Old Mt Bryan East School to Hallett

Well, for one, I think I had pysched myself out. Stepping out of the bus at the old Mt Byran East school, it didn't look so high after all. Climbing to the peak of My Bryan was going to be that hard. Once we had started the ascent, every time I looked up at the radio tower that sat atop the "mount" – can it really be called that – it just suprisingly closer than I had expected.

The walk started with a road walk from the school, past a couple of old ruined houses, one surrounded by beautiful almond blossom. We even chanced upon an old orange tree near a rickecty old windmill. There were a few people brave enough to try a taste, and were rewarded with possibly the worst tasting orange ever.

The views on the climb up were spectacular. The views from the top not quite so spectacular. The weather was good, but it was a little hazy. I think everyone had talked the views up a little. And I couldn't help but recall the truly spectacular views from the top of St Mary's Peak in Wilpena Pound. This just didn't compare! We could see where we had walked over the past few walks from the south, and could also see where Goyder's Line generally lay. The paddocks contrasted with the saltbush and scrub. The drive in the bus had been curious, on one side of the road were crops, on the other saltbush and just nothing. Odd. There was a cairn on the peak, with various plaques commemorating the discovery of the mount and the first European climbers.

The walk down the other side of the "mount" was began with some confusion. We could see for many kilometres around us, but couldn't see where the trail led off the peak. Further down, we passed through a valley with sheep grazing, and they run away from us, each following each other in several lines, as they ran their along their sheep paths. Certainly looked a little bizzare. We "chased" them for several kilometres down onto the plain.

The weather was, once again, just beautiful. No rain, clear, warm sunny days. Apparently farmers have a term for this, they call it "drought". Mmm. Perhaps best not to brag too loudly in the front bar of the Burra Hotel about the fantastic weather conditions for walking.