A Bundjalung man named Ashley Moran distinctly recollects the initial occasion he completed the recently established four-day Gidjuum Gulganyi Walk in the northern part of NSW, long before it welcomed visitors in this past April.
It was 2020 and the newest long-distance trail had not yet been formed. “It had been pink-tagged by the trail construction company, but it was pretty arduous trying to find a way through thick jungle and locate the small pink markers,” he says.
He was engaged in developing the walk since its inception in 2018. As chair of the Widjabul Wia-bal Gurrumbil Aboriginal Corporation, he partnered with conservation services and the traditional custodian group, which represents the traditional owners of the Tweed region within the Indigenous nation.
As a proud Bundjalung man of the local clan group, he also has a strong bond to the project: the southern part of the trail runs through his ancestral country. (Another local clan are the custodians of the northern part of the route.)
To minimize environmental damage, the Gidjuum Gulganyi (which means “Old People’s track”) mostly traces ancient walking trails that skirt the southern edge of the ancient crater, formed after the massive local mountain, once known as Mount Warning, erupted millions of years ago. Only a portion of the multi-day hike is freshly created.
This establishes the walk as a unique glimpse into a location that’s inseparable from the communities who have inhabited and passed through it – with its warm temperate and subtropical rainforests, palm forests, cascades and broad lowlands – for tens of thousands of years.
It was Moran’s job, when he traced the pink markers in 2020, to do some “field checking” on a couple of potential paths through Widjabul Wia-bal country. This involved checking that Indigenous cultural locations would not be adversely affected by the routes developed by park services, which was done in collaboration with trail construction experts from the nearby region and from a southern island, regarded as top-tier in the world.
Most of the Aboriginal sites found by the local organization were not directly on the path, but several were sufficiently proximate to require adjusting the trail. “We needed to make certain that people would not accidentally discover a important location. So we haven’t publicised the locations of the recorded sites and we’ve taken steps they’re a adequately removed from the path, to eliminate surprise encounters or damage.”
The undertaking provided Moran with a better appreciation of Country. “[It] caused me to reflect about how the Ancestors would have utilized the paths, back when there was 75,000 hectares of jungle up there.” Only a small percentage of this Big Scrub rainforest in the hinterland region remains, due to deforestation by colonial arrivals; numerous historic pathways weaving through the landscape were even converted into timber routes in the colonial era.
“As far back as 22 millennia in the past, these trails would have been frequently traveled by multiple family groups within the Indigenous nation,” he states. “Inhabitants of the uplands would have relied on them to walk to the coast in the warmer months for nourishment. Elders would have taken the routes to reach the sacred peak, a very important place [for them].
“All community members would have observed environmental cues in nature, like plants flowering or migratory birds appearing, to signal to them the time and place they had to be to obtain sustenance or hold cultural events. Such practices and travels happened over thousands of years and were embedded in our teachings and cultural practices.
“The route is part of our historic travel corridors, like the roads we have today, enabling movement through the landscape … If people were coming down the ridgelines to get to the coastline, they’d stop at certain spots to refresh themselves, to rejuvenate, sleep under the stars, just like we stop at a service station to rest and refuel,” he comments.
A few of these stopping points on the trail are now campsites where trekkers can pitch their tents on elevated bases amid tall gum trees; the last stop also has stunning scenery across a picturesque valley.
The community corporation was at first concerned about the impact of a multiday walk on their ancestral territory, Moran explains. “But the longer we collaborated with wildlife agencies, the more our discussions focused on establishing commercial ventures for our members and using this walk to showcase our culture.”
A new cultural tourism experience with Widjabul Wia-bal guides is now being established at a scenic waterfall, at the end of the walk, and is scheduled to launch by the end of 2026. There are plans for traditional owners to take over the maintenance of the route, conduct guided experiences and ventures such as coffee vans, and arrange travel to and from the trail.
Park services is also collaborating with Indigenous representatives and the community organization “to develop cultural interpretation signage that will enable Gidjuum Gulganyi hikers to understand the cultural values of the land they are immersed in during the multi-day trek,” explains a representative. They anticipate this to be installed before June 2026.
“We want to ensure this is more than a hiking path but an way to discover about traditional territory,” he states. “To give people an appreciation of what this region represents for the Widjabul Wia-bal people and the neighboring clan in the Tweed area, which will in turn revitalise the walk, bring it back to life.”
In the part Moran loves most of the hike, the route reaches a canyon with “breathtaking views” looking toward the state boundary. “That view blew me away the initial occasion I did the walk, being able to gaze upon the historic mountain and over the Tweed region. It truly amazed me.”
