Connecting Bathurst with the gold fields of Hill End, the Bridle Track was once a well trodden route. Little remains of the original but the modern incarnation still leads through some very pretty country with fantastic riverside camping reserves – you may even find a little gold!

Where better for a quick riding holiday than The Bridle Track, although it has changed quite a bit since it was developed in the 1870’s to link Bathurst with Hill End, a distance of approximately 71 km.

The lust for gold has changed the landscape of many places and Hill End was largely a gold rush town. The discovery of payable gold at Ophir in 1851 heralded mining throughout the region and Hill End became the central hub.

In 1872, at the nearby Star of Hope mine, a 285 kg piece of quartz yielded over 93 kg of gold. Dynamited from the reef, it became known as Hotterman’s Nugget and enjoyed it’s 5 minutes of fame before being pulverised to extract the gold.

A famous photo is all that remains and Hill End has gone largely the same way, but it retains some of it’s old town aura and is a popular stop for weekend 4WD enthusiasts exploring the area.

Getting ready

It was quite a few years since we had been trail riding. COVID stymied us for a couple, whilst our stored horse truck enjoyed a mouse plague and then a major flood which left it standing up to its axles in water.

With the help of Simon’s brother it was now roadworthy again, although a bit rough around the edges. Simon welded and panelled on a baking hot day which turned the interior into an oven, but finally we were ready to go.

In the intervening years our horses had thinned out too. Our only surviving buckskin, Toffee, now had a glossy chestnut 3 year old son called Caramel, who had had little handling and was still entire.

Not sure of the wisdom of taking a stallion into a National Park brumby area, we decided a short trip to Hill End would be a good education for him. Luckily he had a calm nature and with some loading training we were ready to go.

Simon’s brother came to our aid once again and lent us a pretty little palomino mare called Queenie so we were equipped with 2 riding horses and a packhorse. Caramel rapidly decided he was in love and refused to let her out of his sight.

Day 1

We had visited the area previously in 2005. Without a truck, we had been dropped off at a TSR (travelling stock reserve) and had gone on to do a 3 week circuit.

This time we only had 5 days so we decided to park the truck and unload at the first camping reserve on the southern side of the Bridle Track.

The track actually starts in name about 16 km north of Bathurst and the bitumen continues for another 22 km, although the road is steep and narrow.

We had good views over the dry hillsides and narrow gullies as we wound down to the Macquarie river. Caramel neighed at every black cow we went past, obviously missing his field mates.

After the Box Ridge Road, the road turns to gravel but is in good condition. However the ups and downs slowed us up and it took us nearly 2 hours from Bathurst to the Bruinbun Reserve.

This is a large grassy area along the Macquarie River with lots of space for the horses. Queenie and Caramel were new to being tied out and we ran the ropes through a hosepipe so they could not give themselves such bad rope burn when they got tangled up. After throwing themselves a couple of times, they started getting the hang of doging the ropes, stepping over them with an exaggerated action.

It was a horribly hot day and the river provided a welcome dip. Simon later managed to shoe Queenie and get front shoes on Caramel before we got the fire going for supper.

Day 2

Flights of rosy breasted cockatoos winged overhead in the dawn, waking us with their frantic squawks.

The horses were unfit and we weren’t in a hurry, travelling 9.8 km in an easy couple of hours. However the Bridle Track isn’t what it was: rock slides in 2011 closed the road at Monaghan’s Bluff.

A bypass track was built in 2023 and the route is now open in its entirety again, but the narrow old track which followed the river is now inaccessible.

The new characterless bypass climbs steeply and adds another kilometre onto the route – it was a hard start for our horses on their first day out. However it did give us beautiful views over the river valley far below.

Once back on the original section it narrowed and became a little rougher. We dropped down and decided to camp at Johnson’s Hole Reserve. Again it was a nice grassy area, although the horses did not seem that fond of the grass. We were overlooked by a distant house but it was quiet enough.

It was another horribly hot day, so much so that we just alternated between hammock and river. Later in the afternoon the clouds started to build up and we had a refreshing downpour which cooled things down considerably. With the aid of a twitch, Simon managed to get back shoes on Toffee. Caramel allowed one hind foot to be shod.

Storms rolled through intermittently in the evening with great flashes of lightning and claps of thunder that echoed around the hillsides: it was good to have the heat break at last.

DAY 3

Another easy day of 10 km and a gloriously cool and pleasant one after the previous day’s storms.

The track was rough, narrow and very scenic, closely following the river. We spotted one osprey and a submerged 4WD. Even through the water one could still see the tracks where people had driven: unfortunately a small proportion of 4WD enthusiasts have little respect for the environment.

It is a shame to see wilderness campsites left strewn with rubbish, branches and trees lopped down for firewood and great tracks gouged unnecessarily on the landscape.

I commented to Simon how the huge fire rings are like modern middens – they will be excaved in a 1000 years but all that will be found will be bottle tops and melted glass!

I rode fat little Toffee whose neck seemed to be bigger than the backs of our English thoroughbreds. Like a Hottentot’s bottom, I think her crest was serving as an excess fat store.

We explored the lovely Root Hog Reserve which is reached by a wide river crossing. Our stallion definitely wasn’t going in front but luckily Toffee reluctantly obliged, with the help of a lot of gaucho like leg flapping.

A 4WD was parked on the other side. The chap came up to say hello and to say he had just filmed us crossing the river. We wandered downstream for about a kilometre enjoying the river and suddenly getting some rare phone reception for the area.

Other than kangaroos, the most prevalent wildlife had been caprine, wild billy goats with hairy beards and long horns, the slighter females with bleating kids in tow. Deer can be glimpsed briefly as they are very elusive.

After Root Hog the road started climbing up around the hillside, making a deep incision in the rock at one point.

A viewpoint gave us a good view over the Macquarie River valley and the Turon river which runs into it. We would be following the Turon on towards Hill End from that point, winding down again to join its banks.

We passed the turn off for the Mary Flynn Reserve which nestles in an oxbow of the river and stopped at the Turon Crossing Reserve, where the Bridle Track crosses the Turon River.

The road led over a cement causeway with a couple of scary holes in its sides and a drop to each side: my legs were flapping again!

We camped on the right bank upstream of the causeway, where shady pines almost lent an American feel to the landscape. There was good grass for the horses and a lovely swimming hole for us.

Simon swam across to inspect a plaque attached to a rock on the other side of the river. It commemorated a man who had died in 2017 aged 43.

“Just the age when you would do something stupid”, Simon, of similar years, laughed!

The water was a nice temperature, although the day was pleasant enough to spend it in jeans without the urge to submerge to cool off every 10 minutes.

A lazy afternoon followed: hammocks, a wander around the area, moving horses on their pickets. We managed to get the last hind shoe on Caramel.

Diner was later taken above the river, the evening rise of flies creating raindrop effects as fish swam lazily. The Turon appears to be rather clearer than the Macquarie although there is still a huge amount of fine gravel in its bed.

DAY 4

Waking up at the dawn in the Australian bush is always a pleasure and I lingered in bed to enjoy the lyrical birdsong. Steam rose from the river as we breakfasted on its banks and the wild goats left their distinctive tang on the air.

Leaving our pack saddle in the tent, we did a day trip to Hill End, a steady 8 km climb up from the valley on a twisty gravel road.

We emerged to find a scattered hamlet. At the height of the gold rush some 8000 people lived in Hill End and it was the busiest inland town in NSW. The entire district numbered 30,000. Now there are about 100 residents, although few were obvious.

Simon wryly remarked: “I think this is a three horse town and we’ve got all of them!”

We meandered around the quiet streets. Two photographers were employed to document the town in 1872 and the photographs were recently rediscovered – they provide an enchanting record of a moment in time and the people who lived in it, from the rough hewn miners to the up and coming townsfolk, posing stiffly in their finery.

It is worth popping into the Heritage Centre building, a large tin barn which once housed the Fire service in the1950’s, to see the enlarged versions. The town has filled in the gaps as ones wanders around the streets with the original photo which is quite interesting.

Now the surviving buildings are largely the state ones: a smart post office and courthouse, a few of the finer houses and a hospital with airy verandahs.

The stables behind contain an original Cobb & Co coach and a stamping machine, used to crush the quartz which held the gold – life was apparently quite noisy in the town with all the stamping batteries going.

Of 28 pubs, only the Royal Hotel survives today. On the other side of the street, Jim at the Baker & Grocer does light meals and coffee. Having ordered two coffees, for the first time in two months we met someone who didn’t take credit cards and had to do a bank transfer. There is a nice verandah with a squishy sofa to curl up on.

We became a tourist attraction within a tourist sight, people taking photographs of the horses in the historic landscape.

We had noticed on maps the track of the original Bridle Track, dropping down the ridge from Kissing Point to the Turon Crossing area. However this is now sadly out of bounds due to the ongoing gold mining in the area – another historic section is thus lost but with gold at $4000 an ounce, commercial interests win out.

So having admired the view from Kissing Point and the Split Rock below it, we backtracked down on the modern version of the Bridle Track.

It’s entrance in Hill End must have the world’s largest warning road sign, but other than the high drop off if you are stupid enough to go over, there is nothing that any half competent 4WD driver couldn’t cope with.

Jim asked us as he made the coffee how we had been getting on with the traffic and I replied that they had been pretty good at slowing down

“Humph! They probably respect horses more than cyclists!” he laughed.

As our horses had been all over the place at the time, they probably didn’t have an option either – we just made sure we were riding on the inside!

Back at Turon Crossing, we had a late lunch then headed on 2 km to the Mary Flynn Reserve which is nestled under a steep red cliff on a couple of river bends.

It is one of the more scenic reserves and we nabbed a prime camping spot high above the river with glorious cliff views. Later we tried gold panning on the river edges without success.

Simon’s brother informed us that Queenie was in fact called Creamy – I should have guessed, being a palomino. Simon remarked that it was nothing like what I had been calling her en route!

We were disturbed at 11 pm by drunken 4-wheel-drivers who sent the horses spinning in circles with revving engines and full headlights. We pointed out that we were the end of the road and finally they left us in peace, although they took the noisiest possible route down to the river.

DAY 5

The red cliff above the river shone richly in the early morning sun, although the day was actually relatively cool with a strong wind which blew dust into our faces.

Weekend 4 X 4 clubs travelled in packs, the leaders taking great pride in telling me that there were more behind, but that they had alerted them to our presence by radio!

The more feral outfits were piled with swags, dogs and fishing gear. One saw little of the drivers through blackened, closed windows as they sat in their air conditioned cocoons. We at least could taste the dust and smell the goats, at one with the country!

We climbed back up to the Bridle Track from Mary Flynn and enjoyed the river valley views as we rode up and over, back to Root Hog. We watered the horses then watched a Toyota negotiate the ford: it was up to his wheel hubs but disappointingly he made it through.

Shortly afterwards, opposite an abandoned mine shaft, we found some wild peach trees, the fruit small and flavoursome. There are many such fruit trees along the valley, harking back to old habitation of some sort.

The section of the track between Root Hog and the new road is the most scenic and feels the most authentic. We enjoyed meandering along the river before we had the tedious climb around on the new bypass.

We thought of checking out the old Bridle Track where it left the road but it is also blocked now by boulders from the new road building above it and would not be possible on a horse. It seems a shame that the track is effectively lost on that section now, as well as the Hill End bit – even to have just kept it open as a foot track would have been enough to preserve its history.

We passed a dilapidated bridge which is also now bypassed and meandered on along the river to camp at the Tattersalls Hole Reserve, a narrow grassy strip along the river with good grass for the horses.

Simon descended to the river to try his hand at fossicking, preferring to pulverise quartz rocks with the shoeing hammer, rather than the more gentle art of gold panning.

Needless to say it was no more successful, although he did find some quartz with distinct golden speckles – were they gold?

DAY 6

A sunny morning on the river and I think how easy it would be to live in a motorhome in Australia when there are free campsites everywhere in lovely settings – stealth camping in Britain can’t be much fun!

Once saddled, we have an easy 45 minute wander along the river back to our truck at Bruinbun.

The horses and tack were quick to load and we were off – the end of a perfectly relaxing week along the beautiful rivers of the Bridle Track, with some interesting gold history to finish in Hillend.