Australia’s Highest Peak by Bike: A Wet and Wild Journey Through the Australian Alps

After two years of living in Western Australia, Roxy and Tommy traded dusty landscapes for the wild alpine trails of the Australian Alps, battling rain, mud and freezing temperatures on a bikepacking adventure, where historic mountain huts became their saviours.

We Are Explorers acknowledges that this adventure is located on the traditional Country of the Wiradjuri, Wolgalu, Ngunnawal, and Monaro Ngarigos Peoples, who have occupied and cared for the lands, waters, and their inhabitants for thousands of years. We pay our respects to them as the Traditional Custodians and recognise that sovereignty was never ceded.

The Mountains Are Calling

A few days before leaving, we checked the forecast.

‘They’re predicting 20mm of rain every day for the first three days,’ it said.

I almost burst into tears, but it was too late. We’d already taken ten days off from work and booked our flights. We weren’t cancelling. After all, the toughest adventures often make the best memories. Or at least, that’s what they say!

We expected heaps of this, we were right!

Before reaching the mountains, we first had to get there. We flew from Perth to Canberra and were reunited with Alice and Peter, a couple we’d met a year earlier while walking the Overland Track in Tasmania.

Read more: The Overland Track: A Guide to Hiking Hut-to-Hut on Tasmania’s Most Famous Hike

‘Come and visit Canberra one day, we live close to the Alps!’ they’d told us.

We didn’t need much convincing. Every bikepacker understands the luxury of a home base when planning a bike loop. We left our bike boxes and a few clean clothes for the return journey, then set off towards the mountains!

The intended vibe, by Roksana

First Pedal Strokes From Australia’s Capital City

We left at dawn. There was no time to explore Canberra, that’d have to wait until our return.

‘Is this really Australia’s capital city?’ I asked Tommy, slightly unconvinced.

After cycling through some of the world’s busiest capitals, Canberra felt surprisingly quiet. Empty cycle paths carried us for almost 30km out of the city and towards the first slopes of the mountains.

Our bikes weighed close to 35kg each, loaded with enough food and gear for a week in the backcountry. But it was day one, our legs were fresh, and excitement was doing most of the work.

‘Looks a bit heavy mate’

One of the main reasons we chose this route was the huts. More than 200 historic huts are scattered throughout the Australian Alps, providing the closest thing Australia has to the unmanned mountain refuges we know from Europe.

We built our entire route around them, creating our own hut-to-hut adventure. It almost felt like being back home. Originally built for cattlemen, miners, and forestry workers, many of these huts now provide shelter for hikers and cyclists exploring the region.

Many are designated for emergency use only, so carrying a tent remains essential, but they’re a great place to get warm and dry. Today, these historic shelters are maintained by dedicated volunteers who work hard to preserve them for future generations.

Kosciuszko’s huts are a wonderful historic feature of the park, with an important safety function

‘Oh no, it’s starting to rain!’

The forecast had been right, and we’d already known the next three days would be wet. The final 20km were ridden through steady rain, and when a small shelter finally appeared through the trees, we couldn’t have been happier.

Bendora Hut, 67km from Canberra. Our first refuge.

The hut was incredibly simple: a small metal shelter on stilts with a wooden floor, a fireplace, a little firewood, and a water tank outside. We couldn’t stay there overnight, but after a long day in the mountains, it was the perfect place to stop, warm up and escape the rain for a while!

Read more:  7 Tips for Rainy Day Hiking

Warm and dry, for now

Into the Forest, Under Relentless Rain

Day two greeted us with heavy rain, and we were incredibly grateful to have these shelters along the route. With only nine days off, we had to keep moving. Within minutes, we were soaked, pushing our way along muddy tracks that were gradually turning into a bog. With the humidity, the feels-like temperature was close to 7°C. Suddenly, hypothermia was no longer just something we read about in adventure stories.

We stopped briefly at a small shelter, basically just a roof, so I could try to fix my brakes. Yep. We’d set off on a ten-day bikepacking trip through the Australian Alps without properly servicing our bikes first. Amateurs.

Tommy on mechanic duty

After the glorious achievement of covering a walker-like distance of just 24 kilometres, we finally reached another shelter. We arrived drenched to the bone and called it a day. Inside, a stack of neatly cut firewood was waiting for us.

‘Oh my God, there’s even a tin of butter chicken!’

We desperately needed something warm and were already worried about our food supplies. Thank you to the kind soul who left it there. The rest of the afternoon was spent drying our gear, warming up by the fire, and watching the rain hammer against the windows without pause. That hut may well have saved us from hypothermia.

Read more: Remember to leave no trace!

Day 3 – Fog, Mud and a Desperate Search for Sunshine

When you wake up on the third day of an adventure to the sound of buckets of rain and look out the window to see nothing but thick fog, you start questioning your life choices. We knew there was no point waiting for it to clear, and after our Olympic-level athletic performance the day before, we couldn’t afford a rest day.

‘Ohhh… all those hours we spent drying our gear yesterday were completely useless,’ I complained. Within minutes, we were soaked. Just the two of us, deep in the bush, surrounded by high-altitude eucalyptus forests and the iconic Snow gums pedalling relentlessly through heavy rain. Then again, thirty minutes of dry clothes was still thirty minutes gained. The biggest challenge of the day was though yet to come: Leura Gap.

Struggle street, also known as Leura Gap

Only two kilometres long, but undoubtedly the toughest of the entire loop. Imagine pouring rain, full waterproof gear, sweat dripping from every layer, and a steep, muddy track disappearing into dense vegetation. It was so steep that we had to push the bikes one at a time, working together to get them uphill.

When I finally reached the top with the first bike, completely out of breath, I looked back down the trail.

‘Alright, I’ll wait for you here!’ Some jokes are simply mandatory.

Thankfully, the sky began to clear in the afternoon and we managed to dry some of our gear. The warmth felt incredible. After 20 kilometres, we stopped for lunch at Pockets Hut. Perched at 1,300 metres above sea level, it couldn’t have been more different from the forests we’d left behind. The landscape opened into rolling hills, alpine grasslands, and endless views.

‘Look, five people stayed around here last night,’ Tommy said, pointing at the visitor book.

We weren’t the only ones hiding from the weather in these remote mountains.

Further along the route, we left the bikes behind for a short walk through Clarke Gorge. Steep limestone cliffs, karst formations, and wide alpine plains made it one of the most unexpected highlights of the trip.

Stretching our legs on the walk to Clarke Gorge

That evening, we pitched our tent at a small, closed campground. Unfortunately, the weather gods decided we hadn’t suffered enough yet. Rain hammered against the tent and rattled our bikes the whole night. By then, our morale was at an all-time low.

Day 4 – When the Mind Is Tested

‘That’s probably the most miserable place we’ve ever had breakfast, Tommy. Can we just go to Bali for our next holiday?’ I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Eating breakfast under the roof of a campground toilet block was about as far from glamorous as it gets.

Tommy, dreaming of a Bali holiday (probably)

Pulling on wet socks for the fourth day in a row had become a genuine mental challenge. At that point, I started wondering how long it would take before mushrooms began growing on my feet.

‘Apparently there’s a small ski village in Cabramurra on our way. Hopefully something’s open so we can resupply.’

March in the Australian Alps means most places have already shut down for the season. Luckily, Cabramurra, Australia’s highest village, gave an unexpected surprise! A small (construction) café was still open, and without it we probably wouldn’t have had enough food to make it to our next resupply point in Thredbo, two days away.

For the first time in days, the afternoon stayed dry. By the time we reached Round Mountain Hut, the sky had finally cleared. Rebuilt after multiple bushfires, the hut was brand new and so charming. We were not alone for the first time! Kevin, an Australian hiker staying there, filled the evening with stories and ideas for future adventures. The only downside? With all our gear still soaked from the night before, we chose to sleep inside the hut, only to discover Kevin was an exceptionally loud snorer.

Round Mountain Hut, which is square

Day 5 – Rivers, Sunshine and Unexpected Challenges

Day five rolled along with a mix of gentle climbs and flowing descents. For the first time in days, it felt like the perfect bikepacking day. The sun was back, our socks were finally dry, and we were two very happy cyclists crossing the Australian Alps.

After passing Derschkos Hut, about 15km into the day, the terrain changed and the climbs became brutally steep. ‘Looks like there are nine river crossings today’, I said, studying Maps.Me. ‘I just hope the water levels aren’t too high after all that rain’, Tommy replied.

Luckily, only one crossing reached thigh depth, adding just the right amount of adrenaline to the day. At one point, we realised three river crossings were packed into just 500 metres.

Nine crossings in a day will test the mind, body, and soul

‘Oh no… I really don’t want wet shoes again!’

So there we were, pushing our loaded bikes barefoot through the rivers, shoes dangling from the handlebars. If you’ve ever ridden without shoes, you’ll know it’s far from comfortable. The whole scene was wonderfully ridiculous.

Then, on the far side of a hill, we spotted a small red hut.

‘There it is!” I shouted. “Valentine Hut!’

The iconic shelter, covered with tiny hearts, looked almost too cute to be real. Waiting outside was another cyclist travelling in the opposite direction, and we ended up sharing lunch together.

Awww

‘You have to stay at Horse Camp Hut tonight,’ he told us. ‘It’s one of the best.’

Forty-five kilometres, 1,600 metres of climbing, four huts, and nine river crossings later, we reached Horse Camp Hut and called it a day. Hidden beside a small stream deep in the forest, it looked like something from a fairy tale. We were knackered, but so happy.

Every evening, these huts seemed to transport us back in time.They carry stories of cattlemen, trappers, and pioneers, a history that still lingers in the mountains today.

Look how warm and dry it is!

Day 6-9 — The Summit and a Real Bed

Today was the day. The highlight of the entire adventure.

‘It’s a bluebird sky, Tommy!’ I shouted. ‘Omg, finally!’

Ahead of us was the climb to Mount Kosciuszko, Australia’s highest peak at 2,228m.

Climbing past Seamans Hut

If there was one day when the weather had to be perfect, this was it. We couldn’t stop smiling. From the trailhead, a sign marked 10km to the summit. A beautiful gravel road wound through the mountains, offering smooth riding, gentle gradients, and uninterrupted views across the Australian Alps. After three days of rain, these 10 kilometres felt like pure happiness.

‘Look, I think that’s the summit!’ I pointed towards a broad, rounded hill. We laughed. It hardly looked like Australia’s highest mountain.

To the top of Australia!

About 1.5km from the top, we parked our bikes and continued on foot. For me, as a Polish person, reaching the summit felt especially meaningful. The mountain is named after Tadeusz Kościuszko, an 18th-century Polish national hero. ‘There are so many other Polish people here’, I said to Tommy, as snippets of Polish conversation drifted past us. Standing on the other side of the world, on a mountain carrying Kościuszko’s name, felt surreal.

The day wasn’t over yet. We still had to ‘hike’ our bikes all the way to the top of the chairlift, and as the day couldn’t get any better, we somehow accidentally ended up descending a black mountain bike into Thredbo. Yep. On our fully loaded bikes. Right in the middle of a race! ‘What are you doing here?’ riders shouted as they flew past us.

Whoops!

Looking back, it must have been quite a sight.

That night, we treated ourselves to a hostel in Thredbo. After six days on the trail, a mattress that didn’t slowly deflate beneath us and a shower that wasn’t a river felt like absolute luxury!

The next morning, refreshed and feeling human again, we followed the Thredbo Valley Track, 35km of flowing singletrack winding towards Jindabyne. Three days later, we rolled back into Canberra, where Alice and Peter welcomed us with a hot meal.

Recovering at Lake Jindabyne, before the trip to Canberra

The Australian Alps may not have the towering peaks of their European namesake, but they are every bit as adventurous. Their remoteness, unpredictable weather, and rich history make them a place not to be underestimated. At the heart of that experience are the huts: simple shelters that offer comfort without taking away the sense of adventure.

Even after days of rain, wet socks, and plenty of misery, we wouldn’t have swapped this trip for a week in Bali. After all, they were right: challenging conditions do make the best memories!