Tag: Solo hiker

Total Distance – 305km

A Heysen Trail story

It was a humdinger of a cold night last night. Wedged in there between two mountains and right next to a creek. My fingers were frozen solid packing up the wet tent this morning. It’s a pretty dreary job when it’s wet and cold.

My support crew were very keen to point out to me however that I had a large climb straight off the bat this morning, and that that should warm me up quite quickly. If only they weren’t right all the time!

So this morning started with an upward push up a little, overgrown bush track. The change of scenery from the rolling green hills was most welcome, with the wattles well and truly now in bloom and intoxicating with their scent. Boisterous willy-wag tails made themselves known, fluttering around on the path.

The track soon joined a road, and the ups and downs really started. As I approach a monster in the distance, I’m pleading to myself “Surely the Heysen can’t be going up there…Surely…”. Surely it was. If there was a hill, you were going up it.

This was followed by a tricky little creek section. Small and narrow, with steep sides, the usually dry creek was full of water, leaving nowhere to walk in the bed. This meant following animal tracks up and down the sides of the creek to avoid slippery rocks and wet gorges.

I really enjoyed the shorter day today. I’m sitting outside Grey’s hut now, at a proper table and chairs, writing this in the afternoon sunshine. The inside of the hut strikes me as a little “mousey”, so I have set my tent up inside. I’m sure to feel secure! Hopefully it’s just a bit too cold for the little buggers. But we’ll see.

The other piece of news is that Ghost Walker has gone. Disappeared. The last I saw it’s tracks were a couple of days ago. It feels like now, I really am on my own.

Total Distance – 290.04

A Heysen Trail Story

“The Heysen Trail is just one big hill”

Pierre, Northbound, Day 55

I met someone on the trail! I’d been walking for about 15 minutes, when like a mirage, I saw a person walking towards me in the distance. I felt a bit tongue tied. It had been so long.

Pierre is a sixty something fellow, originally from France, but now living in Coffs Harbour. He showed me his war injuries. An infected leg. A huge graze on his right leg. He’d weathered storm after storm after storm. Literally. And he was loving it.

“I feel like I’m just floating on the air” he told me. I definitely don’t feel like that yet. But I hope to. Wouldn’t that be nice…to transcend the physicality of the walk itself, and just exist in some hardcore bliss. Perfect.

We chatted for about 10 minutes and then said out farewells. Both of us had much to do today. Because this was big hill country. And these were very big hills. But it was a beautiful sunny morning, with a cool, gentle breeze. Couldn’t ask for more with these hill climbs.

It took the full morning, but eventually I reached a road junction. This felt like a major achievement. For a couple of reasons. The first is that in the bus on my way to the start, it had been pointed out to me where the track crossed the road. I was warned that it was very hilly country. I remember looking out the window, wide-eyed with fear and longing, and wondering to myself if I could make it. “I hope I have my hill legs by then” I said to those in the car.

And now today, I was back there. And I made it! I may not have the best hill legs. I’m very, very slow. But domine. I did it anyway. I felt very proud of myself in that moment.

The second reason was that the road felt like the gateway to the next section of the walk. Done was I with the beautiful, rolling green meadows with the spectacular views. It was time to change it up.

First up. “Harry’s Run” adjacent to the main road. It might not have been the most scenic section of the walk to date, but I loved it. No rocks, relatively flat. It felt like a win. Onwards and up a side road until I reached a farm house with a bevy of barking dogs out the front. Up and around the farm and then down a telegraph line track. Easy as you like.

I reached the stony creek track around 2.30pm. It felt sublime coasting along knowing that camp was only a few km away. I came across a camping family with a couple of dogs. These ones weren’t so friendly. But no harm done.

Now I sit on a table writing this. It’s going to be a cold one. The camp is right beside a little creek which still holds water in it. Both sides are dominated by large hills, neither of which lets the sun penetrate.

Oh, and just as I thought my gear was all sorted, my tent pole has suffered another breakage. Exactly the same as last time. The ferrule on one of the lengths must have come unstuck when I was packing up this morning. Luckily, I have the spare temporary fix sleeve! But now I’ll have to have another chat with my MSR buddy about getting ANOTHER piece of pole sent. He should have just sent me a whole new one in the first place. Dealing with him is going to be fun…

And man oh man it’s frustrating! My last MSR Hubba Hubba lasted 10 years without a single issue. What’s going on? Why can’t these products do what they are designed to do? I’ll let you know what the MSR guy says to that question.

For now, I’ve got the temporary fix, so I’m golden. Time to make my dinner in the last of this light. And I’m very, very hungry!

Total Distance – 267.5km

A Heysen Trail Story

I’ve never really done much”stealth” camping. I’m a rule follower. Generally. And this is kind of against the rules. But the truth is, I didn’t really know what else to do. The stretch to the next designated camp site is just way too long for me to achieve without risk of injury. So stealthing it is.

I must say, it is an extremely nice stealthy spot. Amazing views on either side. The sun about to set on one of them. But it’s not very stealthy. I’m basically just off to the side of the track, and hoping that no one comes along. Surely not! I haven’t seen anybody on the trail since Day 4 of the walk. So surely nobody will come along. Right? We’ll see. For the moment I’m just blissed out on this grassy knoll in the sunshine. And that’s alright by me.

Whoever warned me that this section of the walk was “very hilly” was not wrong. It’s hilly alright! Starting with the big one. Mount Brown itself. The track up hill follows another public track, and it is very civilised. Long, but civilised. A couple of hours later I’m standing on the lookout viewing to my heart’s content. Bit hazy still unfortunately. But still great.

From here the track becomes much more “Heysen” like. A little rock scramble. A steep fenceline walk where you’re not at all certain what side of the fence you should be on. A little hut, which can be hired to stay at, but which also provides free water from the tank. I fill one of my extra bladders and then struggle to find my way out of the compound. Eventually I jump the fence.

Next up, those hills I was talking about. Big, green rolling hills. Going up and down so much it’s enough to make you seasick. Long, long, long way up. Long, long, long way down. The sheep seem to love it. Luckily there is a little road that runs parallel to the fenceline track most of the way, which at least makes the navigation part a little more straightforward.

And now I’m here, stealthily watching the sunset. My new sleeping bag arrangement made the world of difference last night. I’m actually looking forward to snuggling into bed. So a bit of dinner, Maybe a podcast while I pace it out backwards and forwards for a bit to stretch. And then my lovely, warm, cozy bed….hopefully.

Total Distance – 230km

A Heysen Trail story

I felt so incredibly grateful for this hut last night, as the wind picked up and started roaring through the paddocks, causing the tin roof to flap and sing. My broken tent wouldn’t have stood a chance.

And I’m feeling good! Ready to roll into town and lush it up for a couple of days. I bid farewell to the Dutchman. I shall remember him fondly.

Funnily enough, I think the thing I am most looking forward to is actually interacting with people. I haven’t seen a soul since leaving Hawker five days ago. Well, except for the Ghost Walker. I must admit to finding comfort in spotting it’s steps yesterday and musing on whether it had struggled as much as I had. I liked to think that it had. Not very charitable I know. But that’s how it was.

Today is a new day though, and I set off in high spirits. Just a short little jaunt into town. Starting with a most welcome road walk. Nothing too onerous and a great opportunity to stretch the legs a little after the cramped walking of yesterday.

Next up. “Follow the fence” through fields as green as the sea. And as vast. It was so idyllic. So lovely, soft and velvety underfoot. Like walking on a cushion of air. Herds of sheep and horses wandering about, seemingly enjoying going about their business just as much as I was. It was heavenly.

I arrived in Quorn just before lunch. Following recommendations, I was staying at the Elizabeth House Backpackers. What a place! And the owner Kylie is just a gem. No sooner had she shown me around what has to be the most luxurious backpackers I’ve ever stayed in (and I’ve stayed in a lot), then she was helping me dry out my tent and ordering me to relax and get in shower and hand her all my stinking clothes so she could wash them. It was just so gob smackingly kind.

I was then directed to the pub to get a well deserved big brekkie. Whilst there, I received a text from Kylie informing me that my washing should be dry by the time I got back. She’d hung it all up for me! If you take one piece of advice from this blog, make it this. If ever you are in Quorn, stay at the Elizabeth House backpackers. You won’t regret it.

And, to top it all off. All of my ordered replacement parts and repair kits had arrived and were waiting in my room! I now had a full day to get everything fixed, packed away, sorted and sent off before beginning the hike again.

Life felt very good as I sunk into the bed to sleep, so soft and warm, it felt like swimming in a hot custard bath. Life felt good indeed.

Total Distance – 221.6km

A Heysen Trail story

Well. Whomever left these two camp chairs in the hut. Bloody genius. I owe them a beer. Because these chairs have made my whole day better. Seriously.

I didn’t really enjoy today. Am I allowed to say that? Of course I am! And especially because it’s true. I found it a very, very tough day.

I just looked through my pictures, and they don’t do it justice! They depict soaring vistas, green paddocks, unusual mountains, tranquil rocky pools. And there was those things. But there was also rocks. Lots and lots and lots of rocks. I’ll be happy if I don’t see another creek bed again… for a couple of days at least!

The first goal of the day was to get to Eyre depot, around 12km away. All of it creek walking. By the time I got there, I felt like my whole body had taken a punch. It’s hard work keeping yourself from getting injured. Both ankles milli seconds away from serious sprains, multiple times; sticks that whack you in the face; sticks that strike at your feet fast as a snake trying to trip you up; poles that slip and slide and bang and crash; the heart in the mouth feeling of having just escaped injury time and time again. My heart might as well live in my mouth. It’s a jungle out there.

In hindsight, I should have planned to stay at Eyre depot. But there were multiple things keeping me going – I’d already booked my accommodation in Quorn and wanted a short run into town tomorrow, and, it was very windy at the campsite and I wasn’t sure my tent was up to it in it’s current state.

So I pressed on. This time a rocky fenceline walk. Same issues, different setting. The views were spectacular out across the plain, when the opportunity to look up presented itself.

Next a nice, little dirt track before suddenly being deposited back into the creek. More of this. Much more of this. And this time I was moving at snail pace with genuine fear that my ankles couldn’t handle many more unexpected twists. This section of the river also involved a lot of climbing and scrambling over large trees and rocky outcrops.

I found it very draining and struggled with keeping my spirits high. I made a very firm commitment to have a break every couple of hours, and that helped. Especially when sitting next to a slowly trickling waterfall.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours and hours and hours, a road appeared. And just like that, a fairly quick 5km into camp. When I say fast, it wasn’t really. Just quicker than I had been going. I limped into camp around 5.30pm.

But oh once again it is a little hut that lifts my spirits. There’s kangaroos galore in the yards outside. Electricity and a flushing toilet. A nice wide pad where I can bunk down for the night. And these chairs. These wonderful, wonderful chairs.

Today has definitely been a lesson as to what my physical limits are at the moment. I’m not quite ready for a 30km day with such high physicality as this yet. Patience young padawan. Patience. Got to remember the end goal.

And tomorrows goal. Which is consuming a big brekkie feast in Quorn. I reckon I can achieve that no worries. Ni night.

Total Distance – 193.5km

A Heysen Trail story

Somebody must have been listening, because when I emerged from my tent this morning, radiant blue skies. Not a cloud to be seen. I could feel the warmth of the day ahead, even through the chilly morning air.

And the mysterious biker? Nowhere to be seen. What was the story? When you are hiking a long way, random things fill much of your thoughts. And this morning I found myself thinking…”Could the mysterious biker be linked to the ghost walker?”.

You see, I’ve been following these fairly fresh looking tracks since I left Hawker. Sometimes I think it looks like the track of a female. Sometimes a male. And there is no record of this person. I keep looking at the log books, hoping to get a glimpse into this unknown walker. But all I get is a blank. The last record of a walker being at Buckaringa is from 10 days ago. And I’m sure the tracks are fresher than that! It’s a conundrum. And one that I decide, hours later, that the biker is not involved with. And that’s that.

Around me, the walk is following an old vehicle track, occasionally adjacent to craggy cliffs. The plains are once again vast and the vegetation a mix of sennas, hakeas and acacias. What I suspect would usually be a dusty, dry paddock is a rich and lush which the kangaroos are eagerly taking advantage of.

I reach a creek and spot a perfect place to have a rest. Shady, nice little log to sit on, scenic. Can’t ask for more than that. I take my pack off, get out my lunch, sit on the log and prepare to take a load off.

The flies alert me first. Followed by a sharp tang of a smell. I look around, and right beside where I have put my bag is a recently decaying kangaroo. Talk about observant! Shortest. Break. Ever.

The next section of the day is spent back in the creeks. This time of increasing difficulty the further up the gorge you went. Often the rock scrambling was made a little harder by the pools of water at the base of the climb.

A large white rock wall is the gateway to the rest of the day’s walk. The hills. Now I had known that I was going up Mt Arden today. So it was probably foolish of me not to have a look at what I should expect in terms of the climb. Because I wasn’t expecting this.

It was oh so gorgeous. And oh so tough. Once you climb your first hill, you can see the telecommunications tower on the top of Mt Arden shining like a beacon in the distance. In between. Hills. And each one alarmingly getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And there is not a thing you can do, except just keep walking. And so, you do.

The biggest hill is saved for last. This is an excessively steep, gravelly, two part sucker that’s going to take you to the top. Come on. Come on. You can do this!

It’s a very strange mixture of emotions at the top. I sob. And it’s a sob of relief and pride and exhaustion and joy and exhilaration and disbelief. And a touch of self belief. And a touch of loneliness.

I had been planning on calling some of my support crew from up there. But I just couldn’t. This was a moment for me and me alone. Even sitting here writing about it now, makes me a bit teary. Such is the power of the achievements made on the trail.

Besides that, I was starving and keen to get into camp. It was a couple of km down a very steep track on the southern side of the mountain. And then, like a vision. A table and chair set up. And a fireplace with seats. And a lovely, grassy flat spot down near the river, teeming with afternoon warmth and light. I felt like Snow White in my own little fairytale, as there were kangaroos, goats and birds frolicking all over the place.

Boy oh boy it was nice just to sit in the sun for a little while. Just sit and reflect and feel the warmth on my back. Time now to prep up for tomorrow. It’s set to be a very long day.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.