Ready, Steady, Support!

A Heysen Trail Story

Well. I really don’t know what to say. I’m sitting in the Brisbane airport. The sun is streaming through the window. Around me, folks chat, enjoy a drink, chow down a snack, grateful for the temporary respite from the mask.

It’s 1.15pm on the 18th July. My name is Mel. And I have been dreaming of going on a long, long walk for three years now. The next few hours will either make or break me.

For those that know me, or have been following my blog for a while now, you will know that I refer to my ill fated attempt at the Pacific Crest Trail in March last year. After over a year of planning and training I was thwarted by Covid a week before leaving. We all were…

Despite my abject disappointment, I’ve really enjoyed my time since. Life’s been good. No complaints. But I was yearning still. Yearning to get out there amongst it, throw my backpack on and test myself both physically and mentally. I simply couldn’t put the idea to rest.

So an idea was hatched. Instead of America, I would set my sights closer to home…but what? Initially, I thought the Bibbulmann Track was the way to go. Booked a ticket to Western Australia and everything. But the more I looked at the Heysen Trail, the more I was drawn to it. It seemed more wild somehow. Tougher. The red sand that I loved for so many years was beckoning. And so I changed my mind. And I couldn’t have been happier.

The plan seemed simple at the time. The head of my support crew, Aubs, and I would do a substantial training hike in NSW, before I would strike out on my own for South Australia. Flights booked – check. Hiking plan for the Yuragyir Coastal Trail and Solitary Island Coastal Trail combo made – check. Campground bookings, public transport, other accommodation bookings made – check. Parents organised to pick us up at the end of the walk – check. And most importantly, a 3 month long housesitter for Bronte the wonder dog organised – check. Everything was perfectly in order. Everything was perfectly fine.

Until it wasn’t. Two weeks out. Two weeks and you guessed it…Covid. Goddamn, fucking Covid. Plans ruined. At first we started trying to just adapt to the changing situation. “Well I guess we can just stay in QLD and do a couple of walks there?” A couple of days later “Ummm, South Australia have closed off their borders to both QLD and NSW. Holy shit!” “It’ll re-open. It’ll re-open”. “Ummm. The border has not reopened. My housesitter is here to stay. My dream is going down the tubes. Again. BUT! The border between Norfolk Island and South Australia remains open! What do I do?”

It was like a miracle. Somehow, this tiny island – 5km long x 8km wide – had it’s own little section in the travel restriction guide to SA. And there was no restriction! As long as I transited straight through a mainland airport. I broached the subject with the head of my support crew. It was heartbreaking. We’ve been together for three years, but have never been off Norfolk Island together. This was to be a first for us.

But oh, the selfish relief when he looked at me and gave me the ok to fly straight to Adelaide. Gave us the ok to do our walk later. No matter how this turns out, I will be forever grateful for his support that day. Unwavering support really is the most wonderful gift in the world.

So, it was decided. But boy oh boy it has been hard. The plans have been in constant flux. Tickets to New Zealand have been bought and relinquished. Extra flights to Australia have been bought and relinquished. My flight from Brisbane to Adelaide has been cancelled 5 times in the last 36 hours.

Amongst all this madness, I’ve tried to hold onto my hope. All I want to do is walk and walk and walk. Surely that’s not too much to ask? Maybe it is. I don’t know. I flew yesterday. In Brisbane my onwards flight was cancelled. I was ready and willing to stay in the check in terminal of the domestic airport if I had to. To satisfy the conditions of my entry requirements. Luckily, a beautiful volunteer at the information desk informed me that I could get a quarantine room at the airport hotel. Having that bed has given me the strength to face today.

And it’s been tough. A cancelled flight already this morning. A rebooking for 7 hours later. A tense wait in the airport. And worst of all, I actually don’t have an entry permit for South Australia yet. I applied for it on the 9th July. They say it takes maximum of 7 days. They say they are emailed on the morning of the flight into Adelaide. I haven’t received mine. I have sent a couple of urgent emails. Spoken to someone on the SA transit helpline. I had to point out to that person that there was a specific section for Norfolk Island. I had to argue it with her.

She agreed with me in the end, but it really didn’t fill me with confidence. She told me all I could do was speak to the police at the airport when I arrive. They’ll either let me in or they won’t. Nothing like putting your life in the hands of the gods. Wish me luck. My flight is supposed to leave in one and a half hours.

Regardless of the outcome, I’d already like to thank my support crew from the bottom of my heart. My parents, family, friends, my special little dog who cuddled me through my tears. And especially Aubs, who supported me without complaint, even though it meant that his plans were ruined. The ability to help fulfil someone else’s dreams before your own is the mark of an amazing human being. Thank you Aubs.

Next time I write I’ll either be in Adelaide or I won’t. I’m scared of getting to Adelaide. I haven’t trained properly. I’m nowhere near as fit as I was for my PCT attempt. But I am way more scared of having this dream ripped away from me. Again. Before it even had the chance to begin.