pct2020 Archives - Melly Takes a 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

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!

Great North Walk – Day 11

Warner Bay to Newcastle to Tunks Ridge Rest Area

Distance – 28km + a train ride

“I made it to the end! Well, sort of”.

Today was going to be an interesting day. Had all gone to plan, I would have marched into Newcastle, glorious in the victory of having succeeded in finishing the walk. Instead, I was going to march into Newcastle, enjoy the moment, hop on a train and travel south to pick up where I had left off all those days ago with the floods. Making this decision had been quite a difficult one. Try to finish the entire thing? Or just relax in Newcastle and enjoy the rest of the holiday? Things had been quite arduous after all. In the end, I found out that I am somebody that likes to finish what they set out to do. Despite the fact that there will be no cocktails at my campsite tonight.

With this in mind, I set off very early. Around dawn. I’m really glad I did. The streets were quiet and the sunrise was lush. The walk does an amazing job of wending through parks, trails and scrub, so that you feel a lot further from civilisation than you actually are.

Beautiful view….but….shouldn’t I be over there somewhere?

I travel through the Glenrock State Conservation Area. I see a nice looking lagoon off in the distance and realise that I am mildly lost. My track notes say that I should be right next to the lagoon. Yet here I am. It doesn’t matter. The track I am on deposits me onto the beach. Right where I want to go.

View of the track up the beach. I can see that there has been people here – but still no-one around.

I make my way up the beach. It looks like lovely walking doesn’t it? Cool breeze in the hair, the sound of the pounding waves, seabirds wheeling about. But the reality is that beach walking with shoes and a pack on can be pretty tough – often totally dependent on how hard the sand is, following the tide. In a little victory I had somehow jagged a decent tide and I was able to travel fairly quickly along the shore.

Newcastle Beach. And up on that hill – that’s where I’m going.

Eventually I round a corner, and there it is! Newcastle beach! It was a Sunday, so the footpaths were teaming with people. I could see a focal point off in the distance, and I realise that I am almost there. 3km. I’ll be there in 3km. Although I know I am not finishing here today, the sense of achievement is overwhelming. I did this! I’ve done this! I’ve never walked so far in my life….on my own. I see all the people around me. They don’t know what I’ve done. They don’t care what I’ve done. But I do. And I know that there is not a lot that I can’t do, if I want to do it. That feeling infuses me. Soaks in like a sponge. And I feel amazing.

Off I go. Clickety clacking down the pavement. Looking for all the world like somebody that shouldn’t be at the beach. I climb the final steps. And there’s the monument! I take off my pack and go and touch it, reverently. I sit with tears in my eyes and reflect on what it has taken to get there. My phone dings.

Almost there! You can do it!
Message from the head of my support crew

Now this is weird. Because I know that the head of my support crew has been following along with the GPS tracking at home – excited to see me reach my goal.

I’ve made it already! I’m sitting here now!
My reply

Oh, it looks like you still have about 3km to go…Congratulations!
Head of my support crew.

I look at my maps. I look at my GPS. I look at my track notes. And fuck it. I do still have 3km to go. What an idiot! All that pontificating, crying and self reflection and I’m not even there yet! I put my pack on, and eventually make it to the actual end.

The actual end. No tears. I cried them all out at the other spot.

I don’t stick around here long. I make my way to the train station and jump on the first one headed south. Destination Hornsby. 2 hours later, I get off the train and start walking. Pulling into an Asian supermarket, I pick up my first resupply of the trail. I couldn’t really tell what it was, but hoped that the container might contain noodles of some sort.

Designed by Major General Sir Clive Steele in 1942, this is one of only 4 “Steele” bridges still in use in NSW

It’s nice being back in the bush. I cross an old military bridge, and snake along green paths. The day ends with a long climb back up to the top of the ridge. The campsite is expansive. And empty. I eat my dinner, which turns out to be vermicelli noodles in a super spicy soup which I dislike intensely. One more full day of hiking. I can do it.

Beautiful bush track. Sadly, I believe this has all been burnt out in recent bushfires.

“PS. I am very proud of myself for making Newcastle”. I’ve got this!”
From my journal.

Great North Walk – Day 8

Flatrock Camp to “The Narrows” Lookout

Distance – 25km

“If you can read this, you are in range (gun emoji)”

Today I have a mission. According to my trip plan, I have 18km to walk. This, I have decided, is not far enough. I’m booked into a posh hotel tomorrow night – and I’m going to get there as quickly as I can! Which means pushing on today. All of this I have decided whilst lounging in my sleeping bag, reluctant to get up and face the day. With a yawn, I make my tent coffee, and commence the packing up ritual.

The morning’s walk is pleasant. Meandering down the mountain towards the Congewai Valley Rd. Once on the road, it’s difficult to know what the motivation is, but there is a particularly unfriendly vibe. Every house has a “KEEP OUT” sign; “NO TRESPASSING”; “Beware of the dogs!”; “CCTV in use”. And my personal favourite for making me feel particularly uncomfortable, “If you can read this, you are in range”, with a picture of a large, black, rifle at the bottom. Charming. Especially as the owner of the property was outside mowing his lawn. Eyes to the front, and keep marching. I didn’t bother waving.

The landscape is beautiful. But it’s boiling hot, with very little opportunity to rest in the shade. I stare wistfully at one of the dams. I am back on water rationing again, uncertain where I will get my next fix. Perhaps this is why people are so unfriendly? They are sick of hikers stealing their water in a pique of thirst.

Finally I left the road and came to……an old hut, with…….you guessed it! Another unannounced watertank. I stopped to have lunch. Shoes off. “Cheese” (that Kraft stuff that doesn’t melt) on bikkies, a muesli bar, and guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. As I’ve said. There’s nothing quite like unexpectedly satiating the thirst.

After lunch I’m….you guessed it…..headed uphill again! This was a big slog, but I was prepared for it, and using my tried and true, patented, 20 step system, made reasonably good time. I fairly quickly got to where I had intended to camp – Barraba campsite. And goddamn it – there was a watertank there! A scream of frustration and joy all rolled into one, as I had slogged up the hill with 4L of water and a camels fortitude.

From there to here – the size of the uphill slog explained

The Barraba campsite, where I had originally intended to stay is lovely. Giant grasstrees, shady and sheltered from the wind. My resolve is tested as I consider staying on. The pull of the luxury to come is too alluring however, and I decide to continue on.

These giant grass trees show the scale of my bag.

I walk along the ridgeline, and although the views are amazing, it is terribly windy. Each potential campsite that I come to is quickly ruled out – the area being dominated by gnarled old eucalypts whose falling limbs could ruin the holiday.

Eventually I come to a small lookout area called “The Narrows” and decide to call it quits. It’s not particularly sheltered, but if I camp on the road I should be safe from bucketing branches. And lets face it. I haven’t seen anybody since that surly old fellow mowing his lawn, so the chances of getting run over are slim at best.

I set up and enjoy the amazing views from the lookout. Once in my tent, I try and drown out the disconcerting noise of the trees as they groan and shake. “I’m going to the hotel tomorrow”. The thought is comforting. I use the last of my battery power to charge up my musical devices. I’ve moved 6km closer to my goal. And I’m prepared to smash it out to get to that room. If not for anything else other than the fact that it’s been 3 days since I last spoke to anybody.

The view from my campsite. I could see the twinkle of a thousands lights off in the distance once it grew dark.

Great North Walk – Day 7

Basin Campsite to Flat Rock Campsite

Distance – 19km

“This walk is making me……thirsty”

First things first. With an actual toilet on hand, the day was off to a sensational start! A water tank too! I filled all my bottles and bags to capacity – around about 7L. That’s a lot of weight. By this stage it has become apparent that the available track notes are not really set up for a complete thru hike from Sydney to Newcastle. More so, they have been written for hikers intending to do a a couple of day’s here and there, using the train line to move to various starting positions. As a result, unlike notes that have been written with the intention of guiding someone over the course of a couple of weeks, these leave critical information such as potential water sources and resupply points somewhat lacking. At this stage, as far as I can tell, there are no permanent creeks, ponds, taps, troughs or any other places to get water from for the next couple of days.

The beginning of today’s walk is really nice! Lush green valleys and still pools. The buzzing of the insects and the stillness in the air leaves me thinking that nobody has been here for a very long time. It seems somewhat magical. Almost like it’s lulling me into not moving. There is a sense of heaviness and age.

Like a malevolent pool in a fairy-tale, the droning of the insects and frogs and the stillness in the air felt enough to lull somebody to sleep forever.

Despite being somebody who probably COULD be lulled by a malevolent pool into an eternal sleep, I gather all my strength and move on. Eventually, I make it back to the trail. That’s right – all this, just to get back on track!

From here the hills (mountains!) start back up again. As I’ve said before, flat is not a thing. Under the load of this water laden, heavy pack, I begin using my tried and true technique for making it through the toughest of hills….20 steps on each foot, then take a break for 10 -20 seconds. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. It may be slow, but it gets me there. Every. Single. Time.

Yeah….I’m puffed. And possibly still quite sick. Well, I need to blame that look on something!

Despite the hills, I’m conserving water like a drought stricken camel. Little sip here, little sip there. This shit’s got to last! Having restrictions in the amount of water that one can drink, is fairly rare in my circles. To go without. To HAVE to go without, gives such clarity as to it’s importance to our survival.

I come to a sign. Camp is only 3.5km away! But more than that, I’ve reached the halfway mark!! I look hard at the figures. Newcastle is only 88km away! Sure, I have to go back and cover what I missed….but I can make it to Newcastle! I’m sure of it. The elation of getting this far puts a spring in my step on the final push to camp.

I skip into camp. And oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!!!

“Made my campsite and I could weep for joy. There is an unadvertised watertank here. I can drink as much damn water as I want! Mountains many today.”
Message to my supporters.

“Drink up Zargo! Not usually saying that about water! Ahahaha!”
Reply from my sister

My sister is right. I’m usually saying it about wine. But as I gulp down my fill of water, I make a pact with myself. If there is one memory that I am going to take away from this walk. One lesson learnt. It’s going to be remembering that feeling of dread at having to conserve what you drink. The fear of not knowing whether water is available. And the absolute joy when it is.

I set up camp and explore. The views from “Flat Rock” are amazing. I take my stove and cook up a dinner overlooking the edge of the world. Another day down. Just 6 more to go.

Great North Walk – Day 6

Archers Campsite to The Basin Camping Area

Distance – 34km!

“WTF! Track closure?!”

Another day. Another potential cooked breakfast. I downed my in tent coffee and dreamed of a breakfast stop in Yarramalong. 13km. I could do that. Like greased lightning I was packed up and on my way by 7am. The morning walk was really pleasant. Nice green valleys and moist creeks. I continued to listen to my tunes. The pace of my music dictated how fast I walked. That is, until the batteries on my headphones ran out. The disappointment was tangible, and a reminder that I was now into my fifth day without a power source. Sadly my headphones didn’t cut it as the number one priority to power up. Oh well.

The demise of my headphones occurred round about here.

I tip tapped my way down the road and into the Yarramalong servo by around 11am. Now let me ask you something…When you dream of an egg and lettuce sandwich, do you dream of mashed up egg, creamy mayo and crisp lettuce all on beautiful, fresh white bread? I did. So I was somewhat surprised, and quite frankly, inordinately disappointed by my fried egg, soggy lettuce and stale bread sandwich. Chips were good though. And I upped my drinks quota to four sparkling, cold beverages.

I sat outside taking a break for about an hour and wondered just how many people I was offending. There comes a point, where no matter how diligent you are with your “daily washing”, you realise that you do, in fact, stink. Sitting outside that shop, shoes and unwashed socks off, and in the same clothing I had worn for the past 6 days through sickness, floods and scorching heat, I came to that realisation. It’s something you have to wear like a badge – even though you feel mildly embarrassed by it. Hey, you’ve worked damn hard to smell this bad!

Still, there were those brave enough to approach. “Where ya headed?”. “The Great North Walk….from here and up the road to Cedar Brush”. “Oh. I’ve done that. And boy oh boy it was tough. Bloody tough! And that was without a great big overnight bag like you’ve got! It’s tricky too! Could be dangerous with a big bag like that! Good luck!”. Yep. Thanks for the chat mate.

Time to hit the road again. Quite literally. With a long road walk of around 8km until the turn off to the Cedar Brush campsite. Weighed down with a tonne of water, I set off.

I would eventually climb that mountain over yonder

I hummed along pretty well. There were some amazing properties, but it was boiling hot. Road walking is both a blessing and a curse. You can cruise along quite quickly, but you pay the price in terms of foot distress and reflective heat from the road. I sure was looking forward to getting to that turn off! From there, just a 2km walk to camp. I’d be there by 2pm!! Sweet!! A nice long afternoon under the shelter of the trees to rest up, relax, and get off my feet for a bit.

And just like that, my dreams of an early finish were scattered to the wind

Arrrrggggggg! What the hell! Surely this is fake news! I try the number, but I have no reception. The devil is sitting on my shoulder…”Just take it. Whose going to know? What’s the worst that could happen? Goddamn it – this is your rest day!!” I sit down and look at the map. The “alternate” route is a road walk, 9km long. At the end of all this decision making, there is nothing to do except keep walking. Up and up and up and up, a dusty, dirty road. No nice views. No nice scenery. No nice seats. Not nice.

Eventually I hobbled into camp around 6pm. It’s just going on dark. The campsite is impressive. Huge. It has picnic tables, a watertank, and, in a minor miracle, a pit toilet. I, of course, am the only one there. I strip off fully and use some of the available water to douse myself in liquid gold. It feels amazing, refreshing, and cold. I sit at one of the tables and boil up some water so I can make my dinner. It dawns on me that if I want to complete the Pacific Crest Trail next year, this is the sort of kilometers I will have to walk every single day. It’s confronting. But I’m proud of myself. This is the furthest I have walked on a single day. Ever. And if I’ve done it once, I can do it again. Can’t I?