Cooloola Great Walk – Day Two

Brahminy Walkers Camp to Dutgee Walkers Camp – 19km

“Somewhere, over the sand blow”.

An uneventful night.  I’m enjoying sleeping with the rainfly off when I can, and watching the moon, stars and clouds from my bed.  Dawn breaks, and I’m up.

Though not first to be moving around,  I’m the first to leave, which I’m rather smugly pleased about.  Today we go over the Cooloola sandblow, and I want to see it at it’s most pristine glory – before all those feet have trodden over it.  Yes, That’s right.  I want to be first!

But before we get to that, we have the morning’s walking.  Which was wonderful.  Straight off the bat, the track wound through forests of scarred scribbly gum and burnt grass trees.  Winding in and out of the forest and interspersed with glorious views to the coast.

At one such point, I sat and had the first break of many for the morning.  The sun was glinting on the ocean, and the offshore breeze was causing the waves to mist at each roll.  The sound was loud and definite, even from so high up. 

From the ridgetop, the track dropped down into a damp, dark gully with rainforest species reminiscent of the walk I had just completed.  Another good spot for a break.

From here, the vegetation was mixed.  Every area of this forest has been influenced by fire.  Sometimes it looks like the fire was a long time ago, and the understory has come back thick, varied and lush. Sometimes, there is evidence of burning not so long ago, with young eucalypts and banksias jostling each other for space to grow. And sometimes it looks like the fire was very recent, with no understorey to speak off and bohemith trees blackened to the very tips of their extended limbs.

Suddenly, I come round a corner, and there it is! The Cooloola sandblow in all its’ glory. This sandy desert is vast and beautiful. Signs warn that it is very easy to get lost. One must follow a compass bearing of 340 degrees for 750m before switching to 160 degrees for another 300m. There’s good pictures of where to go though, and it’s actually not that hard.

Despite this, the sense of space, lack of features and exhilarating aloneness makes me feel like an explorer from another age. I spend ages trying to get photos, but capturing that feeling is impossible.

In fact it ends up that there is so much glare on my camera, I can’t see a bloody thing of what I am taking! It was just point and shoot and hope for the best. It’s surprising any of them came out at all!

So then I begin the task of trudging across the dunes. It’s not that hard. Rather exhilarating in fact. But tougher than normal at times in the soft sand. The soft, pristine sand I should say! Yes, I was the first one!

From here it’s down a ridgeline before the track begins parralleling the meandering Noosa River.

I used to be a tour guide on K’gari more than 20 years ago, and as I’m walking this stretch, long forgotten words begin entering my head like ethereal mists. Words like fox tail fern, Baronia rivularis, turpentine, satinay, casuarina, lemon myrtle. It’s slowly coming back to me, and I enjoy matching plants with these long forgotten names.

I reach camp at around 2pm. Plenty of time to jump in the river and have a freezing splash around. I sit in the warming sun, trying to dry off, and enjoy watching the reflections on the water as the sun begins to sink. Life is good.