Port Melbourne to Portsea walk

 

With the restrictions being modified on how far from home we are allowed to venture it was time for another of my trips to Portsea where I do the trip in sections and come home every night. Walking rather than running. I decided to take the bayside coastal route to Blairgowrie then cross the peninsula and go on the back beaches to Portsea, and finish with the walking tracks of Point Nepean National Park. 120-ish kilometres, six days: just the thing for a recovering broken ankle and more importantly to replenish the spirit of someone who likes to take on multi day projects.

This time, rather than starting from home, I had a new starting point in Beacon Cove, at a street whose name I found appropriate: First Point. I had some trouble finding it as it was only a tiny lane between apartment blocks. From here I went past Princes Pier and Station Pier and along Beaconsfield Parade to St Kilda Pier where we met up for coffee, Denis, Tash, Sophie and me. The coffee fired me up and I positively zipped along the coast path through Elwood and Brighton, which I later regretted because it was getting well past lunchtime and there is nowhere to get food on the path between Brighton and Sandringham. I was intending to stop in Sandringham but I kept going to Half Moon Bay where I sat by the beachside kiosk with coffee and a cookie. From here it was only a short way to Black Rock where I called it a day; 20 kms done and the furthest I’ve walked since September.

The second day the weather was beautiful and everywhere was busy. Between Rickett's Point and Mordialloc I took a mixture of beach, bush tracks and sealed footpath. I stopped in Mordy for coffee, then started out on the long push to Frankston. I’ve always run by the road in the past but I didn’t enjoy walking there so I went down a side road to the beach and walked all the way to Carrum, over 8 kms, on the sand. Some of it was slow going when there was no hard sand but it was a great place to be on a sunny day with a slight breeze off the water. I hadn’t appreciated before that there is a continuous strip of white sand between Mordy and Frankston. But lots of other people knew about it - the beach was packed with families. The beach had an almost tropical feel, if it wasn’t for the continuous strip of unattractive houses along the dunes. This was meant to be a shorter day but I ended up with 19.6 kilometres.

The following day I started with another kilometre on the beach, which this morning was full of dog walkers and devoid of families. Then I went onto the Seaford bush trail which is through pleasant enough bush but you can’t see the beach. In Frankston I followed Kananook Creek, got a coffee from Maccas and then sat by Frankston beach. It was another beautiful day and getting hot. I went up Oliver’s Hill (I even tried to run a tiny bit) and along into Mount Eliza. By the time I was leaving Mount Eliza it was really warm and the suburban streets offered no shade. I didn’t get as lost here as I did last time I came through. Between Mount Eliza and Mornington I had the worst stretch of this journey, on the shoulder of the busy highway where the grass is full of litter, and once I got to the back streets of Mornington I was really feeling the heat. I chanced again on the little creek that I had discovered on my last visit, and mistakenly took a circuitous route to the town centre and my bus stop. All up I did 22 kms.

On day 4 I headed for the bush tracks along the coast towards Mount Martha, with a few sea views along the way. It was hot from the get go. I stopped at a cafe in Mount Martha where the owner was completely run off her feet and had a little moan about this to me, but it was the place to go because all the other cafes were empty. Then I made a change from the previous times I’ve been here as I wanted to avoid the coast road which has no footpath or shoulder but plenty of fast traffic, and I went up the hill inland. The first bit was suburban streets, all nicely manicured gardens, then I made an unnecessary detour along a creek, and soon I found a nice bit of bush which led eventually to the summit of Mount Martha. This was not a dangerous summit and I would not have known I was at the top if there hadn’t been a sign telling me; the good view came lower down where there was a wooden lookout tower (pic above). I could see the entire sweep of the Mornington Peninsula and the opening through the heads. And then, as usual, it was so nice to pop out onto Safety Beach, to see the fringing white sand and the calm turquoise waters. I walked down into Safety Beach and ate an ice cream as I walked towards Dromana.  The bay looked wonderful and the beaches were busy. I was really overheating as I strolled through Dromana and on to Macrae; I had intended to stop at Macrae but the bus wasn’t due for ages and there wasn’t a thing open there so I realised I would have to go on to Rosebud. Which I did, walking 25 kilometres in total.

After four days of sunshine my fifth day was grey and threatening rain. I followed the paths through the deserted camping areas around Rosebud and then hit the beach for the long stretch through Tootgarook and Capel Sound (pics above). It was exactly high tide so there was no hard sand and it was slow going but the cooler temperature was great. There was virtually nobody around. I went into Rye for a snack and then went back onto the beach until I reached the narrow trails that lead to Blairgowrie, including the bit beneath the moonah trees that form an arch over the path (pic below). At Blairgowrie I crossed the peninsula to the back beaches and picked up the Coastal Trail; this was the place where I had left this trail when I did my walk at Cape Schanck last year so I was able to do a bit of the Coastal Trail - Bridgewater Bay to Sorrento Ocean Beach - that I’ve never done.

The trail is inland at first behind bush covered dunes with no sea views so I made the detour out to Spray Point. Very soon I was surprised to see a fat snake slithering off the track; it didn’t seem like snake weather at all. There are dramatic rock formations all along the coast, mainly sandstone stacks and incomplete arches, but not looking their best on such a grey day. The huge dunes give the beaches a totally different character from the bay beaches. I went down onto Koonya Ocean Beach (first pic below) and walked on the soft sand; it’s a steeply sloping beach so walking was hard. I wasn’t sure where to leave the beach and unfortunately I picked the wrong spot: I had to climb a high dune and this caused my bad ankle considerable pain, then at the top I lost the path completely and had to bash through some impenetrable melaleuca. Through no expertise on my part I met the correct path and went on to climb lots of steps to St Paul’s Lookout where there was a great view down towards Point Nepean and over nearby little islands (second pic below). By this time it had started raining. I passed pretty little Diamond Bay and reached Sorrento Back Beach (third pic below) but I didn’t linger there as the rain was getting heavier. I walked into Sorrento as fast as I could, hearing thunder on the way, but luckily the rain soon lessened. 22 kms for the day.

My sixth and final day was muggy with a bit of sun. After the long bus ride to Sorrento I returned to the back beach and followed the coastline to London Bridge (pic). This included walking the length of Portsea Back Beach, a lovely straight stretch of golden sand. 

From London Bridge onwards I was in Point Nepean National Park and my goal was to go to the tip of the peninsula, a further 5 kms. There are plenty of tracks here but most are closed to the public because it’s army land. There are bunkers all over the place.  I was able to make a detour off the road, past a couple of rifle ranges, to go up Monash Tower on Cheviot Hill for a good view towards the other side of the heads: Point Lonsdale lighthouse was very prominent as well as the beaches at Queenscliff. I then crossed to the other side of the peninsula (not a long way at all) for a view back along a sandy beach towards Portsea and my first view of the tip of the peninsula, where there are more bunkers. The track came back to the road for the last kilometre to the tip and it is amazing how narrow this strip of land is down here, but still quite high so there are great views on both sides, of the bay and the ocean. I watched the Sorrento to Queenscliff ferry. Unfortunately the road was blocked off for the final 800 metres (a covid reason which didn’t make sense to me) so I could see the tip but not quite get there. 

I walked the road back to the park entrance, calling in at the beach where Harold Holt drowned and seeing a cute echidna on a side trail (guess what, pic above), and continued the extra kilometre into Portsea where I had a 3pm lunch at the pub. With 18 kms today I had walked 127 kms in total. I was fairly tired, pleased that my foot had survived the exercise, although it was still sore from yesterday’s sand dune, and I realised this is the longest walk I’ve done since my Great North Walk.

Gibraltar-Washpool World Heritage Walk September 2020

 

The Gibraltar-Washpool World Heritage Walk in northern NSW had been in my original plan of hikes to do before crossing into Queensland in July, but as I got closer to Queensland I didn't want to risk the border closing again so I decided to continue to Queensland and leave this hike for another time. Driving back home I felt the time for the hike was right, even though this was possible not what the Mackay doctor intended when she told me I could do mild exercise six weeks post fall; ok, it was only five weeks after my fall and I knew the hike was a silly thing to do but I didn't want to drive all the way from Mackay to Melbourne without one last overnight hike, and who knew when I might be allowed out of Victoria again? Even with a partly mended broken ankle I was going to do this hike. This was not supposed to be a difficult hike and was apparently well signed, although the area was significantly bushfire affected last October after the route notes were compiled. It is a 45 km basic loop with many suggested detours to sights of interest so the overall distance is flexible, which suited my circumstances. I booked my campsites and drove to Mulligan's campsite, a beautiful section of forest that was saved from the fires, the suggested start.

September 22 Mulligan's to Coombadjha campsite 10.7 kms. The walk started with a couple of creek crossings and I was pleased to see there was water flowing. Most of the creeks I've seen recently have been dry. Then the trail went into rainforest which was lovely: lots of tall skinny trees with hanging vines and epiphytes, bright tree ferns and low ferns, Bangalow palms, grass trees and blue gums. There was plenty of birdsong in the air. 

I wasn't looking forward to seeing evidence of last year's bushfires and at first I didn't go past any burnt areas but this soon changed and there were big areas of skeleton tree trunks and brown foliage. In many areas there were thick bunches of leaves growing directly off the blackened tree trunks from ground level up, and this looked most peculiar; I believe this is called epicormic growth. The more I saw such trees the sadder I thought it looked. I kept hoping that the trees I could see in the distance would turn out to have normal branches. I met two guys doing a survey of birds returning to the bush after the fires; they were specifically searching for scrub wrens.

I had a long uphill followed by a long downhill, then the trail crossed the highway and became a formed road, descending steeply to the forest floor. I had moved from Gibraltar Range National Park into Washpool National Park. At the bottom I made coffee at one of two campsites that were close together and then went on to the other one to put up my tent. On the way I saw a lyrebird. The campsite was in a rainforest clearing, not a burnt tree in sight.

Later I went for a stroll in the rainforest following pretty trickling creeks but sadly much of the forest was badly burnt. 

The day had started out really windy, and the wind was very noisy around the treetops, then the wind dropped and it was alternately sunny and raining but neither for very long. Several people came to look at this campsite but they all went away again.

September 23 Coombadjha to Boundary Falls campsite 20.6 kms. I was up before 7am since I went to bed so early last night. The weather was beautiful, coolish to start off and blue sky all day. My hike began with a lovely kilometre along Coombadjha Creek in the rainforest passing a little pool. It was hard going with my bad foot on the narrow twisting rooty path.

Then I was back on a fire trail and I walked through burnt areas for the remainder of the day, sometimes regenerating trees with the epicormic branchlets and sometimes completely charred. 

After a couple of hours, having returned to Gibraltar Range National Park, I came to a camping clearing where I had originally intended to stay, but it was too early to stop for the day so I decided to have a short break. Almost immediately two hikers arrived from the other direction; they were the first hikers I'd seen and I was the first they'd seen. We had a nice morning tea together.

The trail continued past some huge granite peaks, looking like high piles of boulders with trees growing all over, and patches of boggy ground with green and yellowing grasses, which would have been pretty if not for the burnt stumps and stalks that were there too. There were lots of scattered boulders among the trees. At times I could see a panorama of mountains on the horizon, quite distant. I crossed several flowing creeks with clear water.

I detoured to Duffer Falls hoping to find an oasis among the burnt stuff, but the whole area was burnt and the trail was indistinct. The falls cascaded in three strands over reddish blocky rock into a sizeable pool and there were smaller falls lower down.

My destination, Boundary Falls campsite, had a few unburnt trees including some tall blue gums and a smattering of tree ferns. This was not a lively place. The bird survey guys had set up camp here so I was able to have a chat about the birdlife, and hear that they had found five scrub wrens. I found the bird life surprisingly prolific. My foot was quite sore after 20 kms so I was happy to stop walking. I did the very short walk down to Boundary Falls, which cascaded over granite into a dark pool; I could sense the water was freezing without touching it.

September 24 Boundary Falls to Mulligan's 19.7 kms. A second day of perfect weather. I started with a climb which was nice because I find downhill hard on my bad foot. There were more granite boulders and patches of wetland, and then I crossed the highway again and the trail became more of a narrow footpath. 

The forest understorey showed good regrowth with ferns, grass trees and even some wildflowers. I was following Surveyor's Creek as it wound through wetlands passing granite peaks. At Dandahra Crags, an outcrop topped with jagged boulders, I started on the summit track but realised this would be too tricky with my foot on the way down, so I settled for coffee on a nearby log. 

The trail continued creekside, with both banks showing bad signs of fire, to the confluence of Little Dandahra Creek and then I followed this creek. Soon I came to a large boulder edged pool. I sat with my feet in the cold water then had lunch. The rest of the trail was alongside this creek, which was really misnamed as it was wider than all creeks I've seen recently and full of water. 

Towards Mulligan's the forest seemed a bit less burnt. I reached the end of my loop at the picnic area and straight away went to sit on a rock by the creek to cool my feet, seeing two lyrebirds on the way. Apart from masses of finches, honeyeaters, parrots, kookaburras and many other birds, I had not seen any wildlife, not even a lizard. 

September 25 In the coolness of the next morning at 7am I hiked from Mulligan's out to The Needles (first picture) which was a 6 kms return side trip I could have made on my first day. (So my total hike here was 57 kms.) I walked through rainforest which was only burnt at the edges and had some nice tree ferns, but seemed odd as the understorey was bare. Towards the lookout the ground became increasingly bouldery. The lookout was truly spectacular: the deep Dandahra Creek gorge featuring endless folds of forested mountains and the curious granite spires jutting out into the gorge from near where I stood. It was the best moment of the whole hike.

My return to hiking, September 2020

 

Almost three weeks after my accident I decided it was time to get back on the trail. I wasn't going to be able to do the Mackay Highlands Great Walk as planned but I wanted to experience what I could of Eungella National Park. I had abandoned the crutches and I thought I could manage a short walk in the moon boot using my hiking poles.

I started with a 2.8 kms out and back to Araluen Cascades in the Finch Hatton section of the park. The road to the trailhead was more rugged than the trail, with water over the road at several low creek crossings. I took the trail really slowly and just one walking couple questioned whether this constituted resting up. I could imagine them reporting back to my Mackay doctor, who had been annoyed with me for my brief stroll on the beach at Cape Hillsborough.

I saw a big goanna near the start and a smaller one later plus the obligatory bush turkey. It was lovely rainforest with palms and figs. The main problem I had was the large number of steps, mostly just one at a time but I found them tricky. Otherwise the path was a gentle grade and smooth.

The waterfall was a short flow over granite into a pool. By the time I got back to the car I was exhausted from the stress of watching every foot placement.

That afternoon at 5.30 I went to Broken River in the other section of the park near Eungella to see if there were any platypus. It was 500 metre return walk to the lookout, and I was very excited to see a succession of about six of them. They didn't surface for long and they are smaller than I thought.

The next day I went to another viewing area on the river and saw a few more platypus plus lots of turtles. 

Then I did a 2.5 km loop walk by the river and this one felt more comfortable although the ground was rougher. Again it was palm and fig rainforest with hanging vines and all sizes and varieties of palms. There was a causeway across the river where I turned back and I sat for a while as it was a lovely spot with low rock platforms in the wide river and little rapids. It felt so good to be in the bush.

In the afternoon I drove to another place by the river nearer Crediton Hall and walked a 2.3 km loop. The terrain here was rougher with constant tree roots so I had to be very careful. The palm fronds shone in the sunlight. The river appeared green but it flowed nicely with occasional rapids and pools. This walk wasn't as close to the river as the earlier one but I could always hear it trickling along. This was also a part of the Great Walk so I have at least been able to do a few kilometres and quite likely the best ones.

Two days later I went for a 7 km walk at Sarina Beach, still in the moon boot but no hiking poles. Sarina Beach and adjoining Campwin Beach are bookended by headlands. I walked from my motel to the southern end of the beach and up to a lookout on the headland where I could see beaches along the coast; then I walked out to a boat ramp right beneath the headland  with a rocky cove on one side and mangroves the other side. There was a sign warning of crocodiles.

From here I walked the full length of Sarina Beach and continued on Campwin Beach to Coral Point lookout on the northern headland. I could see a line of ships on the horizon queuing at Hay Point. It was low tide and the beach was huge and there were long exposed reefs near to shore. It was not a pleasant day, very windy and at the lookout it started raining lightly. I returned along the beach to the motel. My foot in the moon boot was tired and my back was sore but overall the walk was successful.

The next day I didn't do much walking but I did a lot of sitting at Cape Palmerston National Park on a long sweep of beach. 

The following day I wanted to walk the length of Carmila Beach but it was very low tide and the water's edge was so distant I could barely see it. The sand was too soft for me to be able to walk comfortably with the moon boot. When I got to Clairview Beach the tide had come in considerably but the firm ground was too rough for me to walk and the soft sand was on a slope. The beach was alternately sandy and rocky and there were lots of islands just off shore. The water was a lovely aquamarine.

Two days on and at Emu Park I was ready to try walking without the moon boot, just in trainers, and with hiking poles. I was unsteady at first but it became easier. I started out with walking along a sealed path above the beach with great views of the Keppel group of islands. It was really windy but warm and sunny. Then I went onto the beach and walked the length of it to a headland on nice firm sand. The water was wild.

By this time I wanted to get out of the wind so I followed an inland bike path back to the town. I finished with a stop at the bakery. All up 7 kms.

I did a couple of beachside walks at Bargara, now four weeks post fall, wearing trainers and using hiking poles. For the first one I walked south along the paved path to Kelly's Beach and then walked the full length of the beach. Then I walked back. It was a lovely morning, fairly still and blue sky and the water was a deep aquamarine. The coastline along here is broken up by large patches of black boulders, at headlands and also in the middle of the beaches. On the return leg I stopped at the golf club for a cup of coffee and sat on the verandah overlooking the ocean. 5.5 kms today.

The next day was overcast and humid. I walked north along the paved path passing masses of pandanus and several small beaches separated by boulders to Neilsen Park. From there I found a grassy path that went into scrubby bush towards Mon Repos Beach, famous for its turtles, and then down onto the beach via a creek crossing I had to paddle. This was a longer beach, about 2 km. I walked in the water until the beach became too stony for comfort. Several patches of dune were roped off for the turtles but this isn't the time of year to see them. I managed a loop in the bush on the way back and was able to use stepping stones to return across the creek. I had done 9.5 kms when I got back to Bargara and my foot was really tired.

Now I felt I could return to the bush, this time in hiking boots. I did a 4 kms walk at Coalston Lakes National Park, walking through dry rainforest over a couple of hills to two completely dry crater lakes with unnecessary (at this time) bird hides; this really was walking for the sake of training and I wasn't surprised there was nobody around. 

The same day I did a short walk at Auburn River National Park, descending into the gorge where there were huge red boulders in a puddle of water. The next day I walked along the rim of the gorge passing lots of bottle trees.

Then I did a 6 kms hike at Sundown National Park, walking high up above the Severn River to a water hole where I uncharacteristically went for a swim. There was a loop trail around the edge of the park through forest and grassland.

I continued to Giraween National Park for two hikes. Giraween is boulders on steroids; they are huge and everywhere, stacked up, balancing, randomly lying around. I did a 9 kms hike past several interesting boulder formations called the Castle, the Sphinx and the Turtle (which only looked like a turtle when I saw it from a big distance the next day). The following day I tried to climb the Pyramid but I had to give up before the top because my foot wouldn't co-operate on the sloping granite.

Rescue off Wolfang Peak

 

On the morning of Monday 17 August I set off from Emerald in Queensland's Central Highlands to drive three hours to Nebo, 80 kilometres on my side of Mackay. I had been in Emerald after finishing the 90 kilometres Carnarvon Gorge Great Walk two days earlier and I was heading to Nebo to begin the 60 kilometres Mackay Highlands Great Walk in Eungella National Park.

On the way to Nebo I intended to stop near Clermont and climb Wolfang Peak which I had read about in a tourist brochure spruiking activities in the Mackay region. The out and back walk was supposed to take one hour each way. I had also read a couple of blogs about the walk to get more details but serious information was hard to come by, as the bloggers had noted. It sounded like a fun way to break up a long drive. Clermont to Nebo is almost 200 kilometres along the Peak Downs Highway, in the heart of coal mining country, not passing through any settlements. So a break for stretching my legs made sense.

I stopped after about 100 kilometres in Clermont to prepare for the hike with coffee and a doughnut (I thought at the time that the small town had a nice vibe) then drove towards Wolfang Peak in the Peak Range National Park. It was very clear on the horizon, a sharply protruding volcanic plug (521 metres above sea level and around 250 metres above the plains) jutting out of the flat scrubby terrain. There were other similar peaks but none so stark and all were individually well isolated. 

I turned onto a sandy road about 30 minutes out of Clermont which was signposted to the peak walk and parked as I didn't think it would be sensible to drive my car on the sandy road. This dirt road was parallel with and very close to the highway. The access road began where I parked and ended about two kilometres away, at a turnout off the highway. I started walking the access road and soon realised I had parked in the wrong place, as I should have parked at the turnout I just mentioned, and this gave me a couple of extra kilometres to walk to the trail start, but never mind. From the access road there was a paddock to cross to  get to the base of Mt Wolfang and the blogs gave quite precise info as to where to start crossing the paddock.

I had set out 12.15pm. A number of things I did before setting out were to prove very fortunate later on: I had a big drink of water while I was by the car, making it less critical to drink while hiking; I wore a long sleeved shirt to protect against the midday sun; I took sunblock with me as well as applying it before leaving the car, which I would not always do on a short hike. The most fortunate thing was that I had fully charged my phone while driving that morning, which I don't generally do.

However I had made a major mistake in not taking my personal locator beacon with me as I considered the walk too short for it to be necessary. On another occasion I had not taken the PLB on a short hike and I had encountered several snakes so I had clearly not learnt my lesson there. Another mistake I made was that I had not told anyone that I was going up the mountain.

When I thought I was at the nearest point that this dirt road would get to the peak I climbed over the wire fence and started to cross the woodland paddock towards the base, as instructed in both of the blogs. I have a vague recollection of wondering if this was the correct starting point or if I should have started about half a km before this point near a Peak Range National Park sign but where I started looked as it had sounded in the blog posts; I wasn't worried about climbing the fence, thinking the blogs were quite old and the national parks folks could well have put up a fence recently. There were feint trails in the paddock which could have been made by previous walkers. Or animals; animals now seem the more likely cause, but it's worth stressing that this early on I didn't have any feeling that it could be remotely out of the ordinary to do this walk.

I reached the base and very soon I saw the pink guidance tape on trees that was also mentioned in the blogs. All good and I climbed easily on the dirt and then over rocks. There were a few patches of bush/trees but higher up it was all rock, some of it smooth and the rest mainly large rectangular blocks. By now the route was marked sporadically with red or white paint on the rocks or cliff faces. The white markers were partially rubbed off and looked older. It wasn't easy peasy but I've done far more challenging climbs without a second thought.

After a few scrambles, again nothing heart stopping, I passed a couple of cairns and reached the top. I admired the 360 degree views of scrub, stunted trees, other peaks, a few farms, all below the wonderful blue sky. In one direction the highway formed a straight line across my field of vision. It was a gorgeous late winter day, completely still and likely close to being the last of the year's moderate temperatures. I didn't linger because, I have to admit, I was a touch nervous about the descent.

I came down the higher steep part without difficulty, following the markers and then I came to a confusing marker and didn't know what to do. I remembered that marker from my ascent and I was convinced I had approached it from below. So I made a route decision to continue to descend and talked myself through some precarious terrain, although I never felt in danger. In hindsight I don't think I tried hard enough to understand the ambiguous painted marker and this part of what happened that day has been troubling me ever since because I can’t see why I made the decision to go the way I did. I don't think I have ever been hiking somewhere like this where a detour off the curriculum could have such devastating consequences.

I came to a rather tricky place on the rocky mountainside and I had to repeatedly manoeuvre my feet to get into a good position for the next part, a short but almost vertical descent; I could not decide whether to go facing towards the rock or facing away and I momentarily considered taking off my running vest (backpack) as I feared the things in the pockets would serve to push me away from the cliff face, but thank goodness I didn't do that. I could see the possibility of falling and it looked a serious fall. Then I slipped and fell. A lot went through my head as I fell. I am not clear how far I fell in metres but I fell past the point I had looked down on. When I landed my first thought was that I was alive. Then I expected to see a bone sticking out of my right ankle because it hurt a lot; it was painful but no bone was showing and I immediately tried to stand on it. (Only last week I'd had a conversation with a hiker about walking immediately after a sprain rather than resting the ankle.) My left leg was bleeding from several grazes including a dramatic gash down the outside from knee to ankle. But no pain on that leg.

My mind has rendered the full details of the fall  somewhat hazy, no doubt as part of my coping mechanism. (For example I thought at the time that I had banged my head as I fell but now I'm not sure, but I'm fairly certain I tried to grab a bush as I passed it.) I looked at the trail I had created with the GPS on my watch on my outward route to see how far I currently was from that line and it didn't seem far. I decided to try to continue in that direction. (That's what I always do when I've gone off course and usually this delivers me back to the correct trail.) It also crossed my mind to see if I had mobile signal but I didn't do so. Walking wasn't pleasant, but it was possible and I had to do it, so I did it.

After walking across a small scree slope and scrambling along the edge of another cliff (which I really should not have done in my injured state) I reached, after maybe only 30 metres, a metre wide ledge and I could see no possible way forward. So I could not get back to my outward GPS trail. Ahead horizontally was a big gap in the rockface and below was a seriously big drop, pretty much down to the paddock. 

Almost instantly I became terribly scared. I suddenly saw that I was in a life threatening predicament. Going back would have been dangerous on the cliff edge (and I am glad I didn't try) and continuing onward was impossible.

So at this moment I turned on my phone and happiness washed over me as I saw that I had a strong signal. I called Denis to alert him that I was about to call 000 and then called 000. It was 2.22pm.

The police answered immediately and had some trouble working out what part of Queensland I was in, but once they located me the rescue was under way. I felt overwhelming relief. From now on my fate was in the hands of experts and I knew I was completely safe where I was as I was on a slightly hollowed out ledge that was not tiny and well sheltered. The sun blazed down on me but I had my sunblock. 

After my 000 call the paramedics, SES and police were soon in constant contact by phone. On their first call a paramedic asked several routine questions, including checking out my covid status. She asked my age and I said I was 63, which I sensed surprised her; this surprised me too because I am only 62, so I guess my mental state wasn't great at that moment. The paramedics were totally focused on my injury and I tried to emphasize that my main concern was getting rescued, that the injury was mild, as indeed it didn't feel serious just then. 

The first sign of rescue activity after about 30 minutes was that I saw three cars: police, ambulance and another vehicle. They entered the dirt access road, from the other end to where I'd parked, and to my dismay they drove the full length, in effect past the point where they would be nearest to me, and almost out of my sight. Not surprisingly they phoned to say they couldn't see me. Soon I saw a group of people walk from the vehicles towards the base of the mountain and then continue towards the backside until I could no longer see them. This was a feature of my entire rescue: I would carefully explain how I was facing the highway and the rescuers would act as though I was on the backside of the peak. This could be because the walking trail is on the backside. 

Throughout the whole episode I was convinced that I was easily visible from the highway only 400 metres away, but I was half way up a pink-tinged mountain wearing pink, and 400 metres is a big distance when it comes to spotting a speck on a mountainside, so clearly this notion was ridiculous.

I now have to question whether I was ever on the correct trail; no trail is shown on the map automatically downloaded to my GPS watch or on the map I downloaded to my phone so I will never know for sure. The blogs both mentioned large caves full of bats and I had seen some small caves but none that gelled with the description in those blogs. I have now concluded that had I not been injured my best option would have been to return to the top and try to descend again staying with the markers.

The police must have worked out that the Audi parked just off the highway was mine because they asked several times if I could see 'your red car'. Either they had done a rego check or they linked a stranded Victorian hiker with a nearby car with Victorian plates. I couldn't see the car but this info failed to help them locate me. I felt very fond of my car when they asked me about it: a link between me on the mountain and my life in the outside world, and also the closest thing to family that I had with me.

The helicopter pilot from RACQ Central Queensland Rescue phoned at 3pm and said his chopper was an hour away; they were just leaving Mackay. That felt good to hear. I could easily sit there for an hour, although even moving slightly to prevent going numb from sitting in the same position for too long scared me. There was a drop to the foot of the mountain right in front of me.

I had with me in my running backpack two muesli bars, half litre of water, sunblock, phone, purse and that's all. I had lost my sunnies in the fall (I didn't realise this until I was sitting on the ledge) but I'd retrieved my pink cap. At that stage I hadn't eaten or drunk since Clermont apart from the water at midday at the car. Or had a wee. The paramedics told me not to eat or drink, which seemed odd on a hot day but I did as I was told. So I was becoming really dehydrated sitting in the full sun and there was no shade whatsoever on my ledge.

I wasn't doing much during this time. When I kept my right foot still the ankle wasn't hurting. I tried to wipe the blood off my left leg as best I could and I began to feel bruising on that leg that I hadn't noticed before. I gazed mindlessly at the other peaks dotted around the plains and wondered what was growing in one rather distinctively bright green field across the highway. There would be an occasional vehicle crossing my view along the highway.

The people on foot were still trying to reach me but had no chance of getting to me from the back of the mountain. I looked at my watch data later and saw that I was considerably higher on Wolfang than I imagined at the time; I had descended less than a hundred metres from the top. It would have been more frightening if I'd known I was still so high as I sat on the ledge. In total I had walked less than four kilometres from my car, that's all, and I'd only been walking for slightly over an hour, not including my stops on the peak and when I fell.

I heard the chopper way before I could see it. It came so close that I was sure it must have seen me but then it went away and the pilot phoned to say he had not located me. Shortly after I had my only breakdown when I said to an SES person on the phone that I hoped someone would find me. He assured me they would.

Not long after the chopper came in much closer and definitely saw me. It went away briefly, as I'd been told it would, then returned and hovered maybe ten metres above me. I've never watched a chopper hover from such close range. A huge wind came up. I could see a guy getting organised while sitting in the doorway and then I watched him descend on a cable and clamber onto my ledge. He was gesticulating as he descended but I assumed this was not aimed at me. I stood up as he landed. Then he strapped two huge belts around me (I was worried that the water bottle in my vest back pocket would prevent the harness from holding me) and gripped me very tight, and we were winched up to the chopper. That part was terrifying because of the drop of about 100 metres below. I recall my rescuer grabbing one of the skids but beyond that I'm not sure how I got inside.

All I knew was that I was sitting right inside the chopper and that felt amazing. Warm. Safe. A solid floor. We flew down to the ground and I stepped out; I didn't give the injured foot a passing thought. Immediately I felt really faint and almost collapsed which got them worried, but when I lay down I was ok again. I was initially confused as to where we were but they said we were at the back of the mountain. Makes sense as none of them seemingly ever wanted to have anything to do with the front (highway) side. I have a strong picture in my mind of a bottle tree right next to the chopper. The SES people and police arrived on foot; a policeman checked how I had come into Queensland, rather sheepishly I thought, and indeed it would have been awkward if he had to arrest me right then.

They strapped me onto a stretcher and put me back in the chopper. There was the pilot (who told me he'd once climbed Wolfang in 40 minutes), emergency doctor and paramedic, rescue guy, and a crewman. In the chopper the doctor and paramedic did some medical stuff and couldn't understand why I didn't want painkillers. But I was not in pain. My main issue was that my back was uncomfortable and I couldn't move at all while I was strapped to the stretcher. I said to the doctor that I do a lot of hiking and run ultramarathons, just to reassure him, or rather myself, that I wasn't a complete novice out in the bush.

These guys had rescued someone here only a month ago and also six years ago. Despite this the Isaac Region website and a widely available Mackay tourist brochure both have a picture of a pair of women setting out calmly for the peak with minimal equipment. No warning, nothing.

We were headed for Mackay, which was for two reasons: firstly the chopper was based in Mackay and secondly the paramedics thought it best I go to the Mackay hospital as the Clermont hospital is only small and doesn't have an orthopaedic specialist. Nobody knew what injuries I had sustained. We stopped at Moranbah aerodrome to refuel and I could crane my neck to watch a beautiful sunset. Then we flew on to Mackay airport and I was driven to the Base Hospital by ambulance and taken into the emergency department, where I was triaged at 7.30pm. It had been a long afternoon's adventure with a good outcome.

I was diagnosed with a small avulsion fracture in my ankle (Weber A was the location) caused by a severe sprain and they decided I didn't need plaster. I was given a moon boot for my foot and offered crutches which I declined because the only time I've had them in the past (for a less serious injury) I found them a nuisance. Making such a silly choice was another indication of my poor mental state. I was surprised to have to ask to have the gash and grazes on my other leg cleaned up despite the leg being really bloody. As the nurse cleaned me up I could feel bad bruising on my upper thigh.

Around 10pm I was discharged into the Mackay night where I didn't have a hotel reservation. (I felt this was quite poor treatment for an older person completely alone who had been through a traumatic experience but at the same time I didn't want to spend the night in hospital so I wasn't going to make a fuss.) They couldn't give me anything to eat because they had run out of sandwiches so I was beside myself with hunger. I was still in considerable shock when I left the hospital.

Online I found a hotel at the airport with a reception desk that was still open and got there in 15 minutes by taxi. I was able to reduce my hunger with a cookie and KitKat from a vending machine at the hotel, the kitchen being well and truly closed, and I collapsed happily on my bed shortly before 11pm.

One of the SES had driven my car back to Clermont and the next afternoon I took the bus from Mackay to Clermont to be reunited. Before leaving Mackay I went back to the hospital to get a pair of crutches and of course they made a huge difference to my mobility. While waiting for the bus I ate a large amount of greasy food as the bus stop was outside a service station, so I could satisfy my hunger without having to move far. I stayed three days in Clermont before very gingerly driving to Mackay, with no plans to move on soon. I think I was still in shock that weekend. On the Monday, exactly a week after the accident, I was back in hospital all day getting antibiotics intravenously for cellulitis in my foot, a condition that was temporarily far more unpleasant than my sprain/fracture. 

Now I am piecing together in my mind what really happened, and I am trying to silence the what ifs in my head because it doesn't help to catastrophise about a worse outcome. I feel hugely grateful for my  rescue.

 Here’s the link to the RACQ CQ video of my rescue: https://www.facebook.com/CQRescue/videos/1066749910453598/

Carnarvon Gorge Great Walk August 2020

The Carnarvon Gorge Great Walk in the sandstone belt in the Central Highlands of Queensland was a hike I wanted to do for a long time. I had researched it ages before the Queensland border was scheduled to be opened (when I didn't know that it would promptly be closed again), and this was the main reason I really, really wanted to get into Queensland once I had made it into NSW. This Carnarvon National Park walk starts by following Carnarvon Creek through the gorge (which is actually 30 kms long but mostly not accessible to the public) in the Carnarvon Gorge section of the national park, climbs out and then does a big circuit through the backside woodlands of the Mt Moffat section of the national park, returning to the base of the gorge again at the very end. It's a roughly 90 kms loop walk, excluding various not-to-be-missed side trips, which I planned to do in 5 days; most of the days would be short on distance for what I like to do but I could cope with this.

The drive into the gorge from the nearest town of Rolleston was lovely: distant mountains, paddocks with emus, cows wandering all over the road. By the time I got to the start of the walk at 10am the day was warming up.

11 August, 15.5 kms. The first stage was busy with day walkers because this part has easy access to some very scenic parts of the gorge. There were high weathered sandstone cliffs to one side, fairly white with shades of grey and yellow, and further in the gorge was going to get much narrower. Up high on top of the cliffs were trees, barely discernible. Around the gorge were palms and cycads. The colours down there seemed especially bright in the sunshine.

There were many detours off the main trail, starting with the Moss Garden, a rock pool surrounded by rocks covered in mosses. Then came the most interesting feature, reached by a network of steps and metal ladders, the Amphitheatre, where the high cliffs closed in on each other so that there was only a small chink open to the sky. Next came a very damp side gorge, Wards Canyon, with huge king ferns that usually only grow along the coast. Then a huge rock overhang, and later a similar overhang called the Cathedral, with Aboriginal rock art: stencils of hands, drawings of fences and carvings of serpents.

In between the attractions were numerous creek crossings on stepping stones and I wasn't too keen on these because I feel less balanced than usual with a pack. The water would have been ankle deep and the crossings were between 2 and 10 metres wide, and the stability of the stepping stones varied. 

It was time for a break so I stopped by the creek where I had a great view of the cliffs and the water and I tried to make a cup of coffee. I was using a type of metho I had not bought before that was purple. Try as I might I could not get it to burn and eventually I gave up. A few minutes later some people asked me why I was taking water from the river, was I doing research? I said I was trying to make coffee and explained my problem and they shared my puzzlement.

The Big Bend campsite was on a bend in the creek and extremely picturesque beneath those high walls and with huge scattered boulders, with the gorge walls taking away all the sunlight so it was already cool at 3pm. I had a spot of trouble finding the campsite but luckily someone else arrived at the same time as me.

I told this guy about my metho problem; he looked at the bottle and showed me the words unsuitable for use in spirit burners. Oh dear. Cold food for me. Interestingly, when I later looked at the colourless metho I normally buy I saw that those bottles say the same thing. The purple metho is treated and coloured so people won’t drink it. I soon poured away the purple stuff and used hot water kindly donated by fellow hikers most nights to cook my noodles. I found it more inconvenient making coffee with cold water because the powder refused to dissolve completely.

The tops of the cliffs were very slightly glowing orange in the last of the sunlight for several hours. I slept to the sound of running water.

12 August, 16 kms. Leaving the Carnarvon Creek gorge the day started with a walk through Boowinda Gorge, a tiny side gorge with high walls so no sunlight could get in and the watercourse was filled with debris. It was cold in there. Then I had a steep and rugged climb out of the gorge and continued in light woodland heading towards Battleship Spur which I was surprised to see really had the profile of a battleship. As I reached the lookout two kangaroos bounded away.

The view from Battleship Spur lookout (1074 metres) was fabulous: the Carnarvon Creek Gorge like a deep curvy slash in dense forest with occasional patches of white cliffs visible. I could see way beyond the gorge into the surrounding farmland but at the same time there was a vast amount of forest.

After this the walking was through the grassy woodland, or was it wooded grassland? The grass was about thigh high and yellow, and the silver leafed ironbark trees were medium height. There were cycads too, which became increasingly plentiful. The path was a single track which must have been made with a scythe after the wet season. It wasn't too hard to wander off onto animal tracks by mistake but as the terrain was so open it was not difficult to get back to the trail. I like this open woodland because you can see other scenery through gaps in the trees and I could see many low peaks nearby. It was a hot afternoon with a slight breeze.

Gadds campsite was in the woodland beneath a conical peak and there were two water pumps under a shelter. Just as I arrived a couple of kangaroos jumped away. The same crowd as last night turned up which was nice. It was a beautiful starry night.

13 August, 16.5 kms. I made a late start because I sat around chatting. Today's walk was all in the woodland, initially on a wider trail and then back to the grassy single track, mostly on a ridge. The cycads became taller, often taller than me. After an early climb with several false summits I had nice views over many peaks in this region of the national park, where Mt Moffat is the highest peak. It was again a cloudless day.

After a while the trail came to a dry creek and the terrain changed, the ground became sandy and the vegetation changed from gums to casuarinas. I thought I had left these on the coast.

Then I returned to the grassy woodland and came to a more major river crossing on a long suspension bridge. It didn't look like the river had seen water for a long while. On the far side was my West Branch (hikers') campsite; this was just a scruffy clearing while the adjacent car campers' campsite was landscaped and had toilets. 

I ate lunch over there and when my hiking mates arrived we all decided to camp there. We did good social distancing, camping far apart although we behaved like we were travelling together. In the evening we shared a campfire with some German backpackers.

14 August 36kms. This was a huge day for distance. I started with another climb, and higher up the grass was green rather than yellow and there were smoother barked gums. The woodland was denser. It was windy and cloudy at first but quite suddenly the clouds vanished and I had another blue sky day, but a bit cooler due to the wind.

After 11 kms I came to the dirt road leading to Preawaddi Gorge lookout and someone had suggested I go there so I dumped my pack and set out on the 5 kms return trip. This was easy fast walking through yellow then green woodland but the lookout was a tiny bit disappointing: the view was over a deep chasm with forest far below and dramatic but no view of the river within.

Once I had collected my pack I was into the Mahogany Forest which was green with a ferny understorey, grass trees, cycads and tall stringybarks. It was more stately than the earlier woodland but lacked views through the trees. Some of the wattles were flowering.

I got to Consuelo campsite and stopped for lunch; it was not much of a campsite, a small clearing which did not look welcoming, with a water pump and shelter. I was already quite tired but I didn't linger.

About half way to the next campsite I was caught up by a group of women running the entire trail in a day and a couple of them wanted to walk for a while; we ended up walking about 4 kms together chatting and this really got me moving as they had little luggage so they could walk much faster than me. We saw a feral black pig right by the trail staring at us; most hikers see lots of pigs and the damage they have done to the forest is very noticeable: it looks as though heavy machinery has been through.

Cabbage Tree campsite was a lot nicer, right in the forest and surrounded by low cabbage tree palms, and I met a new crowd. I didn't ask for hot water (the first person I told about my lack of fuel gave me a disapproving look) but instead I cold soaked my noodles and they tasted just great. The wind had come up and by 7pm it was raining lightly.

15 August, 16.7 kms. The final day brought a return from the forested tablelands to stunning gorge scenery. I soon found I was walking along a ridge and then out on a spur with views over huge chasms and tall sandstone cliffs. The path descended several times into dry gullies with cabbage tree palms. It was more cloudy than the previous days.

After more forest with casuarinas, smooth barked gums, flowering wattles and of course cycads I came to the turnoff for Boolimba Bluff lookout and from here was an amazing view of many kms of the main Carnarvon Creek gorge; I was now very close to this gorge after a few days' absence. I descended through Boolimba Gorge, which was a narrow and steep side gorge, its sides filled with damp plants, on a series of ladders and lots of steps, and was then back at the Carnarvon Creek.

Shortly beyond the side gorge some other hikers were stopped by the trail, and I found they were watching a big python which had been reluctant to leave the trail.

The main gorge was again busy. When I got back to my car the first thing I did was get my old metho bottle and make myself a cup of coffee with hot water!