Hike Archives - Page 14 of 15 - Melly Takes a Walk

Day 9 – Calabrinda Creek to Buckaringa North Campsite – 18km

Total Distance – 170km

A Heysen Trail story

One of the most common questions I get is “Aren’t you scared?” And most of the time, if it’s a woman asking me, the underlying question is “Aren’t you scared of getting raped and murdered? Or of something bad happening?”

It’s an interesting question. And I often wonder to myself, “Do men actually have to think about this question? Would they, or do they feel afraid of running into somebody nasty on the track?”

The reason I bring this up, is because I let my imagination get away from me last night. Usually, I’m really good at keeping it in check, but sometimes it’s hard to keep a lid on it. Even when you know it makes no sense at all.

After dinner I decided to stay out of the tent a little longer by dancing. When you have the campsite to yourself, dancing and singing is a fantastic way of keeping warm, stretching, and “wasting time”. And it’s a shitload of fun.

So, that’s what I’m doing. Headlight on. Earpieces in. Just going for it. When suddenly I see a light up on a nearby hill, roving. Now what has me jittery, even before this, is that the campsite is adjacent to a road. And that’s a trigger for me to imagine that somebody can easily just drive straight up to me. So that, combined with this mysterious light, which keeps moving periodically over the mountain range gets me thinking “Did somebody see my torch light? Is somebody headed this way?” It’s pretty crazy I know. And I felt a right fool this morning when I reached a locked gate at the end of the road. But that’s also the way it is, for me anyway, as a solo female hiker. You can try and be as rational as you like. But once a little fear gets hold, it can pretty easily run away. At the time, I stopped my tunes, got into my tent, thought about it properly, and felt a lot safer.

Now I’ve reached the next campsite, which is even closer to the road! And, there is a mysterious road bike here chained up with a helmet, gloves, water bottle all attached. Nothing in the log book. The bike is making me nervous. It’s almost 4.30, and so I’m hoping the owner might turn up soon. It’s just….not right.

But halelujah! This camp site has a little table!! No toilet. But the table is excellent!

I was in much more buoyant spirits today. It was a warmer night, so I slept a lot better. Still in all my gear, but at least I felt warm. And knowing that it was going to be a relatively short day helped as well.

The first 10km or so consisted of a straightforward road walk that was really pleasant. Galahs kept me company, along with the ever present mountains. My wish for a bit of sun didn’t pan out, with thick grey clouds still blanketing the sky.

A friendly reminder of just how far I have to go!

The sun is really, really trying hard to peek it’s way through

It was in the final 8km that the magic happened. After turning off the road, I stopped to have a break on a grassy patch on the bank of a riverbed. Little did I know, that if I’d just walked to the next riverbed along, I would have found not just seats, but perhaps also the most amazing view of the walk so far.

An ochre pit, in a dazzling array of hues. Purples, reds, yellows, and whites. The colours extended from a mountain in the distance, all the way down the creekline to where I now was. And setting off all the colours was a beautiful, deep, green pool of water, where masked wood-swallows and budgerigars flitted about in glee.

The magical first sighting of the ochre pits

It felt incredibly special. I’m presuming that the pools are normally dry. And so the experience of seeing this place so brimming with colour and life was positively surreal.

Feeling very blessed to see something so special

The walk then followed a fence before ascending up what would be the only hills of the day. Looking back to see the white of the ochre pits added to the sense of accomplishment.

Having not seen anybody since Hawker, I took the opportunity availed at the high point to ring the head of my support crew and his family. How great to be able to sit in the middle of the desert and show them the magnificent view I had from the top of that hill.

From there, it was a short but rocky wander down the hill and into camp. It was a magic day. And tonight the goal is to keep calm Melly. Keep calm.

What does a red sky mean for the following day?

Day 8 – Hawker to Calabrinda Creek Camp site – 27.29km

Total Distance – 152.5km (on trail)

A Heysen Trail story

I’m going to be honest. I had my first little bit of struggle today. Nothing major, and I still enjoyed myself. But I just wasn’t on the same high as I have been in the previous week. And I’m not really sure why either. The views today were absolutely spectacular – same as they have been every other day. I just wasn’t feeling it the same.

I think it’s maybe a couple of things. Firstly, it was a lot of hard work getting all my gear issues sorted out. Such as they were. It’s a draining way to spend a day of “rest”. I’m really hoping everything will be resolved by the time I reach Quorn. I’m sick of thinking about it.

The second is that right from the start of the walk there has been a thick blanket of grey cloud stretched right across the sky. I’m longing to feel the warmth of the sun, especially in camp. Just for a little bit. The threat of rain has been constant. Come on sun! Just a day! I’ll probably live to regret those words…

Having said all this, it was a great day of walking. Long, for a newly laden pack chock full of food for the next few days.

First things first and I enjoyed a sausage roll and coffee from the Hawker Food Company before setting off. Feeling satisfied, I went about the business of retracing my steps back up to Jervis Hill. Whereas last time I was racing towards town and a bed and a shower and a pub meal, this time I was racing towards a “trucks use low gear” hill. It didn’t have the same appeal.

Looking back down the hill out of Hawker. Almost at the top!

Still it didn’t take long, and as it turned out it was the only real hill challenge of the day. Next up was following a road and then a fenceline towards a craggy faced ridge. Rocks became more predominate, before turning into a full scree slope. Bright red Fucias provided a blast of colour in an otherwise green environment. Many Acacias were laden with buds. The bush will come alive with yellow in the next few weeks.

Scree-ey slope. But keep following the fence.

The walk continued adjacent to the craggy ridge providing vast vistas on each side. It was impossible not to stop and take photos. Though even as you take them, you realise you can’t capture how incredible it really is.

The afternoon was spent following a long fenceline through occassional groves of yellow sennas. Eventually, the fenceline intersected with white, pebbly road that wound it’s way up and between a small range. In the distance, another mountain range of a deep blue hue provided the greatest view of the afternoon and more reasons to stop and get the camera out.

Blue hue of the mountains in the distance

Happy to see all that walked track in the background

It’s very cold already in camp now. It’s a bit rough and ready compared to some. Although water, a small shelter and a drop toilet are provided, the body longs for a seat to sit on to stretch the weary legs. Instead I’m perched on these couple of wobbly rocks. Though judging from the cool air, I’ll be huddled in my tent fairly shortly after it gets dark.

I’ve not seen a single soul all day. Not even off in the distance. I’m kind of hoping I might pass somebody tomorrow. Just so I can say hello. It’s going to a relatively short day…with hopefully just a little bit of sun.

Trying something new for dinner. Soup and naan bread. Wasn’t too bad!

Day 7 – Hawker administration day – 0km

A Heysen Trail story

I woke up from a nice, relaxing sleep, and immediately got to work. On the cards, replacing my sleeping bag and trying to get a fix for my tent. And communicate with the companies involved.

First thing. The sleeping bag. Now, I figured I kind of needed all the goods to be sent from Adelaide to ensure that they would arrive in the rather remote town of Quorn by the time I arrived in 5 days time. Including a weekend. A bit of online research and then I rang Paddy Pallin and struck gold when Luke answered the call.

I told him what I was after and what I needed and he was sensationally helpful in assisting me to pick out a bag and get it sent. For interests sake, I decided on a Mont Helium 450. He didn’t have any sleeping bag liners or tent repair sleaves, so on to the next shop. And the next. And the next. And the next. I’m not sure if it was a Covid related supply problem or these things have been selling like hotcakes, but there was none of either to be found in South Australia. Time to look a little further afield and hope that they arrived in time.

Just as I finished all my purchasing, I got a text from Luke. He’d found a tent repair sleeve in their “odds and ends” pile. He would throw it in free of charge. A back up plan. Awesome!

Next up, tackling the manufacturers regarding warranty claims. I drafted up emotive, but factual emails and sent them off. Before long I got a reply from the MSR representative. Sorry not sorry was the gist. He would replace the piece of the pole that was broken. We argued the semantics of the warranty and what the pole consisted of. His argument. That only part of the pole was broken and so that was the only part that needed replacing. My argument. That the “pole” is still under warranty, and doing a field repair of a small section of the pole is bound to make it less structurally sound than the original. He won. And the piece is being sent on to Melrose, where I will carry out the repairs.

Sea to Summit were a little more abashed in their response. Though they did palm the warranty claim off to my supplier. Email sent and waiting to hear back.

Phew! All of this took forever! Leaving the afternoon to shop for a few supplies and walk the streets of Hawker. A nice, neat little town full of interesting small, stone houses. There is a great heritage walk around the town.

And I couldn’t go past the rissoles for dinner. Again.

The “razorback” I walked over yesterday from a distance.

Day 6 – Mayo Hut to Hawker via the Yourambulla Ranges – 30.22km

Total Distance – 140km

A Heysen Trail story

Can you guess what happened? You can, can’t you? There were NO mice! Or, at least none that I heard. Tucked up as I was. Nice and warm in the heat of the fire. Stone wall solid against my back. I had the best sleep of the trip so far, and woke up feeling relaxed and ready…And smugly proud of myself. Even though some could argue that since I never heard a mouse….just give me the win, ok?

Today was a walk in three separate parts. The first of which was a 10km long creek walk out to the highway. Much to my delight, there was a semi-formed track up on the lefthand bank. It was a still morning. The dreaded wind had died off during the night, however, a grey pall remained with mist on the mountains.

The “track” snaked it’s way through large expanses of salty chenopods, and spiky Acacia. Salsola kali was everywhere. In full blossom, with an interesting flower, just waiting to become a spindly tumbleweed laying this whole paddock to waste with spiny burrs.

The smaller Euros were replaced with magnificent Red Kangaroos, their pelts glistening in the scant morning sunshine. After watching one bound out of my way, I couldn’t help but say out loud “That. Is. Fucking awesome”. The absolute ease in which they navigate through this country is just natural selection at it’s best. I tripped on a rock as I said it…

Eventually I reached the main road. There is a choice to be made here. Walk the 7km into town and be done for the day. But come back later and complete this section. Or walk the Yourambulla range, and then do a 7km walk into town. But continue on your merry way at the completion of your town stay.

I chose the later. My reasons. My bag had little food left in it, so was comparatively light. And the wind was holding off which would be ideal for the ridge walk. And so the second phase of walking commenced.

It starts with a long, straight walk along a paddock fenceline. All the while the ranges becoming larger and larger as you approach. There’s a small hill scramble, and then you’re on the ridge! The view is unbelievable. On one side, vast yellow plains that taper off into mountains in the distance. Mountains that I had walked past that very morning. The town of Hawker is also visible. And seems rather far away from this angle.

On the other side, a verdant green field with a looming mountain range directly adjacent to it. It is incredible. And so the ridge walk commences. Scrambling over the rocky outcrop and looking for the least hazardous way forward. I am intensely glad that I made the decision to go whilst the wind was good. I don’t think there’s any shame in saying that it can feel a bit daunting up there all by yourself. Just a little bit concerning. Fun though.

Eventually you begin to drop. And here the scrambling really starts to commence. Patience is the key. Though the mental battle can be a struggle, knowing that the longer it is taking, the longer it is going to be before you get to your room for a rest and shower.

Slowly headed down. Hawker is tiny in the background

I reach the bottom and have a break. River walking, ridge walking and road walking are the big three in terms of foot and ankle problems. So it’s a hard day on the feet. A car pulls up and I chat to a couple of folks about what I have been doing. They are nervous about going up to a lookout not far up the hill. I encourage them to go. It’s worth it for the view. And not too difficult to get to that point. They set off.

Onwards from the lookout is for us special folks only.

And I think “If only they were just finishing the walk now, I might have got a ride into Hawker…” Not to be. I slung my pack on, and set off on the 7km road walk into town. Phase 3.

As I’ve said in many of my previous blogs, road walks after you have been on tracks all day can be pretty hard. Both mentally and physically. Knowing this I had left an ace up my sleeve. My music. Unlike many others that I see walking with their headphones on all the time, I generally walk without it. I save my music exclusively for tough times. For times such as this.

On the tunes go at full blast. And instantly my mood is uplifted. I’m flying down that road, prancing and singing at the top of my lungs. The time really does go very quickly. The couple pass me just as we are both about to get into town. They had watched me belting along. Had stopped just to make sure I was good. That was very kind of them, And I was good. I skipped into town shortly after.

To a bed at the Hawker hotel motel. A little bit dated, but exactly what you expect of an outback motel. The pub dinner was absolutely fabulous. Big, fat rissoles with piles of steaming mash, roasted vegies and slathered in an onion sauce. Just what the doctor ordered.

Back in the room I threw all the extra blankets on the bed and plumped up the pillows. This was going to be good. And the very best thing? That after a day that was so very, very good, I spoke to the head of my support crew, and it turned out that that conversation was the absolute best part of the day. How good is that!

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

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.

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.