Day 21: Balingup to Blackwood Campsite
Daily distance hiked: 18km
Cumulative distance hiked: 457km
Despite the comfy bed at Rails and Bails, my gassy tummy resulted in a fitful night’s sleep. I rolled the dice on it settling after a few days back on trail, and decided to head into town for a cooked breakfast. At 8am I was standing outside the GreenMan Cafe, waiting for the doors to open. The breakfast was simple and nutritious, but the Hare Krishna music and incense were too much for me so early in the morning. I finished up promptly and headed back across the street to Mr Foster’s for breakfast dessert: a coffee and a slice of orange almond cake. I was told it was not only homemade, but made with homegrown oranges, hand-picked by Mr Foster himself.
It was nearing Father’s Day, so I called home to wish my Dad an early happy Father’s Day. Then I popped by the general store, mostly out of guilt for posting a resupply box here instead of resupplying locally.
It was windy and rained on and off as I hiked out of town. It made me realise how much the weather impacts my mood out here. When it’s dreary, I feel sad and sometimes lonely. When the sun is shining, I feel content, confident and unstoppable. I am basically a house cat in human form.
According to the track notes, I was meant to take a detour around a section of forest that was being logged. Thanks to some intel from Bronwyn the night before, I learned that logging had been paused and I was safe to take the original trail. I was very pleased to save on extra km in the whipping wind and rain. I made it through unscathed. Whilst the partially logged sections of forest were devastating to look at, the freshly cut pine gave off the most beautiful smell.
I’d heard good things about Blackwood as I made my way down the Bib Track, and the trail telegraph did not let me down. The hut has picturesque views over the valley and farmland below, and a resident mob of kangaroos who have made it their home. I’d heard stories of a large old buck who would watch over lone female hikers, sleeping near the hut through the night. Sadly, he has since passed away, and the mob is now run by a younger, less friendly and very intimidating buck.
Day 22: Blackwood Campsite to Gregory Brook Campsite
Daily distance hiked: 19km
Cumulative distance hiked: 476km
Rain was forecast again today, with the heaviest of it expected in the morning, so I decided to stay at the shelter until it passed. Unfortunately, last night’s hut companions had other plans. Brett, UK police officer Paul and a section hiker woke me at 6am as they headed out of camp. The silver lining was plenty of time for three coffees, some reading and, with a sliver of reception, a few texts home for Father’s Day.
My strategy worked. I headed out after 11, and whilst I got a little rain, it was mostly lovely, warm weather. It turned out to be a really enjoyable day’s hiking, thanks to the variety of scenery and vegetation.
From Blackwood Hut, the trail descended through pine forest and into native bush before ejecting me onto a private farm, where the beautiful property owners had left out some trail magic: mandarins! I became emotional thinking about how lovely it is that people would show such kindness to complete strangers.
It was raining, so I pocketed my mandarin for later. I got double the warm and fuzzies when, an hour or so later, I reached into my pocket for a snack and remembered it was there. It was the best mandarin I have ever tasted.
After leaving the farm, the trail joined a road that led me to Millstream Dam. It was a long, steep, winding but enjoyable walk. I met another group of northbound hikers, and we exchanged pleasantries before continuing on our respective journeys.
Back in the bush on single track, I spotted a new orchid, not quite in bloom. My novice plant taxonomy skills led me to believe it was a white spider orchid, which typically begins to bloom in September. It got me excited about the prospect of spotting new wildflowers as I move further south.
Approaching Gregory Brook Campsite, I could smell smoke and was expecting company. The fire turned out to be smouldering, left by a family who had hiked in for Father’s Day, cooked steaks on the BBQ and hiked back out. I was surprised, though, to find Brett, who was meant to be at Donnelly River by now. He’d gotten cold after the morning downpour and decided to stay put after stopping in for lunch. I re-lit the fire, but it was short-lived, and before long another downpour had put it out. It was a cold night by the river, and with the rain and no fire, I retreated to my sleeping bag early to try to stay warm.
Day 23: Gregory Brook Campsite to Donnelly River Village
Daily distance hiked: 21km
Cumulative distance hiked: 497km
I was excited to be heading to Donnelly River Village today. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the promise of a juicy burger and fluffy scones, or maybe it was because it marked the halfway point of my trip in time. Whatever drove the excitement, it was enough to get me up early and out into the cold by 6.30am.
Hail was forecast, but having already hiked through hail once on this trip (flashbacks to the miserable day into Dwellingup), I wasn’t going to let it stop me. Almost halfway, I was feeling confident I could handle any weather the Bib threw at me.
It did get cold, though nowhere near as cold as that day into Dwellingup, and it rained heavily, flooding the track in sections. Mercifully, the hail held off. It was a super pretty walk along the Donnelly River through old-growth karri trees, but I was on a mission, driven by my stomach and hungry for town food, so I didn’t manage many photos. A flat, fast 20km and I was in town in under four hours.
Town is a strong word for Donnelly River Village. It’s a historic, heritage-listed mill town, preserved as it was in the 1950s, that now serves as a tourist destination. There’s a general store, cafe, small post shop, accommodation and, best of all, semi-tame wildlife.
All the amenities are conveniently located in the one building, so I was able to book a place to stay and pick up my resupply box whilst I waited for my burger to be cooked. It reminded me of an Australian Kennedy Meadows, from the PCT. A burger, carrot cake and two coffees later, I headed to my beautiful little room, took a long, hot shower and donned my waterproofs, ready to do my laundry.
Whilst I waited for my laundry, I relaxed at the store, watching tourists feed the wildlife with feed bought from the store. The general store had a fence around it, presumably to keep the wildlife away from people’s food, but it looked less like protection from the animals and more like a zoo enclosure for the humans. It was pure chaos, with emus, parrots and kangaroos clamouring at the fence, trying to beat each other to the little papers bags held by a group of very excited Spanish-speaking tourists. It brought me great joy.
Picking up my laundry, I was surprised to once again see Brett. Given his lofty goals and short day yesterday, I’d expected him to have powered through to the next campsite. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day he finally leapt past me.
Back in my glorious little bedsit, I sorted my resupply, read and drank copious amounts of tea. I finished the book I’d brought with me and grabbed another from the general store’s book library: a trashy 80s romance, and perfect trail fodder.
Leave a Reply