76 Australian Geographicoutpourings have weathered into lofty ridges and
fertile, deep-soil valleys – seriously good earth that’s
dark, rich and chocolatey, yet free-draining. Add a
long-term average rainfall of 1200mm and you’ve
got habitat heaven for mountain ash.
With this species’ ability to grow upwards at a rate
of 3m a year, the life force of these forest hideaways
might seem unstoppable. That illusion was shattered,
however, on 7 February 2009 by the catastrophic
natural disaster that became known as Black Saturday.
Although the Dandenong Ranges were spared the
worst fi res – infernos that engulfed towns such as
Marysville, about 70km to the north – their mighty
mountain stands revealed the fearful potential of these
trees when exposed to a perfect fi restorm.
“The ranges are in one of the highest fi re-risk
areas in the world,” acknowledges Matt’s boss and
Parks Victoria area manager Craig Bray. “These wet
mountain ash forests are incredibly hard to manage.”
“Big sooks,” Craig calls them. “Basically, if you
put fi re in they die, and on a day like Black Saturday
they go like a cut cat.”
Bushfi res have always been a brutal fact of life in
the Ranges. Major blazes hit the region in 1939 and- Partly in response to the latter fi re, land was
set aside to create a buff er of protection close to the
township of Olinda. This included the R.J. Hamer
Arboretum and nearby National Rhododendron
Garden. With a strategy to clear scrub and create a
less fl ammable line of defence on the upper fl anks of
the ridge, in went woodland plantings of deciduous
trees and an understorey of non-natives.
S
TATELY TREES MIXED with showy exotic shrubs
were nothing new in this neck of the woods. Since
the early decades of the 20th century, well-heeled
Melbourne families had embraced the lofty nooks
of the Dandenongs as cool summer retreats. In the
tradition of colonial hill stations that meant a rambling
manor house, perhaps in the style of the Arts and Crafts
movement. With bountiful rains and productive soil
there was also scope for a garden backdrop of shade
trees, paths, ponds and tiered fl ower beds.
In 1929 the Nicholas family bought 30 acres (12ha)
across the road from Sherbrooke Forest. Five years later
their holding had increased to 130 acres (more than
52ha). Having made a fortune from making and selling
aspirin in Australia under the Aspro brand, Alfred
Nicholas commissioned an army of gardeners andstonemasons to realise his vision of a majestic estate.
The result was a terraced parkland descending to a
secluded lake encircled by ginkgo trees and liquidam-
bars. Just as sumptuous was his three-storey mansion,
Burnham Beeches. With its streamlined, Art Moderne
architectural design, it hovered within the garden like
a 1930s ocean liner sailing through a sea of foliage.
This verdant inspiration lives on; Alfred’s is one of
several grand local gardens bequeathed to the public
and now maintained by Parks Victoria. Meanwhile,
the Burnham Beeches mansion is in the throes of
being reimagined as a deluxe retreat by Melbourne
chef Shannon Bennett, who has more than just fancy
digs in mind. A bakery and cafe are already up and
humming. Out the back, his lush patch of Dandenongs
dirt supports vegetable gardens, greenhouses, an emu
enclosure and a 500-tree orchard inoculated with
truffl e fungus. And that’s just the start.
Historic horticultural endeavour fl ourishes across
the region. Everywhere you look someone’s working
with the legacy of priceless plantings, some a century
old. At Cloudehill, onetime West Australian wheat Menura novaehollandiae圀漀爀氀搀䴀愀最猀⸀渀攀琀圀漀爀氀搀䴀愀最猀⸀渀攀琀
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