In the end, the sun was setting faster than we realised so we had to walk quickly with our large packs to get to the iconic Corang Arch while we still had enough light for photography. On arrival we could see that the golden rays of the late afternoon sun were already striking the harsh cliff face that was composed of rocks formed when water bathed them in ancient waters. Despite that final rush we were thrilled to get to this intriguing arch, to admire it with the sunset and see the escarpment as the day’s light sunk in the distance. This was why we had been hiking for about four hours and it was worth it. Corang Arch is a natural rock arch in the Budawang National Park, colloquially shortened to just the Budawangs. In April 2021 Bigfigtree and myself decided that we wanted to photograph this beautiful arch. Neither of us had been hiking for a while but this goal made us want to try. We were so glad that we did because the experience left us both feeling enriched, with some great photography to be had and some interesting animals. For me, beyond the impressive landscape, I finally took a photograph of my first snake. I hope that you like the photographs below.
Our actual trail out and back
As I said, this was our first hike for a very long while, probably decades. While we were used to camping, we were not used to carrying our gear on our back. My backpack is below, it was a 65 litre Archon backpack from Kathmandu. It was a good pack but probably too large for the hike but I packed a lot into it, including 6.5 litres of water. In addition to my Canon EOS 6D Mk II DSLR with the trusty Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM lens seen beside the bag in the photo below, I also had my DJI Mavic Air 2 and spare batteries in the top compartment. While in the main compartment I had a bag holding a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM lens and a Canon EF16-35mm f/4L IS USM lens. While I was worried about carrying a heavy pack, I was more worried about not having the right lens for the shot that I wanted. I had thought about taking two cameras like I normally carry for weekend shoots but I decided I would trade that convenience off for a weight saving. I was also carrying a tent, sleeping bag, food plus all those other things that I would need for an overnight camping trip. I may have had too much but I now know what changes to make for next time.
What I was carrying for the hike
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 250, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/4 SEC])
The Budawang National Park is not far east of Canberra, only an hour and a half by car. We went to the Wog Wog Campground that we found to be reasonably full of cars, making us worried that we had come on a very busy weekend. We planned to follow the Scenic Rim Walking Track that followed the ridge between the escarpments before descending to the valley beside the Corang Arch.
There was some controversy among the local hiking community because the NSW State Government sold off a parcel of land, which now left a gap in the Morton National Park, cutting what had once been a loop trail from Wog Wog Campground past the Corang Lagoon to the arch and back to the campground. Many people were left upset by this decision that had happened around 2017 but only became known when “private property” signs went up after the 2020 bushfires.
The start of the trail was marked by a large, multi-stone marker with inspirational words on it hoping that people would care and enjoy the nature that they were about to experience.
The controversial sale of land several years ago by the NSW government that broke the Corang loop trail
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/14 and 1/100 SEC])
The Budawangs
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/14 and 1/100 SEC])
Commemorative stone at the start of the actual trail
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/14 and 1/100 SEC])
The Impact of the terrifying and extensive bushfires that had swept through this area was an obvious fact that we saw along the length of the track. There were blackend trees the whole way. Within a few kilometres from the start there was an overgrown road with a row of blackened, burnt trees lying across it. Some have speculated that this was an attempt to create a fire break to try and contain the fires.
Despite the signs of scorched destruction I was heartened throughout the walk by the life that we saw, especially the rejuvenated plants and beyond that the life that must have survived these fires. The resilience of nature was epitomised to me by a cicada shell on a burnt tree. That shell must have come from a cicada that emerged in late 2020, almost twelve months after the fires; from a larvae that must have been laid at least just before the fires started, if not earlier. This hardy little creature, along with the other shells that evidenced this survival, had been underground while an inferno destroyed the exposed the tree that one day the cicada nymph would climb to start its above-ground phase. The shell was only a small sign of survival although I was aware that so much had been lost in that catastrophe.
The termite mounds were also a sign that some life could continue. The mounds still stood, sometimes still surrounding the charcoal trunks of the trees that had been all but destroyed in the blaze.
A small shoot growing out of a pile of charcoal that had gathered in a depression of a badly burnt, toppled-over tree also gave me hope. Somehow, that little plant was finding a way to grow.
Burnt trees on an overgrown fire trail that were thought to have been an attempt at a fire break
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 125, 104mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Cicada shell on a burnt tree meaning that these creatures must have survived underground
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Probably pre-exisiting termite mound on the base of a burnt tree
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
New growth in the remains of a burnt, fallen tree
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 640, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/100 SEC])
Because we were hiking in autumn, when the weather was already turning cool, there was not as much life around as there would have been in the warmer months of the year. We had been hiking for about two hours when we decided to stop for lunch along the ridge, on a group of convent rocks. The rocks were a nice place to sit with my back towards the sun to let some solar radiation dry my sweat-soaked shirt and the equally damp padding of the backpack. While we had seen some small birds, and heard a number of others, they were always too hard to photograph among the trees.
Fortunately, while we were having lunch, movement beneath the large stone where Bigfigtree was reclining caught my attention. I was not sure what I was seeing until I carefully brought my camera with the 100-400mm telephoto lens up to my eye. A White’s Skink (Liopholis whitii) had carefully stuck its head out from under the rock. It seemed to withdraw back under the rock before once again sticking its head and more of its body out. Finally it shot out from the rock into a small clump of short vegetation. There it paused in semi-concealment, allowing me to take some almost vertical shots. Whether I scared it or the skink wanted to head off, it darted diagonally forward to its right under another large rock where I could no longer see it. This species of skink constructs tunnels in the dirt under rocks so maybe it was emerging from a tunnel to hunt for insects. This species has two distinct colour morphs that can both occur in this area.
A cautious White’s Skink trying to understand what was happening
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Along that ridge the terrain was spectacular. The rocky structures were not all covered by vegetation and it sometimes seemed that the rock formed obvious contour lines. The park just seemed to go a long way under a blue sky making this place seem so remote. I could understand why people would travel to hike this trail, just to experience this scene. We are so lucky to have these beautiful locations readily accessible and so well preserved.
For those interested in the geology of this area, which gives the terrain its special nature, I provide this quote to stop me butchering the science of rocks:
Should it be desired to climb Corang Peak, the track must be followed for another 1⁄2 mile before a left branch is taken towards the mountain. Corang consists largely of the Nowra Sandstone. The Yadboro Conglomerate forms the lowest outcrops of the Permian here. The view south from Corang reveals Wog Wog Mountain in the near distance with Currockbilly beyond. The axis of the Budawang Range is essentially that of a syncline in which the Devonian rocks have been preserved. Quartzite ridges are prominent along the range and form the highest points.
John G. Paix, Field Geology of the Shoalhaven District NSW Australia, 1970 (Revised 2013) p. 86.
This area, geologically speaking, was part of the Sydney Basin and was uplifted 60 million years ago. While there was a lot of sandstone the other major sedimentary rock was conglomerate. The conglomerate rock here appeared to have nicely rounded pebbles, attesting to the sub-aqua heritage of this area where it was probably part of a vast lake or river before being uplifted high and dry.
The amazing scenery looking north-west from the trail
DJI Mavic Air 2 [ISO 200, 4.5mm, f/2.8 and 1/2500 SEC] two shot panorama
Just on from the spectacularly scenery Bigfigtree alerted me to an equally spectacularly coloured Macleay’s Swallowtail (Graphium macleayanum) on a leaf. He carefully allowed me to pass him to get in front so I could photograph the butterfly. Initially it was on a leaf with its wings spread wide, then it flew in a haphazard manner to some white flowers before it once again landed on a leaf. After a short while, whether disturbed by me or for another reason it few off in its bouncing style past some shrubs and out of sight.
Macleay’s Swallowtail
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 400mm, f/8.0 and 1/400 SEC])
Walking on about another kilometre or so the vegetation opened up so that off to the southeast we could see the unmistakable Pigeon House Mountain. The mountain is a two-tiered sandstone structure where softer material has eroded around a harder core. The mountain was sighted by Captain James Cook when he sailed along Australia’s east coast in 1770 and this “remarkable” [his word] hill reminded him of a square dove house, hence why he named the feature Pigeon House Mountain. Bigfigtree informed me that, the local Aboriginal name “DidthulI”, with several variations in English spelling, was probably more descriptive, because it meant “women’s breast”. I will leave it at that.
Pigeon House Mountain or Didthull in the distance
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/14 and 1/125 SEC])
We were making good time, with our pace being faster than the three kilometres an hour I had planned, but I had not taken into proper account how long it would take us to actually start the walk so we may have been a little behind time from the very start. After consulting the map we realised that the afternoon was advancing and that the sun was lowering to the west so if we did not hurry we may arrive at Corang Arch without any sunlight for photographic illumination. We decided to do away with our regular few minutes break every hour so that we could push on. I was in the lead with instructions to set a good pace to get us to the arch on time. Corang Peak rose markedly from the surrounding terrain but its obvious shape for navigation seemed to mock us because it appeared such a long distance away with time against us. We decided not to climb the peak but take the trail to the east around its base so as to save time. This trail, because it was in the shadows on the far side from the setting sun, gave us a premiere of what it would be like if we arrived at our destination after the sunset. This realisation helped to drive us on until we finally broke back out into sun on an obvious escarpment.
We now had to find the arch, which was not that obvious because it was actually below the level of the escarpment. Fortunately, Bigfigtree noticed an arrow made of stones, which I had walked past, that pointed to a cliff and to the arch. It was a beautiful sight. I changed from my 100-400mm lens that I had been carrying on my camera the whole day to my 16-35mm wide angle lens. Then I gingerly scrambled down some rocks to be below the top of the cliff so that I could catch the golden light of sunset slowly creeping along the inner rim of the arch. I thought that the lower angle would also help seperate the arch from the opposite escarpment. The challenge was blocking the sun that I was effectively photographing straight into. I admit that my photographs do not do the location or the arch justice but just being there was a thrilling experience.
Sunset lighting the inner rim of Corang Arch
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF16-35mm f/4L IS USM [ISO 320, 16mm, f/13 and 1/100 SEC])
Looking at Corang Arch from the other side
DJI Mavic Air 2 [ISO 200, 4.5mm, f/2.8 and 1/240 SEC]
The sun seemed to set quickly and we were left with some brilliant colours of a beautiful, red sunset, What was that old saying, “red at night, shepherd’s delight; red in the morning, shepherd take warning.” I guess it was right that night because the red-tinged sunset proved to be the start of a very placid evening, which was probably very fortunate for us because we decided to change our camping plans.
We had originally planned to descend from the ridge down into the valley to find find a place to camp under one of the well-sheltered rock overhangs, which is typically what people do. However, with the light fading we thought it did not make much sense to descend the sketchy trail in the half-light of dusk to set-up camp just so that we would climb back up the same ridge next morning to hike back the way that we came in. We were also both a bit tired and having the heavy packs off out backs while photographing the arch probably helped convince us that we should leave them off until the next morning.
Colour-filled sunset sky behind Corang Peak
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 1000, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/100 SEC])
Once we had set up camp and had some dinner we headed off for our seperate forms of nocturnal photography. Bigfigtree would weave his magic with some astrophotrograpy while I sought some small creatures for flash macphotography.
The cool weather, coupled with the limited variety of vegetation on the ridge seemed to have reduced the numbers of insects, which meant that there were also not many things hunting them. There were a number of smaller orb -weavers in their webs but a slight breeze along with their small size meant that it would be too hard to get a good shot of them. I did come across this Wolf Spider crawling along the rocky terrain. She stayed still while I photographed her and was the only one that I saw that night.
Wolf Spider
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/180 SEC] with Canon 430EX III-RT flash, two shot focus stacked)
We decided to call it a night early. Being on the ridge presented a challenge to me because I could not drive my tent pegs into the solid rock, so I found other ways of keeping my tent secure. Fortunately, I managed to find the only flat rock that was sandstone and not conglomerate so the surface was reasonably consistant. I was impressed with my SeatoSummit sleeping mat because I barely noticed that I was actually sleeping on a rock. I was also happy that the wind remained relatively calm that night, so while I could occasionally hear the tent flapping in the wind, the gusts were never strong enough to threaten the structural integrity of the shelter itself. While I roused a few times throughout the night I had a truly sound sleep, waking up refreshed in the pre-dawn, semi darkness ready for the opportunities the day would bring.
My tent in the morning with the early conditions
(Apple iPhone 8 [ISO 20, 3.99mm, f/1.8 and 1/378 SEC])
We did not have to wait long. We had noticed some cloud and mist forming so we were worried that our chance for photographing was slipping away. However, as the sun started to rise the surrounding country treated us to a display of fantasy like conditions that led me to understand how ancient peoples could conjure up folk tales of mystical creatures. I initially photographed in a generally western direction in accordance with conventions wisdom to have the morning sun behind me.
However, once I saw what was happening to the east, I started to focus there. A mist was building in the valley and at times it looked like it was coming from the “mouth” area of Profile Rock, like some waking stone giant was crafting a spell for mist.
Then we looked directly across the valley to the parallel escarpment that had dark clouds rolling slowly, low across its top but the sun’s angle meant it was lighting just part of the front of the cloud bank, like some powerful being was emerging in a strong glow from the rock itself. I knew that was not the case but just for a moment I reverted back to a far more innocent age when I could still believe that the world was inhabited by wonderful, mystical beings who went about their business as they had down for eons before people arrived. It was better than any film industry special effects and on a scale that no cinema screen could replicate. I am happy with the photographs but I know that they were a poor way to convey all that we saw that morning.
My first shot of the morning, conventional sun behind me looking to the west at the trees along the escarpment
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/125 SEC])
Then the other valley became mystical with Profile Rock, bottom left, looking like it was breathing mist
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/13 and 1/180 SEC])
The ridge to the southeast was ominously moody like vengeful gods were about to appear
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/13 and 1/100 SEC])
The dawn show of mist and light ended quickly as the sun continued to climb, changing the light conditions to a far more normal morning. That gave us a chance to return to reality by finishing breakfast and packing away our gear.
Walking along the ridge at a slower pace than the day before, it was visually clear that the horrendous bushfires of early 2020 had caused havoc here on this rocky bluff. A stand of banksia bushes were slowly coming back but the blackened, thin wood of the original growth was still there, including black seed cobs that still held fast to the branches.
Further on, a u-shaped tree seemed to have bark like a terribly burnt person where pink, red and white weaved together in twisted agony from the fire. But even on this poor tree, new shoots were growing, not wanting to let the light of life dim from that plant. The shape of the tree attracted me first but when I looked at it more closely I thought how it symbolised the ability of nature to bounce back when given the chance.
Burnt banksia bushes on top of the ridge
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 250, 100mm, f/13 and 1/100 SEC])
Life growing from a uniquely shaped tree with what almost looks like burnt flesh for bark
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/10 and 1/80 SEC])
Walking along the duckboards that formed the trail around the base of Corang Peak I thought I had seen the body of a large, dark-coloured lizard until I realised there were no legs when the body uncoiled. In fact it was a Highlands Copperhead (Austrelaps ramsayi) just beside the duckboards but its head was under one of the tufts of grass that closely lined the trail. We were about 1.5 metres away from snake, which seemed bewildered by our sudden appearance. Its head moved in different directions as if it was trying to determine which was the best way to move. We were surprised to see the snake because this area was still in shadow, with no sun shining anywhere nearby and the temperature was still about 7 degrees Celsius, too cold I thought for snakes to be moving. May be the cold was the reason for the snake to appear to be confused and uncertain about how it was going to avoid us. This snake was only about 40-50 cm, although we never saw it completely uncoiled but adults can grow to 1.25 metres. It is also called Ramsay’s Copperhead, as can be seen in its Latin name, as a tribute to Edward Ramsay, an amateur naturalist of the 1800s in Australia who helped with the taxonomic understanding of Australian wildlife. We were more conscious of where we placed our feet after meeting that snake.
Immature Highlands Copperhead on the duckboards
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 400mm, f/13 and 1/125 SEC])
Walking along the escarpment looking to the south-west there were some sheer drops with stunning cliffs.
Part of the escapement the walking trail skirted along
(Canon EOS 7D Mk II with a Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM [ISO 400, 100mm, f/10 and 1/125 SEC])
Because the trail went over a lot of rocky areas it was hard to mark the trail. Whether the formal trail builders had done it, or helpful trial walkers, there were a number of small rock cairns along the way marking where the obvious trail started on the far side of a rocky area. I understand that the practice of making rock piles is frowned upon by people but I felt that this was a good use of the practice. I also suspected that given the amount of rocks and stones lying about that no animal would have gone without a rock to use.
A stone cairn that helped mark the trail when it went over rocky terrain
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 500, 100mm, f/14 and 1/100 SEC])
We saw a couple of sawfly groups of larvae on the way back. These sawflies were far more active than the ones that I had seen beside Mount Franklin Road. Whenever I moved close to their tree with my lens to photograph them they would lift up their hind quarters. While it was not completely synchronised across the group, it was close to it. Only when I moved away did they lower their ends.
Sawfly larvae
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/10 and 1/100 SEC] with Canon 430EX III-RT flash)
Apart from the stunning scenery, another treat for me was thriving bushes of Banksia spinulosa or Hairpin Bankisa that were prevalent along the trail, especially closer to Wog Wog Campground. The bushes may have been small but it was clear that they had renewed themselves after the fires. The plants were lush and the banksias were stunning. There are several different forms of this species leading to much debate, I will just admire their beauty. I decided to try a new angle by looking straight down on the banksia and I thought that the result was an incredibly beautiful, intricate pattern. I was so glad that this plant was thriving because it was an ionic bit of Australian flora and it was also just so beautiful, especially in its natural habitat. Some of these forms can grow up to 1.5 metres and where the ranges of different forms overlap they do produce natural hybrids.
Banksia spinulosa
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/10 and 1/80 SEC])
Re-growth after the fires
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 400, 100mm, f/10 and 1/80 SEC])
I love the top down view
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/10 and 1/80 SEC] with Canon 430EX III-RT flash)
This Sugary lerp was on a leaf we wandered past. In this photograph you can see the attendant ant looking for that sweet goodness that the lerp produced from the plant’s starch. Towards the bottom right of the white lerp coverings in the photograph, where individual juvenile or instars of the lerp exist, you can see some yellow eggs. While above the white shelters was a free roaming lerp. There were also a few leaps that were visible through the white coverings. Each instar of the lerp will build that fibrous white “igloo” where they will live until they transform into their adult form.
Sugary lerp on a eucalyptus leaf with an attendant ant
(Canon EOS 6D Mk II with a Canon EF100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM [ISO 100, 100mm, f/8.0 and 1/180 SEC] with Canon 430EX III-RT flash)
Not long after photographing the lerp we were at the end of the hike. We were both a bit tired but agreed that it had been a great experience with some stunning scenery. I would thoroughly recommend the route, including an overnight camp, to anybody because we saw from very young children to very old people on the trail. They might not have all been trying to do the complete route or camp overnight but they were out seeing a beautiful part of the Australian bush.
Thanks for reading this post and thanks also for looking at my photos. I hope you come back again to read more about some of the wonderful natural things that the region surrounding the Australian Capital Territory has on offer. All the best until the next post.