Female Hiker Archives - Page 15 of 18

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….

The lockdown has lifted!

A Heysen Trail story

I think this is happening! I really do think this is happening!! A start at least. The next time I write I’ll be on the trail. I can’t believe I’m getting this chance. I’m fired up, grateful, and, determined to make the most of it. See you on the trail…

The 1200km long Heysen Trail. I’m starting in the north and heading south.

Bag packed and ready to go. I still can’t quite believe it.

The pathway South

A Heysen Trail story

So close now. So close. It’s so tangible I feel I can literally reach out and touch the end of the lockdown. But no excitement. Not yet. It’s all too tenuous. Like fairy floss on a hot day. These hopes could all sink to nothing. The precipice between success and failure is a knife edge. And all you can do is drift…And get a vaccine. Go and get a bloody vaccine!

Well. I’ve now completed the four directions of the compass. The pathway South a mix of concrete businesses, cozy suburban streets, railway lines and parkways.

I love the little sandstone and rock houses of Adelaide. So neat, solid and natural. Each defined by the differences in stone type, garden display, lead lighting, and often, artwork.

At the 2.5km mark, I am surprised again by a group of Norfolk pines. There really aren’t many of them here in the city streets. So finding them at the limit of where I am able to travel over the last couple of days feels like a sign. Just for me.

I walk through pathways next to a railway line. A carpet of yellow flowers pops bright on a sunny rise. I enter an interpretive indigenous walking track called “Wirranendi”. A poem catches my eye.

“Look up into silhouettes of branches
Where magpies sing tidings
Cross the dry plains
Travel between rocks
Witness the abyss
Follow yourself in
Close your eyes
Still your mind for a while
Moon floats high in a white sky
Swallow memory and learn
The wind chases spirits through here”
Kimberley Mann

Back to the room to wait out the rest of the day.

The pathway East….again

A Heysen Trail story

It’s D day today. In around an hour the whole state will hear whether we are on track for the lockdown to lift. Whether life can become more normal. Whether the walk might go ahead. I have butterflies in my tummy. Fear and hope mix equally. What’s it going to be?

I’ve been in this strange world of denying hope to myself. It seems too risky. Too dangerous mentally. I’ve heard the facts and figures. They couldn’t be better really. But still, my brain refuses to process it into anything that might suggest things are going to work out. Because what if they don’t? What if the dream is going to remain a dream? I can’t process that yet.

I decided to head East again today. Although windy and grey, the rain is holding off. Time to go.

At the risk of being teased into infinity by my family (on account of a long running family joke….at my expense), it’s not long until I realise I’ve been noticed. When you are planning on hiking a long way, you don’t bring many clothes. What’s the point when you just have to carry them everywhere? So I haven’t been well set up for being stuck in the city for an extra 7 days.

I’ve been wearing the same clothes this whole time. My thermals with a “town skirt” over the top. And the “problem” is that my town skirt is really distinctive, with a somewhat indigenous design on the front. The first I realised that I had been noticed was overhearing a group of four talking amongst each other…”Hey, there’s that girl in the skirt again…”And then. “Hey! HEY!!! I like your skirt!! I really like your skirt!!!”. I gave them a wave and a thanks. And then the next group. And then the next. It really is a nice skirt.

The way east wasn’t as pleasant as the previous two directions have been. The greenery wasn’t as prevalent. Tall buildings proof that you are in the midst of a city.

At the 2.5km mark, a glorious reminder of home. A solitary Norfolk pine, reaching for the sky and looking graceful despite being out of context in the city.

A glorious reminder of home in the middle of the city

The rest of the afternoon was spent refusing to think about the walk. It takes a lot of energy to try and not do something. The weather starts to clear leaving the city in an eerie yellow gloaming. My world is on tenterhooks.

The pathway East…interrupted

A Heysen Trail story

The big news of the day is that the glimmer of hope has become just a little bit brighter. Another soloist. Another person who has done the right thing. Another person I am supremely grateful to.

It’s an extreme weather day in Adelaide. Trees have been uprooted, hail has fallen and many people are without power. Selfishly, I look out the window and think of the brimming water tanks out on the trail…

Still, I don my rain gear and get out there. I have the path east to explore. It doesn’t last long. I get to the 2.5km mark and it starts to really bluster down. I decide to call it quits – no point getting sick from a cold at this stage!

Many long distance hikers carry what they call “a luxury item”. This is something that doesn’t really make sense to carry, but can add to the overall enjoyment of the trip. Think a tiny, little pillow.

I actually carry quite a number of luxury items. My Kindle for one. Can’t live without that. Another item I have on this trip is a little board game called “Gate”. I am definitely glad of it this afternoon. I battle creatures from the deep, whilst the rain pelts down. Only a couple more days until decisions will be made…..

The pathway South

A Heysen Trail story

The lockdown continues. There is cause for a modicum of hope, as only one person tests positive. My level of gratitude to this person for having not been in the community is palpable. We are all at the mercy of each other.

Despite the image that long distance hiking appears wild and free, there is actually an inordinate level of routine involved. Wake up, coffee, pack up, walk, have a break, walk, have a break, walk, arrive at camp, set up tent, make dinner, sleep. It’s like clockwork every day.

I find that I have slipped into a daily routine in my hotel room as well. Wake, read in bed, coffee, make breakfast, wait for the press conference, wash up, watch the press conference, do my blog, have lunch, go for my 90 minute walk, get supplies, TV, bed. In it’s own way it’s just as controlled as you need to be to make it through the walking goals each day. It comforts me to think that this is mental training in its own right.

The pathway South took me through a number of parks and roadways. Whilst still grey, the air had lost its potent freeze.

Highlights included listening to the guffawing rainbow lorikeets frolicking in the eucalypts. Getting drunk no doubt on the rich nectar extruding from thousands of new, plump, pink blossoms. We don’t have lorikeets on Norfolk Island, and the noise of them reminds me of childhood. Did you know however, that they have just been named one of the worst native pests in Australia? Their shear numbers and social nature mean they have the capacity to outcompete compatriate species for nest sites and that they are able to bully other species into absolute submission. They can also interrupt plant germination through their voracious seed eating. They are beautiful though. There’s no doubting that.

I also really enjoyed reading many of the indigenous based signage and murals around the city. It’s difficult in a mask, but drawing on years of memory to say hello to people in Pitantjatjara has felt a bit like coming home. “Wai….nyuntu palya?” “Uwa kungka”. I’m so blessed to have spent so much time with the indigenous mob in the desert.

So the wait continues. With a tiny glimmer of hope – for the state, for the people and for my walk.

The pathway North

A Heysen Trail story

I woke up in a much more positive frame of mind today. Wandering about supply shopping in the eerie stillness of the lockdown had illuminated a shocking disparity between my situation and that of others, in the form of homelessness.

Whether it be the lack of camoflauge on the street; the need for people to be on the move in order to avoid police attention; or just a general malaise of foreboding amongst friends, homelessness in the city during a lockdown seems (to me at least) to be far more conspicuous than usual.

Which is immeasureably sad to say the least. Here I am thinking I’m doing it tough because I’m on holidays and have to stay in my hotel room for an extra week…Come on Mel. Get a grip. It’s not all as black and white as that I know. But the despair and sense of shame I felt in witnessing SO many people who are doing it tough, has been enough to knock me out of my reverie a little. To stop feeling so despondent and sorry for myself. And to try and embrace my situation a little. Here we go.

For my 90 minute walk today I decided to go North. The plan was to walk my allocated 2.5km, take a photo, and then meander back using the remainder of my alloted time.

The path North. Unsure how it calculates speed. I’m a fast walker – but not that fast!

The air was chilly and the wind was brisk. Wood smoke stunk beautifully in the air. Th grey skies cast a foreboding shadow over streets already stressed with a hint of fear. Fellow walkers passed, masks on, eyes down, wide bearth.

At the 2.5km mark I was pleasantly surprised to arrive at a small park with grass the colour of crayons and trees brightly burnished.

At another park, groups of horses all rugged up for the winter grazed slowly and contentedly in paddocks of yellow gold. I had not expected to find such a serene scene so close to the city, and I languished there watching them go about their business for a while.

I really enjoyed my foray to the north. The churches, the green spaces, the farm animals, the bridges. It was a pleasure to be outside.

Home sweet home. Middle. Seventh floor. Left hand side.

You can check in any time you like…But you can never leave.

A Heysen Trail story

Well. I’m not sure what to say. It’s Thursday the 22nd. And I’ve been in lockdown since Tuesday.

I skipped in to SA though the airport. My approval had come through whilst I was in the air, and it was all smooth sailing. Things were on the up! A sense of profound exhilaration came over me. “This is happening!” I couldn’t help but simultaneously giggle out loud and sigh in relief. The stress had been palpable. Victorious messages were sent to my supporters, and as I fell asleep, thoughts of the trail drifted through my head.

Monday started like any other. I wandered into town and shopped for a few supplies. Gas cylinder, lighter, fresh shoes, new bed roll (my last one got a small puncture that I simply could not find). Food to last a few days. I was set. The bus wouldn’t leave until Thursday. But I was ready. And now able to relax for a couple of days and enjoy the city before I left. For a moment, things were right where they should be. Things were pretty perfect. Until they weren’t.

News started trickling in that a case of Covid had turned up in SA. Restrictions were announced that evening. The mood was still upbeat. The walk still a go.

By morning, that had changed.

“Well. 7 day lockdown. All of SA”
message to my support crew

I’m not going to lie. I was devastated. When I compare myself to other people, my worries appear trivial. But in that moment, all the angst and excitement and fear and anticipation came crashing home. It felt like failure. And it felt insurmountable.

I’ve picked up a lot since then. Despite moments of tears. I have a clearer picture of what my options might be – and none of them are terrible. At best, I’ll get to start my walk in a week’s time. At worst, I will fly home and isolate in my lovely little house with my gorgeous little dog for two weeks. There are definitely worse things. At the moment, all I can do is wait and see.

I went for a long walk on Tuesday before the lockdown commenced. 20km or so along the Torrens River. It’s amazing the power that walking has to heal my head. That nature has to heal my heart.

I’m hoping that in a week’s time I will have an unlimited supply of both of these things. In the meantime, I’ll make do with my 90 minutes a day in the city. And be thankful that I even have that.

My unexplained love of urban graffiti near semi natural surround continues

The old Hindmarsh cemetary, bordered on two sides by bustling roadway, made me pine for the beauty and calm of Norfolk Island

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.

View from my isolation room this morning.

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.

Support crew! Ahaha! What is Bronte up to?

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.

Little dog waiting if I have to go back!

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