It was time for one last slog up to the small saddle below the flattened dome of Bogong, where we declared a well-earned lunch-break overlooking the southern horizon of flattened treeless high plains and deep valleys.

Lunch overlooking the High Plains

Lunch over, we made the short detour to the summit, an unspectacular rise marked by a large stone cairn. However, the lack of spectacle of the mountain was more than made up for by the panoramic 360° views. The chillness of the wind sweeping across the top started to bite and it was time to put on another layer. We took in this vast high country landscape, while butterflies soared in courtship flights around the cairn - all God's creatures were glad to be on the top of Bogong at that moment.

Fortunately, Cleve Cole Hut (our destination for the night) was situated in such a patch and we could admire the gnarled form and colour of living trees. We set up our tents on a grassy flat near the hut, joining other groups of walkers whose tents were scattered across the clearing.

I felt tired from the hard climb, but content to have finally made it to the top of Bogong. Sipping a coffee as the evening shadows crept across the landscape, I looked forward to the rest of the walk. However, the best laid plans of mice, men and Lorraine, our leader, can quickly change - as we were soon to find out.

Cleve Cole Hut to Big River (well almost) (6.5km - 130m ascent - 810m descent)

The wind that came up just before sunset flapped the tents all night long, but by morning it had settled down into a brisk cool north-easterly breeze. Our ridge lay in sunshine, while to the east thick bands of cloud clung to the ridge-tops as they drifted by - pleasant walking conditions lay ahead. We had breakfast, broke camp and headed off, leaving Cleve Cole Hut to wander gently down through Camp Valley, a shallow and winding depression in the high country.

Reaching the creek crossing, we saw what we were after - a sign post pointing to Howman Falls. We dropped our packs and made the 500m side-trip down an ever-steepening valley to reach them. Actually, these are a set of falls, first a series of beautiful cascades over rocky ribs and then a small shute and single drop about a hundred metres further on.

Having admired the falls, we retraced our steps and heaved our laden backpacks back on before jumping the stream and heading on. The track wound gently up the next valley to meet up with the Australian Alpine Walking Track.

We turned south on this track and followed it as it climbed gradually up to the the top of the T Spur, to find ourselves walking along a long flattish ridge beneath the burnt snow gums - slowly collapsing and bleached white. Stopping to listen, you could hear the soft squeaks and groans of the dead trunks rubbing against each other in the wind - the haunting conversation of forest ghosts.

Still, new life abounded closer to the forest floor. Dense lignotuber regrowth sprouted from the bases of the dead trunks, chewed on and providing life for a myriad of leaf-feeding insects, the pea- and mintbushes were flush with flowers, lilies and daisies bloomed in clusters and even the occasional orchid sprouted from the grassy floor.

We regrouped at T Spur Knob to begin the steep descent to Big River. The spur became narrower and soon we were out of the burnt snow gums and back in amongst the taller ash and peppermints. It was pleasant descending through this open shady canopy, but fires are capricious beasts and once again we found ourselves wandering beneath dead mountain ash trunks on a path overarched and overgrown in places by dense 3-4m saplings. On reaching a set of steep zig-zags, I could hear the water flowing down Big River less than five minutes away.

Then my world went pear-shaped .... the toe of my boot dragged the ground, my leg rolled forward on the steep path and my weight came down before I could transfer it to my other foot. I heard a horrible crunchy cracking sound and collapsed on the path. "F---, I've broken my ankle" I heard someone say - it was me and, since I don't swear very often I knew it was serious. The sharp pain was quickly replaced by a dull tight band as adrenalin washed through my body, bringing with it a wave of nausea and faintness. I had to lie down to stop passing out and it was in this undignified position that Steve and Quentin, who heard me call out, found me. Moving my ankle was impossible - it just flopped and sent a wave of pain through it. Steve stayed with me while Quentin got the rest of the party, who had already reached Big River Campsite. My face had gone a whiter shade of pale and the world became brighter and red-tinged - perhaps a curious effect of shock. So there I lay in the dust of the track, self-recriminating my stupidity in falling over near the bottom of this deep ravine, as I realised that there was no way I was walking out of here.

Meanwhile, the others had climbed back up and set about making me as comfortable as possible - a rolled up sleeping mat for my head, a large branch to prop under my backside and keep me from slipping further down the track with any movement and a tent fly tied to saplings and walking poles to shelter me from the sun.

There was no mobile phone reception, so the decision was made by Lorraine to activate her PLB (personal locator beacon), which started its reassuring regular beep. During the next two hours, the group did a fantastic job in looking after me, some codeine for pain relief, making sure that I kept hydrated and had some food and keeping my spirits up with conversation and humour.

Then that instantly recognisable sound of a helicopter drifted in from the ridgeline above. Soon it appeared high overhead, passing by to return much lower as it homed in on the beeping PLB, to circle us as we waved yellow plastic bags and flashed cameras to attract their attention - we had been spotted.

The drama, however, was far from over, as there was nowhere to land, so a paramedic was winched down, disappearing into the dense 3-4m scrub some 30m away. Some of my companions helped guide him out and soon he was at my side. With efficiency and good humour, Nick the paramedic had cut off my boot, checked out my ankle, put me on a saline drip, given me shots of morphine and maxalon and splinted my leg. It was time to go!