Grand High Tops
Grand High Tops
Known as one of the best hikes in New South Wales, this is the Warrumbungles’ crown jewel — a track that winds through quiet bush and climbs high to a throne of volcanic rock overlooking an ancient, wild landscape. It’s one thing to look out towards these mountains and spires from a distance, but standing among them, looking into the distance, is something else entirely. This is Grand High Tops.
Quick Details
Length: 10.8km (out and back) to 14.5km (full circuit)
Elevation: 460m
Grade: Moderate to hard
Best season: Year round
Suitable for kids: Yes if they’re comfortable with the distance
Starting the Trail
It’s 3.30am. The air feels warmer than it should for this time of night. The group’s been awake for all of ten minutes, and we’re piling into cars to drive the short distance from camp to the Pincham carpark. We pull in and everyone spills out, yawning and stretching — the only sounds are zips, clicks, and the shuffle of boots on gravel as we ready ourselves for the pre-dawn hike.
The plan to leave this early was decided over dinner the night before. “You’ve done well to organise this camp, Sam, but if we’re going all the way to Grand High Tops we need a really great sunrise.” — “That’s a tall order, Logan. But I’m on it.” Our group was a mix of skill and fitness levels, and the serious photographers wanted to be set up half an hour before sunrise — which led us to such an early start.
We started up the path — naturally falling into groups of twos and threes at different walking paces. At first the track was fairly flat, a mix of dirt and paved sections, filling us with a false sense of confidence that we’d be there in no time. As we hit the first hill, the distance between the groups grew — the torchlight ahead or behind being the only clue to where everyone was.
Even in the dark the trail was easy to follow. Annie was the only one in the group who’d done this track, and she did it just the day before, as part of the Seven Summits Challenge. Despite running almost 37.5km in six and a half hours, she was now carrying Logan’s camera bag leading the group up the trail — ultramarathon runners are just built differently….
A Staircase of a Thousand Steps
Ok, so the wooden staircase is actually closer to eight hundred steps, but if you add in the stone ones on the other side, it’s well over a thousand — and I’m just extra dramatic this early in the morning. Reaching it also meant we were getting close to the top. So we trudged on, higher and higher into the dark, with only the maps on our phones to show where we were.
The trees fell away, and the sky ahead paled just enough to show Belougery Spire. I pulled out my phone, switched the camera to night mode, and held still for the four seconds it took to take a picture. I’d joked earlier that I was going to organise a cracker sunrise. I held my breath as I waited for the photo to render — and there it was: colour on the horizon, still hidden by the dark. “LOGAN!!” I called, my voice echoing through the valley. “I’ve nailed it!”
“It looks promising, but the sun’s not up yet.” — “Ok, well I’m pretty sure I can guarantee the sun’s going to rise, Logan”. We scrambled up the rocks for the last few metres. Bags of stonework material sat just off the path — a sign there’ll soon be a staircase all the way to the top. A cool breeze hung in the air as we all looked at each other and smiled. We’d made it.
Sunrise from Lugh’s Throne
It took us just under two hours to reach the top in the dark. As the sky grew lighter, the rock formations below appeared out of the shadows — mountains, spires, tors, and the iconic Breadknife in front of us. Slowly, each one came into view. We pointed them out to each other, trying to match them to the names on the map as we found our seats to wait for the sun.
Many of those names can be traced back to Myles Dunphy — he had a habit of giving places names that carried weight and character. Here, he drew on Celtic and Gaelic mythology to match the wild, sculpted terrain.
I wonder if Dunphy stood here and, inspired by old legends and stories, imagined this landscape as a battleground of gods and giants turned to stone. With names like Balor, Dagda, and Finnola — and none more fitting than Lugh’s Throne.
It’s said Lugh was a god of light, and as dawn broke from the eastern horizon, it felt like more than just a sunrise to see it from his throne. The clouds caught first — turning from grey to rose, then to gold and deep crimson — and for a moment the whole sky shimmered like molten glass. The colour spread across the spires and mountains, lighting each in turn as if Lugh himself were walking among them.
“This has to be one of the best sunrises I’ve ever seen,” said Logan to Jess, before turning around to find me sitting on a rock behind them. Having heard every word, I stood tall, arms outstretched, a grin from ear to ear. “Yeah, alright,” Logan laughed. “I’ll give you the credit, Sam.”
Look, it was a tough act to arrange, but we all agreed — it was an absolute banger.
We stayed long after the sun had risen, after the colour had faded from the clouds and the day had begun. The view was incredible, and it was safe to say this wouldn’t be our last trip to the Warrumbungles. We could spend weeks exploring this park and still only scratch the surface of what it has to show.
Hiking Back to Camp
We threw our packs on and headed back down the trail. Normally this would be done as a circuit, but since we’d hiked up in the dark and hadn’t seen anything on the way, we decided to return the same way we came.
The trail wound back down the hill past The Fishknife, Lugh’s Wall, and The Breadknife — giving us our first close look at the iconic stone walls. It’s common to see geometric patterns in volcanic rock due to how it forms — the liquid rock contracting as it cools. Up close, the surface of these walls look almost like reptile scales.
Even though we were walking downhill, we stopped often to turn around and look back at the scenery. The sun was well and truly up now, and the day was already hot. The views out across the park in the morning light were beautiful.
We soon reached the staircase again and, as we walked down into the trees, we traded those wide valley views for being fully immersed in the forest around us — alive with the sounds of birds in the trees. Kangaroos were out along the trail, a few of them were actually travelling along the path, completely unfazed as they passed by the group of weary hikers also on the trail.
We all fell into our natural rhythm of walking and once again spread out in twos and threes along the trail — enjoying the peacefulness of the morning and the sight of the rock spires towering through the trees above us.
We reached the carpark tired and ready for breakfast. Notes left on the windscreens by NPWS told us to shut the gate on our way out — the park was closing for the day due to extreme fire danger.
Anything else we’d planned would have to wait, but after such an early start, I think we were all ok to rest back at camp and relive what was easily one of the best hikes any of us had ever done.
Getting There
Warrumbungle National Park is around 150km north of Dubbo, or 35km west of Coonabarabran.
Pincham carpark is around 100m westward from the NPWS visitor centre on John Renshaw Parkway.
Tips and Tricks
Overpack water — underplan time. Whether you do this as an out and back or complete the full circuit, the views are incredible and are worth stopping for many times. You also, likely, won’t find water on the trail, so make sure you bring enough with you.
The trail is well maintained and the infrastructure in place means that hiking this side of the circuit in the dark with a torch is manageable, so sunrise or sunset from the top is totally achievable.
You can see our previous Warrumbungles hikes to Tara Cave and Belougery Split Rock in the Trail Journal.
If you’d like to see more photos from our trip, you can check out the Instagram accounts of Rob, Edna, Michael, Annie, and Logan.
