Great North Walk – Day 4

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.

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.

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!

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?

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.