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A Bundjalung man named Ashley Moran clearly remembers the first time he undertook the recently established multi-day Gidjuum Gulganyi Walk in the northern part of NSW, a considerable time before it became publicly accessible in April this year.

Back in 2020 and the newest Great Walk wasn’t even a track. “The route was marked with pink ribbons by the track developers, but it was pretty arduous trying to navigate through lush forest and locate the small pink markers,” he recalls.

Moran participated in creating the trail since its beginning in 2018. As head of the Widjabul Wia-bal Gurrumbil Aboriginal Corporation, he collaborated with wildlife agencies and the traditional custodian group, which represents the Minjungbal clan of the northern NSW territory within the Bundjalung people.

As a proud Bundjalung man of the local clan group, he also has a deep-rooted link to the initiative: the lower section of the track passes through his people’s lands. (Traditional custodians are the custodians of the upper section of the trail.)

To reduce ecological impact, the Gidjuum Gulganyi (translating to “Old People’s track”) largely follows age-old routes that run along the southern rim of the Tweed volcanic area, resulting from the massive Wollumbin volcano, once known as Mount Warning, blew its top 23m years ago. Only 19km of the 42km walk is completely new.

This makes the Gidjuum Gulganyi a special insight into a location that’s deeply connected to the communities who have inhabited and passed through it – with its warm temperate and subtropical rainforests, tropical vegetation, waterfalls and wide open valleys – for many millennia.

It was Moran’s job, when he navigated by the ribbons in 2020, to do some “ground truthing” on a couple of potential paths through traditional lands. This required verifying that Indigenous cultural locations could avoid being harmed by the routes created by conservation authorities, which was done in collaboration with track builders from the local area and from Tasmania, considered among the best in the world.

The majority of Indigenous locations identified by the local organization were not directly on the path, but several were sufficiently proximate to justify changing the path. “We had to ensure that people could avoid unintentionally encountering a important location. So we haven’t publicised the precise spots of the recorded sites and we’ve made sure they’re a sufficiently far from the trail, to eliminate surprise encounters or damage.”

The experience provided Moran with a better appreciation of the land. “[It] made me think about how the Old People would have used the trails, back when there was a vast expanse of forest up there.” Only 1% of this local forest ecosystem in the Byron hinterland survives, due to land clearing by European settlers; many of the original walking tracks crisscrossing this area were even adapted for forestry use in the 19th century.

“Dating back to ancient times, these paths would have been frequently traveled by various clan groups within the Bundjalung nation,” Moran explains. “People in the tableland areas would have employed them to travel to the shoreline in the hot season for food resources. Older members would have used the trails to access Wollumbin, a deeply meaningful location [for them].

“Everyone would have observed seasonal indicators in nature, like flowers blooming or seasonal avian visitors, to tell them the time and place they had to be to find nourishment or hold cultural events. Such practices and travels occurred for generations and were embedded in our teachings and cultural practices.

“This trail is an element of our ancestral routes, like the thoroughfares we have today, facilitating journeys through the landscape … If people were descending from the highlands to reach the shore, they’d stop at certain spots to refresh themselves, to rest, camp the night, just like we pause at a rest stop to relax and recharge,” he says.

Several designated campsites on the walk are now overnight spots where hikers can pitch their tents on timber decks amid giant trees; the final campsite also has breathtaking vistas across a picturesque valley.

The community corporation was at first concerned about the influence of a long-distance hike on their ancestral territory, says Moran. “But the further we engaged with conservation services, the more our conversations turned to developing business opportunities for our people and using this walk to showcase our culture.”

A recent heritage-based activity with traditional custodian escorts is now being created at a natural attraction, at the final leg of the hike, and is scheduled to launch by the close of 2026. There are proposals for Indigenous custodians to assume responsibility for upkeep of the path, conduct guided experiences and ventures such as refreshment services, and provide shuttle services to and from the path.

Park services is also partnering with Indigenous representatives and the community organization “to create educational displays that will permit walkers to understand the cultural values of the territory they are immersed in during the extended walk,” notes an official. They anticipate this to be put in place before mid-2026.

“We want to ensure this is more than a hiking path but an way to discover about the land,” Moran explains. “To offer hikers a deeper understanding of what this region means to the traditional owners and the Minjungbal people in the Tweed region, which will in turn breathe new life into the trail, restore its vitality.”

In Moran’s favourite section of the hike, the trail reaches a canyon with “breathtaking views” looking across to the interstate line. “That view astonished me the initial occasion I did the walk, being able to see the historic mountain and across that Tweed Valley area. It just blew me away.”