Solo female hiker Archives - Page 19 of 19

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 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?

Great North Walk – Day 5

Quarry Camping Area to Archers Campsite

Distance – 23.2km

“What a difference a little bit of music makes when you’re alone”

There were 3 highlights today:

Walking into the town of Somersby;
Clicking over the 100km mark; and,
Listening to my music for the first time on the walk.

To elaborate. The small town of Somersby was a tantalising 10km from camp. With the trail notes promising a small convenience store and cafe, it wasn’t hard to get motivated to be there for breakfast. The walk to the store is fairly non-descript. Nice, but not particularly special. I follow cut power lines and gravel roads, occasionally dropping into green gullies. There are welcoming signs posted on many of the properties.

“Do not come onto this property for any reason – even if you are very tierd or want to smell the pretty flowers”
One of the more industrious signs. Pity about the spelling.

I arrive at the general store, ready for my first “non-camp food” in 5 days. Having ordered a ham, cheese and pineapple toastie, chips, and 3 different varieties of drink, I sit down at a table outside. The magnificence of an actual seat should never be underestimated. It’s not long before I receive my first approach….”Where ya walkin’ to?” Ears prick up in interest around me. “Newcastle….hopefully”. A collective nod of approval around the tables. Suddenly, everyone who has ever set foot in Newcastle is an expert on the trail. The conversation now includes several tables, consisting mainly of truckers. I am told of potential shortcuts, beautiful places to go (up to several hundred kilometers off the trail), and am even invited to visit an indigenous art site whose location is kept secret. I decline that offer.

At the completion of my meal, I fill my water bottles and get going. Despite the recent bout of rain, the drought has been on everybodies lips, and I am very aware that I am about to enter a more technical phase of the walk – where water is really scarce. Or appears to be.

The afternoon’s walking takes me along bitumen and dirt roads, through a mix of rainforest and dry bushland. The creeks are dry. My nervousness about water increases. I arrive at camp nice and early. I spy an old tank, but hopes of a water supply are short lived. It’s going to be cheese and tomato on bikkies for dinner tonight.

“I just made 100km! I’m trying to work out whether I’m enjoying myself or not. I feel achievement certainly, but am I having fun?”
Notes from my journal

Quite honestly, I’m feeling a little bit melancholy. There is no reception, so I can’t reach out to anybody. The aloneness is beginning to make me feel a little bit mad. I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I get out my music.

“OMG! What a difference a little bit of music makes when you’re alone!”
Also, notes from my journal

I dance my way right around that massive campsite. I sing at the top of my lungs. I watch the sunset with my musical friends. I find later that I’ve accidentally taken a couple of photos of myself. They answer the question for me. Yes, I am having fun.

You’re doing….what??!!

“You’ll be off on the adventure of a lifetime”. That’s what my Pacific Crest Trail permit tells me. When I try to explain this to others – friends, family, strangers – there is a different set of responses. Mouths aghast, eyes wide, more often than not with a confused, quizzical expression, people breathe “You’re doing…what?!” Invariably, this is followed by a quick…”Why?”.

The easy way to respond is to shrug my shoulders and coolly reply “Because I can”. This I do, because the real why, the why that’s driven me here, is still a buried secret which I’m not yet ready to fully articulate. “On the trail” I keep telling myself. “On the trail” I’ll be ready to explain it all…

Unsatisfying explanation in hand, people nod like they understand fully and proceed to give me their honest, if occasionally somewhat unjustified opinions….”That’s crazy!”, “That’s dangerous!”, “That’s so cool!”, “I can’t believe it…that’s amazing!”, “What a waste of a holiday!”, “That’s so inspiring!”, and time and time again “You’re going alone….Won’t you be scared?”.

Yes, I’ll be scared. Yes, I’ll be alone. Yes, it will be crazy. Yes, it could be dangerous. Yes, it will be cool. Yes, it will be amazing. And yes, I will feel inspiring. That’s how walking long distances makes me feel. Like the slowest roller-coaster in the world hurtling out of control. Like I can master destiny. Or destiny can master me. There’s nothing else in the world that makes me feel like thru-hiking does.

So, I have 3 and a half months before I begin. Mexico to Canada – 4200km of solid heartache, joy, boredom, freedom, pain and euphoria. I hope I can get to the start line….