Thru-hike Archives - Page 2 of 17

A Scottish Story – Day 6, Turning it around, Peebles to the banks of the North Esk Reservoir

Distance: 33km

Four words can essentially sum up todays hike. Hot sun. Sheep paddocks. Sounds like home! This could be a very short post!

I’m pleased to say that today, although a lot longer, was so much better than the day I had yesterday. I purposely showed up with my A-game this morning. Adequate breakfast eaten before setting out, water drunk, awareness of the route, sunscreen slathered on, a plan to stop every so often, plenty to eat, a positive attitude. All good.

It was such a hot, sunny day in Scotland, that it seemed that even the Scots were surprised. Those I talked to anyway. I only saw a couple of people out on the trails all day.

Essentially today I was following an ancient trading route, the Cross Drove Rd, sometimes refered to as “Thieves Rd”, as ruffians would try to steel stock during the night. The trail was easy to follow and well marked. A few steep sections, but nothing overly difficult. The hardest thing about today was trying to find some shade to have a rest in!

I was feeling pretty relieved when I reached my intended campsite – such a long , hot day. I had spied a body of water called the North Esk Reservoir on the map, and thought it looked a pretty sweet spot to camp. I was quite surprised to arrive and find the entrance covered in no camping posters. I had thought something like that might have been written in the track notes.

Not to mind. I found a sweet little spot just outside the reserve (which, to be fair, is a wildlife reserve within an area of special significance). To further sweeten the deal, I had access to a nicely running stream for water, and after the hot day I was feeling rather parched! The cherry on top came when I decided to have a look at a nearby bird hide. Inside was a little table, stools and cushions, which on closer inspection, bore the brand name “Malinda”. It was meant to be.

So now I sit on the comfort of these cushioned stools, cooking myself up some dinner and watching the birds on the water. So far I have seen Mallards, Mute Swan, Canada geese, Curlews, Lapwings, chaff chaff, robins, common sandpiper and a person in a tiny, little blue row boat.

Very happy with how this all turned out. Hooray to being back in the game!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be viewed here.

A Scottish Story – Day 5, On the road from Hare Law to the town of Peebles.

Distance – 19km

Well. After the highs of yesterday, honestly it all fell apart a little bit today. Not in a major way. Just…in little increments that culminated bit by bit and drained the enthusiasm. I’m fine again now, and keen to continue on, but it just goes to show how quickly things can turn.

It started last night. The tent was on a bit of a slope, so I keep sliding towards the side wall, thrashing about, tossing and turning. At one point I was ripped out of a pretty vivid dream to the sound of a tenacious little dog, yapping at me from outside the tent, repeatedly and ferociously. I had thought I must be dreaming. I hadn’t seen anybody in hours. What was this dog doing here?

I heard somebody calling it. A woman. Eventually the sound of the yapping faded into the distance. I looked at the time. 12.15am. For some reason it discombobulated me a little. People can come so close at any time. And when you’re on your own….well….it can be unnerving. The upshot is that I didn’t get much sleep.

The day dawned beautiful and bright. Dazzling sunshine and the clearest of views. I came to the turnoff which led to the top of Minch Moor and decided, in this weather, it would be a crime not to climb to the top. It was the highlight of the day. Incredible views for miles around, and the whole place to myself.

Fom there, things started to take a…downhill turn. Quite literally. Down, down, down I travelled, mostly through logged pine plantations, the bases of the big old trunks baking in the sun.

Once at the bottom, road walking. Turns out road walking is the same regardless of the country. Kind of uncomfortable, hard on the feet, and with cars whizzing by with little regard for the hiker on the road.

With relief I reached the track turn off. I had now left the signposted Southern Upland way and was following written descriptions and a GPS route map. I spotted a little stone seat and decided to take advantage of it and read my track notes. I sat down.

YEEEOOOOWWWWW!!! Burning. Burning. BURNING! Intense burning on my legs. I sprung up, not knowing what was going on. Looking at the seat, it dawned on me. I had become horribly acquainted with the Scottish stinging nettle!

The shitful seat

My legs were burning and I was starting to bake. It wasn’t helping the stings. I quickly hit another dirt road where I found a track closure sign due to Forestry works. More road walking on the busy road. And no toilets, absolutely anywhere. Sometimes, there is no worse feeling or distraction for interrupting your hiking enjoyment.

On top of this I had earlier contacted the hotel to let them know I would be there around 1 pm. The owner was going to turn up to let me in. Time was a ticking, and for the first time on the trip I felt pressure to be punctual. I was running late.

Golfing dreams dad. Golfing dreams.

It meant that I pushed it. Not drinking enough. Not eating enough. It felt like forever, even though it was only 19 km. I got into the room exhausted, face as red as a beetroot. I’d been completed sizzled by the Scottish sun.

The owner of the Neidpath Inn was kind, and there was four bottles of ice cold sparkling water in the fridge. Heaven. A cold shower and out for a feed, and I feel a new person. Legs still itching like anything, but that’s ok.

Tomorrow is a new day.

This article was first published on The Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 4, Hiking the hills between Melrose and somewhere near Hare Law

Distance: 26km

Another extraordinary day of hiking with the trifecta of varied terrain, amazing scenery and perfect weather. Not to mention a physical challenge. I had a blast.

The day was started right with a huge waffle covered in Nutella and bananas. Perfect energy food, even though “the regular breakfast cook is away and so this looks…pretty bad”. It did look pretty bad, but it still tasted sweet!

The walk this morning started with a straightforward riverside ramble. I’ve finished on the St Cuthbert Trail now, and have moved onto the Southern Upland Way. It’s a different looking signpost, so it’s quite exciting.

Before long I recognise somewhere I have been before – the train station at Tweed Bank! There I sat, just a few days ago, wondering where the pathway I could see went to…and now I know!

I passed a woman standing track side with her eager looking dog. I heard her say “Not long now mate. Here it comes….” Soon after a bolt of black fur lightning shot past me, trying for all money to keep up with the accelerating train. Alas, despite best efforts, he was unable to maintain pace, and so doggedly returned to his owner, a look of pure glee on his smiling face.

The track continues along the Tweed River, at times presenting grand views of Abbortsford House, home of the famous Scottish author Sir Walter Scott (1771 – 1832). A brief tour through Galashiels and crowded woodland and then I am on my own again, climbing within a sheep field.

This is the first physical challenge of the day. The weather was perfect, not too hot with a light breeze. Stone walls crisscrossed the fields in long ribbons of grey. I cheer when I reach my first cairn of the trip.

From the top, it’s back to the bottom again and a reacquaintance with my old friend the Tweed. I filter some water and take a little break in preparation for the second climb of the day.

The route climbs seriously now, paralleling a small burn (stream) as it does so. Eventually, I emerge onto a dreamscape. Colours of maroon and black and green, and incredible views back towards the Eildon Hills, where I had started this morning. The colours were so stark because a large section of the heathland had been burnt, casting a charcoal hue across a vast swathe of the landscape. It appeared to be wildfire related to me, but then again, I don’t have the knowledge of the land management systems here to really make that call. Whatever the cause, it looked spectacular.

Dreamscape

Further up, and I reach the Three Brethren, a trio of imposing hilltop cairns. I sit, take a break and enjoy the expansive panorama.

Onwards, and there is just one more climb to make, up to the top of Brown Knowe (523m). Having not seen anybody since Galshiels, it feels remote, adventurous and breathtaking.

I walk just a little further until I find a nice little grassy patch beside a gate. As I set up camp I reflect that my body is feeling great after the most physical day yet, no doubt helped by the sheer enjoyment of it all. I have been reminded again just why I love doing this so much.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here.

A Scottish Story – Day 3, The banks of the Tweed to the wee town of Melrose

Distance – 15km

Another wonderful day of walking! It was such a pleasant evening spent talking to dog walkers and their frisky pooches. Such a laugh watching them down near the water, feverishly waiting for their sticks to be thrown. All the owners were so lovely also, and gave me a lot of confidence about my decision to camp in that location. Nobody batted an eye, and everybody wished me the best for my journey. I am very grateful to all those dog walkers who took the time to talk.

It was a warm evening, but a rather grey morning. The first little spots of rain. Nothing to complain about though, and an interesting but short day was just waiting to be explored.

The crystal well, an old water pump system. A poor donkey would trudge around the circle all day pumping the water to the manor up the hill.

First up, a beautiful riverside walk directly adjacent to the fast flowing Tweed, twining through forests of oak and wild garlic. There were few people on the trail, and it felt such a dream to be witnessing the Scotland of my dreams.

I arrived in the town of St Boswell. All the towns are amazing in their ancient appeal. Grey stone and colourful front doors. Moss and ivy abundant on the walls. The store was open so I picked up a bit of lunch. This time some yoghurt and salami sticks. Gourmet. I tried the toilets, but they were locked. It’s kind of hit and miss with the bathrooms. Some open, some not. Some needing 30 pence to open. This was one of those. I definitely need to start carrying some coins around in my pocket.

I leave town and come across a couple of fellows coming the other way. They ask about my bag. I explain the details. They ask where I’m from. I say Norfolk Island. One of them asks whether there are any Pitcairners still living there. I’m amazed. And even more amazed when I learn these guys are from Canada. They explain that they have just always been interested in the story of the Mutiny on the Bounty. We have a good chat. They ask for my photo and I feel like a celebrity. They give me a little Canada pin and again I’m bewildered at how connected everybody really is. It was great to meet them and talk about home for a bit.

Onwards, and before long I reach the Eildon Hill, three impressive mounds full of myth and legend which overlook the town of Melrose. The view is expansive. The option is there to climb the domes, but I decide I want to spend the time checking out the little town of Melrose. People have spoken about the beauty of this little town and I am keen to experience it as much as I can.

I get into town and go to the Ships Arm pub. It’s so fantastic I just HAVE to take a photo before I go in. I bustle into the full lunchtime bar and approach the bartender. “Just after a pint are ye?”. “No, I’m staying here tonight”. “Here?” “Well, I think so”. “We have no rooms here”. Oh. Wrong place. We laugh. “Well, letting you know I won’t be staying here tonight!”.

I get to the correct hotel but can’t check in. That’s ok. I leave my bag and head out on the town. I enjoy spending time at the Trimontium Museum and learning about the Roman invasion of Scotland and local Roman fortifications (now buried) which were built in 43AD. The timelines are completely staggering. There is a huge array of old Roman artifacts which were dug up by a farmer tilling his field. This is a history I didn’t know about.

Back at the hotel I try for shower and find only cold water. Kaa duu (can’t do). I head down to the bar, order a wine and ask about it. Apparently this has “never happened before”. The phrase “just my luck comes to mind”. Second wine in and the bartender comes over. He now has hot water running in the sink. Hopefully, this is good news for me! The plan is to finish this wine, shower in hot water, dinner, and wander the streets till dark.

Fingers crossed.

Another awesome day.

This article was first published on The Trek and can be found here

A Scottish Story – the first steps

Total distance: 8.5km

I am underway! What a feeling it is to get started after all the preparation and planning. Happiness and a sigh of relief. The tension of actually getting to the starting point is over.

It was an easy enough trip. Train to the town of Tweedbank. Wait half an hour. Bus to the town of Kelso. Wait 49 minutes. Wait another 60 minutes because somehow I didn’t manage to board the bus even though I was waiting in the right spot and saw it pull up and leave. Ha! No wonder I get stressed about the actual travel part! Board the bus when it comes back and travel to the Plough Inn in Town Yetholm. Straight into my room, and thanks very much! I’ve arrived!

Beautiful old church at Kirk Yetholm whose bells were chiming for the half past the hour

Then it was walk time! Filling in a little section from the town to the border between Scotland and England. For those that are unsure about it, I’m walking the Scottish National Trail, a non-signposted walk (but made up of lots of smaller signposted walks) which runs the length of Scotland, south to north. The total distance of the trail is about 865km.

The track from Kirk Yetholm out to the border

This was an out and back job, and suprisingly hilly for my first look at the trail! It was however, incredibly beautiful. Huge, open vistas around rolling mountains. Stone walls, sheep and church bells toiling. If this is a taste of what is to come, this is going to be amazing.

Nothing more exciting than following a track to an unknown destination

Celebrating being at the border and the start of the walk

The old stone wall that separates England from Scotland

Whilst I was walking I thought about my goals for this trip. They are:

Take it easy. That sounds like it should be a breeze right? Well, I find it difficult. I’m usually the sort of hiker that races along through the day in order to get to my intended camp spot early so I can rest up. With these ultra long Scottish days (the sun is setting at 8.30pm or so), I want to spend more time out enjoying it. Not necessarily going further. Just….smelling the roses so to speak, as I go.
Master Scotland’s wild camping laws. You can walk and camp anywhere in Scotland within reason. As an Australian, I’m finding this concept hard to get my head around. Our long distance hiking trails are all set up so there is a designated camp spot that is intended as the place everybody stays. Often, we are actually not allowed to camp outside that designated spot. So just wandering around Scotland, picking campsites at random as I go, is definitely a foreign concept. I’m quite a timid person, and I’m not sure how I’ll go with the confidence needed to make those decisions. Hopefully, I’ll be fine.
Romance. Haha! Why not? I do live on an extremely small island after all! Honestly, I think I am more likely to finish the trail than I am of encountering romance, but hey, doesn’t hurt to include it as a goal!
Be constantly checking in with myself about my enjoyment levels. The last few hikes I’ve done I have encountered absolutely terrible, dangerous weather conditions. I just want to make sure I am reminding myself that this is a holiday, and there are other options if the weather isn’t playing nice.

So, that’s it. The real deal starts tomorrow. And I can’t wait!

The name of my room. I’ve tried to look up what it might mean, without success. It does absolutely appeal to my Aussie sense of humour however!

England and Scotland border marker

This article was originally posted on The Trek which you cann read here

A Scottish Story (aka preliminary ramblings)

“Oh my god! Imagine my surprise when I realised I am leaving tonight! And not tomorrow!”

Urgent message to my support crew

And so it was that I commenced, in a not so auspicious start, my much anticipated trip to Scotland and an attempt to tackle the Scottish National Trail.

Despite the obvious pleasure of embarking my aircraft on the correct day, the flight was….well….unpleasant. 23 hours, give or take. I had, in what I had assumed was a stroke of brilliance, nabbed myself a window seat in an aisle of two. Just one stranger to negotiate the tricky bathroom breaks with. Easy.

Not easy. The stranger was, without doubt, the world record holder for deep sleeping on a plane. Head bobbing forward, sideways, all over my shoulder. Tray table down and covered in paraphernalia. Each time I woke her was like unfreezing a cryogenic body. A polite tap. A bit of a shake. Pushing, shoving and shouting “Excuse me!”. The confusion at being re-animated. The sitting and waiting whilst she took in her surrounds. The clearing of the tray table. It becomes obvious. Drinking is not an option. Better to become parched than wake this one more than is absolutely necessary!

I’ve been in Scotland now for the same amount of time I was on the plane. 23 hours. Different story. Edinburgh is amazing. Getting through customs couldn’t be easier. Public transport to my accommodation, a breeze. Finding my apartment, a little bit trickier, though a friendly local pointed me in the right direction quick as a flash.

The rather unobtrusive entry to my apartment

What to say about the city? It is beautiful, ornate and amazing. The juxtaposition between old and new, blending together so harmoniously, to create an atmosphere of culture and creativity. Blessed with glorious weather, today was a day for stretching the legs and thoroughly enjoying my surroundings. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Acclimatizing a little before bed, old and new combining so seamlessly

Edinburgh Castle. Symbol of Scottish pride, perched atop the basalt core of an extinct volcano and sheltered by cliffs on three sides, this castle has played an important role in Scottish affairs for hundreds of years. I turned up before opening and had the old beauty to myself.

Sleepy city view from the castle. In contrast to my jet-lagged 5.30am, the city didn’t seem to wake up till a very respectable 10am.

Site of the writers museum, tucked down a little laneway and housed in a mansion constructed in 1622

Colourful Victoria St (named after the Queen) shone like a little jewel amongst the old stone buildings

What may be my favourite memorial in the world. The most loyal of boys, Bobbie, has been commemorated for being a good boy. When his owner perished in 1858, Bobbie was found a few days later sitting on his grave, a vigil he reportedly maintained until his death 14 years later. I love that the Scottish community recognises this special bond.

The little mate, Bobby

Pinky hues at Canongate Kirk

Canongate Kirk. Founded in 1688 and completed in 1691. And looking super with popping red doors.

The ruins of St Anthony’s chapel. Although these remains have existed since the 14th century, I was shocked ( but not surprised) to see people climbing them in order to nab a photo. Makes me sad.

A spectacular field of beautiful, but invasive, gorse

The climb up to Arthurs Seat. I got my first taste of the “walk anywhere within reason” rules of the Scots. There were people and tracks everywhere. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering over those green hills and it made me so excited for the walk to come!

Enjoying the Scottish sunshine. All jumpers off and I even got a bit burnt! I really hope this is a good weather omen for the whole trip

Spectacular views of Edinburgh

Finishing my walk at a classic old Scottish pub, the Royale. The food didn’t quite match the plushness of the surroundings. But my Bloody Mary was banging.

The iconic Scotts monument at sunrise. It definitely pays to get out and explore early.

This article was originally posted on The Trek which you can read here

Great Ocean Walk, Day 14 – Mallee Camp to Portland, 24km

This is it! The final push. I wake up feeling very rested, the sickness seemingly disappeared. I pack up in a now familiar routine. One thing I can be thankful for, is that due to all this inclement weather I’ve actually rearranged my bag a little and now I can pretty much pack up the whole thing from inside my tent. Saves me time and prevents precious items from getting wet. Win win!

I’m off early feeling hopeful that the little bit of sunshine that’s peaking through might stay with me all day. WRONG! It’s a bit of everything today. Crazy wind, freezing rain, brilliant sunshine, even some hail. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

First stop on the trail is the “Enchanted Forest”, a little area which although immediately adjacent to the sea is protected by gnarled old trees and rocks, intertwined with a native fern to give the illusion of lushness. It’s a nice break from the wind and I sit and have the first of my breaks for the day.

Is it just me.. or does it just look a little bit… grizzly?

Afterwards I’m back on the cliffs. I’ve reached that point in the journey where the bag feels weightless and I’m moving somewhat effortlessly along the more or less flat trail. I revel in the windswept landscape, once again enjoying the barren terrain and pounding of the surf. One minute it’s glorious sunshine, the next I’m being blasted with icy shards of rain. The craziness fits with the overall feel of this trip. No matter how experienced I become with my hiking, the weather will remain an untamable and unpredictable friend.

Hey, I did say this was a training hike for Scotland didn’t I!

In a blast of wind I reach the only mainland colony of Australasian gannets. Beautiful big birds, some of whom used to reside on Phillip Island, an island at home. They sweep and whistle through the air in the wind and clump together in a large group looking for all money like they are trying to keep warm. It is a wonderful sight to see.

All the gannets used to nest out on that little island before it filled up. Lack of space led to the new breeding colony being successfully established on the mainland

Onwards and I get my first glimpse of Portland. I stop and have a final break on a rocky shore texting friends and family that I am almost there. I feel the achievement and self pride hit me. This hasn’t been particularly easy – the weather, the aloneness and then the overcrowding, even the distance is much more challenging that the recently completed Great Ocean Walk. I feel ready. Ready to take the next step and take this gig overseas. A new challenge. I’ve got this.

Beautiful lunch time / introspection spot

The walk into Portland is interesting. Past wartime relics and artsy houses, the gardens filled with sculptures and scraps. I’m happy. Happy to have given it go. Happy to have succeeded. Happy that my trust in myself has been proven again. Happy to be back. And happy to have a shower.

What an experience this trip has been! And what a walk.

Another successful hike! I’m ready to take this gig somewhere completely foreign! See ya soon Scotland!

Great South West Walk, Day 12 – Trewalla Camp to Mallee Camp, 18km

I got hazed last night. By Mila and Maggie. The situation occurred when I was waiting patiently for them to both (of course!) come out of the bathroom. They came out. I went in. They went to the school “sanitisation station” that was hanging directly off the door to the toilet. Next thing I heard “Oh my god! Could you imagine hiking alone! I can’t imagine anything worse! Hiking is awful! And doing it by yourself! Oh my god! You would have to be insane!”

I patiently listen. Then I say “You do know that this wall is just made of wood right? You know it’s not soundproof? You know I can hear everything you’re saying? Just wait there a minute and I’ll come out and discuss it all with you”.

“Oh. Right. Yes. No, all good. Sorry.” They leave. I can’t help but hope they are haunted by a possum again tonight.

Turns out it’s not them that’s haunted, but me. I wake up feeling queasy and headachey. I’ve never really been sick on the trail before (except for the beginning of my very first blog on the Great North Walk). I’m a little bit uneasy as I take a couple of aspirin. I hope this doesn’t last.

I wake up early. Very, very early. The school kids are up before dawn. I ascertain, because they certainly don’t keep their voices down on account of this, that this is their final day and they are headed off early to get to Bridgewater for breakfast. After what seems an age of torches shining directly into my tent, they tromp off. The final thing I hear is “Bridgewater, here we come”. God help Bridgewater.

I sleep for a little longer, but am still feeling a little bit off when I finally get up. Nothing to do but keep moving.

I start with a beach walk. Unlike the flying high walk of yesterday, this one is a trudge. Grey, windy, raining. And sink sand all the way. I’m trying to enjoy it, but the pain in my head, sickness in my belly and slight despair of the weather make it difficult.

A strange departure from the coastal scene…a group of washed up containers

I arrive at the end of the beach and alarmingly see the marker for the walk above me. Well and truly above me. Many metres above me. All this ferocious weather has obviously created ferocious waves. And these ferocious waves have undercut the dunes so that a sheer wall several metres high sits in front of me. I ponder it for a minute, pick the best spot I can and start to climb.

For those wondering what the hardest part of the walk was. This is it. I felt like the roadrunner running on the spot, the sand just cascading down. No way of getting a grip. I tried digging my poles in. Didn’t work. I got down on my knees and tried crawling up. Didn’t work. I feared falling backwards with the weight of my pack. I feared having a tonne of sand fall down on me. I feared not being able to get up this frigging thing. But inch by inch I climbed. Panting and completely out of breath when I made it to the top. That, my friends, was the hardest part of the walk.

I took a break and got my nerves back. Time to move on. And my day did improve. The headache and queasiness disappeared, and I was back up on the clifftops, which I love. I pass through stands of Eucalyptus diversifolia, or soap bush, little patches of abundant growth on an otherwise otherworldly landscape.

What it was actually like! “I’m nearing Camp Nelson. And it’s pretty windy up here!”

I reach Cape Nelson in time for lunch. It’s been incredibly windy on the cliffs again and so it is a huge relief to slide into the warmed cafe. I had been dreaming of a toasted sandwich and chips to settle my upset tummy, and there it was, right there on the menu. I felt like a winner. I sat, ate and read my book, bopping along to the 90’s tunes being belted out by the cafe staff. It was a lovely break.

I left on closing and quickly finished the additional few kilometres of the walk into Mallee Camp.

I’m alone tonight. It seems fitting for my final day. I don’t spend time reflecting. Just longingly enter my tent at about 7.30, snuggle into my lovely, warm bed and drift off to sleep. Nobody is here to disturb me at all.

Mallee Camp has camp pads so that precious layers of indigenous midden heritage are not disturbed.

Great South West Walk, Day 11 – The Springs to Trewalla Camp, 18km

Deadset one of the best days of hiking I’ve ever experienced. Amazing views, varied terrain, wildlife, lunch time cafe, cloudy day with no rain. Absolutely perfect.

I started off by continuing along the cliffline. So rugged and arid, yet so close to the sea. The rocks are incredible. What is named the “Petrified Forest” is actually just columns of rock that have been tunneled out by rain over time. I see a large group of about 20 kangaroos travelling along a fenceline. Multiple sightings of seals jumping right out of the ocean. It’s just me and the views.

Oh the colours when the sunshine arrived!

The blowholes. There was a derelict old rope hanging into the pool. That is one rockpool you wouldn’t want to relax in!

I reach the viewing area for the seal colony. Australian fur seals (bigger and tougher) to the left. New Zealand fur seals (no doubt friendlier) to the right.I don’t see much action down below. I grab a Snickers and sit down to enjoy it. Suddenly I hear a boy screaming? A lamb or sheep bleating? I look down below and there he is. A huge Australian fur seal up on the rocks and roaring at the rest of the seals that have gathered, no doubt trying to mark out a territory. It is fantastic to witness.

There IS a couple of seals there! Promise!

I carry on and down to the beautiful little town of Bridgewater. Have a lovely chat with a fellow traveller from Western Australia after his staffie comes running up to me full tilt. Oh Bronte! Soon girl.

Into the cafe for a luxurious lunch of smashed pumpkin on sourdough with pesto basil, poached eggs and bacon. Washed down with a delicious glass of champagne. Perfect!

Onwards, and now it’s a beach walk. This time it’s a pleasure. Hard sand, no wind and I’m powering on (potentially fuelled by the little bit of booze?)

Now a dune walk. A bit of a challenge up and down the sandy track. Constantly stopping though for photos of the wild, oceanic setting.

Finally camp. I set up, get ready, settle down for a little snooze and read, feeling utterly content.

Hang on! I know those voices. Mila and Maggie. I’m back with this group again somehow! Oh well. Not even they can ruin this perfect day.

A very content hiker. (Before I realised who would be at camp! Lol)

Great South West Walk, Day 10 – Tarragal Camp to The Springs, 13km

I know it’s very important for young folk to get out in the bush, learn some resilience and perhaps even develop a love of hiking. But wow! It is so extremely jarring to go from being solo to part of a hive in one foul swoop!

The group takes up both tables, and with insistence, I am allocated a tiny portion at which to sit. They cook their dinner on Trangias around me. The talk, such as it is, is constant. I’ve picked it all up before long. Mila and Maggie are the “cool girls” and loudest of the group. Matilda is the most sensible. Lachlan and Liam are partnered up, for the purposes of the walk, with Mila and Maggie, and therefore Lachlan does the majority of the cooking. Maggie likes Liam.

And on and on and on it goes. I stay as long as I can and then retreat to bed. A koala, situated directly above me, also appears to grumble about the added noise to it’s usually quiet camp.

I’m lucky enough that my tent is situated right next to Mila and Maggie. I hear them chat, chat, chatting at full volume as they get ready for bed. They go up to the toilet together (of course!) and on the way back I hear one of them say “Oh shit! I might have forgotten to close the zips”. They reach the tent, and the next thing I hear…

“ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH. Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! There is a possum in the tent!” They flee off towards the boys. The camp is mayhem whilst the situation is rectified. I swear I hear the koala chortling. As do I. Good on you possum! Someone had to try and teach them some basic campside manners.

I take off early expecting to see all of my new friends at the next camp. It is both a spectacular day, and a spectacularly disappointing day. The walk itself is incredible. One of the best cliff top walks I’ve ever traversed. But it is absolutely pouring rain, which both dampens and sours the spirits.

I still enjoy the walk. How could you not? The Bridgewater Lakes, special perched lakes like those found on K’gari. The Tarragal caves, limestone which has been carved out by erosion over millenia. And the cliffs. Utterly amazing. The murky blue of the ocean pounding into the rocky coves down below. Stunted clifftop growth and an unbelievable track which feels like it’s as far to the edge of the cliff as possible. Cormorants diving into the ocean looking for a feed. Giant kelp, swaying in clumps offshore. Salt laden rain slicks down my face.

Cliffside track. The windfarm runs adjacent to the track.

It was incredible. But boy did I long for a different scenario. One in which I could meander, bask in the latent heat of the cliffs, use my camera whenever I wanted, and without my fingers being numb. Sometimes a perfect walk deserves perfect weather. And I feel disappointed not to have experienced that today. Guess I’ll have to come back again hey!

I rally once I get the tent up and dry off inside. Have a little break. At some point I realise the rain has stopped. I gear up and head out again. Tentatively, tentatively the sun starts to shine.

I retrace my steps, rejoicing in the opportunity to enjoy this magical landscape. It all seems worth it now, in this minute. I prepare to take a photo of the sunlight glistening on the water and see a lithe little body pop up out of the water. A seal! I watch it frolicking in the waves until it submerges and never reappears.

The lack of rain and a little bit of sunshine brings a whole new feeling to this day

I’m enjoying a moment of solitude staring out at the waves when I hear it. “Oh yes! We’re here! Finally!” A group of school kids trundling in. Peace over.

In a moment of inspiration (and potentially to get away from the campsite) I decide to take my dinner down to the sunset view. It’s cold, windy, but I absolutely love it. This has turned into a very special day indeed. And I’m very thankful for it.