Post PCT and the Covid Blues

In a post covid world the PCT dream is shattered. I take solice on the Sunshine Coast Great Walk

How’s everyone doing?  It’s been a hell of a ride, hasn’t it…

I must say, I’ve been struggling a bit.  It’s all a little…overwhelming.  I’ve found it terribly hard to step back from the dream of the PCT.  The planning, the prep, the all consuming thoughts, the training, the adventure.  Though on the other hand, I’ve watched in horrid fascination from the beautiful safety of Norfolk Island and said to myself over and over….”Thank God I’m not there.  Thank God I’m not there….”.

It’s all left me a bit down.  I see you nodding.  “Join the club Mel”.  I know, I know.  But this is MY story. 

You may recall that I free-wheeled after realising the PCT was a no go.  I had plans to go to Western Australia and try the Bibbulman Track.  Followed by walking the length of New Zealand on the Te Araroa.  Neither of those things are happening.  Borders closed.  Instead, I’ve snuck (hey, hey…not literally…I’ve followed all the rules!) into QLD.  I’ve grabbed all my brand new gear that’s been anxiously waiting for me since March, and I’m going to hit a few walking tracks.

So, adorned in my mask, I’ve left the safety of Norfolk and flown into Brisbane.  Selfish??  I don’t know.  It’s an argument that’s been circling in my head since I made the decision.  In my mind, it’s a calculated risk.  Others may not agree.  All I can do, is my best.

Travelling…corona style

The International Terminal was terribly creepy in it’s loneliness.  No buzz and bustle.  Just sombre silence.  A stark reminder of the state of the world at the moment.  Perhaps the only positive, free booze on the plane.  However, even I – lover of red wine, am able to say with certainty –  I wish things were normal.  And that I wish I had had to pay.

I saw my family!  Well, the majority of them.  Mum, Dad, sister, husband, niece, nephew.  It was wonderful!  Because you worry.  And you stress.  When you’re at a distance.  But this was all so…normal.  We picniced and played cards and danced and checked out all the new kid’s stuff.  Just what the doctor ordered.  The only down side…. My brother and my fella missing from the party.  However, they are fulfilling the most important function of all – the care of Bronte the wonder dog. Respect men!

This morning I set off on the train to get started on my walking holiday.  The Sunshine Coast Great Walk is the first cab off the rank.

My family often say that I always seem to attract “interesting” people to me…Case in point….First off, a fellow directly behind me who was singing “swing lo!  sweet chariot” over and over again.  Not the whole thing.  Just that line.  And in a voice which really didn’t have much of a timbre to it.  He got off the train after about 15 excrutiating minutes.

Next up, a young “metrosexual” type who seemed to be crackling with energy.  He sat across the isle from me.  At one point he said to me “Look I’m just going to be filming something over here…be assured the camera is pointed at me though”.  Oh, just a bit of scenery filming I thought.  “No worries.  Go ahead”.  Turns out this guy was making a half hour video for his “millions” of YouTube followers.  An expert in “supreme confidence”, this guy was an officianado in religion, the vortex method, and…confidence.  There were mantras galore – he unexpectedly received 65 thousand dollars over the course of three days!  And miracle after miracle!  And all you have to do is pay 10% of your income!  He’ll accept the money.  He’s a priest.  And will invest it wisely in others.  His video was halted when another passenger exclaimed “Did God let you know that you’re annoying all the other passengers!”  End of You Tube video.  Sad for his millions of followers. 

So, now I am in Montville.  A little village high on the hill with vast views out to the coast.  It’s cold and delicious.  I’m packed and ready.  58km and around 5km to get to the start point.  3 nights and 4 days.

I absolutely CANNOT wait! This has been like an itch that I just can’t scratch.  I need to get something out of my system.  Have an opportunity to rethink.  Come up with some new goals.  The PCT feels like a lost dream I’m afraid. Time to scratch the itch!

Great North Walk – Day 7

Basin Campsite to Flat Rock Campsite

Distance – 19km

“This walk is making me……thirsty”

First things first. With an actual toilet on hand, the day was off to a sensational start! A water tank too! I filled all my bottles and bags to capacity – around about 7L. That’s a lot of weight. By this stage it has become apparent that the available track notes are not really set up for a complete thru hike from Sydney to Newcastle. More so, they have been written for hikers intending to do a a couple of day’s here and there, using the train line to move to various starting positions. As a result, unlike notes that have been written with the intention of guiding someone over the course of a couple of weeks, these leave critical information such as potential water sources and resupply points somewhat lacking. At this stage, as far as I can tell, there are no permanent creeks, ponds, taps, troughs or any other places to get water from for the next couple of days.

The beginning of today’s walk is really nice! Lush green valleys and still pools. The buzzing of the insects and the stillness in the air leaves me thinking that nobody has been here for a very long time. It seems somewhat magical. Almost like it’s lulling me into not moving. There is a sense of heaviness and age.

Like a malevolent pool in a fairy-tale, the droning of the insects and frogs and the stillness in the air felt enough to lull somebody to sleep forever.

Despite being somebody who probably COULD be lulled by a malevolent pool into an eternal sleep, I gather all my strength and move on. Eventually, I make it back to the trail. That’s right – all this, just to get back on track!

From here the hills (mountains!) start back up again. As I’ve said before, flat is not a thing. Under the load of this water laden, heavy pack, I begin using my tried and true technique for making it through the toughest of hills….20 steps on each foot, then take a break for 10 -20 seconds. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. It may be slow, but it gets me there. Every. Single. Time.

Yeah….I’m puffed. And possibly still quite sick. Well, I need to blame that look on something!

Despite the hills, I’m conserving water like a drought stricken camel. Little sip here, little sip there. This shit’s got to last! Having restrictions in the amount of water that one can drink, is fairly rare in my circles. To go without. To HAVE to go without, gives such clarity as to it’s importance to our survival.

I come to a sign. Camp is only 3.5km away! But more than that, I’ve reached the halfway mark!! I look hard at the figures. Newcastle is only 88km away! Sure, I have to go back and cover what I missed….but I can make it to Newcastle! I’m sure of it. The elation of getting this far puts a spring in my step on the final push to camp.

I’m over half way. And I’m excited!

I skip into camp. And oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!!!

“Made my campsite and I could weep for joy. There is an unadvertised watertank here. I can drink as much damn water as I want! Mountains many today.”

Message to my supporters.

“Drink up Zargo! Not usually saying that about water! Ahahaha!”

Reply from my sister

My sister is right. I’m usually saying it about wine. But as I gulp down my fill of water, I make a pact with myself. If there is one memory that I am going to take away from this walk. One lesson learnt. It’s going to be remembering that feeling of dread at having to conserve what you drink. The fear of not knowing whether water is available. And the absolute joy when it is.

I set up camp and explore. The views from “Flat Rock” are amazing. I take my stove and cook up a dinner overlooking the edge of the world. Another day down. Just 6 more to go.

Way to ruin a nice view!
Just wow.