Like whippets, we were in the car at the crack of 9.05am (only 3 hours after our planned departure time). It drizzled thewhole way through the Bega valley and up to Cooma, where Joe bought a quality forest green $22 rain coat he affectionately named the rapist jacket. 

3 hrs after leaving camp we were standing in cloud and drizzle at Charlottes Pass, contemplating the 18km round trip. We’d driven all that way, and it seemed pointless to let a bit of rain get between us and Australia’s highest peak, so we packed our sandwiches and wandered upwards into the Alpine wilderness which was pretty in a middle earth lord of the rings kind of way.

There was still a bit of snow hanging around towards the top, and the climb was fairly uneventful; in fact it was an old road that wound nearly the whole way to the top, crossing the famous Snowy river halfway. The view was spectacularly crap; grey as far as our slightly frozen eyes could see, but on all accounts it would’ve been GREAT in better conditions. We scurried back down pretty quickly, hopped backed in and cruised into Cooma to sample the best hamburgers in NSW, possibly the world.

Note to Verity’s mum, we ate the chutney in ham and cheese sandwiches at the summit of Mt Kosciuoszko and it was delightful.