Blog - Page 2 of 17 - Melly Takes a Walk

A Scottish Story – Day 6, Turning it around, Peebles to the banks of the North Esk Reservoir

Distance: 33km

Four words can essentially sum up todays hike. Hot sun. Sheep paddocks. Sounds like home! This could be a very short post!

I’m pleased to say that today, although a lot longer, was so much better than the day I had yesterday. I purposely showed up with my A-game this morning. Adequate breakfast eaten before setting out, water drunk, awareness of the route, sunscreen slathered on, a plan to stop every so often, plenty to eat, a positive attitude. All good.

It was such a hot, sunny day in Scotland, that it seemed that even the Scots were surprised. Those I talked to anyway. I only saw a couple of people out on the trails all day.

Essentially today I was following an ancient trading route, the Cross Drove Rd, sometimes refered to as “Thieves Rd”, as ruffians would try to steel stock during the night. The trail was easy to follow and well marked. A few steep sections, but nothing overly difficult. The hardest thing about today was trying to find some shade to have a rest in!

I was feeling pretty relieved when I reached my intended campsite – such a long , hot day. I had spied a body of water called the North Esk Reservoir on the map, and thought it looked a pretty sweet spot to camp. I was quite surprised to arrive and find the entrance covered in no camping posters. I had thought something like that might have been written in the track notes.

Not to mind. I found a sweet little spot just outside the reserve (which, to be fair, is a wildlife reserve within an area of special significance). To further sweeten the deal, I had access to a nicely running stream for water, and after the hot day I was feeling rather parched! The cherry on top came when I decided to have a look at a nearby bird hide. Inside was a little table, stools and cushions, which on closer inspection, bore the brand name “Malinda”. It was meant to be.

So now I sit on the comfort of these cushioned stools, cooking myself up some dinner and watching the birds on the water. So far I have seen Mallards, Mute Swan, Canada geese, Curlews, Lapwings, chaff chaff, robins, common sandpiper and a person in a tiny, little blue row boat.

Very happy with how this all turned out. Hooray to being back in the game!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be viewed here.

A Scottish Story – Day 5, On the road from Hare Law to the town of Peebles.

Distance – 19km

Well. After the highs of yesterday, honestly it all fell apart a little bit today. Not in a major way. Just…in little increments that culminated bit by bit and drained the enthusiasm. I’m fine again now, and keen to continue on, but it just goes to show how quickly things can turn.

It started last night. The tent was on a bit of a slope, so I keep sliding towards the side wall, thrashing about, tossing and turning. At one point I was ripped out of a pretty vivid dream to the sound of a tenacious little dog, yapping at me from outside the tent, repeatedly and ferociously. I had thought I must be dreaming. I hadn’t seen anybody in hours. What was this dog doing here?

I heard somebody calling it. A woman. Eventually the sound of the yapping faded into the distance. I looked at the time. 12.15am. For some reason it discombobulated me a little. People can come so close at any time. And when you’re on your own….well….it can be unnerving. The upshot is that I didn’t get much sleep.

The day dawned beautiful and bright. Dazzling sunshine and the clearest of views. I came to the turnoff which led to the top of Minch Moor and decided, in this weather, it would be a crime not to climb to the top. It was the highlight of the day. Incredible views for miles around, and the whole place to myself.

Fom there, things started to take a…downhill turn. Quite literally. Down, down, down I travelled, mostly through logged pine plantations, the bases of the big old trunks baking in the sun.

Once at the bottom, road walking. Turns out road walking is the same regardless of the country. Kind of uncomfortable, hard on the feet, and with cars whizzing by with little regard for the hiker on the road.

With relief I reached the track turn off. I had now left the signposted Southern Upland way and was following written descriptions and a GPS route map. I spotted a little stone seat and decided to take advantage of it and read my track notes. I sat down.

YEEEOOOOWWWWW!!! Burning. Burning. BURNING! Intense burning on my legs. I sprung up, not knowing what was going on. Looking at the seat, it dawned on me. I had become horribly acquainted with the Scottish stinging nettle!

The shitful seat

My legs were burning and I was starting to bake. It wasn’t helping the stings. I quickly hit another dirt road where I found a track closure sign due to Forestry works. More road walking on the busy road. And no toilets, absolutely anywhere. Sometimes, there is no worse feeling or distraction for interrupting your hiking enjoyment.

On top of this I had earlier contacted the hotel to let them know I would be there around 1 pm. The owner was going to turn up to let me in. Time was a ticking, and for the first time on the trip I felt pressure to be punctual. I was running late.

Golfing dreams dad. Golfing dreams.

It meant that I pushed it. Not drinking enough. Not eating enough. It felt like forever, even though it was only 19 km. I got into the room exhausted, face as red as a beetroot. I’d been completed sizzled by the Scottish sun.

The owner of the Neidpath Inn was kind, and there was four bottles of ice cold sparkling water in the fridge. Heaven. A cold shower and out for a feed, and I feel a new person. Legs still itching like anything, but that’s ok.

Tomorrow is a new day.

This article was first published on The Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 4, Hiking the hills between Melrose and somewhere near Hare Law

Distance: 26km

Another extraordinary day of hiking with the trifecta of varied terrain, amazing scenery and perfect weather. Not to mention a physical challenge. I had a blast.

The day was started right with a huge waffle covered in Nutella and bananas. Perfect energy food, even though “the regular breakfast cook is away and so this looks…pretty bad”. It did look pretty bad, but it still tasted sweet!

The walk this morning started with a straightforward riverside ramble. I’ve finished on the St Cuthbert Trail now, and have moved onto the Southern Upland Way. It’s a different looking signpost, so it’s quite exciting.

Before long I recognise somewhere I have been before – the train station at Tweed Bank! There I sat, just a few days ago, wondering where the pathway I could see went to…and now I know!

I passed a woman standing track side with her eager looking dog. I heard her say “Not long now mate. Here it comes….” Soon after a bolt of black fur lightning shot past me, trying for all money to keep up with the accelerating train. Alas, despite best efforts, he was unable to maintain pace, and so doggedly returned to his owner, a look of pure glee on his smiling face.

The track continues along the Tweed River, at times presenting grand views of Abbortsford House, home of the famous Scottish author Sir Walter Scott (1771 – 1832). A brief tour through Galashiels and crowded woodland and then I am on my own again, climbing within a sheep field.

This is the first physical challenge of the day. The weather was perfect, not too hot with a light breeze. Stone walls crisscrossed the fields in long ribbons of grey. I cheer when I reach my first cairn of the trip.

From the top, it’s back to the bottom again and a reacquaintance with my old friend the Tweed. I filter some water and take a little break in preparation for the second climb of the day.

The route climbs seriously now, paralleling a small burn (stream) as it does so. Eventually, I emerge onto a dreamscape. Colours of maroon and black and green, and incredible views back towards the Eildon Hills, where I had started this morning. The colours were so stark because a large section of the heathland had been burnt, casting a charcoal hue across a vast swathe of the landscape. It appeared to be wildfire related to me, but then again, I don’t have the knowledge of the land management systems here to really make that call. Whatever the cause, it looked spectacular.

Dreamscape

Further up, and I reach the Three Brethren, a trio of imposing hilltop cairns. I sit, take a break and enjoy the expansive panorama.

Onwards, and there is just one more climb to make, up to the top of Brown Knowe (523m). Having not seen anybody since Galshiels, it feels remote, adventurous and breathtaking.

I walk just a little further until I find a nice little grassy patch beside a gate. As I set up camp I reflect that my body is feeling great after the most physical day yet, no doubt helped by the sheer enjoyment of it all. I have been reminded again just why I love doing this so much.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here.

A Scottish Story – Day 3, The banks of the Tweed to the wee town of Melrose

Distance – 15km

Another wonderful day of walking! It was such a pleasant evening spent talking to dog walkers and their frisky pooches. Such a laugh watching them down near the water, feverishly waiting for their sticks to be thrown. All the owners were so lovely also, and gave me a lot of confidence about my decision to camp in that location. Nobody batted an eye, and everybody wished me the best for my journey. I am very grateful to all those dog walkers who took the time to talk.

It was a warm evening, but a rather grey morning. The first little spots of rain. Nothing to complain about though, and an interesting but short day was just waiting to be explored.

The crystal well, an old water pump system. A poor donkey would trudge around the circle all day pumping the water to the manor up the hill.

First up, a beautiful riverside walk directly adjacent to the fast flowing Tweed, twining through forests of oak and wild garlic. There were few people on the trail, and it felt such a dream to be witnessing the Scotland of my dreams.

I arrived in the town of St Boswell. All the towns are amazing in their ancient appeal. Grey stone and colourful front doors. Moss and ivy abundant on the walls. The store was open so I picked up a bit of lunch. This time some yoghurt and salami sticks. Gourmet. I tried the toilets, but they were locked. It’s kind of hit and miss with the bathrooms. Some open, some not. Some needing 30 pence to open. This was one of those. I definitely need to start carrying some coins around in my pocket.

I leave town and come across a couple of fellows coming the other way. They ask about my bag. I explain the details. They ask where I’m from. I say Norfolk Island. One of them asks whether there are any Pitcairners still living there. I’m amazed. And even more amazed when I learn these guys are from Canada. They explain that they have just always been interested in the story of the Mutiny on the Bounty. We have a good chat. They ask for my photo and I feel like a celebrity. They give me a little Canada pin and again I’m bewildered at how connected everybody really is. It was great to meet them and talk about home for a bit.

Onwards, and before long I reach the Eildon Hill, three impressive mounds full of myth and legend which overlook the town of Melrose. The view is expansive. The option is there to climb the domes, but I decide I want to spend the time checking out the little town of Melrose. People have spoken about the beauty of this little town and I am keen to experience it as much as I can.

I get into town and go to the Ships Arm pub. It’s so fantastic I just HAVE to take a photo before I go in. I bustle into the full lunchtime bar and approach the bartender. “Just after a pint are ye?”. “No, I’m staying here tonight”. “Here?” “Well, I think so”. “We have no rooms here”. Oh. Wrong place. We laugh. “Well, letting you know I won’t be staying here tonight!”.

I get to the correct hotel but can’t check in. That’s ok. I leave my bag and head out on the town. I enjoy spending time at the Trimontium Museum and learning about the Roman invasion of Scotland and local Roman fortifications (now buried) which were built in 43AD. The timelines are completely staggering. There is a huge array of old Roman artifacts which were dug up by a farmer tilling his field. This is a history I didn’t know about.

Back at the hotel I try for shower and find only cold water. Kaa duu (can’t do). I head down to the bar, order a wine and ask about it. Apparently this has “never happened before”. The phrase “just my luck comes to mind”. Second wine in and the bartender comes over. He now has hot water running in the sink. Hopefully, this is good news for me! The plan is to finish this wine, shower in hot water, dinner, and wander the streets till dark.

Fingers crossed.

Another awesome day.

This article was first published on The Trek and can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 2, Cessford Castle to the banks of the Tweed

Distance: 26km

Fair maiden Lilliard
Lies under this stone
Little was her stature
But muckle was her fame
Upon the English loon
She laid monie thumps
And when her legs were cuttit off
She fought upon her stumps

Found on the gravestone of the Fair Maiden Lilliard (1544) and now representing the grit, fight and might of all Scottish women who fought in the wars of the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries

I enjoyed my evening watching the little lambs get bolder and friskier as the afternoon wore on, springing and fighting and clambering all over each other. Eventually they surrounded my tent in a gang, and whenever my back was turned they would curiously nose into my possessions. I’ve not spent so much time with sheep before, and I have to say they were pleasant company. A couple of punks ramming into my tent (and then sniggering I’m sure of it), but overall they were quiet and respectful once evening fell.

The walk today, whilst not as spectacular, had a lovely mix of everything. The tracks, consisting mainly of paddocks, forest verges and quiet roads were easy to follow and relatively flat.

Highlights for the day included wandering through several mixed woodland forests, listening to the variety of bird calls and trying to identify the species (with the use of an app). Springing out of a field I was surprised by a Roe deer, a native deer of Scotland that had been in steep decline prior to a dedicated recovery effort. The Roe deer is relatively easy to identify with it’s buxom, pure white tail.

So far, two things have become clear. The first is that not many people have heard of the Scottish National Trail. The SNT starts by following the St Cuthbert’s Way, an old pilgrimage route. There’s quite a few people out on the track, but many are surprised that I am carrying quite a bit of gear. When I explain, more often than not, a perplexed look follows.

Secondly. Nobody here has ever seen or heard of an Aarn backpack before. Most are extremely flummoxed when I walk by. Most think I’m carrying an enormous load because of the look of the three bag system. “Looks like you’ve got everything but the kitchen sink!” I’m no ultralighter, that’s for sure, but I do just carry sensible stuff! When I explain it, I can see it making sense to people. Pretty sure I need to come up with a stock-standard response. It’s going to be a long 5-6 weeks of this same quizzical look and comments!

The gravesite of the fair maiden Lilliard

I enjoyed a superb lunch of piping hot vegetarian meatball melts and fizzy ginger beer at The Artisan cafe in Harestanes before continuing on for another 10km to the banks of the Tweed. I sit now, at a perfectly set up little blogging desk, listening to the sound of the river and watching black-headed gulls dive into the water in search of fish.

Another stellar day. In fact, even though I’ve been applying sunscreen, I’ve been burnt again. My sun soaked Aussie skin isn’t handling the harsh brutality of the Scottish summer sun!

Finally, a quick check in in relation to my stated goals of a couple of days ago:

Take it easy – I think that’s a tick

Master wild camping – Well, I managed last night and I’ve got a pretty sweet spot again tonight. So, tick.

Romance – “Tell her she’s dreaming”

Enjoyment levels – Thorough. Another tick.

Three out of four ain’t bad!

This article was originally published on the Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 1, Kirk Yetholm to Cessford Castle

Distance: 16km

Hey! I’m easing into this okay! What an absolute ripper of a day!

To backtrack. I know what I had in mind when I booked the Plough Inn. A lively Scottish pub brimming with folks whom I could spin a bit of a yarn with and enjoy a pint or two. Not how it turned out. I was the only person booked in, and so thoroughly enjoyed a delicious dinner on my own in the bar. I wondered later whether anybody else actually stayed on the premises overnight, or whether I was the sole occupant in that big, old pub. Regardless, I slept great. And enjoyed breakfast with the works, solo of course, in the dining room. Here’s to meeting some folks to chat with a little further down the track!

A quick stop at the small shop for a days supplies and I was on my way. Once again, the weather didn’t disappoint with the sun beaming strongly and just a mild chill in the air.

It doesn’t take long to start climbing. Up a wee hill, which quickly turned into a large mound which reformed into what I would describe as a mountain. No time like the present to get straight into it! The views were amazing, framed beautifully by the solemn stone walls. I saw my first pheasant! Majestic large birds with long tail feathers and ferociously dark red napes.

Up and up and up!

Up and over the mountain, I began to follow a little used road, enjoying the sound of an adjacent babbling brook. Despite my late start, I’d made really good time and so was resolved to enjoy a pub lunch in Morebattle and while away a bit of time. Unfortunately, the pub was closed. So onto the general store (which was great and had a great deal more variety than the store in Kirk Yetholm) where I devoured a sandwich, drink and conversation with a few friendly locals and hikers.

A physical challenge, an amazing walkway and a bubbly little creek

Walking into Morebattle

It wasn’t a place to just hang around (though I did find out just as I was leaving that there was a picnic area set up out the back), so onwards it was. Before long, there she was. Cessford Castle. A place I’ve been dreaming about for several months now. Always, when I was thinking about this Scotland trip, it would be Cessford Castle, and camping at Cessford Castle, that would pop into my head and motivate me to both plan and train for this hike.

I always think canola fields look incredible

And there she is! Cessnock Castle. A place I have been dreaming about for months.

Now here she is. And she is beautiful. Originally constructed in the 14th century, she boasted walls that were 4 metres thick to keep warring families at bay. Now, she stands, resplendent still in the landscape, many centuries later. It’s still really early, but I just have to stay and see this through. I need to camp at the castle.

Just casually camping near a castle

I wait around for a bit, not at all used to not being able to set up my camp spot right away. The castle is also home to a gang of curious sheep and their lambs, and so I spend some time chatting and getting to know them. It’s windy however, and I’m starting to feel the chill. I Google “When can you set up a tent when wild camping in Scotland?” Mixed response. But I do see a number of posts about leaving no trace being more important than the timing for setting and packing up. Makes sense to me…I pick a surreptitious spot and go for it.

So, tonight I will camp at a castle. And hopefully these sheep now like me enough to leave me in peace!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be viewed here

A Scottish Story – the first steps

Total distance: 8.5km

I am underway! What a feeling it is to get started after all the preparation and planning. Happiness and a sigh of relief. The tension of actually getting to the starting point is over.

It was an easy enough trip. Train to the town of Tweedbank. Wait half an hour. Bus to the town of Kelso. Wait 49 minutes. Wait another 60 minutes because somehow I didn’t manage to board the bus even though I was waiting in the right spot and saw it pull up and leave. Ha! No wonder I get stressed about the actual travel part! Board the bus when it comes back and travel to the Plough Inn in Town Yetholm. Straight into my room, and thanks very much! I’ve arrived!

Beautiful old church at Kirk Yetholm whose bells were chiming for the half past the hour

Then it was walk time! Filling in a little section from the town to the border between Scotland and England. For those that are unsure about it, I’m walking the Scottish National Trail, a non-signposted walk (but made up of lots of smaller signposted walks) which runs the length of Scotland, south to north. The total distance of the trail is about 865km.

The track from Kirk Yetholm out to the border

This was an out and back job, and suprisingly hilly for my first look at the trail! It was however, incredibly beautiful. Huge, open vistas around rolling mountains. Stone walls, sheep and church bells toiling. If this is a taste of what is to come, this is going to be amazing.

Nothing more exciting than following a track to an unknown destination

Celebrating being at the border and the start of the walk

The old stone wall that separates England from Scotland

Whilst I was walking I thought about my goals for this trip. They are:

Take it easy. That sounds like it should be a breeze right? Well, I find it difficult. I’m usually the sort of hiker that races along through the day in order to get to my intended camp spot early so I can rest up. With these ultra long Scottish days (the sun is setting at 8.30pm or so), I want to spend more time out enjoying it. Not necessarily going further. Just….smelling the roses so to speak, as I go.
Master Scotland’s wild camping laws. You can walk and camp anywhere in Scotland within reason. As an Australian, I’m finding this concept hard to get my head around. Our long distance hiking trails are all set up so there is a designated camp spot that is intended as the place everybody stays. Often, we are actually not allowed to camp outside that designated spot. So just wandering around Scotland, picking campsites at random as I go, is definitely a foreign concept. I’m quite a timid person, and I’m not sure how I’ll go with the confidence needed to make those decisions. Hopefully, I’ll be fine.
Romance. Haha! Why not? I do live on an extremely small island after all! Honestly, I think I am more likely to finish the trail than I am of encountering romance, but hey, doesn’t hurt to include it as a goal!
Be constantly checking in with myself about my enjoyment levels. The last few hikes I’ve done I have encountered absolutely terrible, dangerous weather conditions. I just want to make sure I am reminding myself that this is a holiday, and there are other options if the weather isn’t playing nice.

So, that’s it. The real deal starts tomorrow. And I can’t wait!

The name of my room. I’ve tried to look up what it might mean, without success. It does absolutely appeal to my Aussie sense of humour however!

England and Scotland border marker

This article was originally posted on The Trek which you cann read here

A Scottish Story (aka preliminary ramblings)

“Oh my god! Imagine my surprise when I realised I am leaving tonight! And not tomorrow!”

Urgent message to my support crew

And so it was that I commenced, in a not so auspicious start, my much anticipated trip to Scotland and an attempt to tackle the Scottish National Trail.

Despite the obvious pleasure of embarking my aircraft on the correct day, the flight was….well….unpleasant. 23 hours, give or take. I had, in what I had assumed was a stroke of brilliance, nabbed myself a window seat in an aisle of two. Just one stranger to negotiate the tricky bathroom breaks with. Easy.

Not easy. The stranger was, without doubt, the world record holder for deep sleeping on a plane. Head bobbing forward, sideways, all over my shoulder. Tray table down and covered in paraphernalia. Each time I woke her was like unfreezing a cryogenic body. A polite tap. A bit of a shake. Pushing, shoving and shouting “Excuse me!”. The confusion at being re-animated. The sitting and waiting whilst she took in her surrounds. The clearing of the tray table. It becomes obvious. Drinking is not an option. Better to become parched than wake this one more than is absolutely necessary!

I’ve been in Scotland now for the same amount of time I was on the plane. 23 hours. Different story. Edinburgh is amazing. Getting through customs couldn’t be easier. Public transport to my accommodation, a breeze. Finding my apartment, a little bit trickier, though a friendly local pointed me in the right direction quick as a flash.

The rather unobtrusive entry to my apartment

What to say about the city? It is beautiful, ornate and amazing. The juxtaposition between old and new, blending together so harmoniously, to create an atmosphere of culture and creativity. Blessed with glorious weather, today was a day for stretching the legs and thoroughly enjoying my surroundings. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Acclimatizing a little before bed, old and new combining so seamlessly

Edinburgh Castle. Symbol of Scottish pride, perched atop the basalt core of an extinct volcano and sheltered by cliffs on three sides, this castle has played an important role in Scottish affairs for hundreds of years. I turned up before opening and had the old beauty to myself.

Sleepy city view from the castle. In contrast to my jet-lagged 5.30am, the city didn’t seem to wake up till a very respectable 10am.

Site of the writers museum, tucked down a little laneway and housed in a mansion constructed in 1622

Colourful Victoria St (named after the Queen) shone like a little jewel amongst the old stone buildings

What may be my favourite memorial in the world. The most loyal of boys, Bobbie, has been commemorated for being a good boy. When his owner perished in 1858, Bobbie was found a few days later sitting on his grave, a vigil he reportedly maintained until his death 14 years later. I love that the Scottish community recognises this special bond.

The little mate, Bobby

Pinky hues at Canongate Kirk

Canongate Kirk. Founded in 1688 and completed in 1691. And looking super with popping red doors.

The ruins of St Anthony’s chapel. Although these remains have existed since the 14th century, I was shocked ( but not surprised) to see people climbing them in order to nab a photo. Makes me sad.

A spectacular field of beautiful, but invasive, gorse

The climb up to Arthurs Seat. I got my first taste of the “walk anywhere within reason” rules of the Scots. There were people and tracks everywhere. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering over those green hills and it made me so excited for the walk to come!

Enjoying the Scottish sunshine. All jumpers off and I even got a bit burnt! I really hope this is a good weather omen for the whole trip

Spectacular views of Edinburgh

Finishing my walk at a classic old Scottish pub, the Royale. The food didn’t quite match the plushness of the surroundings. But my Bloody Mary was banging.

The iconic Scotts monument at sunrise. It definitely pays to get out and explore early.

This article was originally posted on The Trek which you can read here

Great Ocean Walk, Day 14 – Mallee Camp to Portland, 24km

This is it! The final push. I wake up feeling very rested, the sickness seemingly disappeared. I pack up in a now familiar routine. One thing I can be thankful for, is that due to all this inclement weather I’ve actually rearranged my bag a little and now I can pretty much pack up the whole thing from inside my tent. Saves me time and prevents precious items from getting wet. Win win!

I’m off early feeling hopeful that the little bit of sunshine that’s peaking through might stay with me all day. WRONG! It’s a bit of everything today. Crazy wind, freezing rain, brilliant sunshine, even some hail. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

First stop on the trail is the “Enchanted Forest”, a little area which although immediately adjacent to the sea is protected by gnarled old trees and rocks, intertwined with a native fern to give the illusion of lushness. It’s a nice break from the wind and I sit and have the first of my breaks for the day.

Is it just me.. or does it just look a little bit… grizzly?

Afterwards I’m back on the cliffs. I’ve reached that point in the journey where the bag feels weightless and I’m moving somewhat effortlessly along the more or less flat trail. I revel in the windswept landscape, once again enjoying the barren terrain and pounding of the surf. One minute it’s glorious sunshine, the next I’m being blasted with icy shards of rain. The craziness fits with the overall feel of this trip. No matter how experienced I become with my hiking, the weather will remain an untamable and unpredictable friend.

Hey, I did say this was a training hike for Scotland didn’t I!

In a blast of wind I reach the only mainland colony of Australasian gannets. Beautiful big birds, some of whom used to reside on Phillip Island, an island at home. They sweep and whistle through the air in the wind and clump together in a large group looking for all money like they are trying to keep warm. It is a wonderful sight to see.

All the gannets used to nest out on that little island before it filled up. Lack of space led to the new breeding colony being successfully established on the mainland

Onwards and I get my first glimpse of Portland. I stop and have a final break on a rocky shore texting friends and family that I am almost there. I feel the achievement and self pride hit me. This hasn’t been particularly easy – the weather, the aloneness and then the overcrowding, even the distance is much more challenging that the recently completed Great Ocean Walk. I feel ready. Ready to take the next step and take this gig overseas. A new challenge. I’ve got this.

Beautiful lunch time / introspection spot

The walk into Portland is interesting. Past wartime relics and artsy houses, the gardens filled with sculptures and scraps. I’m happy. Happy to have given it go. Happy to have succeeded. Happy that my trust in myself has been proven again. Happy to be back. And happy to have a shower.

What an experience this trip has been! And what a walk.

Another successful hike! I’m ready to take this gig somewhere completely foreign! See ya soon Scotland!

Great South West Walk, Day 12 – Trewalla Camp to Mallee Camp, 18km

I got hazed last night. By Mila and Maggie. The situation occurred when I was waiting patiently for them to both (of course!) come out of the bathroom. They came out. I went in. They went to the school “sanitisation station” that was hanging directly off the door to the toilet. Next thing I heard “Oh my god! Could you imagine hiking alone! I can’t imagine anything worse! Hiking is awful! And doing it by yourself! Oh my god! You would have to be insane!”

I patiently listen. Then I say “You do know that this wall is just made of wood right? You know it’s not soundproof? You know I can hear everything you’re saying? Just wait there a minute and I’ll come out and discuss it all with you”.

“Oh. Right. Yes. No, all good. Sorry.” They leave. I can’t help but hope they are haunted by a possum again tonight.

Turns out it’s not them that’s haunted, but me. I wake up feeling queasy and headachey. I’ve never really been sick on the trail before (except for the beginning of my very first blog on the Great North Walk). I’m a little bit uneasy as I take a couple of aspirin. I hope this doesn’t last.

I wake up early. Very, very early. The school kids are up before dawn. I ascertain, because they certainly don’t keep their voices down on account of this, that this is their final day and they are headed off early to get to Bridgewater for breakfast. After what seems an age of torches shining directly into my tent, they tromp off. The final thing I hear is “Bridgewater, here we come”. God help Bridgewater.

I sleep for a little longer, but am still feeling a little bit off when I finally get up. Nothing to do but keep moving.

I start with a beach walk. Unlike the flying high walk of yesterday, this one is a trudge. Grey, windy, raining. And sink sand all the way. I’m trying to enjoy it, but the pain in my head, sickness in my belly and slight despair of the weather make it difficult.

A strange departure from the coastal scene…a group of washed up containers

I arrive at the end of the beach and alarmingly see the marker for the walk above me. Well and truly above me. Many metres above me. All this ferocious weather has obviously created ferocious waves. And these ferocious waves have undercut the dunes so that a sheer wall several metres high sits in front of me. I ponder it for a minute, pick the best spot I can and start to climb.

For those wondering what the hardest part of the walk was. This is it. I felt like the roadrunner running on the spot, the sand just cascading down. No way of getting a grip. I tried digging my poles in. Didn’t work. I got down on my knees and tried crawling up. Didn’t work. I feared falling backwards with the weight of my pack. I feared having a tonne of sand fall down on me. I feared not being able to get up this frigging thing. But inch by inch I climbed. Panting and completely out of breath when I made it to the top. That, my friends, was the hardest part of the walk.

I took a break and got my nerves back. Time to move on. And my day did improve. The headache and queasiness disappeared, and I was back up on the clifftops, which I love. I pass through stands of Eucalyptus diversifolia, or soap bush, little patches of abundant growth on an otherwise otherworldly landscape.

What it was actually like! “I’m nearing Camp Nelson. And it’s pretty windy up here!”

I reach Cape Nelson in time for lunch. It’s been incredibly windy on the cliffs again and so it is a huge relief to slide into the warmed cafe. I had been dreaming of a toasted sandwich and chips to settle my upset tummy, and there it was, right there on the menu. I felt like a winner. I sat, ate and read my book, bopping along to the 90’s tunes being belted out by the cafe staff. It was a lovely break.

I left on closing and quickly finished the additional few kilometres of the walk into Mallee Camp.

I’m alone tonight. It seems fitting for my final day. I don’t spend time reflecting. Just longingly enter my tent at about 7.30, snuggle into my lovely, warm bed and drift off to sleep. Nobody is here to disturb me at all.