December 2019 - Melly Takes a Walk

Quarry Camping Area to Archers Campsite

Distance – 23.2km

“What a difference a little bit of music makes when you’re alone”

There were 3 highlights today:

Walking into the town of Somersby;
Clicking over the 100km mark; and,
Listening to my music for the first time on the walk.

To elaborate. The small town of Somersby was a tantalising 10km from camp. With the trail notes promising a small convenience store and cafe, it wasn’t hard to get motivated to be there for breakfast. The walk to the store is fairly non-descript. Nice, but not particularly special. I follow cut power lines and gravel roads, occasionally dropping into green gullies. There are welcoming signs posted on many of the properties.

“Do not come onto this property for any reason – even if you are very tierd or want to smell the pretty flowers”
One of the more industrious signs. Pity about the spelling.

I arrive at the general store, ready for my first “non-camp food” in 5 days. Having ordered a ham, cheese and pineapple toastie, chips, and 3 different varieties of drink, I sit down at a table outside. The magnificence of an actual seat should never be underestimated. It’s not long before I receive my first approach….”Where ya walkin’ to?” Ears prick up in interest around me. “Newcastle….hopefully”. A collective nod of approval around the tables. Suddenly, everyone who has ever set foot in Newcastle is an expert on the trail. The conversation now includes several tables, consisting mainly of truckers. I am told of potential shortcuts, beautiful places to go (up to several hundred kilometers off the trail), and am even invited to visit an indigenous art site whose location is kept secret. I decline that offer.

At the completion of my meal, I fill my water bottles and get going. Despite the recent bout of rain, the drought has been on everybodies lips, and I am very aware that I am about to enter a more technical phase of the walk – where water is really scarce. Or appears to be.

The afternoon’s walking takes me along bitumen and dirt roads, through a mix of rainforest and dry bushland. The creeks are dry. My nervousness about water increases. I arrive at camp nice and early. I spy an old tank, but hopes of a water supply are short lived. It’s going to be cheese and tomato on bikkies for dinner tonight.

“I just made 100km! I’m trying to work out whether I’m enjoying myself or not. I feel achievement certainly, but am I having fun?”
Notes from my journal

Quite honestly, I’m feeling a little bit melancholy. There is no reception, so I can’t reach out to anybody. The aloneness is beginning to make me feel a little bit mad. I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I get out my music.

“OMG! What a difference a little bit of music makes when you’re alone!”
Also, notes from my journal

I dance my way right around that massive campsite. I sing at the top of my lungs. I watch the sunset with my musical friends. I find later that I’ve accidentally taken a couple of photos of myself. They answer the question for me. Yes, I am having fun.

Mt Wondabyn Campsite to Quarry Camping Area

Distance – 23km (and no backtracking!)

“Walking mojo….oh yeah”.

When I wake I am raring to go. There’s been no rain. Everything is dry. The flu is receding back to just a dull thud. It’s the dawning of a new era! The age of Aquarius! Shoving my shoes on over all the bandages brings me back to earth. Still, I get cracking.

I follow the sandstone rock and ever present fire trails around Mt Wondabyn. Eventually I hear the sound of rushing water. I arrive at the beautiful and secluded Kariong Brook Falls. For the first time on the trail, I really enjoy a scenic break, dipping my aching feet into the ice cold water. The rain that has been so treacherous to me over the last couple of days has caused this waterfall to sing. Dappled sunlight flits across the deep pool, and it is wondrous how good my muesli bar tastes in that moment. I filter crystal clear water, re-tape my feet, and move on. I can hear the sound of the water long after I leave.

Bubbling Kariong falls were a balm to my suffering feet

Essentially I climb. And climb. And climb. Right back up to the top of the escarpment. Eventually I would come to realise that there is no “free pass” on this trail. For every steep down hill section, there is an equally steep uphill. Flat, easy walking is just….not a thing. I don’t realise this yet however, as I puff my way back up onto the sandstone rock. I’m headed for Scopas peak. This is the high point of this section of the trail, and the joy of it is tangible. Like the king of the world you can spread your arms, spin 360 degrees, and be amazed by the view in all directions! It is magic.

Delicious walking track at the top of Scopas Peak

First glimpse of Mooney Mooney creek. From Scopas peak the trail descends and then follows along the edge of the creek on the right hand side.

Who doesn’t love a good bridge crossing? After descending from the peak, I’m excited to reach the Phil Houghton Bridge. I read the description in my track notes:

“The bridge can hold up to 8 people and feels very stable”.
Track notes

This, of course, spurns me on to make the bridge feel as unstable as possible…Although I bounce with everything I’ve got, the bridge remains implacable.

The next section of the walk is just stunning. I’m ambling along side the wide, green creek. I pass tall eucalypts and mangroves. Insects chirp in the boggy marshes. There’s a greenness and stillness that is hypnotising. I realise after a while that for the first time on this walk I have just been walking and enjoying. No thinking about the flu or the shoes or the bag or the creeks. Just walking and enjoying. I have my walking mojo back baby!

I got my walking mojo back baby!

My blissful mojo walking is rudely interrupted. I reach the intersection with the Old Pacific Highway. There is work being conducted on the bridge and all the safety warnings, buntings and noise are disorientating. I cross the bridge. Soon I am following a gravel road past an array of housing ranging from resplendent to ramshackle. For some reason I find that there is a “sinister” feeling in the air. Seriously. It is really creepy. This is all in the back of my mind though, because in the fore front, niggling at me like it has been doing all day, is the knowledge that I have a creek crossing to make. Described as “Impassable when wet”. As I get closer to it, the dread increases. What if I get all this way and can’t cross?

The dreaded creek crossing….Spoiler – I made it!

Makes it! And ends up feeling like a complete dick for worrying so much! Oh well. I’d rather be a complete dick for worrying so much and easily make it across, than not worry and not make it. Or something like that. I filter more water, grabbing extra to treat myself to a “bath” tonight. Pack heavily laden, I once again start to climb.

The campsite is a beautiful little spot set among tall gum trees. There is a well established fire place and I decide to treat myself to some flames tonight. The captain of my support crew gives me a call, and it is so invigorating to see a friendly face and hear encouraging words and have it reinforced that I’m doing well.

Now dark, and under the light of the crackling fire I strip off to have my long awaited “bath”. Using just enough water to make a couple of cups of tea, I wipe away the dirt and the grime and the stress and savour the feeling of being alone in the bush, as the birds sing their final words of the day. It was absolutely, lay down misere, totally worth carrying that extra water all the way up the hill.

Month: December 2019

Great North Walk – Day 5