Adam, Leigh and the Trees

Day 7: Nerang Campsite to White Horse Hills Campsite

Daily distance hiked: 34km
Cumulative distance hiked: 163km

It was only a couple of days ago that I looked at my planned mileage and cursed past me for planning today. It looked fine on my spreadsheet from the comfort of my couch but doing it after two 27+km days felt like another thing. My hip was letting me know it didn’t appreciate what I put it through yesterday so I felt anxious setting out on the track this morning.

I got up early, before sunrise and was on the trail by first light at 7am, plenty of time to get to White Horse Hills.

The first 13k to Gringer Creek Campsite was beautiful. Flat, easy walking through the forest and wildflowers. The sun rose in the sky whilst I walked and I caught the best of golden hour. I saw spectacular bird life, Kookas, Black Cockatoos and a myriad of small finches. I saw huge roos and the odd emu poo but sadly still no emu.

After having to share a shelter with Lyndsay for a second night in a row I found him in my head as I walked this morning. His judgements and negative comments weighed on me. I really needed to focus on being present, the flora, the fauna and the sounds of the birds.

I enjoyed a luxurious lunch stop at Gringer Creek and doubled down on my peanut butter wraps given the long day ahead. I would later come to regret it when the excess food made it difficult to get moving. I dutifully performed by physio exercises and released my hip using the trigger ball I’d packed with me. It was so far so good this morning on the hip front. The sliver lining of spending so much time with the Rockhamption trio was that they had arranged for a trail angel to resupply them at Gringer Creek. She had offered to help out any other hikers in need so I was able to leave my last few days of rubbish at the hut for her to collect when she came through later that day.

Back on track my pack felt amazing, lighter from offloading the rubbish and eating two lunches. It didn’t take long for the sun to heat up however, with a full tummy I felt sluggish in the heat. I had a short stretch of Jarrah forest ahead of me before crossing my second highway of the trail, the Albany Highway.

On the other side of the highway the trail continued on a service road beside a tree plantation. It was was my least favorite section of the trail so far, slogging away under blasting sun on a trail devoid of wildlife. I put some electrolytes in my water and cursed the mining industry.

Up and over Boonering Hill, I made my way along another service road until the turn off to the Kimberling Hill side trail. Given the hot weather and the late hour I decided to skip the side trip and head directly to camp. The last 3.5km felt so slow, I was elated when the hut came into view and even happier when I realised there was space in the hut and I wouldn’t need to tent in the rain.

My company for the evening was a solo hiker Mal, who was finishing his end-to-end from earlier in the year and a local couple section hiking the track over weekends. A fire was lit and I enjoyed a relaxed evening chatting to everyone, they were beautiful people and the experience restored my faith in the connectedness of the trail after my negative experience with Lyndsay. I finished the day feeling proud of myself but exhausted.

Day 8: White Horse Hills Campsite to Chadoora Campsite

Daily distance hiked: 30km
Cumulative distance hiked: 194km

I had a restless nights sleep last night, only drifting off properly after my midnight wee. When I woke up at 6am the section hiking couple had already packed up their tent and Mal was hastily packing up his gear on the sleeping platform next to me. I am apparently a late sleeper in the world of hiking.

It took a lot of positive self talk to get myself out of the hut and started on what was to be 29km through 20+mm of rain. I ventured out wearing my rain pants and poncho, knowing that at the very least I would be wet from the vegetation. My rain pants ended up staying on for the rest of the day.

This mornings hike was on a pretty trail that lead out from behind the hut, up and over a steep hill topped by a granite dome. A thunder storm rolled in just as I ascended the granite outcrop. Keen to not get caught in lightening in an exposed area I moved on quickly, hurriedly following some rock cairns across the exposed granite. As the storm brewed overhead I hoped that the cairns were practical and not artistic. A glimpse of a rainbow appeared as the heavens opened. In what couldn’t have been better timing I caught sight of a waggle marker, leading me to the trail once again and very happily under tree cover.

After 8 days on the trail I was starting to feel confident navigating solely by the Waggles rather than my navigation app. I’d learnt to trust in them and myself, knowing I could keep walking until I came to an intersection or a track marker. It was nice to put my phone away, removing the temptation to check how far I had walked and how far I had to go. I was able to be present in the moment, forget the numbers and enjoy the trail as it came. I had developed a calm confidence both in my pace and my rain gear, knowing I would reach my destination by sunset and that my setup would keep me dry. I was able to enjoy the day and the trail for what it was and not stress about the rain.

Being so present in the moment, Mt Wells had stuck up on me. Before I knew it I was tackling the steep climb to its summit through a thick forest of wattle. It was a sea of yellow with the wattle out in spectacular full bloom. The drizzle started to fall heavily as I neared the shelter. Mt Wells Campsite is different to all the other shelters I had seen so far, an old fire watch post it is fully enclosed little house. It reminded me of the high country huts through NSW and New Zealand. I was thankful for the reprieve from the rain but also thankful that I wasn’t spending the night, being fully enclosed it was a very dark and tad creepy space. I enjoyed a hot lunch and coffee, rehydrated and stoked myself up for the final 15km to Chadoora Campsite.

Thankfully there was a large section of downhill walking to Chadoora, my glutes were feeling the burn of the last 3 days. I rolled down the hill through a gauntlet of wattle on the other side of the mountain. Wearing both my rain jacket and my poncho I managed to stay dry despite the sunshine yellow blooms doing their best to soak me.

As the trail flattened out the sun tried its best to win out against the rain. At one point I thought I was in the clear so I stopped for a pee break and took off my rain jacket. The rain fought back and for the next 8km it was a poncho on, poncho off dance. I was very cold during the last 4km into camp so I was very grateful when I finally arrived.

Chadoora Campsite is in set in a beautiful fairy dell like forest, when I arrived the sun was shining on the dewy foliage, it felt magical. It is saddening to know that more beautiful bush just like this is being cleared by Alcoa not so far away. It was front of mind after hearing the low drum of the mine workings all day.

As soon as I reached camp I rugged up, enjoyed a hibiscus tea and settled in for the evening. It was the coldest evening on track yet and as I would later find out, broke a 50 year spring time low temperature record. I was under my quilt by 6pm just to keep warm. I shared the hut with Mal (aka Solar Dry) again, a fellow accountant and a nudist (hence the track name). Mal has calm comforting presence, it was a pleasure to spend the evening chatting to him.

Day 9: Chadoora Camp to Dwellingup

Daily distance hiked: 21km
Cumulative distance hiked: 215km

I bid farewell to Mal and headed out into drizzly weather for the 20km stretch into Dwellingup. It would be the first time I’d set foot in a town in 9 days, eager for a cooked breakfast I was on the track by first light.

Not more than 1km what was drizzle developed into rain and eventually hail. My hands were cold when I started the day and soon progressed from to icy and then, uncomfortably frozen. They ended up so painfully cold from the hail that I felt sick in the stomach. I kept moving forward and focused on staying as warm and dry as possible. All I wanted was to get into Dwellingup so I could get warm.

Thankfully the rain eventually eased and I had a short reprieve under shards of sunshine as I walked the old train line into town. It was a beautiful stretch of tall old growth jarrah forrest. Slowly the bush surrounding the train line thinned and through the trees I began to see houses flanking the track.

Dwelling up is an old logging town, until the 60’s a mill operated about 4km from town but after a devastating fire it was never rebuilt. The mill close to town surely was operating though. The closer I got to town the louder it became.

Sadly I didn’t make it into town before the next big downpour and got absolutely drenched about 3km out. I stopped on the outskirts of town under a sports field pagoda to get my bearings. I was bedraggled and felt miserable. I couldn’t tell if was wet through my rain gear or just really cold. I was hell bent on getting a warm breakfast so I oriented myself towards the Blue Wren Cafe and forged onwards through the downpour. Despite the cafe being so close I felt downtrodden. Is this what the whole trail would be like? Would they even let me into the Cafe when I was so wet? Thankfully the cafe has an awning I peeled off my wet gear and was able to leave everything to drip dry outside whilst I warmed up.

I felt better after a big breakfast and a couple of hours of shelter. I was ordering a second coffee, trying to work up the courage to drag myself back into the weather and over to the caravan park the owner of the cafe offered to rent me her unit out the back. It had a kitchenette, internal washer and dryer, I couldn’t say no when she also offered me a discount equal to the deposit I would lose at the caravan park. It was perfect! I bought toiletries and something for dinner from the general store and settled in for the night. It felt like pure bliss to sit on the couch, bundled in a blanket whilst my clothes cleaned. I was content.