Solo hiker Archives - Page 13 of 15

Cooloola Great Walk – Day Three

Dutgee Walkers Camp to Littoria Walkers Camp – 15km

“Short and sweet”

Remember how I said that I was really enjoying sleeping with the tent fly off? Well that ended at about 2am this morning with the pitter patter of rain dropping onto my sleeping bag. Thankfully, not too heavy.

I could tell I was first out of camp this morning because the track was spanned by hundreds of fine spun, shimmering spider webs. The rain last night had caused a delicious mist to hover over the dew sparkling plain.

I turned a corner and stopped dead in my tracks. Colour, as far as the eye could see. Yellows, pinks and whites. The white trunks of the paperbarks shining off in the distance. Misty tentacles gracefully rising into the air. My eyes teared with the beauty. The privilege of being the one and only person to see that beautiful sight at that moment. Its why you hike…for these moments. Moments that take hard work and effort. But moments that are yours and yours alone.

Have to put the hard yards in to see this beautiful field

Eventually I ripped my eyes away and got moving.

It was an easy day of walking. Short distance. Moderate hills. Although I had promised I would take it easy, once I had that pack on and the sticks in my hands, I just wanted to go. So go, I did. I arrived in camp around 11.30am. Job done

Cooloola Great Walk – Day Two

Brahminy Walkers Camp to Dutgee Walkers Camp – 19km

“Somewhere, over the sand blow”.

An uneventful night. I’m enjoying sleeping with the rainfly off when I can, and watching the moon, stars and clouds from my bed. Dawn breaks, and I’m up.

Though not first to be moving around, I’m the first to leave, which I’m rather smugly pleased about. Today we go over the Cooloola sandblow, and I want to see it at it’s most pristine glory – before all those feet have trodden over it. Yes, That’s right. I want to be first!

But before we get to that, we have the morning’s walking. Which was wonderful. Straight off the bat, the track wound through forests of scarred scribbly gum and burnt grass trees. Winding in and out of the forest and interspersed with glorious views to the coast.

At one such point, I sat and had the first break of many for the morning. The sun was glinting on the ocean, and the offshore breeze was causing the waves to mist at each roll. The sound was loud and definite, even from so high up.

From the ridgetop, the track dropped down into a damp, dark gully with rainforest species reminiscent of the walk I had just completed. Another good spot for a break.

From here, the vegetation was mixed. Every area of this forest has been influenced by fire. Sometimes it looks like the fire was a long time ago, and the understory has come back thick, varied and lush. Sometimes, there is evidence of burning not so long ago, with young eucalypts and banksias jostling each other for space to grow. And sometimes it looks like the fire was very recent, with no understorey to speak off and bohemith trees blackened to the very tips of their extended limbs.

Banksias love a little bit of fire…but not too much! And not too hot!

Suddenly, I come round a corner, and there it is! The Cooloola sandblow in all its’ glory. This sandy desert is vast and beautiful. Signs warn that it is very easy to get lost. One must follow a compass bearing of 340 degrees for 750m before switching to 160 degrees for another 300m. There’s good pictures of where to go though, and it’s actually not that hard.

The Cooloola Sandblow…I’m aiming for that vegetated dune at the back

Despite this, the sense of space, lack of features and exhilarating aloneness makes me feel like an explorer from another age. I spend ages trying to get photos, but capturing that feeling is impossible.

In fact it ends up that there is so much glare on my camera, I can’t see a bloody thing of what I am taking! It was just point and shoot and hope for the best. It’s surprising any of them came out at all!

So then I begin the task of trudging across the dunes. It’s not that hard. Rather exhilarating in fact. But tougher than normal at times in the soft sand. The soft, pristine sand I should say! Yes, I was the first one!

From here it’s down a ridgeline before the track begins parralleling the meandering Noosa River.

I used to be a tour guide on K’gari more than 20 years ago, and as I’m walking this stretch, long forgotten words begin entering my head like ethereal mists. Words like fox tail fern, Baronia rivularis, turpentine, satinay, casuarina, lemon myrtle. It’s slowly coming back to me, and I enjoy matching plants with these long forgotten names.

The pink flower is the beautiful Baronia rivularis, or Dutgee in the local language

I reach camp at around 2pm. Plenty of time to jump in the river and have a freezing splash around. I sit in the warming sun, trying to dry off, and enjoy watching the reflections on the water as the sun begins to sink. Life is good.

Afternoon reflections…and a bloody cold swim!

Cooloola Great Walk – Day One

Start of walk to Brahminy Walkers Camp – 17km plus a few km towards the ferry before I was offered a ride.

“The advantages of looking at your map”

I had a really lovely couple of days resting and preparing for the Cooloola walk. The Eden B&B at Mapleton was really nice…in some ways, a little too nice…At times I just prefer an anonymous room when I need to unpack and repack everything – especially if I want to dry out my things a little bit. This felt just a little too pleasant for that! Managed to throw the tent fly on a railing to dry, but the rest stayed as was.

Also the bed. The bed was luxuriously comfortable. Exquisite sheets. But it felt a bit…cold…couldn’t snuggle in properly. The breakfast was bloody beautiful though. And the owners were really nice and friendly.

I decided to taxi it down to Tewantin. 45 minute drive, so a bit of a hefty fare, but hell – this is exactly what I save my contingency money for! My driver was a lovely, friendly female. Had some killer stories to tell about some of her fares, to the point where we were both rolling around in our seats with laughter! She says she will write a book about it one day.

I arrive at my little apartment in Tewantin. Now this is more my style! Stand-alone so I could spread all my gear out, wicked painting, and a bath to die for. I feel comfy already.

There is no way that tub is not going to be used

I head into town, pick up a new power bank and supplies. Couple of sparkling wines and then home to try out the tub. To be honest, it kind of looked a little better than it actually was…took forever to fill and was only luke warm. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers I suppose.

Walked back into town for dinner and was treated to an absolutely stupendous sunset. Pizza at the pier and then home and into bed. Cosy as. Oh so cosy. And so warm.

So now we finally get to the walk. Gear into pack, and pack out the door. I walk alongside the river, through a park and down the street to get to the ferry which will take me across to the start of the walk. A car drives past. Then reverses. “You headed to the ferry? Because we are too!”. I jump eagerly into the car.

Turns out the two sisters were starting the walk as well and that we will be camped in the same spot each night. They are also headed to K’gari on the same day – so it was a fortuitous meeting!

We arrived and got started. I headed off beforehand, because I know I am a fast walker, and I enjoy walking alone.

Immediately I began winding my way through a thick paperbark forest. Orange triangles marked the way. Leaving the forest, the plains opened up into expansive heathland. Yellow and pink flowers bloomed. Birds raced from one side of the track to the other. It was a wonderful way to commence the walk.

And the first of many spectacular heaths

The track then descended down onto the beach. It was a magical day, and the ocean sparkled blue. Light waves rippled, and would have been perfect for body surfing, if I had been there for another reason. But I wasn’t. I was there to walk. So walk I did.

At this stage, pleased with the how things are going

Straight up the beach and straight past the turnoff I was supposed to take. By the time I thought about it and pulled the map out, it was too late. I’m going to tell you, and you only…I didn’t turn back. I headed straight up the beach, resolving to just keep going until I got somewhere I could jump back on the track.

The error of my ways can clearly be seen!

So, dodging speeding 4WD’s galore, I continued. It wasn’t too bad. The sand was nice and hard for the most part. And the majority of vehicles kept their distance. Except for one dick who forced me to walk in the water. Dick.

Eventually I came to a spot that joined up with the walking track, so I moved back off the busy beach, and plunged back into the forest. It was a relief.

Back in heathland, the track led uphill through gnarled, old banksia trees. On the left, views opened up onto a huge lake, stretching as far as the eye could see. I reached the high point and had my first break watching the waves in the distance.

From here, it was only a few km to camp. This time through black stumped eucalypts and spiky green juncus. It was lovely and flat, though at times sandy underfoot, temporarily slowing down the forward progress.

I reached camp at around 2pm and found a lovey spot amongst the trees. Unlike my other solitary outings, people arrived in dribs and drabs. There are to be 10 of us moving through this walk together and socialising each night. Makes a real change for me! I’ve enjoyed the conversations – and its kept me up till 6.30 and only just finished dinner!

The sunset glowed orange over the lake, and we all appreciated the day’s last rays. With groaning legs, folks dispersed to their campsites, leaving me here to write, and contemplate the day.

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 4

Thilba Thalba campsite to end of walk – 12km + 3km to accommodation in Mapleton

“Makes it! And room in the tank for more!”

Woke up refreshed and ready for the day. It’s sprinkling, but doesn’t seem too bad. I wonder what time it is? I unzip the tent and peer outside….nothing but darkness. Might just be because it’s overcast? Gonna have to turn on the phone and have a look. Phone turns on. 2.15am. Bloody hell! Phone off. Back to restless sleep.

When I wake again I can tell it’s early morning. The kookaburras are cackling. And the magpies are singing. The tent is lovely and dry. Until I spill my morning coffee inside it. Then it becomes quite wet.

It’s stopped raining! And I emerge from the tent to dripping trees and wispy clouds.

I don’t hang around. Pack up and push off. It’s wet. And it’s town day. The morning’s walking is mixed. Some areas of tremendous weeds…the downside of being just below a road I suppose. And some areas of absolute beauty. Grasstrees and wattles bursting with yellow. Easy walking, contouring around the mountain.

I came to a lookout and watched the mists rolling in the valley. Soon, this walk will be over. I reflect that it’s such a great introduction – short distances, great signage, stunning scenery, challenges. It’s got it all, in a small neat bundle. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Too soon, I reach Delicia Rd and from here I have around 7.3km of road walking to get into the township of Mapleton and reach my accommodation. The roadwalking is quite do-able. Steep at times, but with lovely rainforest off to the side. It takes just over an hour to get into town.

I arrive at my accommodation by 11am. They are not quite ready for me. I drop my bags and head back into town for a cooked brekky of eggs on toast, pineapple juice and a coffee. By the time I get back they are done.

The afternooon is spent relaxing, figuring out what to do about my power bank (I have a plan!) and showering! Ah, the after walk shower. You just can’t beat it.

I write this from the Mapleton pub where I’m having dinner. It’s a nice old place. People are sitting apart because of Covid 19. No band here tonight. The dinner was great, and after a couple of wines I feel sleepy. Time for an actual bed!

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 3

Ubajee Campsite to Thilba Thalba Campsite – 14km

“Here comes the rain!”

What a wonderful day of walking! I’d had it in mind that I needed to start early. Rain was forecast for later in the afternoon and there were several creek crossings to be made in the morning which were described as being impassable if heavy. With such a short distance today, I was also hoping to get into camp and set up before the clouds burst.

I was on my way by just after 7am. It was a gorgeous morning. Cloudy, brisk and perfect for walking. The first couple of kilometers led downhill toward Gheerulla falls. The track was a lovely mix of eucalypts, palms and grass trees interspersed with purple flowering pea.

At the bottom of the mountain, I veered off for a quick detour to the falls. They were running briskly, steamy mist rising from the surface.

More morning contemplation…of a watery nature

Back on the track, I followed the creek for several kilometers. This was primo walking. Nice and flat, variety of vegetation, pools of murky water, heaps of birdlife. I crossed the creeks with no problem – no wet feet, though I imagine after some rain there could be some issues.

Morning tea break – right before the first of the showers hit

Heading slightly uphill, I came to a small clearing with an expansive view. Time for a break. As I watched, the clouds rolled in and it began to sprinkle. It wasn’t heavy, and served to create an eerie atmospheric mist through the forest.

The track started to rise higher. Now there were numerous yellow wildflowers and bristly banksias. From here, it was a steep climb back up to the top. Lots of switchbacks made it really manageable, and with plenty of time, I rested as much as I wanted to. It was a great workout none the less.

Eventually, I was right up high again. A break in the trees provided the opportunity for an amazing view off into the distance. I could see rain clouds on the way.

View point gets higher and higher and higher and higher!

At the top, I reached Thilba Thalba lookout and was able to see the mountain I had descended in the morning; the creek I had walked alongside; and, the ginormous mountain I had climbed. I love it when you can see where you came from.

On the way to camp I started reflecting on why I love walking so much. I’ve thought this before, but it was reinforced again today. It’s because it makes me feel like I have a superpower. For every step I take, that feeling grows. It means that I have made some good decisions, that I’ve been fit enough, that I’ve had the will power and the want to succeed. It means that I’ve moved out of my comfort zone, and at times, put myself in moments of deep discomfort. Each step is an achievement. And each step makes me feel invincible. It’s an amazing feeling being able to rely fully on yourself.

I reached camp around 12.30pm and quickly began the task of setting up my tent.Nice hot lunch, and a trip to the viewing platform where it was windy, dark and grey. Not long after, the first fat droplets of rain splattered down on to the picnic table. Retreat! Retreat! and into the tent I bustled.

That was at about 2.30pm. The rain drizzled on for about 3 hours before tapering off for a bit. I took the chance to don my raingear and head outside. Nothing to see here. Wet, wet, wet. I managed to get to the bathroom before the floodgates opened again. Small mercies.

Back in the tent…and this time for the long haul. There’s only so much you can say about it. Cooking, gearing up for bed, boredom…all in a cramped space. Nothing to be done.

I had been hoping to listen to a couple of podcasts before bed. No such luck. My brand new power bank died unexpectedly. I had gotten an Anker based on the reviews, but for some reason, this one seems like a dud. Trouble charging and now this…I’m gonna have to look for a replacement before the next walk.

So time to turn off the phone to conserve battery (no reception anyways), read the kindle and snooze. I kept thinking just how lucky I was – to be warm and dry, whilst the rain pelted down outside. What a feeling, to be warm, fed, and safe.

Final thought….this has to be a wombat head doesn’t it?

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 2

Flaxton Walkers Camp to Ubajee Walkers Camp – 14km

“Wait what?! I’m here already!”

People who know me know that I have one innate fear…rodents. (Well that and semi trailers moving without the back attached – thanks Terminator). I am absolutely shit scared of the busy, scrabbly, gnawy little critters.

And I saw one. Last night. At around 6pm. That was it – I jumped in my tent and didn’t come out. That’s a long night of staying alert to any potential activity…ready to hit the torch at a moments notice! I must have tired myself out with stress, cos I fell asleep about 8.30pm and didn’t wake till 5am. For campers on an air mattress – you’ll know that is one long, uninterupted kip!

So I was off early again. It was a beautiful walk down to Baxter Falls. A soft gradient and stunning scenery. The falls were lovely. Gushy and rocky. But a bit too cold and early for a swim.

Funky lil swing bridge at Baxter Falls…who doesn’t love a good bridge when they are walking!

Next up, a long climb back uphill. But how good it was! So many lovely switchbacks, it really was rather pleasant. Nothing like the straight up and down horrors of the Great North Walk.

One of the downsides of being a ranger (and let’s be honest, there are very few) is the ability to spot weeds in what looks like a pristine environment. Amazing how well they thrive, whatever the circumstances. There wasn’t heaps – mostly Lantana and William Taylor – but enough to remind me of work!

At the top of the hill, I commenced a short road walk into the Mapleton Falls picnic ground. Nice footpath. No dramas.

The area hosts a picnic ground and lookout, with an amazing view off into the distance. I had been planning to have lunch here, but it was way too early, so after a quick stop, headed off again.

From here to the campsite, the walk was beautiful and flat and beautiful and scenic. Palm forests that reminded me of home, towering eucalypts, ephemeral creeks.

There was a poignant moment when I came across a memorial garden of sorts. One stick had been planted for each Australian who has died of Covid 19. A little card kept tally of the date and the numbers. It was quite sureal seeing it, out in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, and a stark reminder that things are simply not good with the world.

Covid 19 stick memorial. One stick for each death in Australia.

I made my campsite by 12.30pm. Again, really nice choice of spots. I cooked up some cous cous for lunch, blew up my sleeping matt, and lay out on a table for a read and a nap. I’m reading “The Running Man” at the moment. My brother and I absolutely loved the movie as youngsters, and I must say that I am really enjoying the book!

The rest of the afternoon consisted of taking half of my possessions to the Ubajee Lookout, soaking in the warmth, and enjoying the sinking of the sun. Pastels, pinks and oranges were subtle in the sky. I ate my dinner just as the sun disappeared behind the mountain.

Back at camp, I wrestled with the night noises. Once more, I was the sole occupant of the campsites, and I envisaged an army of rodents making plans to attack my campsite as soon as I let my guard down….

With some words from the head of my support crew, I rallied. I couldn’t go to bed at 6pm again! Distraction! Thats what I needed! I unpacked my headphones, put on the tunes, and belted out the songs like nobody was listening. Which they weren’t. I resolved to conquer my fear by visiting every campsite and dancing on every table. Which I did. Crisis averted! I was in bed by 7.30pm.

Sunshine Coast Great Walk – Day 1

Lake Baroon to Flaxton Walkers Camp – 16.9km + Montville Apartments to Baroon Dam – 5km

“Just Cruising”

I had a really nice time in Montville. It’s a lovely little mountain town, full of quirky shops and eateries. Had an early dinner with the eye on the prize of heading back to my room and lighting the fire. Mission accomplished. It felt like a very luxurious way to start the walk.

Although I had set my alarm for 7am, I bounded out of bed at the crack of dawn..literally. With a 5km walk to get from my accommodation down to the start point, I decided to get on my way.

The air was crisp and cool. Vapour breath. The first few km passed very quickly with lots of interesting houses and roadside markets to look at. My alarm going off scared the shit out of me!

I came to an intersection and was told there was to be a very steep descent for the next 2km. They weren’t wrong! But slow and steady and it was fine. And I was incredibly grateful I wasn’t going the other way…that would have been a hellish way to begin or end the walk!

Before long I arrived at the start point. Immediately it was beautiful. Luscious green and soft underfoot.

The track was lovely. Well marked, and for the most part fairly flat. I’ve struggled with my AARN bags over the years…wrong size for one and then breakages on another. But boy oh boy was I pleased that I went with my gut and got another one. This time – the Featherlite Freedom. They may look weird. They may cause a few sniggers. But man, when they are working, it’s like magic. So much weight, and you barely feel a thing. Yep, magic I tells ya.

Highlights of the morning included a couple of lookouts. Red rock and green dappled with the morning sun. A soft, green river framed by the surrounding trees, but sluggish and dangerous looking in it’s stillness. The rocks and spray of Kondawilla falls. Big, fat monitor lizards basking in the sun. The crack of the whipbird, the melody of the whistler and the cackle of the kookaburra. And numerous opaque blue waterholes.

Slimy green river, but oh how beautiful!

Playing chicken with a big, fat monitor lizard

Right before lunch, after a set of steep stairs, I was able to stop in at “The Rockpools” where I took the opportunity to refresh in the freezing water.

Never pass up the opportunity to soak your poor, old feet

I made it to the Kondawilla picnic ground by lunchtime, feeling really pleased with my steady pace. From here, I had less than 5km to campground. In the spirit of making sure that I enjoy this walk more than I was able to on the Great North Walk, I pulled out my stove and cooked up some noodles for lunch. A couple of kookaburras and a couple of bush turkeys were my companions. My very eagle eyed companions.

I set off again. Another road walk. Not too bad though. Before long I exited the road and was back in the bush. Quick call to the head of my support crew and I sauntered off for the final km to camp.

The campsite is really nice. There are about 12 spaces. All really private and framed by ferns. Although there was heaps of day walkers out today, it appears that I am to be the only camper here for the night. I can already tell that I am going to be a little creeped out by the night noises…

Feels so, SO good to be back into it again!

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!

Pacific Crest Trail…..

KA BOOM!! And she was done.

Very hard post to write. I thought some of the other stuff I have done was hard. But no. This feels like torture. I’ve been sitting here tapping my fingers on the table for at least 5 minutes, trying to work out how to start this. How to put all the complicated mess down on paper. But I realise that I don’t have to. Everyone is living it. Everyone knows. I actually don’t have to explain it. It just is.

It’s heartbreaking. The end of a dream. And with no real say. But it’s also not. After all – this might have been a crazy, potentially once in a lifetime plan that I had put my heart and soul into for more than year now – but it is still just recreation. Just fun. Just a walk. If this is the worst that comes to me with all that is happening, then I can think myself lucky. There are thousands of people out there suffering in this shit storm, whom have every right to laugh at my struggles. It’s about perspective I suppose.

I’m trying not to lose all my momentum and planning. When things calm down (as I’m assuming they will) I have in mind the Bibbulmun track as well as the Te Aroroa in New Zealand. The Bibbulmun winds 1000km through Western Australia from Perth to Albany,and was recommended to me more than 15 years ago by Edie and Wolf- part of my “tramily” (trail family) from my first solo thru-hike, which happened to be on the Overland Track.

I remember them so vividly. They were so experienced compared to me, and they really kept an eye on me every day. I tried “smoked sausage” for the first time when they offered me some, and shared laughs every night with them. They were much older than me, and treated me almost like a daughter. I’ll never forget it. And so, it will be with much excitement that I hit the Bib, and experience it for myself all these years later.

The Te Aroroa is a different kettle of fish, and will take a lot more planning. I’m determined. But first things first. Let you know when I know more!

So that’s it. I’m disappointed, but I’ll recover. I have already recovered. And I’m excited for what’s to come. In the meantime, I just hope that we humans can be resilient enough, clever enough, thoughtful enough, determined enough and compassionate enough to beat this thing.

Stay safe all yorlye. xx

PS. I’ve thanked all my other supporters, but I haven’t yet thanked my most avid supporter; greatest training partner in the world; and giver of supreme comfort and cuddles, Bronte the dog. She is an absolute legend. No word of a lie. And it suits her just fine for me to continue my training walks!

Pacific Crest Trail….

Where am I at with it all?

“Shitting myself. That’s what.”

I sit staring at the countdown on my phone. The seconds tick on, but the number of days to go remains the same. 22 days. Just 22 days until I am supposed to take my first steps out on trail. Until I take a photo of me sitting on the monument. Until I attempt to walk over 4200 km up the length of America. But will I make it? Not to the end…But to the start point?

When I started writing this blog and revealing my dreams, did anyone suspect that a mutated animal virus might be the cause of my failure to make the trail? I didn’t. And as I sit here with the time counting down I can’t work out whether I wish things would just move quicker, so I can get through the airports and get to that start point before more airports and more borders close. Or do I wish things were moving slower? Would more time help sort out some of this mess and could the world revert back to it’s “normal” self?

I can’t change the timing, but I can make decisions. And I have decided that if I can go I will. Despite this walk being my dream for a year now, this hasn’t been an easy decision to come to. Travel insurance – problematic. Reliance on trail angels, town shuttles and hitchhiking – potentially problematic. Ability to buy hiker food – almost certainly an issue. Could things get worse? Could I somehow get stuck in no mans land somewhere between Mexico and Canada with no way of returning home? It’s possible.

Still. My personal risk of death from COVID-19 is low. I have some money behind me if things go wrong. And I have a strange faith in the ability of humans to exceed expectations in times of crisis. So, I am going to go. If I can.

It will be a different hike. That’s for sure. No Europeans allowed in for 30 days. That’s going to change things. I could almost cry in frustration for all those people whose dreams are in tatters. And no doubt there will be more border closures within the 22 days that I must wait to begin my hike. Instead of the snow in the sierras or the lack of water in the desert, will all the hikers instead be talking about the lack of human diversity on the trail – something that I was particularly looking forward to? Or, the health status of the town ahead? Are shuttle buses running? Will we be able to get food?

I am not somebody who scares easily at these sorts of things. And I am not particularly scared of contracting the virus itself. But I am scared that twelve months of meticulous planning could go down the tubes. That what I have been visualising and thinking about every day, is just not going to be attainable. And that even if I do get over there, extraneous factors are going to turn this once in a lifetime experience into something….different. It would be incredibly difficult for me to accept that the dream was over, before it even began.

I’m trying not to dwell on it. I continue to pack and repack my bag. Make decisions about what to bring or what to leave behind. Send trip plans to family and friends. And prepare to shut my regular life down for 6 months. And I look at my countdown. And I hope.