The Call of the Buccan Buccans

Date: March 7, 2026

Location: Hawks Nest, NSW

There’s something about the way the Bucketts Mountains tear into the skyline above Gloucester that makes you want to drop everything and find the trailhead immediately. These aren't just hills; they are ancient, jagged volcanic outcrops that have stood watch over Guringay country for millennia. Next weekend, I’m heading up to tackle the scramble. It’s a short, sharp ascent - the kind that makes your calves burn early - but the reward is that transition from the sheltered valley floor to the exposed, rocky spines where the wind finally catches you, and the Barrington wilderness opens up to the west.

This trip is as much about the ritual of returning to the dirt as it is about the view. I’m looking forward to that specific moment when the town noise fades, and the only soundtrack is the scuttle of skinks on warm rock and the steady rhythm of my own breath. Over the next few days, I’ll be finalising the route and keeping a close eye on the horizon for those unpredictable March storms, but for now, the maps are out, and the boots are ready.

Pre-Trip Gear Check: The Bucketts Scramble

The transition from "civilised human" to "bushwalker" usually begins on my living room floor, which is currently a tactical minefield of maps, camera gear, and boots that definitely still have a bit of the Warrumbungles embedded in the soles. There is a specific kind of madness in trying to condense your entire existence into a few kilograms of nylon and high-tech fabric, especially for a scramble like the Bucketts. It’s a delicate balancing act: you want enough water to survive the western face’s midday heat, but not so much weight that you end up ascending like a particularly overburdened tortoise.

Preparation for me is half-practicality and half-superstition. It’s the ritual of checking the March forecast for the fifth time today - hoping the Barrington Tops aren't brewing up a lightning show - and debating whether I really need that extra layer or if "stubbornness" counts as thermal protection. I’ve spent the morning tracing spur lines on the map and making sure the camera batteries are charged, because if you scramble up a volcanic outcrop and don't capture the Gloucester valley in that perfect afternoon light, did the calves even really burn? The plan is set, the bag is (mostly) packed, and now it’s just a matter of seeing if the reality of the ridge matches the ambition of the living room floor.

The "Don't Forget the Billy" Checklist

Because staring at a stunning view is significantly less fun when you’re dehydrated and sunburned, here is the curated chaos heading into my pack for the Bucketts - for starters anyway:

• The Boots: My trusted bushwalking pair. They’ve seen enough scrub to have stories of their own, and given the steep, basalt scramble ahead, I’m counting on them to keep me vertical.

• Water (The Liquid Gold): I’m packing plenty. Even in March, that western face acts like a heat trap once the afternoon sun hits it, and the mountain is notoriously stingy with its plumbing—there’s absolutely zero water once we leave the car.

• The Broad-Brimmed Hat: Essential for the exposed ridgeline. It’s not exactly a high-fashion statement, but it beats sporting a "Gloucester Red" forehead for the next week.

• First-Aid Kit: The "just in case" bag. Heavy on the compression bandages and blister pads, because gravity is a persistent suitor on these rocky slopes.

• The Studio (Camera & Video Gear): A bag within a bag. Batteries are charged, lenses are clean, and the tripod is ready for its moment in the sun. If I’m doing the legwork, I’m definitely bringing back the proof.

Updated: 7 MARCH 2026

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