The Young and The Restless | A devilish destination through the orange hues

Their arrival signals pleasant days and fresher nights for easier sleeping, fires in backyard pits and gracefully falling leaves that inspire daydreams.

I drove the kids to Heathcote recently to visit the Valley of Liquid Ambers, telling a friend that Heathcote “is so pretty in autumn”, to which he replied, “all of Victoria is pretty in autumn”.

He’s not wrong.

Our state is teeming with deciduous trees that discard their leaves seasonally for their own protection ahead of harsh winter weather.

I’m so enraptured by the spectacle that my camera roll starts looking like a carefully curated Pinterest board of red, yellow and orange hues, as though I’ve pinned pics of some trending theme.

Despite visiting the intentionally sown liquid amber plantation on the same weekend each year, it’s clear the optimal time can vary.

If you want to catch the place at its most spectacular, you’ve got to get your timing right.

I reckon we were about a week late this time, as the trees were barer and the fallen leaves much crunchier underfoot.

Still, the place was poignantly pretty.

On previous visits to Heathcote, we’ve taken in the Pink Cliffs geological site, sat trackside at its motor raceway, competed in its annual running festival and eaten at its rightfully popular bakery, Gaffney’s.

While we did grab hot chockies for our wander, we moved in a different direction this time.

East of the amber field, we entered Heathcote National Park.

As we headed towards the bush on foot, we came across rusted antique farming equipment and a temporarily closed powder magazine.

Constructed in 1864, it matters little that you can’t go inside, as the locally quarried stone exterior of the historic building is charming enough to see.

Powder magazines stored explosives used in mining, quarrying and roadworks.

Their masonry was believed to help contain explosions if they occurred accidentally.

We arrived there a couple of hours before dark, at around 4pm, and were joined in the space by mobs of kangaroos, who had come to graze the building’s surrounding ground.

With an estimated 48 million of them in the country, it shouldn’t be a shock to any of us to come across one out bush, yet I still get a buzz whenever I spot one — except, of course, when it jumps from the roadside shadows in front of my car while travelling in the dark.

But on foot, in the bush, I do love just stopping and standing still to watch them scratch and nibble, hop and react curiously to sounds like twigs snapping underfoot nearby.

When you stand still long enough, other activity that your arrival disturbed eventually resumes around you, too.

Blue wrens, honeyeaters and rosellas all reappeared and flitted in the trees around us as the macropods grazed.

The brave magpies had never left.

Taking a long-lensed camera into these environments can be irritating with its weight and awkwardness, but the photo opportunities always relieve the inconvenience.

I had left mine in the car, but not even 100m up the path I regretted it.

I ran back to grab it as more daylight disappeared.

Past the power magazine is a trailhead that leads hikers up to a viewing rock in one direction and caves in the other.

Losing light quickly, we could only pick one path, so we set off to the ominously named Devils Cave up a gradual climb to a small rocky outcrop on top of a gorge.

I couldn’t find much info on the cave, other than that it was used for shelter by early Indigenous people and, later, gold miners.

I would love to know why it was named that, but I wasn’t sticking around after dark, just in case there was a solid, sinister reason for it.

I guess the other thing about late afternoon in late autumn is that I like to believe it’s too cold for snakes and that they’ve bedded down for the night (or the winter), so I always feel more relaxed bushwalking this time of year, especially with kids, who tend to tread first and think about it after.

If any snake experts reading this dispute my theory, there’s no need to let me know. Please, don’t destroy my ignorant bliss.

Heathcote is only an hour from Shepparton and a quaint little place for a nice Sunday drive.

Maybe we’ll visit again after winter and head the other direction from the trailhead to take in the viewing rock, where it’s said to offer panoramic views of the town and pretty wildflowers in the springtime.

The only problem with that plan is that that’s when snakes wake up, right?

Again, I don’t really want to know.

But just in case, I’m off to add gaiters and ankle-covering boots to the winter shopping list in readiness for our return.