Great North Walk – Day 2

Lane Cove Tourist Park to Jungo Campsite

Distance: 18.25km (+ 11km for retrieval of “misplaced items” + 5km for detour around flooded creek)

“I think I must be cursed”

Having slept well, I awoke to the sound of the magpie chorus. Snuggling into my bag, I commenced an internal audit. Head – clearer. Voice – stronger. Cough – constant. Nose – possibly never been more filled with gunk in my entire life. I was on the mend!

Life is full of moments of risk and reward. I had one such moment this morning, when I decided I was going to make myself a coffee. Right in my tent, still in my sleeping bag. Risk, smallish. Reward, great! I would continue with this routine for the rest of walk. To hell with the safety warnings! There’s nothing like the whoosh of your stove firing up right next to your highly flammable bed, or the steaming hot cup of coffee ready before you’ve even taken a step. Great start to the day.

I pack up slowly. My final task is to put on my shoes. Like the antithesis of Cinderella, my feet groan in protest as I wrench them on. My mind catches up with what my feet already know….my shoes are too small. Way too small. I had read about this phenomenon. That feet literally grow if you do a lot of walking. Why I didn’t think that this could apply to me I’m not sure. But it was very apparent that the shoes I had ordered, same type, same size as those I had done all my training in, were not going to fit. Another problem. I tape them up, shove them back in the shoes and send my support group a message with my GPS, “I’m on my way”.

I retrace the 3km back to the Rangers station, and this time, easily navigate my way back onto the trail. The walk follows a rocky fire-trail lined with large scribbly gums. I come to an intersection that is not signposted. I turn right, using my intuition as to where I should be going. Worry gets the better of me though, and I reach for my GPS just to check I am going the right way. In this sick condition, and with sore feet, I don’t want to walk any further than I have to! I reach for my GPS. It’s not there! I cannot believe my eyes…I had clipped it onto my bag. Hadn’t I? A frantic search ensues. Nothing.

I act immediately. I drop my pack where it is, grab my phone and nothing else, and begin racing back along the track, hoping that it’s come loose somewhere close-by. I call my supporters, hoping they can use the tracking feature to let me know where it is. My sister answers my panicked call, and proceeds to calmly and methodically help me track it.

“Ok. Latest location is from 7.40am at the caravan park xx”

Text message from my sister

My heart sinks. I ring the caravan park. They have it. I’m relieved. And I’m infuriated with myself…how did this happen?

“Got it! Now to backtrack again (cry emoji x 3)”

“One foot in front of the other…..enjoy the rest of your day Zargo”

Text exchange between my sister and I. The time is now 10.11am.

I complete my penance. An extra 11km and a loss of almost 3 hours of time. I almost cry with relief to see my bag sitting untouched when I get back to it. I safely stow my GPS, sling my bag onto my back, and move on.

It’s 12.11pm when the next disaster hits. I had been starting to enjoy myself. Nice easy track adjacent to the beautiful Lane Cove River. I had just finished a small break sitting next to the water when I heard it…the distant rumbling of thunder. Another rumble. This time closer. I was in no mans land, with very little shelter down by the river. I had read that there were sandstone caves ahead…I packed up and hustled.

Lightly at first, the rain came. By the time I reached anything resembling a sand stone cave it was bucketing down. Sheets of lightning ripped across the sky and the thunder grew ever louder. With no room to stand and nowhere to sit, I squatted under a small overhang and staring out at the ferocious weather, quietly contemplated to myself “I think I must be cursed”.

Eventually, the lightning passed, though the rain did not. I set off again, blissfully unaware at this stage just how much this downpour was going to affect my walk. In hindsight, I probably should have realised something was up when this happened…

I stride through the waterfall and come out the other side feeling somewhat smug. Yeah! I can do this! Ah….No. You can’t. Less than half an hour later I’m heading downhill. I hear the river well before I see it. In the back of my head, I have some sort of hope that I won’t have to cross this river, merely, stroll along beside it. I spot it. Brown, churning water, it sweeps along like just what it is..a flood. Sticks and debris are carried briskly and spittled foam swirls in the eddies. I know immediately that I cannot cross this river. That doesn’t stop me from searching desperately for a safer place to cross. I don’t want to turn back. I’ve been through so much already. This leads me to do something I really shouldn’t have done.

I decide that I should try and gauge how deep the water is. Maybe it’s not as deep as I thought! Leaving my pack on the riverbank, I tentatively place my walking poles in the water and take a tiny step…I’ll just see….Immediately my feet are whisked out from under me and I sprawl half on the bank and half in the water. I’m in no real danger, but my ridiculous decision is exposed for exactly what it was. I get out of the water, grab my bag and retrace my steps without so much as another glance at the river.

From here I just sort of wing it a bit, with mixed results. I follow a random fire trail, and before long come to the outskirts of a suburb. There’s electricians working there on the lines. I ask one of them if he knows how to get to the Thornleigh train station. He doesn’t but consults his phone and promptly tells me it’s 9km that way, with a finger outstretched. “Just follow this street around”, he says. Easy. I do his biding and follow the road in the direction he has indicated.

After about 2km, a worm of worry enters my head. It seems to me like I’m heading away from the direction which the GNW had been taking me on. I try to consult my GPS and Google maps. In this moment, I learn another important lesson. The rain is still pelting down. I try to use the touchscreen of my phone, but it is impossible. The moisture denies my fingers access, and the wet drops have control of the screen instead, randomly pressing buttons and changing screens. I literally scream in frustration. It is such an easy thing to have a waterproof case on the phone. Such an easy thing. But I haven’t done it. Lesson learnt.

I manage to shelter under a large tree long enough to work things out. That damn electrician had pointed the wrong way with his outstretched fingers! I backtrack again. And try, extremely unsuccessfully, not to give the worker full on stink-eye on my way back past. Under my own steam, I negotiate the suburban streets and end up back on the trail, on the other side of the creek, not far from where I left off. I’m on my way again.

The afternoon is wet, muddy and surprisingly wild. I’m already running behind schedule with all the delays, and the many creek crossings and sodden tracks slow me down even further. The rain doesn’t let up. It’s around 6ish by the time I traipse into Thornleigh. I cross the railway line, noting that there is an Aldi supermarket right there….why am I carrying all this food? Through the suburban streets I wind, eventually following a small track behind a house which leads into bushland. I’m just a couple of kilometers away from Jungo.

My arrival at Jungo campsite is deflating. The campsite is a little cleared area by the side of a dirt road. I’m not far from civilisation, and this is more of a worry to me than if I had been way out bush. I can see the track crosses a creek which is running swiftly but is still passable. My track notes tell me to filter this water very carefully if I am going to drink it. Not exactly a great recommendation for the consuming of said beverage. Disconcertingly, an enormous “widow maker”, the large branch of a eucalyptus, has recently fallen right into the middle of what I presume to be the main campsite area.

I set up my tent, eat a quick dinner and huddle inside. I get out my track notes and circle the words “impassable after heavy rain“. There are at least 5 circled phrases in the following days track notes. I try to sleep. The rain doesn’t stop, but it’s not a soothing lullaby. I think I hear music all through the night, but whether this was real or imagined I cannot say. The rain…it just does not stop.