Snow Gums in Spring - Mount Skene

I dedicate a good portion of my spare time to searching for new and different landscapes to photograph. Most of this begins with maps — tracing trails, forests, dams, and rivers — all in the hope of finding something unique. Often, the result is not a new image, but a deeper understanding of Australia’s landscapes.

Morning light filters through the snow-covered gums near Mount Skene summit, casting a serene glow on a frosty picnic bench enveloped in winter's embrace.

As a rule, I never ask other photographers for location tips. I know the effort it takes to discover a place and how easily a single social media post can overwhelm or damage it — the cost of popularity. One afternoon, I was chatting with a friend who is a retired large-format film photographer. I said I was thinking of heading to the high country to photograph snow gums, his eyes lit up and he offered a tip. It had been twenty years since he retired, so I assumed the location had either changed beyond recognition or fallen victim to popularity. I tucked the suggestion away and didn’t think much more of it.

Discovering Mount Skene

Fast-forward a year and a bit. It was early spring, and I was restless — eager to get behind the camera or at least scout something new. Then I remembered the conversation: “Try Mount Skene.” A quick Google search didn’t reveal anything spectacular, I figured the snow would be gone by now, the tracks muddy, but the drive spectral, worth it. At worst, I’d get a sense of the area for a future trip.

Snow-covered branches weave a intricate tapestry in a serene winter forest scene. Ordered chaos.

I set off on a Saturday morning, heading for Sale, and booked into the only hotel available — easily the worst available. That evening, I cooked beside Lake Wellington, then wandered the western shoreline as the sun set over the water. It was cool, quiet, and the kind of evening that reminds you why you love being outdoors.

A snow-dusted eucalyptus forest creates a serene winter scene, with the intricate branches and leaves blanketed in soft white, capturing the tranquility of nature's transformation.

The Climb to the Snow Gums

Early the next morning, I began the drive toward Mount Skene. With no expectations, I was not surprised by how beautiful the journey became as the road wound upward and the light broke through. At around 1,200 metres, I noticed ice along the track. The previous week had been cold, wet, and windy across Victoria, and sure enough, by 1,400 metres, I was surrounded by snow. A winter wonderland in early spring.

With diffs locked and four-wheel drive engaged, I climbed carefully toward the summit, stopping often to photograph the snow gums glowing softly through the fog. For half the day, I had the mountain completely to myself. As the sun climbed, the clouds lifted, the fog thinned, and the snow melted before my eyes.

Mount Skene is now firmly on my list for future snow escapes. It might not be a showstopper in the traditional sense, but there’s something deeply satisfying about having a remote place entirely to yourself — somewhere you can work slowly, be in the moment, immersed in the landscape.

Photographing Snow Gums

Snow gums are among my favourite Australian native trees. Gnarled and twisted, with their patchwork of greys, greens, oranges, and browns, they are full of contrast and character. Many bear the marks of fire, frost, and time — yet they endure.

While dieback caused by longicorn beetles has become common, I find beauty in both the vibrant living trunks and the moody, weathered remains. When the fog drifts through and soft light catches the trunks, snow gums transform an ordinary hillside into something ethereal.

If you find a small clearing or a stretch where the forest opens up, you can isolate their forms — the elegance amidst the chaos. With or without snow, they are extraordinary.

Closing Reflection

There’s an internal joy in finding these places — in driving somewhere unfamiliar, alone, and seeing what the day brings. Photography rewards patience, persistence and curiosity. Mount Skene reminded me that sometimes the best locations aren’t trending, but the ones that wait quietly to be rediscovered.