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Day 5 – Red Range Camp site to Mayo Hut – 18.2km

Total distance – 111.2km

A Heysen Trail story

Well. It’s fair to say it was a sleepless night. The wind howled like a banshee through the hills all night. The trees eager to answer it’s wicked call.

My tent was miraculously, fairly protected. But that didn’t prevent forceful gusts from slamming the ramparts regularly. All a bit frightening when it’s literally freezing cold. To bed I wore my beanie, socks, merino longs, merino singlet, merino long sleeved top, fleece jumper, and, puffy. And my dud of a sleeping bag. Can’t wait to get rid of it. Seriously.

Walking today commenced with a long creek bed walk. Nice and sandy, so fairly easy walking. Ephemeral pools attracting flying insect life. The breeze was bitterly cold, and a large, dark cloud lurked ominously in the background.

I spent much of the day thinking about my mouse phobia. I’ve joked about it a lot on this blog. But the fact is that it is actually very debilitating. Especially for someone interested in long distance hiking. I don’t think many people understand the absolutely abject feeling of terror that strikes. And that the fear can be the difference between a good and bad decision. Potentially life threatening decision. When it comes down to it.

In a funny way, having both my sleeping bag and tent break down unexpectedly has forced my hand in this regard. Tonight I will be staying at Mayo Hut. And I’ve decided rain, hail or shine, I’m sleeping inside. I’m more than uncomfortable with this decision. But can’t help thinking that maybe this is the reason that both of my big ticket items broke down so unceremoniously in the first week. To propel me to conquer my fear. Tonight I take my first steps….

The river walking makes way for a short, but most welcome, ridge walk. The hills are absolutely carpeted with a small, yellow flowering bush. The scenery is impressive. I spot a group of hairy goats off in the distance. No doubt up to no good.

I use the turnstile to leave Arkaba. It’s back to more creek walking. This time the creek is immensely wide. And much more rocky than the previous creek had been. The opportunity to twist an ankle is there at every step. Rather than walk linearly, I zigzag back and forth, trying to pick out the least hazardous way forward.

And then I arrive at Mayo hut. The superstar of the day! What a gorgeous little place. First constructed in 1899 and sitting pretty amongst a vast and comparatively desolate wilderness. A gang of 20 cockatoos either shriek a welcome or a warning at my arrival.

Inside is a stone floor, bunks and benches and a lovely big table where I’m sitting writing this now. I’ve got my pj’s on, a cup of hot mocha in hand, and the fireplace is gently glowing with warm embers. I feel so very lucky to be nice and toasty inside whilst the bitter wind rages.

Soon it will get dark. And that’s when my fear will start. But today, no choice but to live with it. And keep the comforting fire ablaze. That’s important I think. Time to go and collect some more firewood…..

Day 4 – Wilpena Pound to Red Hill Camp – 29.72km

Total Distance – 94km

A Heysen Trail story

Epic. Epic. Epic. That’s all you can say about this day. The distance. The weather. The stunning, stunning scenery. And. The disaster.

Let’s start with the good stuff. Last night was very, very chilly. I left the restaurant amidst steams of fog from my breath. It was going to be a cold one indeed. The sleeping bag was up to the job. I just kept having to wake up every time I turned over to tuck in all the sides. Luckily, I slept very well. So it wasn’t too much of an issue.

As I packed up this morning, I had a gentleman approach me. Asked if I was doing the Heysen. Made a bit of small talk. As he left he told me I was very inspirational. What a nice thing to say! I don’t feel that way myself…but it certainly made me feel good. That I might inspire other people just by doing something I love.

I got underway in the chilly morning. Rain clouds loomed overhead. It was a quick 8km along flat, blue mallee country to the base of Bridle Gap. From there, not a difficult couple of kilometers to the gap itself. On the way it started to rain. Very quick and feathery. Like a mist but harder. The overcast sky puts the splendour of the mountains in sharp relief.

At the gap, I was unsurprised to find two men. I had been following their footprints all morning. Sadly, I didn’t catch their names, though it turned out one of them had finished a section hike of the Heysen just two weeks previously. We admired the view. Completely epic. Formation after formation of huge mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. I grabbed my pack and they offered to take a photo for me. So very nice of them. One of them then told me I was very inspirational. His exact words. Twice in one morning! Maybe I AM really trying to do something very special. You can’t beat that sort of spontaneous sentiment. So kind. And provides much motivation to keep going!

I got going. A rocky scramble down the mountain followed by walking in the ancient river beds. The size of the river red gums needs to be seen to be believed. All the while, the rain continued to fall.

Leaving the Ikara-Filnders National Park

I had left the Ikara-Flinders Ranges National Park and now entered the Arkaba Wildlife Conservancy. I followed a fence line through lush green paddocks. Mountains on all sides. Green in the desert SO ridiculously abundant. The wind began to pick up, until it was howling with blustery rain. Nothing for it but to push on. The amazing scenery a perfect antithesis to the less than perfect weather.

I reached the range I had viewed this morning from the Gap. Now, I walked adjacent to it, headed south towards the hut. The afternoons walk was gently undulating and stunning. The wind and rain couldn’t put a dampener on it.

Eventually I reached the camp, relieved that the rain seemed to have stopped and the wind died down a little. I went about unpacking my gear and setting up as per usual. That is. Until I got to my tent pole…

Now, I have an MSR Hubba Hubba. Again, an expensive tent – $900 quid or so. And this tent has only done about 250km. The MSR Hubba Hubba is built on its “shock proof” poles that can stand up to anything! Apparently not so. Must have been this morning, as I was packing up, one of the aluminium sliders that holds the parts of the pole together has fallen off. Or broken. Or something. I have no idea. I just know that it is not there now. And I had no idea that it was even missing. I thought the poles had packed up just fine. Just the same as normal.

But no. And now my tent won’t stand up properly. It looks like Frankenstein. And silly me – not thinking for a second that it would be the poles that I had a problem with – didn’t pack anything to potentially fix it. At the moment it’s held up with my Covid facemask. Yes, you read that right. My mask is cushioning the problem, so that hopefully my tent fly doesn’t end up with a hole in it from rubbing on the raw metal edge of the pole piece.

I’m sitting in here now. Although I feel rather secure at the minute, if it rains or becomes breezy again, things may get a little dicey. It is currently 4 degrees, and keeping my things dry is the top priority.

So now my plan is to get to Hawker in two days time and think about replacements for BOTH my sleeping bag AND my tent. I can’t believe it! I’m holding up my end of the bargain! I walked close to friggin’ 30km today. And no worse for wear. Tiny blister developing. Legs a little sore. But nothing major. Not like my gear. My supposedly excellent gear that seems determined to make things as difficult as possible for me. Well I’ve got news for them. I’ve survived a lot worse than this. They don’t know who they’re dealing with if they think gear breakage is going to stop me! And luckily there is a potential sleeping hut at the next camp site….

It’s also just a real shame that the tent issue overshadowed what was a truely epic day in which I was really proud of myself. Not only for the distance travelled, but also for the positive frame of mind I had all day under less than favourable weather conditions. The scenery and the variety of the trail was the absolute winner.

Day 3 – Yanyanna Hut to Wilpena Pound – 24km

Total Distance – 66.8km

A Heysen Trail story

Well. I’m not sure of my decision to move into the tent. It rained all night long. 10% chance of rain – not so weather forecast. Not so.

I didn’t sleep well again. The sleeping bag. Boiling feet one minute and frozen as an icecube the next. During the night I decided I would spend an extra night in Hawker and try to sort out a new bag. This is a once in a lifetime trip. I need to enjoy my sleeping arrangements.

So, it was an early start again. And wet. Rain sprinkled haphazardly and the valleys were full of misty wonder. It occurs to me that it is a blessing to see the desert looking so moist and mysterious.

The beginning and the end of the walk today are the real highlights. To start, it’s up and up and up. Green vistas all around and made even more special by the slinking fog. I spy a group of 10 wallabies high in the rocks in the distance. I’d really like to think they were yellow footed rock wallabies. That would be ace.

The hilltops give way to big old riverbeds. Massive red river gums caretakers of the creeks. The rain has left moisture in the cracks and fissures. Birds, including two huge wedge tailed eagles swoop overhead.

The middle section of the walk follows the same track as the Mawson bike trail. Makes for easy walking over undulating hills. The pure abundance of rain is evident here in the verdant green pastures surrounding the trail. Roos startle me as they go about their business. A little joey gets too close, and the mother rouses at it to move away.

The final section of the trail is also relatively flat, though the huge bluffs of the pound begin to dominate the environment. It is an absolute pleasure to feel so small. Surrounded by these giants of rock.

I arrive at the campground by 2.30pm. Again, I’m really happy with how my body is going. Today seemed much simpler than yesterday – even though it was quite a bit hillier.

I set up my tent and dry it out. Book a meal in the restaurant. Have a long, hot, steaming shower that soothes my tired muscles. Throw on my town clothes. As I said to my support crew – I felt like a million dollars.

Having completed my resupply for a couple of days I was able to ring the head of my support crew. It was so good to chat to him and see him ever so briefly. The wifi here really isn’t very good.

I type this now in the restaurant having had a great burger and fries. It’s almost 7.30pm and I can feel my eyes beginning to fade. The time has come to roll into bed and get some rest. I’ve decided on a big, big day tomorrow….maybe.

People, track notes and other stuff

I ran into a total of two people on the track today. A couple of grizzled, old men (in the best possible way) with long scraggly white beards and colourful hats. They were riding electric bikes along the Mawson track and carrying a picnic to consume at the gorge. How pleasant to have a little conversation about the magnificence of the scenery.

The campsite is HUGE! Though there doesn’t seem a huge number of people here. Covid maybe? The IGA is well stocked with heaps of good resupply options. The shower is bloody brilliant. Good spray and hot, hot, hot. Free wifi at the visitor centre, IGA and resort, though it seems to work much better at the resort. And even that, isn’t great.

Day 2 – Aroona Ruins to Yanyanna Hut – 25.4km

Total Distance – 42.8km

A Heysen Trail story

What a day. What a day. What a day! Seriously, that was one of the best day walks I have ever done. EVER!

Once again I was packed up early. Once again, I was contemplating my dud of a sleeping bag. I’m not sure what to do about that yet…

I was rather nervous about today’s hike. 25km might have been rather ambitious on the second day. Now that I was out here. Combined with that, was the rather steep looking hill that exited the campsite. My plan was to walk 5km. Rest. And repeat. If I was feeling uninspired, I could make the decision to stop.

Nothing for it but to go. So up I went. It wasn’t too bad! And the higher it got, the better the view got as well. It was absolutely amazing. Mountains in a circular panorama. In hues of red, dark green, and gold. The colours showing up brilliantly in the overcast light.

It felt a privilege to be there. To have the opportunity to see this sublime setting. I have not seen any views in this world that were better than this. Nature is sometimes just spectacular.

This was just the motivation I needed, and I powered on without really thinking about it. Before too long I had racked up the first 10km. And finished all the hill climbs for the day. I felt very pleased with myself.

My favourite part of the track. Coming down off the high point

Normally dry creeks were flush with moisture

Th second section of the day, though just as beautiful scenery wise, was a little more difficult. The small walking track became a bike path and the wind started to rise. Cranky and wild, it seemed to want to stifle my progress. Make me work for my achievement.

Ruin in the field. I’m sure I will become obsessed with these

And so I did. It was a blessed relief to finally spot the hut and stagger into camp. In hindsight, I wasn’t too bad. Tired feet and legs, but that passed fairly quickly. No aches from the backpack. Slightly dehydrated from scurrying along in the gale force winds all afternoon. Nothing that a night’s rest won’t fix.

The dastardly wind drove me indoors. The hut was a dark, corrogated iron shelter with a concrete floor, rickety table and a chair that looked ready to collapse if someone sat in it. I opened the sealed food storage box and found mouse droppings galore inside. This didn’t bode well. But neither did the blustery winds. I decided to set my tent up inside.

Not long after that several things happened. A couple turned up – the first I had seen “on the track” all day. They were looking for Dani, a hiker coming northbound from Wilpena Pound. They had met Dani earlier in the day and decided to come back to see her and offer her a bottle of fresh water.

We got to talking. Dani hadn’t showed up yet…they didn’t offer the bottle to me. That’s a joke! They were very lovely and are almost finished their sectional hike of the Heysen. And then Dani herself arrived. Rainbow coloured beanie glistening like a mirrorball in the distance. And then the couple’s two friends arrived. And then Dani’s parents arrived. And by this time I had decided to hightail it out of the hut and set up my tent. No one wants to hear me screaming at a mouse in the middle of the night.

Dani’s parents stayed for dinner and set a roaring, warm fire in the pit. They cooked meat and toasted sandwiches on a grill over the fire. I ate my dehydrated meal. Again, I joke! It was really great having some company and talking the trail. Dani is just a couple of day’s away from completing the whole thing. And obviously had the time of her life. It was very inspiring.

The party broke up when it started to rain. I scrambled to my tent where I sit writing this. The gusts have died off significantly and the rain is oh so gently pattering on the roof. I predict a good nights sleep coming up.

Track notes, people and other things.

At Aroona Ruins I also met Dianne. She is taking her time to walk into Wilpena Pound and then back again. She very kindly came over this morning and offered to take a couple of photos for me. It’s tricky when you are by yourself! So that was very nice of her.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I found all the signage in the initial stages of the walk rather confusing this morning. There seemed to be Heysen stickers on everything and leading everywhere. I used Guthooks just to make sure. Basically follow the road up the hill until you reach the junction at Y5 and then turn off the road. No further use of Guthooks required for the day.

The other public service announcement is that if you are walking southbound, do not expect to see the hut appear as a mirage off in the distance encouraging you to walk towards it. You see the hut when you are bang on it. And not a moment before. That whole 25km (if travelling from Aroona) is on you!

Day 1 – Parachilna Gorge Walk in Camp to Aroona Ruins Camp – 18km (July 30th 2021)

A Heysen Trail story

After my sleeping bag fiasco I slept fitfully until around 6am. It was still dark, but I brewed myself up a mocha and started my pack up.

Cuppa tastes good even though sleeping bag is screwed!

It’s always the case at the start of a walk, but my stuff just wasn’t going into the bag as neatly as I would have liked. After a “That’ll have to do moment”, I got over my bulging pack, hoisted it on, and set off.

The walk was amazing. Just perfect for the first day. Stunning scenery in every direction, and best of all, relatively flat. Nothing more difficult than some rocky creekbeds.

The ranges soared above the gorge on both sides. A stunning mix of red and green. Down in the creek beds, wash outs of pure, red ochre lined the way. The track on the ridgetop varied from thick green pine forest, to bare, rocky scrub. It was amazing.

I saw a variety of wildlife – roos, some Port Lincoln Ringneck parrots, but the absolute highlight was observing a mother emu with her five baby chicks. Scurrying off together when they saw me. The size of the emu is immense, and to see one in the wild absolutely made my day.

The most spectacular scenery was reserved for right at the end of the walk near the Aroona ruins. Out of this world views. I’m once again looking forward to sunset.

I’ve spent the afternoon trying to rest up my legs. I got here fairly early, around 1pm. I probably should have taken it slower. I’m acutely aware that I’m not as fit as I would like to be moving forward. And tomorrow is a big day – 25km or so to reach my target. I can see a rather large hill climb straight off the bat too. Of course, if I’m struggling I don’t have to go quite as far. It’s just that I’ve booked into the campground at Wilpena Pound on Sunday night. But if I don’t make it till Monday, I don’t make it till Monday. Will just need to really pace myself tomorrow…and not be too stubborn about stopping early if I have to! I have the food, so that’s no worries. It’s my stubbornness that’s the issue!

Track notes, people and other things.

The track is reasonably marked with both signs and flagging tape. I didn’t get lost, so that means there is probably is enough of it to satisfy most people.

12km in is Pigeon Bore – a source of reliable water. There are some nice campsites quite close to bore – even with little bench seats!

I saw no one of the track all day. There are a few people at the camp ground which needs to be booked prior to arriving. There are plenty of toilets (and even paper!) and taps which pump out spring water.

There is a nice little table and chairs, hidden off to the side in the bus parking area, that is great to sit at and rest weary legs. I can vouch for that right now!

Parachilna Gorge Walk in Camp

A Heysen Trail story

I’m here! It all feels a little surreal as I look around at where I am. A rock strewn campsite, dwarfed by mountains. Not even a bird calling. Remote and ancient. Wild and mine.

I sit under the mountains contemplating my next few months. 1200km. It’s a hell of a long way. And put into perspective by the several hours of driving to arrive here. The challenge is daunting. But I’m excited! Really excited! I think I can do this.

My plan over the next couple of weeks is to take it slowly. Ease into it. I didn’t get to do my training hike remember? And these mountains are no joke. I read somewhere that to walk the Heysen is to walk the equivalent elevation as ascending Mt Everest two and a half times. Yep….daunting alright. But legs can get you anywhere if you give them the opportunity. And I intend to look after mine.

Pointing out the direction I’m going – South!

It’s so quiet. So, so quiet. A crow calls in the distance. A kangaroo silently lumbers though the campsite before bounding away. It’s warm. The sun about an hour away from setting. I’m looking forward to that. All the pinks and oranges lighting up the rocky escarpment.

I see plants I recognise. Bush tomatos, the mighty river red gums, delicate fan flowers. And spinifex. I’m back in tjampi country. It feels so familiar to me. Even though I’ve never been here before. It’s comforting. And I’m suddenly so excited I could burst. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’m on my way.

I watch the sunset and make my dinner. Go for a half hour night walk up the track using my torch. The trail markers glow in the dark. I startle a couple of roos. The sky is brilliant with stars.I get back and fall into bed dreaming of tomorrow…it’s a good sleep too…until disaster. Time for my first gear review…

Gear Review – Sea to Summit Flame IV Sleeping Bag.

I had been looking forward to using this bag. I forked out big bucks for it in preparation for the PCT. Between $600-700 dollars from memory. This was to be one of my big, new items. Super light, but super toasty warm, rated at -10 degrees celcius.

Because of this, I hadn’t actually used the bag. All the walks I’ve done in the meantime haven’t required that level of warmth. So it’s been sitting pretty in my cupboard at home.

Sliding into the bag for the first time on the trail was a thrill. A signal that I was attempting something major. I zipped it up and drifted off to sleep. I woke at 3am needing to go outside. I pulled the zip to undo the bag. And just like that, the zipper broke. Just let go of one side of the zip. No way of fixing it. To say I am livid is an understatement. Not even one nights use. That’s just not good enough.

And I’m a Sea to Summit girl. Well, I have been. I like to support an Australian company. Amongst my current possessions I have a S2S long handled spork, little pillow, mattress protector, stow away backpack, towel. The list probably goes on.

I also had a women’s Etherlite bed matt. Also expensive ($250) and it also failed me. Remember how I said my matt had a hole in it that I couldn’t find? I’ve swapped it out now. It had less than 500km of use.

All of this has made me realise that S2S may be great at the small stuff…price point under $50. But the big, expensive stuff….I’m going to actively avoid the company from now on. Not even one use…there’s no excuse for that.

It’s not the end of the world for this trip. But it does mean that I now need to wear my thermals to bed. Something that I hadn’t wanted to do. But I’ll still be warm enough and ok. Just frigging disappointed.

Track notes, people and other things.

I got a ride to the start of the track with Genesis touring. They were great to deal with and even dropped me all the way to the track head. It was $140 for the trip – which was just in a car rather than a bus – and at the moment they only depart on a Thursday.

Driving the car was Matt, whose wife served me the day before at Paddy Pallin. There was Mal, an old diesel mechanic from the area, who was very interested in Norfolk Island. Issi is French and here on a work visa. She was headed inland to volunteer at a company doing camel expeditions for a month. And there was Dave. Dave was a fellow walker who, it turns out, was actually supposed to start the PCT last year just after me. He had already completed the first several hundred kilometers, and was going back for a crack at another 500km. It was great to talk to him about the trail before he stepped off.

I stayed at the walkers camp, about 500m from the starting point. There are no tables or toilets, but a small water tank is available. I was the only person at the campground. Seems to be turning into a habit with me….

K’gari (Fraser Island) Great Walk – Day 5

Lake Garawongera to Happy Valley – 7km

“I feel like I could just do this forever”

I do. I feel like I could just pick a new spot and keep on going. An endless cycle of walking, camping, exploring, re-supplies, planning, world’s greatest showers. Except I can’t. I’d miss my home too much. My dog. Partner. Friends and family. Even work, I’d miss too much. I’m so completely satisfied with what I’ve done, but I’m left wanting more. Maybe it’s the perfect outcome. Maybe this is how it should be.

I’m contemplating this as I watch my first and last sunrise of the trip. I’m not usually an early riser, but a fellow hiker had urged me to make the effort. Said it was spectacular at this lake. So I did. And it was.

A yellow hue cast across the sky as the colours of the lake began to come to life. Slowly at first, before reaching a crescendo, the birds start to sing. Life is waking up around me under this pale, daffodil sky.

I breathe deeply, feeling totally at peace. The anxiousness of losing my PCT dream is gone. Replaced with hope of a new walking adventure, a little closer to home. There are always dreams and goals to be achieved, no matter what the circumstances. And I’m starting to make some new ones. One day I’ll set foot on the PCT. I know I will. I’m strong willed like that. But not yet. Now’s not the time.

I take a last look around, reaffirming my love for this island which has provided me with so much opportunity and so many memories. I wouldn’t be where I am today, and have experienced all that I have, without her. And I love the island for that.

The girls have left by the time I get back to camp leaving me to pack up on my own one last time. I am quick and efficient. Everything now has a permanent place in my new bag and the rythym of putting everything away is effortless.

I set off. It’s a quick 7km to Happy Valley. Interesting walking but mostly along firetrails, so it doesn’t quite have the same pristine feel as the rest of the walk.

Helpful sign on the track just before getting into Happy Valley

I arrive by 10am. I had been looking forward to a big, cooked breakfast. Not to be – kitchen closed because of covid. I now had a 4 hour wait for my taxi. This was going to be rather long….

The bar was still open so I got a beer. Hey – I had some celebrating to do! Just as I finished it off, who should pull up but the taxi. I had felt that all through this holiday I had been blessed with lucky fortune, and this was just another example of that. The driver said he could take me straight back to the barge. Usually he couldn’t because it was high tide, but today, the tide was low and the beach was long. There would be enough sand available to drive on. So off we went.

The very last piece of luck fell into place as we careened down the sandy highway. I had been telling the driver that I hadn’t seen a dingo – something I was fairly disapppointed about because I had loved seeing them in the past. And lo and behold, the next minute we spied a skinny female slinking across the beach. She’d just had pups, and was scavenging for food. With pleasure I watched her going about her business before we motored past.

And that’s basically the end of the story for now. Once again, I humbly thank my super support crew who not only took on the responsibility of sending me motivating messages, but also looked after my precious Bronte dog too. These walks wouldn’t have been possible without them, and I am oh so very grateful to have had this opportunity to clear my head and enjoy one of the things I love doing most in the world.

Keep doing what you love to do yorlye. Till next time! xx

K’gari (Fraser Island) Great Walk – Day 4

Valley of the Giants to Lake Garawongera – 13km

“And that’s one giant tree for mankind”

It’s nice packing up with a group of people in the morning – jokes being made about who was snoring the loudest and who has the most injuries after one day. Before long though, I bid my goodbyes.

It’s another easy day of walking. The body appreciates it after the longer day yesterday. Suddenly, I find that I’ve finally allowed myself to slow down a bit.

I take my time, meandering through the forest, giant trees acting as silent sentinels. I find myself wondering about them. How many people have they seen? How many birds have used them as homes? How close have they come to being struck down? And how much longer might they stand proudly as queens of the forest? They answer none of my questions for me. Just whisper with their leaves as I pass by.

I go through a patch of white-flowered lemon myrtle. When I crush the leaf, rub the fragrant oil into my hands and inhale the lemony scent, I am reminded of cooking fresh fish – the leaves of the myrtle and the fish encased in strands of paperbark and roasted in the open fire. It was the best fish I had ever tasted.

The fresh scent of lemon myrtle brings back some beloved memories

I arrive at the lake and set up camp for the final time. I’ve been becoming more nostalgic during the day. I don’t want it to end. I take all the time in the world to read every bit of signage before making a foray to the lake for a swim.

As many of the other lakes have been, it is still and quiet. The golden glow of the water refracts the light and the reflection of the surrounding landscape can be seen clearly. The sand is crisp white and there is a bed of green reeds with a distinctive parting that frames the mountains in the background. It is so pleasurable just to sit and soak it all in.

Lake Garawongera in all its stunning colour

I feel happy. Completely and utterly happy. The feeling is profound.

I spend the rest of the afternoon picnicking and munching my way through some of the food that is left. I have more left over after this walk – something I think I can trace back to the couple of beers under my belt when I went shopping for my re-supply back in Rainbow Beach. Oh well, better to have some left over than be feeling hungry!

For some reason I think this might be my favourite photo of the whole trip. It just brings back how I was feeling. Fit and healthy. Relaxed, happy and content.

Evening falls and I’m at the lake. Just when I think I’m going to be alone, two young girls show up. The first thing I think is that is has been so pleasing to see so many women, of all ages, out there hiking and enjoying it. The second thing is, I’m wondering what they are doing…they have a life straw (a straw which filters water) and they are both knee deep in the lake, bent over and sucking on this thing, all whilst trying not to get wet. It is, in fact, hilarious to watch, and I surmise that they are fairly new to this past time.

We get to chatting, and talking about the walk. They are excited and nervous. There is less people out here than they thought there would be. They leave me down at the beach and tell me they’ll see me up at camp.

I enjoy my last sunset. Try not feel sad. I journey back up to the campsite, and find that I have company! Despite a large campground with a dozen spare sites, the girls have elected to camp right next to me – less than 10m away! I can’t help but laugh to myself and I let it slide. “Karma Mel, karma”. I tell myself it’s the universe telling me I need to more tolerant and flexible at the campsites. And honestly, they are quiet as mice all night.

K’gari (Fraser Island) Great Walk – Day 3

Lake McKenzie to Valley of the Giants – 32km

“The Sirens Song”

First, a precautionary tale for potential walkers. You will walk into Lake McKenzie walkers camp. You will slowly peruse the sites, looking for the perfect place to call home for the night. You are about to put your bag down, when suddenly you see it out of the corner of your eye.

This site is just a little bit brighter than the others. Just a little bit shadier. The ground is perfectly flat with not even the hint of a slope. Surrounded by trees whose leaves are just that little bit greener. Dappled sunlight streams through their foliage. A log, placed at the table, is at the perfect height for sitting comfortably and is steady as a rock.

The dingo box has a small hole in it. You hesitate, unsure about this now, but like the lure of the sirens this site has convinced you to stay, have a rest, put your feet up. You drop your bag.

“DON’T! RUN FROM THAT SITE AS FAST AS YOU CAN! IT’S A TRAP!”
Me pleading to any hiker who’ll listen

Following my near perfect day I retreated to the campsite and commenced dinner preparations. It fell dark, but I was content cooking and reading with my torch on. Suddenly a noise in the bush! A very loud noise! I tentatively shone out my torch, hoping to see something benign. A wallaby? Sugar glider? Friendly gecko?

Instead, four sets of red, beady eyes stared sullenly back at me. A rat pack. As one, they began to march on where I was seated. I screamed and jumped on top of the table. Still they advanced. I stamped my feet and yelled. They smirked. Within meters of me they split up and ran around the table jumping with evil glee. I was on an island in a sea of rats. And they were going to get into that dingo box come hell or high water. Other things I can manage. This I could not do.

I jumped from the table, pulled up stakes and hoisted my tent into the air running for my life in a blind panic. My fortunes held. I stumbled into a site about 50m away. I checked the dingo bin. Sealed tight. Over the course of the next half an hour I summoned the courage time and time to go back and collect my things. The rats laughed at my suffering.

The new site was not as glossy, and had a definite slope, but it was blessedly silent. No scurrying through the bush. And for that I was supremely grateful. You’ve been warned. Don’t let the siren call of the site tempt you, as it did me…

Now onto the walk. This walk is advertised as taking 6-8 days to complete. I only had 5 days, so needed to make some time up. Today was going to be it. I was going to skip the Lake Wabby campground and walk all the way to Valley of the Giants. Long day, but definitely manageable.

First up, an 11km walk to Lake Wabby. Again, the track skirted Lake McKenzie before winding it’s way through dense, green forest. There were no real difficult parts, and I arrived at the Lake Wabby campground by mid morning.

From here a connundrum. To drop the bag in the dingo safe bins and walk the 1.6km to the lake and then all the way back for a swim? Or take said bag with me and either leave it on the track (considered a no no as the dingoes can potentially take the bag / rip into it for food) or not go for a swim at all? I decided to drop the bag and go at least to the lookout 500m away. If there weren’t too many people, I would go for a swim. If there were heaps, I would go back grab my bag and keep on truckin’.

At the lookout, I veiwed not a single person at the lake. This was usually a tourist hotspot – and I would have it to myself! I sped off.

Lake Wabby is really unusual. Picture a sandblow, that dips sharply so that the steep dune runs directly into the lake. Something like that. I race down, strip off my clothes (I know, I know – it’s becoming a theme) and jump in. There’s nothing like swimming naked, alone, in green, murky water with at least ten wobbygong sharks swimming around you. Gulp. At least it was refreshing. And I was glad I had made the effort.

Now back up to get my bag again, back down the track again, and I was on my way. Another 15km or so to the campsite.

I enjoyed this next section of the track. It felt more remote than anywhere else on the island. Like you had been given permission to go into somebody’s room and look through all their personal secrets. This was the humming heart of the island, that allowed the rest of it to tick.

There were a lot of fallen trees on the track, and I enjoyed the challenge of working out how to go across, above, below or around them. Though the excitment of the challenge did start to wear thin the later in the day it got.

Eventually, I arrived at camp. Imagine my shock when the place was abuzz with people! This was a walkers group from Brisbane, and the only site left was on a double space site, right next door to someone else. I wasn’t particularly happy. And must have been giving off that vibe, because one of the group jumped up and willingly gave up his single site to move into the double. I really appreciated the gesture. Thank you if you are ever reading this.

I set up and enjoyed the banter of the group. Tired after the long day, I was in bed early. I’m not sure if it was because I was so tired, or, after the horrors of the previous night I felt safer in the group environment, but I had a fantastic sleep.

K’gari (Fraser Island) Great Walk – Day 2

Lake Benaroon to Lake McKenzie – 15km

“It’s hard to get more perfect than this…”

I woke early, feeling refreshed. Following the storm, the air was crisp and clear. The morning cuppa was perfect.

The first leg of the walk contoured around Lake Benaroon. At times the track was quite overgrown, and in the dripping conditions, my shoes and socks were soaked in no time. It didn’t matter. The sun was shining and it was going to be a gorgeous day.

I stopped in briefly at Lake Birabeen where the atmosphere was still and sage like. I spied a male red backed fairy wren flitting through the trees, and it let me admire it for a while.

It was really easy walking through to Central Station. Usually a busy hub of traffic, it was eerily quiet. I stopped to have a break and was immediately picked upon by a young butcher bird, eager for a take of the food. It left empty handed.

Wangoolba creek is a place of pristine beauty. A creek, that looks like it has the clearest water in the world, trickles sedately through lush rainforest dominated by the mighty king fern. The boardwalks were empty when I walked through, and I could hear the water tinkling as birds called mournfully. It was lovely to experience in such peaceful conditions.

Beautiful Wangoolba creek, with what seems like some of the clearest water in the world

After another 4km of nice, easy walking I came to Basin Lake. I had really been looking forward to this, having visited once before. It’s one of those sites that are accessible by walking only, so it has a feeling of mystique and isolation about it that is different from heavily visited areas.

Nobody there. And it was so beautiful. I stripped off immediately and plunged in, screaming in delight at the icy waters, and the feeling of shedding sweat and grime.

I sat on the bank in the sunshine and dried off. It was just a perfect moment. Clear, blue water with sun sparkling. Peahens fishing and chirping in the water in their distinctive way. Dragonflies droned and there was a general drowsy feeling. A majestic white bellied sea eagle swooped in and patrolled the waters looking for a catch. It was magnificent and mine.

After an hour or two I donned the pack and kept going. It was a gentle 4km to Lake McKenzie and before long I arrived at the big, dingo proofed campsite.

I set up camp and walked the short distance to the lake. Picture what you would describe as the most beautiful lake in the world. Blindingly white sand. Azure blue water. Vast. And encircled in a hug by trees. That’s Lake McKenzie. It is beautiful. And it was also bustlingly busy.

I dived in and then sat on the shore in my underwear for a while, feeling incongruous and out of place. Eventually, I headed back to camp and spent a pleasant afternoon reading in the shade.

I went back to the lake a few hours later. There was still plenty of people around. I heard a grown man, swimming, exclaim with a giggle, “There’s a warmer patch right here if you know what I mean!” Read the sign dick. It’s a basin lake. Nothing goes in. Nothing goes out, Except rainwater. And now your piss. Nice.

As the sun sank lower and lower, so too did the crowd. Eventually there was but a handful of people watching the reflections of the dunes, and the pinks and blues.

And then it was just me. It was a magic moment. Pristine and perfect. I walked the lake edge and revelled in the solitude. Shadows darkened, and reflections brightened. Both the water and the clouds brilliant in shades of grey, purple and orange. The last calls of the birds sang out and echoed in the stillness.

I stayed until the clouds lost their colour and the lake became dark. It felt like this was her time now, to rest and be peaceful, before the hoardes arrive again in the morning. I bid her goodnight and thanked K’gari – “paradise” in the Butchulla language – for providing me with such a wondrous day. You really don’t get much better.