PCT 2020 Archives - Page 2 of 2 - Melly Takes a Walk

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 3

Ubajee Campsite to Thilba Thalba Campsite – 14km

“Here comes the rain!”

What a wonderful day of walking! I’d had it in mind that I needed to start early. Rain was forecast for later in the afternoon and there were several creek crossings to be made in the morning which were described as being impassable if heavy. With such a short distance today, I was also hoping to get into camp and set up before the clouds burst.

I was on my way by just after 7am. It was a gorgeous morning. Cloudy, brisk and perfect for walking. The first couple of kilometers led downhill toward Gheerulla falls. The track was a lovely mix of eucalypts, palms and grass trees interspersed with purple flowering pea.

At the bottom of the mountain, I veered off for a quick detour to the falls. They were running briskly, steamy mist rising from the surface.

More morning contemplation…of a watery nature

Back on the track, I followed the creek for several kilometers. This was primo walking. Nice and flat, variety of vegetation, pools of murky water, heaps of birdlife. I crossed the creeks with no problem – no wet feet, though I imagine after some rain there could be some issues.

Morning tea break – right before the first of the showers hit

Heading slightly uphill, I came to a small clearing with an expansive view. Time for a break. As I watched, the clouds rolled in and it began to sprinkle. It wasn’t heavy, and served to create an eerie atmospheric mist through the forest.

The track started to rise higher. Now there were numerous yellow wildflowers and bristly banksias. From here, it was a steep climb back up to the top. Lots of switchbacks made it really manageable, and with plenty of time, I rested as much as I wanted to. It was a great workout none the less.

Eventually, I was right up high again. A break in the trees provided the opportunity for an amazing view off into the distance. I could see rain clouds on the way.

View point gets higher and higher and higher and higher!

At the top, I reached Thilba Thalba lookout and was able to see the mountain I had descended in the morning; the creek I had walked alongside; and, the ginormous mountain I had climbed. I love it when you can see where you came from.

On the way to camp I started reflecting on why I love walking so much. I’ve thought this before, but it was reinforced again today. It’s because it makes me feel like I have a superpower. For every step I take, that feeling grows. It means that I have made some good decisions, that I’ve been fit enough, that I’ve had the will power and the want to succeed. It means that I’ve moved out of my comfort zone, and at times, put myself in moments of deep discomfort. Each step is an achievement. And each step makes me feel invincible. It’s an amazing feeling being able to rely fully on yourself.

I reached camp around 12.30pm and quickly began the task of setting up my tent.Nice hot lunch, and a trip to the viewing platform where it was windy, dark and grey. Not long after, the first fat droplets of rain splattered down on to the picnic table. Retreat! Retreat! and into the tent I bustled.

That was at about 2.30pm. The rain drizzled on for about 3 hours before tapering off for a bit. I took the chance to don my raingear and head outside. Nothing to see here. Wet, wet, wet. I managed to get to the bathroom before the floodgates opened again. Small mercies.

Back in the tent…and this time for the long haul. There’s only so much you can say about it. Cooking, gearing up for bed, boredom…all in a cramped space. Nothing to be done.

I had been hoping to listen to a couple of podcasts before bed. No such luck. My brand new power bank died unexpectedly. I had gotten an Anker based on the reviews, but for some reason, this one seems like a dud. Trouble charging and now this…I’m gonna have to look for a replacement before the next walk.

So time to turn off the phone to conserve battery (no reception anyways), read the kindle and snooze. I kept thinking just how lucky I was – to be warm and dry, whilst the rain pelted down outside. What a feeling, to be warm, fed, and safe.

Final thought….this has to be a wombat head doesn’t it?

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 2

Flaxton Walkers Camp to Ubajee Walkers Camp – 14km

“Wait what?! I’m here already!”

People who know me know that I have one innate fear…rodents. (Well that and semi trailers moving without the back attached – thanks Terminator). I am absolutely shit scared of the busy, scrabbly, gnawy little critters.

And I saw one. Last night. At around 6pm. That was it – I jumped in my tent and didn’t come out. That’s a long night of staying alert to any potential activity…ready to hit the torch at a moments notice! I must have tired myself out with stress, cos I fell asleep about 8.30pm and didn’t wake till 5am. For campers on an air mattress – you’ll know that is one long, uninterupted kip!

So I was off early again. It was a beautiful walk down to Baxter Falls. A soft gradient and stunning scenery. The falls were lovely. Gushy and rocky. But a bit too cold and early for a swim.

Funky lil swing bridge at Baxter Falls…who doesn’t love a good bridge when they are walking!

Next up, a long climb back uphill. But how good it was! So many lovely switchbacks, it really was rather pleasant. Nothing like the straight up and down horrors of the Great North Walk.

One of the downsides of being a ranger (and let’s be honest, there are very few) is the ability to spot weeds in what looks like a pristine environment. Amazing how well they thrive, whatever the circumstances. There wasn’t heaps – mostly Lantana and William Taylor – but enough to remind me of work!

At the top of the hill, I commenced a short road walk into the Mapleton Falls picnic ground. Nice footpath. No dramas.

The area hosts a picnic ground and lookout, with an amazing view off into the distance. I had been planning to have lunch here, but it was way too early, so after a quick stop, headed off again.

From here to the campsite, the walk was beautiful and flat and beautiful and scenic. Palm forests that reminded me of home, towering eucalypts, ephemeral creeks.

There was a poignant moment when I came across a memorial garden of sorts. One stick had been planted for each Australian who has died of Covid 19. A little card kept tally of the date and the numbers. It was quite sureal seeing it, out in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, and a stark reminder that things are simply not good with the world.

Covid 19 stick memorial. One stick for each death in Australia.

I made my campsite by 12.30pm. Again, really nice choice of spots. I cooked up some cous cous for lunch, blew up my sleeping matt, and lay out on a table for a read and a nap. I’m reading “The Running Man” at the moment. My brother and I absolutely loved the movie as youngsters, and I must say that I am really enjoying the book!

The rest of the afternoon consisted of taking half of my possessions to the Ubajee Lookout, soaking in the warmth, and enjoying the sinking of the sun. Pastels, pinks and oranges were subtle in the sky. I ate my dinner just as the sun disappeared behind the mountain.

Back at camp, I wrestled with the night noises. Once more, I was the sole occupant of the campsites, and I envisaged an army of rodents making plans to attack my campsite as soon as I let my guard down….

With some words from the head of my support crew, I rallied. I couldn’t go to bed at 6pm again! Distraction! Thats what I needed! I unpacked my headphones, put on the tunes, and belted out the songs like nobody was listening. Which they weren’t. I resolved to conquer my fear by visiting every campsite and dancing on every table. Which I did. Crisis averted! I was in bed by 7.30pm.

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 1

Lake Baroon to Flaxton Walkers Camp – 16.9km + Montville Apartments to Baroon Dam – 5km

“Just Cruising”

I had a really nice time in Montville. It’s a lovely little mountain town, full of quirky shops and eateries. Had an early dinner with the eye on the prize of heading back to my room and lighting the fire. Mission accomplished. It felt like a very luxurious way to start the walk.

Although I had set my alarm for 7am, I bounded out of bed at the crack of dawn..literally. With a 5km walk to get from my accommodation down to the start point, I decided to get on my way.

The air was crisp and cool. Vapour breath. The first few km passed very quickly with lots of interesting houses and roadside markets to look at. My alarm going off scared the shit out of me!

I came to an intersection and was told there was to be a very steep descent for the next 2km. They weren’t wrong! But slow and steady and it was fine. And I was incredibly grateful I wasn’t going the other way…that would have been a hellish way to begin or end the walk!

Before long I arrived at the start point. Immediately it was beautiful. Luscious green and soft underfoot.

The track was lovely. Well marked, and for the most part fairly flat. I’ve struggled with my AARN bags over the years…wrong size for one and then breakages on another. But boy oh boy was I pleased that I went with my gut and got another one. This time – the Featherlite Freedom. They may look weird. They may cause a few sniggers. But man, when they are working, it’s like magic. So much weight, and you barely feel a thing. Yep, magic I tells ya.

Highlights of the morning included a couple of lookouts. Red rock and green dappled with the morning sun. A soft, green river framed by the surrounding trees, but sluggish and dangerous looking in it’s stillness. The rocks and spray of Kondawilla falls. Big, fat monitor lizards basking in the sun. The crack of the whipbird, the melody of the whistler and the cackle of the kookaburra. And numerous opaque blue waterholes.

Slimy green river, but oh how beautiful!

Playing chicken with a big, fat monitor lizard

Right before lunch, after a set of steep stairs, I was able to stop in at “The Rockpools” where I took the opportunity to refresh in the freezing water.

Never pass up the opportunity to soak your poor, old feet

I made it to the Kondawilla picnic ground by lunchtime, feeling really pleased with my steady pace. From here, I had less than 5km to campground. In the spirit of making sure that I enjoy this walk more than I was able to on the Great North Walk, I pulled out my stove and cooked up some noodles for lunch. A couple of kookaburras and a couple of bush turkeys were my companions. My very eagle eyed companions.

I set off again. Another road walk. Not too bad though. Before long I exited the road and was back in the bush. Quick call to the head of my support crew and I sauntered off for the final km to camp.

The campsite is really nice. There are about 12 spaces. All really private and framed by ferns. Although there was heaps of day walkers out today, it appears that I am to be the only camper here for the night. I can already tell that I am going to be a little creeped out by the night noises…

Feels so, SO good to be back into it again!

Post PCT and the Covid Blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little freedoms…so unbeliveably good to see the family!

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

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

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

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

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

Pacific Crest Trail…..

KA BOOM!! And she was done.

Very hard post to write. I thought some of the other stuff I have done was hard. But no. This feels like torture. I’ve been sitting here tapping my fingers on the table for at least 5 minutes, trying to work out how to start this. How to put all the complicated mess down on paper. But I realise that I don’t have to. Everyone is living it. Everyone knows. I actually don’t have to explain it. It just is.

It’s heartbreaking. The end of a dream. And with no real say. But it’s also not. After all – this might have been a crazy, potentially once in a lifetime plan that I had put my heart and soul into for more than year now – but it is still just recreation. Just fun. Just a walk. If this is the worst that comes to me with all that is happening, then I can think myself lucky. There are thousands of people out there suffering in this shit storm, whom have every right to laugh at my struggles. It’s about perspective I suppose.

I’m trying not to lose all my momentum and planning. When things calm down (as I’m assuming they will) I have in mind the Bibbulmun track as well as the Te Aroroa in New Zealand. The Bibbulmun winds 1000km through Western Australia from Perth to Albany,and was recommended to me more than 15 years ago by Edie and Wolf- part of my “tramily” (trail family) from my first solo thru-hike, which happened to be on the Overland Track.

I remember them so vividly. They were so experienced compared to me, and they really kept an eye on me every day. I tried “smoked sausage” for the first time when they offered me some, and shared laughs every night with them. They were much older than me, and treated me almost like a daughter. I’ll never forget it. And so, it will be with much excitement that I hit the Bib, and experience it for myself all these years later.

The Te Aroroa is a different kettle of fish, and will take a lot more planning. I’m determined. But first things first. Let you know when I know more!

So that’s it. I’m disappointed, but I’ll recover. I have already recovered. And I’m excited for what’s to come. In the meantime, I just hope that we humans can be resilient enough, clever enough, thoughtful enough, determined enough and compassionate enough to beat this thing.

Stay safe all yorlye. xx

PS. I’ve thanked all my other supporters, but I haven’t yet thanked my most avid supporter; greatest training partner in the world; and giver of supreme comfort and cuddles, Bronte the dog. She is an absolute legend. No word of a lie. And it suits her just fine for me to continue my training walks!

Pacific Crest Trail….

Where am I at with it all?

“Shitting myself. That’s what.”

I sit staring at the countdown on my phone. The seconds tick on, but the number of days to go remains the same. 22 days. Just 22 days until I am supposed to take my first steps out on trail. Until I take a photo of me sitting on the monument. Until I attempt to walk over 4200 km up the length of America. But will I make it? Not to the end…But to the start point?

When I started writing this blog and revealing my dreams, did anyone suspect that a mutated animal virus might be the cause of my failure to make the trail? I didn’t. And as I sit here with the time counting down I can’t work out whether I wish things would just move quicker, so I can get through the airports and get to that start point before more airports and more borders close. Or do I wish things were moving slower? Would more time help sort out some of this mess and could the world revert back to it’s “normal” self?

I can’t change the timing, but I can make decisions. And I have decided that if I can go I will. Despite this walk being my dream for a year now, this hasn’t been an easy decision to come to. Travel insurance – problematic. Reliance on trail angels, town shuttles and hitchhiking – potentially problematic. Ability to buy hiker food – almost certainly an issue. Could things get worse? Could I somehow get stuck in no mans land somewhere between Mexico and Canada with no way of returning home? It’s possible.

Still. My personal risk of death from COVID-19 is low. I have some money behind me if things go wrong. And I have a strange faith in the ability of humans to exceed expectations in times of crisis. So, I am going to go. If I can.

It will be a different hike. That’s for sure. No Europeans allowed in for 30 days. That’s going to change things. I could almost cry in frustration for all those people whose dreams are in tatters. And no doubt there will be more border closures within the 22 days that I must wait to begin my hike. Instead of the snow in the sierras or the lack of water in the desert, will all the hikers instead be talking about the lack of human diversity on the trail – something that I was particularly looking forward to? Or, the health status of the town ahead? Are shuttle buses running? Will we be able to get food?

I am not somebody who scares easily at these sorts of things. And I am not particularly scared of contracting the virus itself. But I am scared that twelve months of meticulous planning could go down the tubes. That what I have been visualising and thinking about every day, is just not going to be attainable. And that even if I do get over there, extraneous factors are going to turn this once in a lifetime experience into something….different. It would be incredibly difficult for me to accept that the dream was over, before it even began.

I’m trying not to dwell on it. I continue to pack and repack my bag. Make decisions about what to bring or what to leave behind. Send trip plans to family and friends. And prepare to shut my regular life down for 6 months. And I look at my countdown. And I hope.

Great North Walk – Day 13

Ridgetop campsite to Brooklyn Pub

Distance – 16km

“I did it! And then promptly cried. xx”

This was it! The final day. I’d psyched myself up big time the night before. Early to bed. Alarm set. Good nights sleep and then into it. Of course, of all the nights, it had to be this one where something was snuffling around outside the tent. I could hear it moving. Then silence. Hear it moving then silence. Multiple times I shone my torch and peered outside, only to see…..nothing. I never once saw what was making all that noise. Eventually I decided that this was less invasive than the handyman at the Bates Motel. After all, whatever it was, it wasn’t trying to look in my tent, so I was able to drift off to sleep anyways.

“This is it. Final day. Thanks so much for all your support. Already done 4.5km today. Time to kick it. xxx
Message to my support crew

Despite the hills I got into Cowan relatively quickly. I was hopeful of obtaining food by visiting a vending machine at the Cowan train station. Imagine my utter delight when I saw a cafe, open for breakfast, just 2km down the road!! Multiple hash browns, iced coffees, soda waters and juice later, and quite frankly, struggling to get my bags waist belt on, I departed.

On Day 1 of the Pacific Crest Trail you must cross a train track, so I was overly excited when I got to cross this one!

Crossing the train track, I noticed a couple of blokes obviously setting off on a day hike. I crossed their paths multiple times during the day – the first time that this had happened over the course of the entire walk. What a small, but enjoyable thing, to be able to comment to someone how beautiful a view is, or how steep a track is, or how hot the weather is, as it happens.

The walking highlight of the day was the Bay of Jerusalem. Crystal clear water, rocky ledges, isolated. There was not a breath of wind, and the insects hummed steadily. Peaceful and serene, it was a view worthy of the last day.

One of the last signs I came across. Just 6km to go.

Two more escarpment climbs later and I was on the home stretch. Just 6km to go. This time, it was for real.

It’s hard to describe the feeling at that point. I think overwhelmingly there was a feeling of relief. Relief that I was finishing and could stop walking. Relief that I had done it. Relief that my Pacific Crest Dream was still alive. The relief was mixed with an awareness that this had been incredibly difficult. I kept asking myself “Did I enjoy this?” “Have I enjoyed this?”. It was like a mantra in those final few kilometers.

Hmmm. Which was I more interested in? The beer? or the soda water?

Spoiler alert. I made it. The two guys I had been passing had somehow gotten to the pub ahead of me! When questioned they told me they had taken a shortcut – they had been keen for a beer. They clapped me when I walked in. Offered congratulations. It was nice of these people I didn’t know.

I sat down. Sipped my beer, and thought about things. I was ready. Despite the difficulties, this had been the perfect training hike. I had dealt with sickness, floods, lost gear, broken gear, lack of water, no information, steep hills, false finishes, flip flops, long food carries, shoes that didn’t fit. And loneliness. I had dealt with loneliness.

If people were to ask now, “what’s the most important lesson you learnt?” The answer, undoubtedly, is that you need a support crew. You just do. You need people that are going to pick you up when the going is hard; keep you motivated; contact you if they are worried; be able to be contacted in times of difficulty; and, most of all, provide grounding during times of self doubt. I thank my support crew from the bottom of my heart. I know they will all be there for me when I take my first step on the Pacific Crest Trail. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

32 days and counting. I’m ready. I’ve got this!

You’ve got this Zargo!!
You’re an amazing, interesting and fun person. Embrace the solitude or step outside your comfort zone because anyone is lucky to have you in their path. xx
Go Zargo!! Your shower awaits!! xx
“You have beans in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose”
It claims it has a minibar so you might be in luck!! Go Zargo go!! xx
It must be absolutely beautiful. I cannot believe how far you’ve walked already. Amazing!!
Good luck today. Will be watching. xo
Mum says “Oh well, what is an extra 12km”. Maybe attach your GPS to a clip on your belt?
Savour that nice walk along the beach Zargo!! You did it!!
Ok. Hang in there. Thinking of you. xo
Final day of an awesome adventure!! Go Zargo go!! So proud of you xxx
Nearly there Mel. How good was the shower. Hang in there. xxxxxx
Yeah!!!! You got this. What a friggen achievement.
WOOHOOOO!! Congratulations Zargo!! I know you’ll enjoy a celebratory lunch!! What a champ xxx
Are you ok?
Various messages from my support crew. So grateful.

Great North Walk – Day 12

Tunks Campsite to Ridgetop Campsite

Distance – 18km

“What goes up. Must come down”.

“I’ve been feeling really sorry for myself because it was such a rough day today. But now, sitting up in the hills looking back on where I was and what I did, I’m actually pretty proud”.
Excerpt from my journal

Rough old day. 18km isn’t very far when you are hiking all day. It sounds like it might be, but it really isn’t. 18km is a casual day. A languid day. A day of taking in the sights and having a long lunch break and whistling when you walk. This wasn’t that.

I arrived in camp exhausted and despondent. A day spent going up. And going down. Five times up and five times down. “That’s not so bad!” I hear you thinking. And ordinarily it’s not. I was 12 days in and fit as a fiddle when it came to climbing hills. But this was the escarpment. And instead of a track with a gradient, switch-backing up and around the mountains, this was literally straight up. And straight down. I present exhibits A and B.

This was the rocky cliffs of hell. Boulders and scree and pebbles. Slipping upwards. And slipping down. No rhythm. Watching every step. Thinking every step. No turning the brain off. No breezing along. No walking mojo. I’m being honest here. I found it really hard.

There were some pleasant things too. On one of the up and down adventures I came across the river that would have certainly prevented me from going any further all those days ago. There was graffiti under the bridge, and I stood and caught my breath.

Place of rest, as the cars roared overhead at peak hour.

On another up and down I ended up in Crosslands Park. I sat at a table and ate some breakfast. Finding a long lost muesli bar hidden deep in my pack was enough to make me shout with joy! This was a lovely area, laced with boardwalks and bounded by the Berowra creek.

Follow the brown, wooden road. How I wish these planks had kept going and going and going.

On another up and down I walked past the Naa Badu Lookout. Meaning “see water” in the Dharug peoples language, this was the natural boundary between the Dharug and Gurungai groups.

On another up and down I saw houseboats hustling about on the Berowra River. The water gleamed blue, and I was envious of these people. Putt-ing around in their boats, seemingly without a care in the world.

Up I go again. Once? Twice? I don’t know. I’ve lost count. I straggle into camp and throw my pack down in relief. I begin to set up my tent and realise that now I am doing things “for the last time” on this walk. My last time setting up the tent. My last time washing myself from a pot of warmed water. My last time getting my comfy night gear on. My last time eating these horrendous tasting noodles. My last sunset.

I walk to the cliff and sit down. I can see the rocky escarpment stretched out in front of me. I can see all the ups and downs I have had to make that day. I hold a packet of beef jerky. This is the last of my food. I have nothing more. I have been saving this beef jerky just for this moment. I pull everything that’s happened inside of me. Spin it into a ball. Lodge it there so I can draw on it. So I can remember. I look at the colours starting to turn pink and hazy. And I ring the head of my support crew.

We watch the sunset together. Me, on the rocks getting eaten alive by midges, and him, thousands of kilometers away, but there all the same. I can’t believe you’ve done this, he tells me. You’re going to succeed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. When you are done.

I sit alone and look out for a while longer, a smile etched on my face.

“Should have known it would save the toughest day for almost last! Resting up. And hopefully finish with all guns blazing morla. xxx”
Final message of the day to my support crew.

Great North Walk – Day 10

Bates Motel to Warner Bay Hotel

Distance – 23km

“Suitably sloshed I continued on my way”

The day dawned and with it came the realisation that I had survived the night. Once the dedicated night time worker had left for the evening, I had slept really well. Kudos to the dog pillow for enabling a good nights sleep.

Rescinding on a cooked breakfast from the servo in favour of a bag of beef jerky I departed the Watagan Forest Hotel with the intention of never, ever, returning again.

The morning’s walk was fairly straight forward. Up and down fire-tracks with some good views. Nothing too challenging, and made easier by the fact that my hill climbing stamina has definitely increased. I am surprised by how quickly I reach Teralba, where I had been planning to spend the night.

Something I really like looking at is the interface between nature and humanity

I cross the railway tracks and like a mirage, there it is before me. The Great Northern Hotel. In all its splendid old school style. I have so earnt this beer.

“Ain’t no mountain high enough. Ain’t no valley low enough. To keep you away from Teralba pub beer!”
Message from a supportive friend

And the next beer. And the next. And the next. There was no restaurant, so pork crackling was the order of the day for lunch. All this walking leads to such a healthy lifestyle! A couple came in, having obviously just completed a day hike between Watagan and Teralba. They paid me little interest at first – some middle aged bird, semi-stinky over in the corner. But that all changed when the bar keeper (who by now I’d told my life story to) pointed out that I was walking all the way from Sydney. Then they got interested. We talked for ages. They told me I was “impressive”, multiple times. They bought me a beer. At one point they asked me where I had stayed the previous night. “The motel” I replied. Wide eyed and aghast they responded “Not the Bates motel!” with genuine awe that I had done something so risky. Before I left they had given me their address and asked me to stop in if I was in the area. I won’t. But it was lovely of them to make the offer.

Suitably sloshed I continued on my way. I had decided back in the pub that I was going to continue another 6km to Warners Bay. It was a beautiful meander along the river bank. And my fears that there were simply not going to be enough restrooms to comfortably cope with all this drinking, were soon quelled.

It was amazing seeing so much water after being in the bush, struggling just to get drinking water.

There were several sets of markets and a speed boat race on – so the esplanade was absolutely packed! It was very strange after being on my own for so long. Just to pull me back into line, I was given a room at the Warner Bay Hotel that had two queen sized beds and two singles in it. A little reminder that I was here, and on my own. I picked a queen sized bed.

I enjoyed a couple of glasses of red wine, garlic bread and a beautiful beef ragu down on the waterfront. It was blissful. I had been planning on having a look at a band that was playing at the pub where I was staying. But unluckily for them, when they hadn’t appeared by 8pm, I called it quits and slunk into bed. It was definitely the most luxurious, non physically demanding day that I had on the trail. And I loved every minute of it.

Great North Walk – Day 9

“The Narrows” to the Watagan Forest Motel

Distance – 19km

“The story of the Bates Motel…..”

Had a great sleep, despite the wind, and was up early, anxious to get to the motel and all of it’s amenities. The Watagan Forest Motel….sounds nice doesn’t it. And so much going for it. When I’d had to change my plans, and without reception, I’d asked my sister to book me in, worried I might not get a room. As I walked I ticked off all of the amenities in my head – restaurant, outdoor garden, packed lunches, air conditioning, snack bar, bottle of water, shower…..oh, the gloriousness of it!

With all this luxury in mind, the first 6km passed quickly. “Hell yes!” I thought to myself. “I’ll be there in no time – maybe even before lunch…I can eat at the restaurant!” That was not to be.

“Not all kilometers are created equal. And that last 6km were the hardest so far! 5km more to the hotel. God I hope they have beer”
Message written to my supporters.

I don’t know whether it was because I’d psyched myself up to get to the motel quickly or not. But this next section was the steepest, rockiest, slipperiest, bitchiest, longest part of the walk yet! I really wasn’t having much fun. Eventually, after much muttering and swearing, I came to a picnic area and viewing point. Despite my mood, I did grudgingly admit that the view was good.

There was a large family sitting at the picnic table when I arrived. Initially, and most likely because I was in a snarly mood, I begrudged them the spot under the awning. With nowhere else to sit, I had collapsed onto the ground, squashed into a modicum of shade provided by a small shrub to have a snack. It soon became apparent to me however that the family were there for some serious business. They were about to scatter a family members ashes. My disgruntlement vanished.

I watched as the family members stood at the fence and a small announcement was made. The urn was held over the fence, tipped up, and….dropped. There was stunned silence from the group, shortly followed by a few muffled giggles. The dropping wasn’t supposed to have happened – they had hardly tipped anything out, and now the urn was just sitting there, upside-down on the other side of the fence! This was a group of rather large individuals too. Discussion ensued as to how they were going to get the urn back – there was nobody really capable of getting over that fence.

Guess who stepped in to help. I can’t say I’ve ever done that for anyone before. Jumped over a fence at an extremely high clifftop viewing area to retrieve a dropped urn for a family that I didn’t know. Obviously the family were thrilled with my efforts and thanked me profusely. I realised later that I had gotten the person’s dust on my hands. I didn’t know this person in life, but somehow I’d become involved in their death. It was quite humbling; a reminder of how precious life is, and reinforced what a privilege it was to be doing what I was doing. Right when I needed it most.

I continued on my way. The final 5km was down a very steep slope right next to the powerlines, before finally dropping onto a busy road – and the motel!

I stared at it, my expectations of a “forest” motel sinking dramatically. This was a squat, nicotine stained white building, baking in the stinking heat with thousands of cars driving past and no verandah whatsoever. The shower had better be fucking good.

I crossed the road and made my way to the “reception desk” which also doubled as the counter at the service station next door. When I told the operator that I had a booking at the hotel, I could have sworn he thought I had said that I was a mad queen who lived in Westeros and was the mother of three dragons. I don’t think they get many bookings. Rather than looking my booking up, which he assured me I hadn’t paid for yet, he offered me a room at a reduced price. He tells me that (surprise, surprise) I am to be the only guest. Ok, I accept.

“Is this where the food is served?” “How late does the restaurant stay open?” I enquire, pointing at the solitary table near the counter. “Ah. The restaurant has already closed for the day” I am told. It is only 2pm. “What about just kitchen food?” “Sorry, the fryer has already been turned off”. Oh… My…. God! I grab an assortment of cold sausage rolls and deep fried somethings from the unsavoury looking pie warmer and make my way to the unit. “It’ll be ok”, “It’ll be ok”. I put the key into the lock on the grime covered door.

This room had certainly seen better days. And whilst I’m quite the dog person, I found these two staring out at me vaguely disconcerting. In my head I had pictured a lovely cool fridge stocked with beers, snacks and little spirits bottles. Minibar denied. No beer. And not even the promised bottle of water!

One of those chip cups held one teabag of unknown flavour or origin. The other held white sugar – just poured in there and left for who knows how long. I decided not to use the teabag, preferring the coffee that I had carried for around 180km!

Still, the cold drinks, warm food, shower and bed were like heaven….even though there was some random persons used soap sitting in the shower. I let that slide. After the shower, food and rest, I filled the sink and washed my clothes. Look away if you are squeamish.

That’s what 9 days of wear gets you. Somehow I imagine this sink has seen worse.

Chores done, I grab some snacks and ice-cream for dinner. Finally I have some reception and make a call to the head of my support crew. It is so wonderful to talk to somebody. The support renews me. So lovely to see a friendly face.

I settle into the bed around 7.30 planning on an early night. I’ll just read for a bit and then drift…off….to…..sleep….I am blasted out of my reverie by thumpingly loud, heavy metal music. I look out the window and am certain this must be someone just grabbing something from the servo – nobody staying here could be this thoughtless, could they? My hypothesis explodes when a leaf blower starts up outside. I’m sitting on the bed, in what passes for my pj’s when you are carrying all your gear, and I hear the leaf blower coming closer and closer. Suddenly, there is a face pressed against my window! “Oh sorry love! I didn’t realise you were here!” I kind of half wave in embarrassed response. It doesn’t seem to concern him that he is peering into a strangers room at a motel. He continues leaf blowing. The music does not stop. Next up, he gets the shovel out and starts scraping out all the gutters. The shovel screeches against the concrete.

Eventually I get dressed and go outside. “Are you going to be working much longer? It’s just that I was hoping to get an early night”. AND SLEEP IN THE GODDAMN BED! BECAUSE I PAID ACTUAL MONEY TO SLEEP IN THIS SHITHOLE! “Oh, this music isn’t bothering you is it?” he replies. Eventually he leaves, and I am able to go to sleep – probable bed bugs and all.

“It was filthy. Definitely needs to be shut down and needs inspectors to inspect the place. 2.5 out of 10”
“The staff was nice but that is the only positive really”
“The doona smelled like cigarette smoke, the over-head light didn’t work, the room was freezing and there was no hot water for the shower. A bag of baby wipes was on the bench – now I know why they were there”
The 3 reviews left on Booking.com since I stayed. Luckily for them the shower in my unit was working – or I might have actually done a Khaleesi on them.