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.
Such a positive omen 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.
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 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!
View at the 2.5km mark
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 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.
View at the 2.5km mark
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.
Fresh blossoms attracting the lorikeets
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.
Bush track
So the wait continues. With a tiny glimmer of hope – for the state, for the people and for my walk.
Time to head back to the cityMore eucalypt lined pathways
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.
Got the keys to the city
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.
2.5km mark
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.
Country meets the city
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.
Pathway homeHome sweet home. Middle. Seventh floor. Left hand side.
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.
A moment of sadness
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.
The river TorrensThe Torrens causewayCity scape natureForested pathwayMy unexplained love of urban graffiti near semi natural surround continuesThe old Hindmarsh cemetary, bordered on two sides by bustling roadway, made me pine for the beauty and calm of Norfolk Island
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.
A long walk is an itch I can’t scratch
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.
My potential ticket to ride
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.
