Autumn hike
A warm autumn day, I made the journey out to the concrete pillar. I had seen the bare hill across the inlet on previous visits, jutting out into the reservoir, but until today it had never been the weather for a long journey. I had visited too late in the afternoon, so that the sun was disappearing behind the rolling plains and the hills were turning a deep evening violet. Or it had been a wet and foggy morning, with sheets of rain sweeping down across the ridges and over the water.
Today, it was blue sky unmarked except for a row of cumulus accumulating behind the hills. From the gates, I followed the wide dirt trail between open paddocks, and mid morning stopped by a small dam that looked westwards across the plains. The sun was climbing so I continued on to where the trail curved down to cross the inlet, on a warm dry day like today, a narrow stream running over a concrete weir, leaving foamy suds. The eucalyptus and wattle on either side of the gully cast shadows over the water, and I sat here a while drinking from my travelling canister and eating my sandwich.
I resumed the journey at midday, crossing the crossing and now climbing up the opposite bank. Just before I reached the top, I heard somewhere ahead and several paces from the trail pigs snuffling and oinking. I continued slowly forward, keeping close to the trees and supposing I could scramble up into one if I was charged. But when I left the line of trees at the top of the hill I saw them hundreds of paces below and moving off in the direction of the reservoir.
I followed the trail again across open plains until it passed beneath my hill. I turned from the trail and scrambled upward through long grass, over jagged outcrops and between dead and sunbleached thistles. Just below the summit was a hidden grove of eucalyptus. I sat here in the shade to catch my breath, then explored the top of the hill.
The summit was marked with an old concrete pillar. It had four crumbling faces. Each face had a indent in it running from the top to the bottom. In one face there were etched numerals.
Now I was standing still and out on the hillside, the sun felt more pleasant. I looked down across the water, to the north towards the reservoir walls and to the south in the direction of the dividing ranges and ultimately the headwaters of the river. I could see the lowest hills on the horizon hazy blue. On a closer mountain on the other side of the reservoir, I thought I could see a stone tower among the trees.
I sat for a time by the concrete pillar and tried to think of a name for this hill. When the shadows began to lengthen and the air turned chilly, I turned around to begin the return journey.