age of 40-80, all wearing running shoes at best and
sporting tiny day packs, we realize that we may have over-prepared just
a touch.

A 10 minute chairlift ride takes us up 600 of
the 800 meters of elevation gain required to reach the summit. So the
remaining 200 meters spread over 7 kilometers makes for a nice walk,
rather than the anticipated strenuous hike. This seems almost too easy;
too achievable for the continent’s highest mountain.

Once resolved to the hike being what it is
though, we relish the experience. We gaze admiringly at the alpine
meadows that surround us, searching the scrub for the indigenous (and
threatened) Mountain Pygmy Possum and Broad-toothed Rat (a deceptively
cute critter who got a bum deal with its name).

We
enjoy chatting with our fellow renegade tourists cum mountaineers, who
have come here to enjoy the area while avoiding the tourist rush. We
collectively feel like we have managed to discover an undiscovered gem.
Even at the top, where we congratulate one another, enjoy a picnic
lunch together, and take pictures, we are amidst a handful of other
summiteers who made the journey too. I initially feel that my own
accomplishments are somewhat diluted in the presence of so many
people…until I am told that in the height of the summer season, the
summit of Kosciuszko sees up to…2000 people.

Per day.

All of a sudden I feel like the 20 or so of us
have drawn the Kosciuszko lottery in being so lucky to be here without
hordes and hordes of people.

Our trip back down the mountain is beautiful
and uneventful, and I feel lucky. Lucky that Thredbo is vacant. Lucky
that I don’t have to wait for the chairlift. Lucky that I’m not paying
$400/night for accommodation. And lucky that I just had the rooftop of
Australia relatively to myself. Here’s to empty tourist towns.

This post was originally published (with pictures) at The Professional Hobo.