The Australian Alp – Mt Feathertop, an Iconic Mountain and a Special Place. Video
Mountainwatch | Video
Produced by Coen and Taylor Bennie-Faull, The Australian Alp, documents the beauty and challenge of Victoria’s iconic Mt Feathertop. For the Bennie-Faull brothers skiing Feathertop has loomed large in their imagination since they were kids, gazing out the car window at the impressive peak on their way up to Hotham during regular family ski trips.
The Australian Alp, a name coined by Glen Plake when he first saw Feathertop during a trip to Australia in the ’90s, is beautifully shot, capturing the grandeur of Mt Feathertop as Coen and friends ski the big mountain lines of its southern face.
It’s always nice to see a film shot in the Australian mountains and The Australian Alp is one of the best.
From the producers:
Mt Feathertop’s striking beauty holds a special place in the hearts of the Australian backcountry snow community. As one of the only mountains here that resembles its northern hemisphere counterparts, The Australian Alp tells a story of the profound impact it’s had on a group of keen explorers.
Athletes: Coen Bennie-Faull, Toshi Pander, Briony May-Johnson, Jake Woods, Corrine Prevot
Filmers: Sam Levings, Taylor Bennie-Faull
Editing: Taylor Bennie-Faull
Composition and Sound Design: Cal Kenihan
Music: Almost Grown – The System, O Vermona – Bullion
Delicious Ambiguity
By Coen Bennie-Faull; All Photos Toshi Pander
“Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” – Gilda Radner
As humans we try to contextualise the ethereality of life, it forms a foundation upon which we re-assure ourselves. Coming to our own conclusions, our attachment to familiarity forms a circle of comfort that brings harmony to the chaos of our existence. Ambiguity hovers like smoke on the water, ready to throw you off balance – “control what you can”, they say.
Mountains dance to the beat of their own drum. Beautiful, unpredictable and wild all in the same mouthful as if to say ‘Welcome, come in, but don’t make yourself at home’. The contrast of shoulder height sastrugi painted by heaving wind against the surreal calm left by a fresh blanket of snow, an illustration of the tidal moods mother nature holds. She has a way of reminding us that we are but a mere passenger in these parts. Comfort a distant memory and stripped of control we are forced to live observant, in the moment to admire the beauty of these landscapes.
The south face of Mt Feathertop sits proud amongst the Victorian alps. Its formidable steep gullies and spectacular ridgelines, the ultimate eye candy for any avid skier. Like many, I have countless memories of sitting on a lift at Mt Hotham gazing across the valley, drooling over the Alaskan style spines as they glisten in the sun.
Skiing this face has been fantasy I’ve held since I can remember. However, anecdotal tales of click-of-the-finger weather shifts, and warnings of past tragedies paint a slightly different picture. Like a mirage, the picture-perfect peak is often scoured by weather only observable up close. Luck, a large piece of the puzzle if you’re to get it right.
Hesitancy, fuelled by the unknown, ‘If you don’t go, you’ll never know’ resonates as the now familiar climb up bungalow spur once again puts the group through their paces. Knee deep slush on the up trail does its best to dampen spirits and past failed attempts due to challenging conditions taunt the mind.
There’s a moment in just about every trip where ‘I just want to be home now’ pops into mind. Resurrected by our sense of adventure and curiosity for the unknown we made it to camp under starlight.
Sore backs and aching limbs healed by the warmth of the rising sun as we enjoyed our morning coffee on the deck the following morning. The frowns of the night before replaced with a hum of optimism, for once the weatherman had it right. All doubts and hesitancy about the trip shed as the south face revealed itself under the glow of morning light as we crested the adjacent ridgeline. A playground of options awaken the inner child, waves and spines, sculpted by wind and a relentless winter of weather left on a platter for us to play, a serving of spring dessert.
After years of watching weather roll across Feathertop, waiting for conditions to align, feeding off information from forecasting sites and local patrollers and living vicariously through friends’ tales of success, the feeling of relief when the stars finally aligned is one for the memory bank.
The unknown erased, replaced as a collective feeling of accomplishment crackles over the radio at the bottom our lines. Our luck illuminated in front of us as weather rolls in over our heads on our final climb, flipping the mood and rendering the face we’d skied only two hours prior into a de-commissioned ice-skating rink. Lucid from adrenaline and the sense of connection the few days offered, we leave humbled by the brief opportunity thrown our way.
We can spend our whole life searching for answers, but sometimes we learn more from what we don’t know. Stepping into the unknown we learn to stand on our own two feet, trust ourselves and face our fears. Detached from the expectation of experience, we make moves with confidence. Stepping into the moment and owning it, content with what will be we find a quiet sense of control, not control of circumstance, but control of ourselves. And for that moment, our questions begin to answer themselves and a hush of calmness settles, delicious ambiguity.