Trekking Hanging Rock with a llama

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Jocelyn Pride discovers that trekking the Macedon Ranges’ mystical Hanging Rock with a llama is good for your soul. No, really…

“Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm," hums Jaro in a melodic B-flat, I’ve-got-something-important-to-say-sort-of-way.

 

Huge brown eyes with movie star lashes look straight into mine and his banana-shaped fluffy ears twitch back and forth as I make soft cooing sounds.

 

It’s love at first sight. A perfect way to start a 24-hour relationship… with a llama.

 

Domesticated by the Incas thousands of years ago, llamas are one of the oldest animals on the planet. Known as the dolphins of the land, these camelids are whip smart, full of personality and easy to train, as Mark Brindley of Hanging Rock Llama Treks discovered. By saving a llama’s life, he changed his.

 

“When my partner brought home a day-old orphaned cria (baby llama) with a hole in its heart from her veterinarian clinic, I was hooked," says Mark, a retired aircraft engineer turned llama farmer. “Although Yoda only lived six months, she opened me to a new world."

 

Mark now has 15 llamas and recently started offering guided llama trekking within the Victorian Macedon Ranges region.

 

Jaro stands patiently as I learn the art of llama handling.

 

“Before you ask, spit happens," says Mark with a playful chuckle. “But don’t worry, it’s rare and only a llama to llama thing."

 

The thought of being in the middle of a llama drama and sprayed with green slime is a tad off-putting, however Jaro and his mates already have the herd hierarchy worked out.

 

“Just make sure you give them their own space."

 

After weighing each saddle-bag loaded with our camping gear, food and wine, clothing, and llama essentials like a pooper scooper, tether ropes and ‘llama lollies’ (pellets), we head to Hanging Rock Reserve.

 

Leading a llama is like taking an oversized well-trained dog for a walk, except I soon find they only have two speeds – stop and llama pace. Each step Jaro takes is slow, deliberate and strong.

 

It’s easy to see why these sure-footed, well-natured animals are revered as pack animals. Even weighing in at 160 kilograms they’re kind on the environment.

 

“A llama leaves less of a footprint than our hiking boots," says Mark.

 

We meander the labyrinth of undulating trails lined with peppermint and manna gums around Australia’s ‘second’ rock formed six million years ago when lava oozed through a vent in the Earth’s surface.

 

Immortalised in literature, Hanging Rock is as evocative today as it was in Joan Lindsay’s novel and Peter Weir’s film Picnic at Hanging Rock, the haunting tale of the disappearance of a group of school girls here on Valentine’s Day in 1900.

 

(MORE… Picnic at Hanging Rock – fact of fiction?)

 

Jaro occasionally cuddles into my neck and sniffs my pockets for ‘llama lollies’. Chris, my travel companion is envious. She doesn’t bond as quickly with Warrego, the tallest and most aloof of the trio. “Llamas can be more like cats than dogs," says Mark.

 

For afternoon tea we lazily snack on chocolate brownies and banana cake, sipping tea while the llamas chomp on grass and snatch mouthfuls of pine needles.

 

As camping isn’t permitted in the reserve, we load the llamas onto a horse float and drive half-an-hour to a ‘pet friendly’ camping ground in the tiny village of Blackwood on the edge of Lerderderg State Park.

 

With great hilarity and wide-eyed llamas watching on, we manage to pitch the tents before darkness shrouds us.

 

Dinner is a fine camp fire affair – nibbles with a local pinot gris, lamb curry (Mark’s secret recipe) with all the trimmings, followed by sticky date tart.

 

As we snuggle into the sleeping bags, our four-legged friends kush down (sit) as sentinels behind the tents. Their hums and snuffles are like a lullaby and I’m asleep within seconds.

 

Our six-kilometre hike the following morning is a challenge. Narrow tracks criss-cross the old gold mining trails. This is new territory for Jaro but nothing fazes him. He carefully picks our path, up and down the rocky hills – confident, steady, grounded. He has my complete trust.

 

Instead of my usual hurried pace, I’m totally in the moment. I feel the breeze touch my face, listen to the swish of the leaves and each note of a kookaburra’s laughter.

 

Jaro’s humming becomes my ‘om’. It sure beats a colouring book.

 

The details: Hanging Rock Llama Treks, Victoria

Getting there: Hanging Rock is a 60-minute drive north-west of Melbourne.

 

Playing there: Mark offers a number of llama experiences ranging from kids’ parties on his farm to day hikes along a rail trail with a pub lunch to overnight camping treks. The price for the overnight experience is $130 per person including camping gear, food, wine and lollies for the llamas. hangingrockllama.com.au

 

Staying there: If you don’t fancy sleeping in a tent, ‘The Caboose’ at Hanging Rock Reserve is a beautifully restored railway carriage (sleeps two). Contact Garry and Kate Marks on 0418394984.

 

MORE… Finished exploring Victoria by hoof and ready to take to the air? Vintage flight – hot air ballooning Yarra Valley style

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Hepburn Bathhouse reopens with new mineral baths and experiences

Slow the flow of modern-day life in Australia’s magical spa country with a stay at the new Hepburn Bathhouse.

Sunlight spills across a large wooden table lined with a curious collection of essences, extracts, and pastel-hued powders in glass jars, each with a handwritten label. I pause at each of the small brown bottles, drawing their pipettes to compare the heady scents. Meanwhile, a spa therapist assuming the role of fragrance sommelier explains the formula for a perfectly scented soak: an uplifting citrus top note, a relaxing floral middle note, and a grounding, rich and heavy base note. I squeeze drops of bergamot, lavender, and a dash of frankincense into my bowl, stirring them with a scattering of rose petals, some pink Himalayan rock salt, and a sprinkle of ashwagandha in a small pot with a wooden spoon: it’s all a little bit meditative, ASMR and aesthetically pleasing.

Custom ‘apothecary’ experience

Each guest who opts for a private ‘Alchemist Mineral Bath’ at Hepburn Bathhouse & Spa is invited to make their own custom concoction. As my bath is drawn, I laze in the adjacent sunken timber lounge, sipping on an organic, herbal house-made tea that features some of the very same botanicals as the essential oils on the table (calendula, licorice root and spearmint, to name a few). Snug in slippers and a white waffle robe, I unfurl one of the curled blankets across my lap as melodic spa music echoes, and succumb to the serenity that permeates the spa’s every corner.

Private mineral baths updated

This hands-on ‘apothecary’ experience is one of the newest additions to Australia’s oldest spa (est. 1895), which reopened in August 2025 after a multimillion-dollar facelift. The entire space has undergone a refresh, from new tiling and lighting to refurbished changing rooms. But chief among the updates are the private mineral baths themselves, five of which were overhauled by contestants from the 21st season of The Block, each offering a wholly different vibe. One is vibrant and uplifting, plastered with pink subway tiles; another is awash with slate and captures a meditative minimalism; while a third is a riot of patterns, decked in veined marble, chevron-tiled floors, and an embossed copper-look ceiling.

A woman bathes in the new Hepburn Bathhouse and Spa private bathing room with slate tiled walls

A soothing soak in the mineral waters of Hepburn Bathhouse & Spa. (Image: Supplied)

The therapeutic powers of mineral bathing

A 45-minute soak in a private bath might feel like an eternity of solitude in an age defined by overscheduling, digital addiction, restlessness and hustle culture, yet the time slips by surprisingly quickly and proves unexpectedly restorative. There’s a sudden rosy glow on my long anaemic-looking cheeks, a softness to my skin, and, just maybe, a slower pace to my thoughts. The therapeutic powers of mineral bathing have, of course, been lauded for centuries: even the ancient Greeks and Egyptians extolled the virtues of mineral bathing for its relaxation properties and supposed ability to treat ailments. The warm, spring-fed waters here at Hepburn Bathhouse are rich in magnesium, calcium, silica and sulphur, helping to ease muscle tension and support skin health. But there’s a mindfulness element too.

Communal bathing at Hepburn Bathhouse & Spa

The benefits of bathing have long been praised. (Image: Supplied)

In the main bathhouse, couples, friends, and mums and daughters all take to the waters, chatting, relaxing and generally enjoying each other’s company. Across history and cultures, bathhouses have acted as social hubs and anchors for local communities, and it feels profoundly refreshing to see people carve out time together, not a screen in sight; almost as if stepping into a time warp. Solo bathers find serenity here, too. Some resting their cheek on the pool’s edge and closing their eyes as their bodies float, others gazing straight out through the floor-to-ceiling windows to gorge on the abundant greenery beyond, and the occasional swamp wallaby.

From bathing to dining

With only a small cafe onsite, those coming to (rightly) make a weekend of it must venture beyond the bathhouse for dinner. Lucky then that noteworthy cafes and restaurants are in strong supply in Australia’s Spa Capital, with Lake House Restaurant, Bar Merenda and The Surly Goat among the region’s frontrunners. Few local restaurants promise a dining experience as mindful and holistically considered as Kadota, however.

A kaiseki-style restaurant, Kadota invites diners to slow down and savour each elaborately plated morsel by honouring seasonality and exalting the provenance of every ingredient, all with typical Japanese modesty. Come winter, that might mean a pair of small, sweet mousse-like ‘pies’ made of slippery jack mushrooms, white chocolate and pine nuts, and moulded to resemble pumpkins that sit atop a dried oak leaf. Or a fermented kohlrabi and chive sauce that’s poured by teapot, tableside, onto local brassicas — the dish brightened by a cluster of cured salmon roe pearls and butterflies fashioned from daikon. Equal thought and care has been showered upon the dining room, which is a talking point in itself: light shades crafted by a local artist to mimic a lotus root; a feature wall of Daylesford pinewood, blackened using the traditional Japanese wood preservation method of yaki-matsu; hand-scribed scrolls made by co-owner Risa Kadota’s grandfather; and lemon balm stalks strung up along the wall to air-dry for tea.

Like Hepburn Bathhouse, Kadota possesses a special kind of alchemy that’s greater than the sum of its parts, affording guests a deeper connection with the present. Somehow, even the drive from Melbourne to Hepburn feels like part of the experience, as if the spa’s founders dreamed it up that way. The city’s grit, grey and congestion gradually recedes in the rearview mirror, giving way to bucolic scenes and quiet roads: woolly sheep grazing on golden fields, gently rolling hills, winding roads flanked by forest, horses in paddocks, and family-run farmgate stalls. The drive itself becomes part of the ritual, nudging visitors into a more mindful state before they’ve even dipped their toes in the town’s magical waters.