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Ashley Moran vividly recalls the first time he completed the new multi-day Gidjuum Gulganyi Walk in northern New South Wales, well before it opened to the public in April this year.

Back in 2020 and the newest premier hiking route wasn’t even a track. “The route was marked with pink ribbons by the path-building team, but it was pretty arduous trying to find a way through dense rainforest and find those little pink ribbons,” he explains.

He was engaged in creating the trail since its inception in 2018. As leader of the Aboriginal community group, he partnered with conservation services and the Indigenous land management body, which represents the traditional owners of the northern NSW territory within the Bundjalung people.

As a proud Bundjalung man of the traditional family, he also has a deep-rooted link to the undertaking: the lower section of the path passes through his people’s lands. (The Minjungbal people are the custodians of the northern segment of the track.)

To reduce ecological impact, the Gidjuum Gulganyi (translating to “Old People’s track”) largely follows ancient walking trails that run along the southern rim of the Tweed volcanic area, formed after the massive historic peak, previously Mount Warning, blew its top millions of years ago. Only 19km of the 42km trek is entirely new.

This positions the trail as a rare window into a region that’s inseparable from the groups who have resided in and traversed it – with its lush green environments, palm groves, falls and wide open valleys – for many millennia.

It was Moran’s responsibility, when he followed those little pink tags in 2020, to do some “field checking” on two proposed routes through Widjabul Wia-bal country. This required verifying that Aboriginal sites weren’t going to be negatively impacted by the paths created by wildlife agencies, which was done in collaboration with track builders from the local area and from Tasmania, considered among the best in the world.

Most of the Aboriginal sites identified by the community corporation were not directly on the path, but several were sufficiently proximate to require adjusting the trail. “We needed to make certain that people wouldn’t unknowingly stumble on a significant site. So we have kept private the precise spots of the recorded sites and we’ve ensured they’re a good distance off the track, to eliminate surprise encounters or damage.”

The process gave Moran a better appreciation of the land. “[It] caused me to reflect about how the Elders would have used the trails, back when there was an extensive area of rainforest up there.” Only a small percentage of this local forest ecosystem in the hinterland region survives, due to land clearing by colonial arrivals; a lot of the age-old trails weaving through the landscape were even adapted for forestry use in the 19th century.

“Going back to 22 millennia in the past, these paths would have been heavily used by various clan groups within the traditional society,” Moran says. “Those living on the highlands would have employed them to walk to the coast in the hot season for food resources. Community leaders would have used the trails to reach Wollumbin, a very important place [for them].

“People would have monitored seasonal indicators in the environment, like flowers blooming or seasonal avian visitors, to indicate to them the timing and location they had to be to obtain sustenance or hold cultural events. These traditions and journeys occurred for generations and were deeply rooted in our heritage and customs.

“The path is a component of our historic travel corridors, like the thoroughfares we have today, allowing people to travel through the country … If people were traveling along the ridges to reach the shore, they’d pause at specific locations to get food and water, to rejuvenate, sleep under the stars, just like we take a break on a long trip to rest and refuel,” he says.

Three of those resting places on the trail are now camping areas where trekkers can establish their temporary home on hardwood platforms amid giant trees; the endpoint camp also has breathtaking vistas across a picturesque valley.

The Indigenous group was initially wary about the effect of a long-distance hike on their heritage country, he recalls. “But the more we met with park authorities, the more our discussions became about establishing commercial ventures for our members and using this walk to showcase our culture.”

A new cultural tourism experience with traditional custodian escorts is now being established at a scenic waterfall, at the conclusion of the trail, and is expected to begin by the conclusion of the decade. There are intentions for traditional owners to assume responsibility for upkeep of the trail, run cultural tours and enterprises such as refreshment services, and arrange travel to and from the path.

Conservation authorities is also partnering with Widjabul Wia-bal native title holders and the custodian group “to develop cultural interpretation signage that will permit walkers to discover the heritage significance of the territory they are experiencing during the multi-day trek,” explains a representative. They anticipate this to be put in place before the middle of the decade.

“We aim to make certain this goes beyond a recreational route but an way to discover about country,” Moran says. “To offer hikers a deeper understanding of what this region means to the traditional owners and the Minjungbal people in the Tweed area, which will in turn revitalise the walk, reawaken its spirit.”

In Moran’s favourite section of the trek, the route comes out onto a canyon with “the most beautiful scenery” looking across to the interstate line. “The panorama left me in awe the first time I experienced the trail, being able to gaze upon the iconic peak and through the scenic valley. I was completely captivated.”