By Eric Whiting
Reprinted from "The Hosteller" - Spring 1982 and July 1974.

The bouts of shivering I have had the last few mornings have been a cruel reminder that winter is on us again, Not that I dread the winter, in fact I prefer the cold to the heat of summer. There is one proviso however, and that is to be able to get out into the mountains. Mountains in winter mean snow.

There is something about snow that appeals to most people. Perhaps it is the clean whiteness, to many it is the expression of freedom gained whilst skiing over it. Whatever it is that makes me yearn for the frozen uplands I cannot say. I have enjoyed the bleakness and solitude of the Welsh moors and the rugged splendour of the Alpine peaks in Austria, but it is only in the Australian Alps that I have had that extra pleasure. No matter be it on Buller's ski runs, on the extensive, lonely High Plains, or by the great cornice on top of Feathertop there are always some Snow Gums in sight. There is always that gnarled and twisted trunk to make a picturesque border for that photo; there is always a spray of those greygreen leaves to make a contrast.

Once you get above 1500m in Victoria you are in the realm of the Snow Gum. Below this it tends to be crowded out by the taller growing Alpine Ash (Woollybutt), but above this height only a few higher or more exposed areas defy the brave attempts of the Snow Gum to cover the mountain tops. And brave it is. How would you like to spend up to four months a year up to your knees in snow, with not so much as the sight of a hot water bottle! There is no hibernating to a warm hostel common room when the sun goes down. Not even the simple protection of a tent and down bag to which the hardie bushie has to resort for the night. After the winter is done then there is the long hot dry summer to bear out with no help from sunglasses, sunhats, etc. to keep off the sun's rays. Add to this at anytime of the year the ability to take whatever the heavens will throw around during the many storms, it is no wonder that the Snow Gum is gnarled and twisted and slow to grow.

To withstand these harsh conditions the Snow Gum has rejected the usual tree shape, and like the Mallees of the drought stricken areas of north-western Victoria, produce a life-sustaining lignotuber under the ground from which several trunks rise to carry the leaves. The leaves themselves are thick and tough, and hang vertically down to avoid both overhead sun and the damaging weight of accumulating snow. (Thick, vertical leaves are typical of Eucalyptus trees but these features are well pronounced in the Snow Gum).

So tough is the Snow Gum that a tiny seedling lodged in a narrow crack in solid rock will eventually crack the rock in two and push the pieces aside. An excellent place to see the stages of this amazing feat is up on the Buffalo or Baw Baw Plateaus where the vast granite boulders are being split and split again by the slow but relentless growth.

The only natural hazard the Snow Gum cannot take in any intensity is fire, although like many other Australian plants it thrives on a small fire. Visitors to Baw Baw may have noticed the amount of dead wood rising up above the general covering of living trees. This is the result of the disastrous 1939 fire which blackened the whole of the area. Even though 35 years have passed the regrowth has still got a long way to go to gain the original mature height.

That the slow growth is brought about out by the harsh conditions can be seen when the same species grows in lower, kinder climates. To the north of Tooradin, around Woodend-Kyneton, and in the Creswick area, upright, single trunked trees grow to heights of 20m or so. Such is the difference in growth habit that for a long time they were taken as two species. The lowland form, popularly known as White Sallee, was named Eucalyptus pauciflora, and the characteristic Snow Gum was labelled Eucalyptus niphophila. As Euc. pauciflora is the older name (by about 100 years) botanists now refer to the Snow Gum by that name despite being more widespread than the White Sallee form.

As the Snow Gum carries its dead wood for a long time, the snow-camping bushie tends to call it the Saviour Tree. Ready to hand is his tent "pegs" and, if he wants it, wood for a fire. Any other tree and the dead wood is several feet under the snow. It is almost as If nature had planned for them!

Of course the skier who has to try to do that impossible turn to avoid that twisted snow laden bough, and takes a tumble may call the tree many unprintable names. If this happens to you don't curse. When you've finished rubbing yourself down, rub some snow on the bark of the trunk. The colourful patterns that appear are. bound to put the smile back on your face. Then just think awhile. Here is a living thing that has taken a far greater battering than you will ever get yet still maintains its grace, and even puts on a happy face for you. Such is the hallmark of royalty.