Tag: Solo hiker

Lake McKenzie to Valley of the Giants – 32km

“The Sirens Song”

First, a precautionary tale for potential walkers.  You will walk into Lake McKenzie walkers camp.  You will slowly peruse the sites, looking for the perfect place to call home for the night.  You are about to put your bag down, when suddenly you see it out of the corner of your eye. 

This site is just a little bit brighter than the others.  Just a little bit shadier.  The ground is perfectly flat with not even the hint of a slope.  Surrounded by trees whose leaves are just that little bit greener.  Dappled sunlight streams through their foliage. A log, placed at the table, is at the perfect height for sitting comfortably and is steady as a rock.    

The dingo box has a small hole in it. You hesitate, unsure about this now, but like the lure of the sirens this site has convinced you to stay, have a rest, put your feet up. You drop your bag.

“DON’T!  RUN FROM THAT SITE AS FAST AS YOU CAN!  IT’S A TRAP!”

Me pleading to any hiker who’ll listen

Following my near perfect day I retreated to the campsite and commenced dinner preparations. It fell dark, but I was content cooking and reading with my torch on. Suddenly a noise in the bush! A very loud noise! I tentatively shone out my torch, hoping to see something benign. A wallaby? Sugar glider? Friendly gecko?

Instead, four sets of red, beady eyes stared sullenly back at me. A rat pack. As one, they began to march on where I was seated. I screamed and jumped on top of the table. Still they advanced. I stamped my feet and yelled. They smirked. Within meters of me they split up and ran around the table jumping with evil glee. I was on an island in a sea of rats. And they were going to get into that dingo box come hell or high water. Other things I can manage. This I could not do.

I jumped from the table, pulled up stakes and hoisted my tent into the air running for my life in a blind panic. My fortunes held. I stumbled into a site about 50m away. I checked the dingo bin. Sealed tight. Over the course of the next half an hour I summoned the courage time and time to go back and collect my things. The rats laughed at my suffering.

The new site was not as glossy, and had a definite slope, but it was blessedly silent. No scurrying through the bush. And for that I was supremely grateful. You’ve been warned. Don’t let the siren call of the site tempt you, as it did me…

Now onto the walk. This walk is advertised as taking 6-8 days to complete. I only had 5 days, so needed to make some time up. Today was going to be it. I was going to skip the Lake Wabby campground and walk all the way to Valley of the Giants. Long day, but definitely manageable.

First up, an 11km walk to Lake Wabby. Again, the track skirted Lake McKenzie before winding it’s way through dense, green forest. There were no real difficult parts, and I arrived at the Lake Wabby campground by mid morning.

From here a connundrum. To drop the bag in the dingo safe bins and walk the 1.6km to the lake and then all the way back for a swim? Or take said bag with me and either leave it on the track (considered a no no as the dingoes can potentially take the bag / rip into it for food) or not go for a swim at all? I decided to drop the bag and go at least to the lookout 500m away. If there weren’t too many people, I would go for a swim. If there were heaps, I would go back grab my bag and keep on truckin’.

At the lookout, I veiwed not a single person at the lake. This was usually a tourist hotspot – and I would have it to myself! I sped off.

Lake Wabby is really unusual. Picture a sandblow, that dips sharply so that the steep dune runs directly into the lake. Something like that. I race down, strip off my clothes (I know, I know – it’s becoming a theme) and jump in. There’s nothing like swimming naked, alone, in green, murky water with at least ten wobbygong sharks swimming around you. Gulp. At least it was refreshing. And I was glad I had made the effort.

Now back up to get my bag again, back down the track again, and I was on my way. Another 15km or so to the campsite.

I enjoyed this next section of the track. It felt more remote than anywhere else on the island. Like you had been given permission to go into somebody’s room and look through all their personal secrets. This was the humming heart of the island, that allowed the rest of it to tick.

There were a lot of fallen trees on the track, and I enjoyed the challenge of working out how to go across, above, below or around them. Though the excitment of the challenge did start to wear thin the later in the day it got.

Eventually, I arrived at camp. Imagine my shock when the place was abuzz with people! This was a walkers group from Brisbane, and the only site left was on a double space site, right next door to someone else. I wasn’t particularly happy. And must have been giving off that vibe, because one of the group jumped up and willingly gave up his single site to move into the double. I really appreciated the gesture. Thank you if you are ever reading this.

I set up and enjoyed the banter of the group. Tired after the long day, I was in bed early. I’m not sure if it was because I was so tired, or, after the horrors of the previous night I felt safer in the group environment, but I had a fantastic sleep.

Lake Benaroon to Lake McKenzie – 15km

“It’s hard to get more perfect than this…”

I woke early, feeling refreshed.  Following the storm, the air was crisp and clear.  The morning cuppa was perfect.

The first leg of the walk contoured around Lake Benaroon.  At times the track was quite overgrown, and in the dripping conditions, my shoes and socks were soaked in no time.  It didn’t matter.  The sun was shining and it was going to be a gorgeous day.

I stopped in briefly at Lake Birabeen where the atmosphere was still and sage like.  I spied a male red backed fairy wren flitting through the trees, and it let me admire it for a while.

It was really easy walking through to Central Station.  Usually a busy hub of traffic, it was eerily quiet.  I stopped to have a break and was immediately picked upon by a young butcher bird, eager for a take of the food.  It left empty handed.

Wangoolba creek is a place of pristine beauty.  A creek, that looks like it has the clearest water in the world, trickles sedately through lush rainforest dominated by the mighty king fern.  The boardwalks were empty when I walked through, and I could hear the water tinkling as birds called mournfully.  It was lovely to experience in such peaceful conditions.

After another 4km of nice, easy walking I came to Basin Lake.  I had really been looking forward to this, having visited once before.  It’s one of those sites that are accessible by walking only, so it has a feeling of mystique and isolation about it that is different from heavily visited areas.

Nobody there.  And it was so beautiful.  I stripped off immediately and plunged in, screaming in delight at the icy waters, and the feeling of shedding sweat and grime.

I sat on the bank in the sunshine and dried off.  It was just a perfect moment.  Clear, blue water with sun sparkling.  Peahens fishing and chirping in the water in their distinctive way.  Dragonflies droned and there was a general drowsy feeling.  A majestic white bellied sea eagle swooped in and patrolled the waters looking for a catch. It was magnificent and mine.

After an hour or two I donned the pack and kept going.  It was a gentle 4km to Lake McKenzie and before long I arrived at the big, dingo proofed campsite.

I set up camp and walked the short distance to the lake.  Picture what you would describe as the most beautiful lake in the world.  Blindingly white sand.  Azure blue water.  Vast.  And encircled in a hug by trees.  That’s Lake McKenzie.  It is beautiful.  And it was also bustlingly busy. 

I dived in and then sat on the shore in my underwear for a while, feeling incongruous and out of place.  Eventually, I headed back to camp and spent a pleasant afternoon reading in the shade.

I went back to the lake a few hours later. There was still plenty of people around. I heard a grown man, swimming, exclaim with a giggle, “There’s a warmer patch right here if you know what I mean!” Read the sign dick. It’s a basin lake. Nothing goes in. Nothing goes out, Except rainwater. And now your piss. Nice.

As the sun sank lower and lower, so too did the crowd. Eventually there was but a handful of people watching the reflections of the dunes, and the pinks and blues.

And then it was just me. It was a magic moment. Pristine and perfect. I walked the lake edge and revelled in the solitude. Shadows darkened, and reflections brightened. Both the water and the clouds brilliant in shades of grey, purple and orange. The last calls of the birds sang out and echoed in the stillness.

I stayed until the clouds lost their colour and the lake became dark. It felt like this was her time now, to rest and be peaceful, before the hoardes arrive again in the morning. I bid her goodnight and thanked K’gari – “paradise” in the Butchulla language – for providing me with such a wondrous day. You really don’t get much better.