Tag: PCT training

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.