Mighty Mount

It's a vista so deep and broad, it's like you can almost see into the future. Sub-alpine peak is stacked up behind sub-alpine peak for as far as the eye can see in all directions. To the north you can see over the back of the Tidbinbilla Range, across Canberra and beyond to Lake George, to the east the craggy Tinderry Mountains dominate the skyline, while the Bogong Peaks hold up the western horizon.

Mt Gingera is the ACT's second highest peak and probably one of the most recognisable. It's that flat topped mountain in the Brindabellas that can be seen from most parts of Canberra and is often snow-capped in winter. In fact, so prominent is Gingera in our urban landscape that my walking partner, Canberra historian and bushwalker Matthew Higgins, says he has heard people at the Mt Ainslie Lookout point to it in winter, gushing to friends with mistaken statements like, ''that's Mt Kosciuszko''.

It's not quite Mt Kossy, but at 1855m, it's only a few hundred metres lower and the view from its peak, arguably just as expansive.

It's a view that has been a long time coming for me. Back in 1992, I clambered up the steep flanks of Gingera with a group of fellow students from the ANU. The day began fine, but by midday we were enveloped in thick cloud and fog we could hardly see the person in front of us, let alone the views for which Gingera is so renowned.

So today, after finally returning some 20 years later, I'm in no rush to leave. Many bushwalkers like to have a brief stop at their destination, take a photo and then embark on the trek home. Not Matthew or me. No, we linger for the best part of an hour soaking up the view and sharing tales of the ACT high country. Matthew is a recognised authority on our high country, having scribed several books on the history of the mountains, including Skis on Brindabellas (Tabletop Press, 1994) and Rugged Beyond Imagination (National Museum of Australia Press, 2009).

Matthew has summited many of the peaks (even many of the unnamed ones) spread out below and beyond Gingera, so when he says, ''this is one of the best views in the Australian Alps,'' it's no exaggeration. This is a view fit for a king. I couldn't imagine a more grandiose place in the ACT to have lunch. You can have your seven course degustation sittings at revolving restaurants atop Black Mountain - give me this view atop Gingera and a Vegemite sandwich any day.

After lunch, we scramble down the rocks to explore the south-western side of the summit. Below the windswept and barren peak, it's like entering another world. We're greeted by a number of small rock shelters. I crawl into one, half filled by the roots of a mountain plum pine, which are curled up like a giant boa constrictor. This rare alpine conifer (Podocarpus lawrencei) has adapted to the harsh alpine environment by clinging to and taking the form of exposed granite boulders. This enables it to maximize the light and warmth available for growth during the snow free season. Who knows how old this specimen is. A plum pine near Mt Kosciuszko was found to be 170 years old but had a trunk diameter of only 6cm, much less than the girth of this tree trunk.

But it's not peculiar conifers that I am searching for. These dark, narrow crevices are the summer hang-out for millions of bogongs (Agrotis infusa) - those moths which created chaos in the light towers at the Sydney Olympics and which are often drawn by the bright lights of Parliament House.

Bogongs migrate from the plains of western NSW to the highest peaks in the mountains where they spend the hot summer months. Apparently, in good years, the moths are so densely packed in the crevices of some peaks, including Mt Gingera, where temperature and humidity are fairly constant, that they look like a layer of fungi.

It's not long before we find two tors leaning on each other. I squeeze in and flick my torch on. It's not a pretty site. Shredded wings, decaying heads and other parts of moths are strewn all over the cave floor.