The Heysen Trail 14. Limp Epiphanies

 

Wolf Creek has forever changed the landscape as far as hitchhiking is concerned in this country. It is rare to see someone with their thumb up on the side of the road these days.

I had not accounted for a pavement pounding seven kilometre on top of the 17 km I had already  grafted out on the cliff faces on this trail. In a town full of retirees, I was awfully mistaken thinking someone would give me a lift to Victor Harbor. I guess that if I was one of the three fresh young ladies I met at the Deep Creek waterfall, I would have gotten a lift instantly. A wet, tired looking, shivering,  limping hiker with an obvious bowel problem, judging by those stained shorts, is much too Harry Taylor like to offer a ride. ‘Betsy, you never know with the youth of today’ and ‘Darling he is going to mess up the car.’ I imagined conversations that would be had in those warm four-wheel drives that drove past me.

 

The cold weather of Victor Harbor. Notice how my lens was smudged by
 remnants of the Heysen Trail bush

So on I walked!

Believe me, walking an extra seven km through this cold and windy place was fruitful in regards to a spot of epiphany hunting.

“Overall Mars” I told myself, “you still love this stuff”. Even walking with the bad combination of freezing hands and busting to go to the toilet (hands-free effort required), I maintained I was in the right place and at the right time. For me, hiking beats any TV program, anything you will ever find on the net (my blog included) or any other self-challenging activity I can possibly think of. Some may prefer to hang off cliffs with ropes, jump out of planes, be chucked down a ravine attached to a 'lacky' band or swim in altitude sickness on Mt Everest, but I loved the mixed-nut-bag of experiences on the Heysen trail. It has given me so much to live through that it has lit me up like a Territory Day cracker night. 'Who would ever think I would write fourteen blogs about a five day trek?'

 

Aproaching Victor Harbor and Granite Island

Hiking has proved to be more difficult this time around. This is something that is hard to come to terms with for my inner competitive self. The recently operated knee had michellinned out of proportions during the last hobble to the Harbor without the guarantee that it would ever improve. 'Totally reckless, to put yourself in this situation', some would argue but I just can’t see the point of staying at home and watch Bear Grills get his thrills. I may have to reduce the distances I walk per day or travel lighter – whatever that looks like. Maybe a bit of ‘enjoy it while you can’ could be a point to make here?

An observant reader of the first couple of my Heysen trail blogs would have noticed that there were many complaints about the weight of the backpack I was carrying. I have called it every name under the sun and thought about turning it into an unloved orphan many times. I think it even tried to throw me down a cliff just to get even. Well!!!  This bag of repulsion appeared miraculously light five days in. First of all, the balanced amount of stodgy hiking feed had all but vanished out of the pack. Much of the 'almost' edible kilos destroyed by outrageous, much needed, gobble sessions lightening the load.  Man, did I eat on that track!!

 

The whaling past of Victor Harbor commemorated in the town square by this water feature

 

Secondly, I realized that the bruising of the straps around my shoulders had hardened up to calluses with skin peeling everywhere. Every muscle from the neck to and including the Netherlands had gone 'toight'. The pack of sorrow, galvanizing all previous back issues, some stress-related I am sure, into surprising solid Dutch Oak. Am I saying that this trudging business can make you stronger, healthier?
 

Stumbling into a strange place

While I was walking, philosophizing and epiphanizing I had switched on the phone, googled a hotel and pressed the directions button. I followed the blue dotted line on the screen that appears when you press the rarely used, little lady that likes to walk and talk with you. She appears to know where you are at all times! I rounded the point where the horse-drawn carriage takes off to Granite Island and in the end I stood there in the lobby of this old creeker of a hotel tantalizingly named “the anchorage”.  Feeling totally hollowed out, destroyed and swaying on my legs, I bravely negotiated a good price for an ocean view while apologizing for my dishevelled appearance. 

I think I needed a break.

'Please? - No more - Drop the anchor!!!'


Grey Bits
 

The view from my room that night

 

Larapinta 14. Three Lone Dingos and a Black Dog

 

 

That night I was suddenly woken by a blood-curdling scream of a child. I opened the tent noisily and looked around for a small person in trouble or maybe even Azaria Chamberlain. Nothing!!

Sometime later I heard the sound and felt the vibrations of a heavy hooved animal.  Fearing for my own safety in my tent I lay nailed to the ground, holding my breath with the headline running through my head "Hiker Trampled by Bull" until the sound disappeared in the distance. Pheeww!!!

Much later on, during one of my visits to Desert Park, (only twenty kilometres from where I was lying), I was told the nocturnal bush-stone curlew or bush thick-knee screams out like a child in distress. A good explanation for the spine-chilling sound I heard. I also learnt at the park that the curlew (see photo above) freezes and stands completely still, relying on its camouflage, when it feels threatened. In the vain of "I am not really here you know" or "I am really a tree". 

As for the hooved experience, we are now walking close to cattle stations and judging by the shit on the track it spells only one thing. Welcome to civilization!

 

Wednesday  27 July 2016

 

Slow but steady progress put me in an almost unbelievable position. I was walking towards the trail-head of section 1. The job almost done, a couple of nights to go. All big hills conquered, only relatively flat and comparatively easy terrain left to walk.

Walking the planes towards Simpsons Gap

 

I barely wrote any notes on the track for this day. Sometimes, someone can say something to you, maybe a well-meant criticism, a flapped-out comment or a joke that skirts around the edge of a hard truth. A throw-away comment, that has a profound effect on your state of mind.

  

I don’t understand how the brain fabricates this gnawing negativity that appears to be stuck on repeat. The whole day was spent looking inward, trying to iron out the character flaws that may annoy someone else enough to mention them to you. Then the questions came in my head: Who the hell are you to tell me that? What is your problem? In true 'poor me' style, unjustifiable rage wells up.

 

Anger is such a useless emotion. Where do you go with it and what can you possibly do that makes any sense? Slowly, the anger mixed with an occasional dip in mood here and there until the core of my soul was swallowed up whole by the black dog of howling self-doubt, negativism and self loathing.

Out on the Larapinta I just limped along the small winding track trying to find a seed of reassurance or a little inner pep-talk that appears in my grey matter like magic - but it just didn't. 

 

A colourful Spinifex Pigeon

 

It can be tough out there!

 

At Simpsons Gap I felt weirdly out of place and tried to call Julie with my non-Telstra phone in a mobile hot-spot station that did not work. In frustration I explored the magnificent rock walls around Simpsons Gap; walked along the water’s edge of the still water and sat down in a dry part of the creek bed. I caught up with my writing but sure as hell I wasn’t going to give you, dear reader, my inner, most darkest thoughts of the day. Nahhh!!!

Everything is hunky dory right?

The rock walls of Simpsons Gap

 

 

I chatted with Grant over a cuppa when late in the afternoon, completely exhausted, my lawyer stumbled  into the hut. My mood was slowly released from the heavy veil of depression by the same species that unintentionally triggered it.

 

Simpsons Gap

When it was dark and the air had changed to a light, biting chill my lawyer decided to lay down on his back between the hut and the toilet in the dirt for a spot of star gazing. After the initial "I am not laying down there" feeling, both Grant and I relented and took a spot either side of the notary.

It was incredible.

Here we were - three lone dingos of the Larapinta Trail – laying on our backs covered in dust - holding hands (only joking) -  galaxy stretched out in front of us with glorious clarity – space junk passing by rapidly – tail trailing shooting stars lighting up the black amphitheatre disappearing in a flash – infinite stars, planets and space – a world so much bigger than us.



A "grand design" galaxy like ours called M81.
Photo courtesy of National Geographic



The night sky provided a shimmer of light. 

 

Grey Bits


The photo of the Chamberlain bird or curlew was taken at the amazing bird show at Desert Park. If you like birds 'this' is the place to hang out. www.alicespringsdesertpark.com.au


I have absolutely no cure for the Black Dog and do not profess to be an expert on the subject. This time I just waited it out and the company of others seemed to help. I know many people suffer from depression. If you feel the need to talk to anyone, Google 'depression' and you will find many agencies that could help out. Here is one of them; click on this link  www.blackdoginstitute.org.au

 

Section 2 done. One to come

Larapinta 13: My lawyer and I



Fire is Life - Survivor

Some courage is what I needed to approach the bong-smoking  young man in the morning. In general, I don’t believe I have the right to tell anyone how to live their life, but there was a large list of pointers in my head, spun together during a bad night of hyped-up scatter braining. I managed to reduce an all out verbal assault to a friendly chat about how fast news travels on the trail (especially the bad things) and acted with dumbfound surprise when Alex told me he was still making coffee at eleven thirty at night. In my experience hikers generally go to bed just after dark due to exhaustion and the need to recover one’s sore bits. Every minute of sleep is a gift of energy the next day - an extra lit up bar on the mobile. Any break in sleep transmission is hugely frowned upon. The man wasn’t my son - if he was , he would have copped the full list of amendments, misguided behaviours and broken laws I could have mustered. I am not sure if Alex got the message or whether the answer is still ‘blowing in the wind’.

Another personal opinion point has to be made I feel, right here. Walking the Larapinta is an incredible experience in its self, bordering at times, on the mind altering. No other substance is needed to enjoy it in its full glory. Endorphins, adrenaline, mates and the sheer beauty of the place will see you through. I promise!

 

Section 2: Jay Creek to Simpsons Gap

Section 2 is a 24.5km section. You will need to camp overnight to finish the section.

It is a long distance with some steep ascents. Highlights include walking through the home of the few brushtail possum colonies in Central Australia and exploring a landscape of rock outcrops over 2 billion years old.

 

Information from the Government website

 

The common brushtail possum is actually not that common in the centre of Australia. In and around the West Macs there are only a couple of colonies foraging for eucalyptus leaves and small rodents at night. As you can see from the green bludges in the centre of the map, they have chosen to move away from their coastal cousins.

 

 

 

The rebel colonies of possums in the red heart of Australia

In Australia the possum or Trichosurus Vulpecula is now a protected species with the exception of Tasmania where they are still hunted for their hide. The fast talking Kiwi, Douglas, told me that brushtail possums were an introduced species to New Zealand in 1840. The breading in the wild went, shall I say, better than expected with the population reaching an estimated 70 million. Prolific!!  The main problem for NZ is that possums carry Bovine Tuberculosis, a nasty chronic infectious disease, which still is seriously affecting life stock throughout the country. Nevertheless,  it was kind of strange hearing how the man was talking about knocking off cute little possums by their thousands.

  

 

Cute but deadly, photo courtesy of Pinterest

 

 

Tuesday 26 July 2013

 

My lawyer and I walked together on this day and involved ourselves in my favourite past-time, a good dose of 'walk and talk' therapy.

I found out he did several tours as an army lawyer in Iraq. This meant that he was away from his family, who were in Brisbane, for extended periods of time and living in a country at war. After many years of service to his country, my hiking attorney found out that he had bladder cancer in the classical way. Finding blood in his urine.

What followed must have been a nightmare. The operation was very intrusive where everything was lifted out, the bladder removed and everything lifted back in its place. 'Oh yeah, and by the way you get to pee in bag for the rest of your life'. I could not even begin to imagine being on the wrong end of those words. The consequences...

 

Some time after the Larapinta he wrote to me “I looked well and felt well until I went to hospital and got dipped in chemo. It was actually a good year for me because I was released by the Army to go home for treatment and convalescence.  So I was with my wife and my family full-time and that was wonderful. And of course I played the cancer-card so they had to bring me cups of tea whenever I wanted.”

It was obvious the man of the law was struggling physically on this track. The time between his bout of cancer to hiking a tough trail was relatively short. The decision to punish one self in the land of the caterpillar is a courageous and understandable one. Having stared death square in the eyes and defeated its glare ‘now’ is as good a time to hike as ever before. Outrageous solitude, absolute natural splendour and the physical test of all tests - the answer to a life almost lost. If I had my last day on earth please let me climb Razorback Ridge, watch the stars from Brinkley Bluff and soar through the Heavitree Valley.  

The self-deprecating humour and sparkling personality, drawing every hiker in. It was truly an honour to walk alongside, bask in the positive vibes and talk the kilometres away with this man.

We strolled into Mulga Camp ridiculously early. Roz and John had all ready set up and the afternoon just went as I had hoped. Lunch at the campsite, how unusual. A chance to rest our tender bits,  lots of laughter with great conversations all around.




Roz in a good mood



John enjoying himself

Believe it or not, a bon-fire spontaneously combusted in the evening. Only during emergencies are fires allowed on the Larapinta track. Ormiston Gorge, Ellery Creek and Standley Chasm being the exception. After an hour of deliberating the degree of criminality of the illicit flames we took the law into our own hands and extinguished the prohibited fire.


The jury was unanimous, a great day on the track.



Grey Bits

 
If you would like to help people that suffer from cancer, please donate generously at www.cancer.org.au

You are allowed to hit the share button and share this wonderful blog with your mates. My lawyer would concur.

Do you want to become a guest blogger, write your own story and publish on my blog? I would love to hear from you. Email me at storiesfrommars@gmail.com

 




The offending fire is clearly being arrested

 

Larapinta 12: Lost in a Chasm

 

 

 

 

“Look!! Someone dripped some paint on that bird.” our neighbours recalled her thoughts when they first encountered  the Great Bower bird. The conspicuous pink bludge or nape standing out like a veggie burger at a butchers. Julie and I found this bird and its collection of white shells and green broken glass in a nest close to Standley Chasm.  

Most of their life these feisty birds or Chlamydera Nuchalis are busy all year round with either building a nest (males) or raise their young on their own (females), Bower Birds are renown for being able to copy sounds like cats, power tools, squeaky doors, ringtones of phones and other bird calls. The loud screeching male we stumbled on was building its nest, continuously moving stuff around and definitely wanted us to vamoose.

Saturday 23 July 2016

The rest day was an absolute necessity by the time I got to the Chasm. After a seriously amusing chat and coffee with the man of the law at the chasm kiosk, Jules and I drove to a four-wheel drive accessible part of the Hugh River, a free campsite around twenty kms away. Here I could stick my blistered feet up in the air and was treated like a king all day - sitting on a camping chair instead of rocks - pure bliss!!!

We were all by ourselves in a vast open space - a fire in the creek bed - ripper sunset and sunrise - awesome tranquillity - no walking.

 

Sunday 24 July 2016

 

Section 3: Standley Chasm to Jay Creek

Section 3 is a 13.6km section.

This section is a challenging walk through some of the steepest and most rugged country in the ranges. The low route is available to those with an average level of fitness.

Believe me you need to be fit to walk the low route

We returned back to Standley Chasm and paid our $12 entry fee to view the steep crevasse in the red granite (northern territorians only pay $1).

Called Angkerle by the Aborigines, the Chasms European name honours Mrs Ida Standley who, in 1914, became the first school teacher in Alice Springs.



Mrs Ida Standley

In 1925 the school for children of Aboriginal descent was moved from Alice Springs to Jay Creek [Iwupataka] with Mrs Standley as matron.

It was during her time at Jay Creek that she became the first non-Aboriginal woman to visit the feature that now bears her name.

Information taken from the Standley Chasm website



A lovely short walk to the chasm

 
The approach to Standley Chasm is a lovely winding path next to a tiny creek, with beautiful gumtrees and flanked by the Chewing Range slopes. The chasm itself, a cool narrow space, with a surprising amount of flowers gracing its walls suitable for abseiling. Memories flooded back of the huge Echidna’s Chasm, a must see if you are ever near the Bungle Bungles.
 

The chasm

 

The wild staircase out of the chasm was truly a challenge with the pack full of water and new supplies. I was looking down in full concentration at the rocky steps, that I did not notice the photographer standing still up the track waiting to see whether I would crash into her or not. I managed to stop at the last second - “you ought to look up more” she told me. We chatted all the way up and she introduced herself as Julie Fletcher. She was hauling a 15 kilo bag full of her camera gear up the hill. I have since found out how proffesional a photographer she is. Check this website below. Unfortunately I had a late start that day with a lot further to go than Julie so I had to say arrevoir.

 



What I saw when I looked away from those stairs

 

I found the Melbournian walking group having a rest on top of Gastrolobium Saddle and had my morning tea with them.

The Melbournian hiking group setting off from Gastrolobium Saddle

The track funnelled through a narrow gorge with massive rocks that needed jumping and climbing. Here I overtook a middle-aged lady whom appeared to be struggling. I was glad to see she had someone looking after her when I met a young guy called Grant down the track.

 


A bit of canyoning......

A bit of climbing....

 

A bit of abseiling without rope

When, finally, the rocky creek bed had been stumbled over and hiking became easier on an undulating dusty track, I saw my friendly, wandering attorney wave at me as he disappeared up a hill. Hunger time demanded for me to sit  down for lunch and I found the Millers campsite a good spot to rest. Ten minutes later I heard a voice from above calling out. “Marcel, are you still there?”  I replied in the affirmative. “I am a bit lost” came the voice from above again. A couple of minutes later I heard "I will wait until you have finished your lunch so you can show me where the track is”. This is when I realised the man of the law may well be in a spot of bother and walked to the place where I last saw him. It must be said, in defence of my lawyer, that the turn off is one of those this can't be the right way; therefore, I am ignoring it turn offs. Getting lost at this spot  is merely an inescapable verdict. I called him back to where I was standing with a cuppa soup in hand and heard him battle with the spinifex on his way down. He thanked me for getting him back on track and we both had a bit of a laugh about it.




Some of the rare flowers of the Larapinta trail

Some time later in the day I caught up with the notary and I judged him to be great company as we meandered along side of some amazing waterholes of Jay Creek in the late afternoon. I noticed how he tapped every Larapinta trail sign with his hiking stick, as if to acknowledge that at this moment he was relieved to be on the right trial.

We arrived at the Jay Creek hut where the first question I was asked by an older gentleman was had my sleeping bag dried up? The story of the accidental dipping of my bag in the Hugh River five days ago travelling the Larapinta grapevine faster than I could walk.

There was something wrong (acknowledged by Roz and John) with the atmosphere in the busy shelter -  lots of awkward silences. I didn’t think anything of it untill a pale looking man called Alex lit up a bong in the middle of the hut. To this day I cannot understand why you would smoke marihuana in front of eight complete strangers. What I would not be surprised about is if the police were waiting for him at Ellery Creek to pull him off the track. You noticed how a minor story like my wet backpack did the rounds on the trail?

It is true, dear reader, the world is full of a huge diversity of people. It sure makes for an exciting and interesting life.

I camped well away from the hut that night.

Grey Bits

You can admire the wonderful images taken by Julie Fletcher at http://www.juliefletcherphotography.com.au/


Do you want to become a guest blogger, write your own story and publish on my blog? I would love to hear from you. Email me at storiesfrommars@gmail.com
 

Believe it or not but Standley Chasm Resort owns the only free washing machine on the Larapinta for hikers. The shower was somewhat dribbly but I was certainly not complaining.

  

Find out more about this magical place at

http://www.standleychasm.com.au/about-standley-chasm

Larapinta 11: Decomposing Bodies.



Climb it, say G'day to the stone-man. He is waiting

This Larapinta trail is a magnificent achievement for the people that built it. Full acknowledgement has to go to all the volunteers, contractors, and parks and wildlife staff involved since its inception in 2006. I found the quality of the signage excellent; it is hard to get lost if you are not subconsciously ignoring important blue triangles through exhaustion. Maybe a couple of times I told myself that I just new better than any map or sign. Believe me, on every such occasion, I wanted to kick myself up the backside as hard as I could.

 

 

Friday 22 July 2016
 

Amazing thinly sliced rocks

 

Section 4:  Birthday Waterhole to Standley Chasm

Section 4 is a 17.7km section. You will need to camp overnight to finish the section.

The trail follows the high quartzite ridges of the Chewings Range to the summit of Brinkley Bluff, where you will be rewarded with breathtaking views in all directions.



Breathtaking

Steeply descending from the Bluff, the trail enters Stuart's Pass, an upper branch of the Hugh River. It then follows this river valley to Birthday Waterhole.
 

Information taken from the government website.

Going up Brinkley Bluff was a pleasure due to the rebuilding of the track. It was soft underfoot, went up as gently as it could and avoided major dramatic rock confrontations. Nevertheless, you still have to get up there.

I caught up with the Victorians, who weren't looking at all victorious; half way up the hill. Together we had morning tea next to a hidden waterhole among a beautiful crop of psychads. We were all buzzing from the climb and the chat was humorous and welcoming. Sometimes, things just take a little time. I guess not everyday a tall bloke, like me, all smelling of ol’ sweaty spice, chin bumfluff  and that hollowed-out look, barges into the place you planned to sleep. I can imagine a bit of trepidation. ’What if he’s got an axe?’

  

 

I challenged myself and pushed myself up the remaining, steepest part of the hill where I sat down for the infamous pasta and coffee meal. One by one, the east-coasters arrived in varying states of exhaustion; each spending a bit of time chatting to me as they sat down to recover from the climb.
 




One of the many varieties of butterflies on this track

Brinkley Bluff is another spot where I have serious regret about not staying overnight as the government website suggests. It is one of the highest points in the area and has killer, surrounding views. My lawyer (who you will meet later today) told me he spent the night up here all by himself with millions of stars. He said he laid on his back, being able to see our galaxy stretch out in front of him while watching countless shooting stars.

A sign of life. Airplanes in the red centre have very small jet-streams due to the lack of moisture in the air

 

Again, the lack of water made me decide to walk on. I followed the contour of the stunning ridge gently down. Dear reader, my apologies for repeating myself but the view from up there was a cracker and is locked into my memory forever.

 



The view from Brinkley Bluff of the ridge looking east towards Standley Chasm

Long ago, before people there was the DREAMTIME.  

A giant caterpillar or Yiperinye came up,

came up from underneath the earth at Mount Zeil, 

crawled across the land

leaving behind Tjuritja

the West MacDonnell Ranges

and disappeared at

Alice Springs

 

This story was told by Lofty Katakarinja, a story passed

 on to him by song and dance over many generations.

Some of the earliest drawings of man; the caterpillar stripes at Emily Gap

I was unjustifiably irate when, to top the day off, the track lead through a messy creek bed for two kilometres. My feet feeling, despite the engineered, rear-end cushioning like someone had stuck them in a blender. Suddenly, the sign appeared, joyously, announcing that Standley Chasm would only be another seven hundred metres. Walking that last stretch over a flat, bitumised road is a strange sensation after braving chunky rocks for so long - the sound of cars overwhelming after the soft sounds of nature.
 

Signs of better things to come

I set up camp next to the car park at the chasm and could only muster a lamely limp to the toilet block as everything hurt that late afternoon. On my way there a jovial gentleman with a semi-grey beard who sat writing in his diary and noted the state I was in. He told me he was struggling with the trail so much, he was surprised nobody had found his decomposing corps on the side of the track. I told him I wasn't far off laying down next to him.

Instantly we talked about the moving community on the Larapinta trail. There was the fast talking/walking Douglas; the fantastic four including the girl with one thong; and many more to chat about. I told my lawyer about Roz and John and the Melbournian hikers he was yet to meet.

 

We were invited to join a Polish family around a bon-fire they had set up. No longer surprised to hear they were in this area to compete in the World Rogaining Championship as a family. It was a revitalizing night full of laughs that went on till way after my dreamtime. Nine thirty???

 



The Yeperenye caterpillar, photo courtesy of Word press

Grey Bits

 

There is an informative government website that will tell you many great stories, ancient history and more about the West MacDonnell's including Lofty's tail   http://www.nt.gov.au/westmacs/stories/culture/all/175

 



I suspect this is a Dusky Grass Wren found in the creek bed
before the chasm. Let me know if this is not the DGW 

If you like my blog, please feel free to share it with others.

Do you want to become a guest blogger, write your own story and publish on my blog? I would love to hear from you. Email me at storiesfrommars@gmail.com