Telstra Tower

Listen first. Up here on the summit of Black Mountain, the wind moves through the eucalypts with a dry, papery hiss. The air smells of warm bark and crushed leaves. Somewhere below, a currawong calls, a black bird with a ringing voice. Then you look up, and the concrete shaft of Telstra Tower rises above the treetops. It is pale grey, smooth, and very tall. It points straight into the wide Canberra sky.

This tower is a telecommunications structure. Its main job has always been to carry signals: radio, television, and telephone traffic for the national capital and the region around it. It opened in 1980. For most of its life it has also welcomed visitors, who came to stand high above the city and look out across it. So this is two things at once. It is working infrastructure, and it is a lookout.

The tower rises close to two hundred metres above the summit. The summit itself already sits well above the city. That double height is the secret of the view. On a clear day you can see much of the capital spread out below. Look for the lake, the long avenues, the low green hills, and the blue ridges of the Brindabella Ranges to the southwest. Few places in Canberra show you the whole design so clearly.

And Canberra was designed. That is the first surprise for many visitors. This city did not grow slowly from a village. It was planned from scratch in the early twentieth century as Australia's national capital. The winning plan came from two American architects, Walter Burley Griffin and Marion Mahony Griffin. From this height, you can trace the geometry of their idea. You can see the straight lines, the axes, and the way the city fits around the water and the hills.

The large body of water below is Lake Burley Griffin, named after Walter. It is an artificial lake, created by damming the Molonglo River in the twentieth century. Follow its shoreline with your eyes. Across the water, look for the long line that leads up toward Parliament House on Capital Hill. The Griffins wanted the hills themselves to anchor the city. Black Mountain, where you are standing now, is one of those natural anchors.

Here is the second surprise. Many Canberrans did not want this tower at all. In the 1970s, when plans for it became public, a strong protest campaign formed. People argued that a huge concrete structure would spoil a wooded hilltop, a place they saw as part of the city's natural frame. The dispute became a legal challenge that reached the High Court of Australia. The challenge failed, and construction went ahead.

The protest still matters, because it shows something about this city. Canberra cares a great deal about its landscape. The bush on the hills around it is protected, and people take that seriously. Today the tower is accepted, and even loved, as part of the skyline. Yet the old argument reminds you that the green slopes around you were never taken for granted. They were defended, and they still are.

Now look closely at the structure itself. The design is simple and functional. A tall concrete shaft carries the weight. Higher up, a cluster of levels wraps around the shaft. These levels once held public areas, including indoor and outdoor viewing platforms. For many years a revolving restaurant also turned slowly near the top, so diners could watch the whole view pass by during a meal. Above all of that, the antenna mast continues upward.

The tower has carried several names. In its early years, many people simply called it the Black Mountain Tower. Later it took the name of Telstra, Australia's large telecommunications company, which grew out of the old national telephone service. You may still hear locals use either name. Both refer to the same pale shaft on the same hilltop, and nobody will be confused if you use the older one.

Access to the inside of the tower has changed over the years, and the public areas have closed for long periods. It is worth checking the current situation before you plan a visit to the viewing levels. But the summit is worth the trip even if the doors are shut. The walking tracks, the bushland, and the views through the trees all remain. Standing at the base of the shaft and looking straight up is an experience in itself.

The mountain around you is part of a nature reserve. The bush here is dry eucalypt forest, with grey-green leaves, peeling bark, and rough grasses underfoot. Walking tracks climb the slopes from below, and many locals come up on foot for exercise. Watch the ground as you walk. Kangaroos sometimes graze in the reserve, especially around dawn and dusk. Lizards often warm themselves on the rocks when the sun is out.

At the foot of the mountain sit the Australian National Botanic Gardens. They focus on Australian native plants, gathered from across the continent. If you have time, the gardens make a gentle partner to the summit. Down there you can look at the plants up close. Up here you can see the whole landscape they belong to. Together they give you two scales of the same country: the leaf, and then the horizon.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Feel the wind on this exposed hilltop, and notice how quickly the temperature can change. Look once more at the concrete shaft above you, and then out across the planned city below. As you walk away, listen for the wind in the gum trees again. That sound was here long before the tower, and long before the city. It is still the loudest thing on the mountain.