Total Distance – 249.8km
A Heysen Trail Story
I’m feeling really happy. Back on track. Sitting here at the campsite, Mt Brown looming like a gentle giant in the background, things feel a little more…stable.
My tent has it’s temporary pole fix on and is looking a million bucks in comparison to the mask solution. My new sleeping bag and merino liner are laid out inside. My faulty sleeping bag has been shipped off, and I can expect a full refund. My proper fix for the tent pole should be waiting in Melrose for me in a few days time. It seems the gear drama might be nearing it’s conclusion. For now. And I am incredibly happy about that!
I also took the opportunity in Quorn to offload a few things. Items not making the cut included my 3L filter and water bladder, some extra tent pegs, extra socks, insect repellant and fly net, a tin of mints, and, my game. It served its purpose in lockdown so it seems. And I couldn’t be bothered to carry it anymore. Sadly.
I had a great rest day in Quorn. And woke early this morning refreshed and raring to go. It was a lovely, gentle re-introduction to walking following the small break. Nice, flat track. Easy to follow. Very scenic with the dangerously named Devil’s Peak lurking off to the side. I spot Ghost Walkers prints and am inordinately happy. And concerned at myself. Ghost Walker has become a friend.
Once I crossed the main road, things ramped up a little. First up, walking adjacent to the historic Pichi Richi railway line. Sleepers as far as the eye can see. And then it’s up and up and up. A rocky track takes you to a ridge with incredible views in both directions. I take off my glasses to clean them. They have been known to get terribly filthy, but no, this time it’s not them. The air is hazy, and what would be views right out to the coast of Port Augusta is indiscriminant and vague. The huge wind turbines of a new energy plant can just be made out on the distant plains.
The path from the top is very steep and rocky, so the going is slow and steady on the way down. The vegetation is all spikes. From grass trees to spinifex to prickly acacias, the aim it seems, is to scratch.
At the bottom, legs heaving a sigh a relief, I follow the path as it crosses under a bridge, and then navigate around willy nilly for a while following random creeklines.
The “Follow the creek” signage invokes feelings of dread, but this is very benign with a wide, flat berth to walk on at the side. Before long, this turns into a track which wends it’s way up through the gorge and towards camp.
It feels like a reward for perserverance. This flat, easy to walk on verge by the side of the creek. Like you are being recognised for your persistence through the rocky horrors. It’s a lovely way to end the day, stretching out the legs and feeling good as you power along.
The sun is shining in camp and for the first time I have the opportunity to lie in the warmth and read my book for a little while. And all of this serves to make me feel like the luckiest person in the world in this moment.
