Sunshine Hinterland- 65-70 kilometers over 4 days

  The Sunshine Hinterland is an Australian medium grade hike stretching between Baroon Pocket Dam and Mapleton Forest Reserve- travelling through the Kondalilla National Part, Flaxton, to and Mapleton National Park. The landscape couldn't be more different than that of  Moreton Island. The majority of the walk was in deep rain forests, passing waterfalls, going over and through creeks as well as the occasional town between parks. 58 kilometres is a comfortable distance for four days and while my first hike hadn't exactly gone to plan I was confident that I could accomplish the walk without re-enacting any previous stupidities. 

  This time I thoroughly went through my equipment,  spreading them out outside, and systematically packing each item in a specific place. My torch in particular I placed carefully at the top of the sack so that it would be easily accessibly if I made camp after the dark. All the food  was divided into resealable bags, each numbered with its correspondent day. I bought two expensive freeze dried meals to see what they were like but mostly my supplies consisted of supermarket instant meals for dinner, porridge and nuts for lunch and cereal bars for everything in between. I replaced my two and a half litre bladder with a three litre one in the hope it would prevent me from running out again, I also packed my newly acquired chlorine water treatment tablets. Everything was weighed individually and the items added up as the books have instructed me to do. It came to just under 17 kilos. The backpack is not meant to weigh, for women at least, any more than a third of their body weight in order for her to carry it comfortably- I am sad to say that this is not a hard target for me to achieve. Moreover as soon as it reached 17 kilos I stopped adding the weights up because it was getting too heavy- I figured like calories if they weren't recorded they didn't count. Luckily to counter act this logic I also brought a good supply of pain killers for when my back started to ache.

  The biggest problem for when looking for possible walks in Queensland Australia is the lack of public transport outside of the cities. If you don't have a four wheel drive you can't get to most of the starting points, and if you don't have a car you can't even get to the near by towns. This is a subject I have complained about a lot but in truth I wouldn't change it: the more access these places have the more vulnerable they are to been polluted and the more the wildlife is intruded upon. It has however narrowed my options considerable. I had originally planned on walking the Gold Coast Hinterland but found it impossible to reach without spending a small fortune. The Sunshine Hinterland is one of the few exceptions. It has a hinterland connecting bus which leaving from Nambour stops at Mapleton, Flaxton and Montville three times a day. From these downs its a matter of an hour or two walk to the parks. 

  

  Day 1 - Baroon Pocket Dam to Flaxton walkers' camp- 15.9km 

    Considering how much I struggled in putting up camp on my last hike I wanted to make sure this time I reached camp with enough day light to set up. I'm also, when not hiking, am somewhat nocturnal. I waitress and my shifts end very late at night meaning that I'm used to sleeping in till late morning. On almost all my hikes I'm ready for bed at seven in the evening since I'm ill accustom to dragging myself out of bed at seven in the morning in order to travel to the start of the hike. Because of this I decided to hire a car to pick me up at the train station and take me directly to Baroon Pocket Dam. The train left Brisbane at 8:30 and arrived at the Lousbrough station at ten o'clock.
   I waited for a little while at the station unsure of exactly where we'd agreed upon to meet. At ten past I attempted to ring to ask where she was, no one answered. Unsure of what next to do I popped over the road and bought a lighter in case my matches got wet. There was a possibility of rain on the third day and while uncertain of how I'd managed to get the tent up without getting everything wet I was excited to try. I am planning to walk the Pennine way in June and since it will take me over two weeks and its set in England I suspect I'll be wet the majority of the time. Its a skill which I need to learn. 

  It took the lift another forty minutes to come, she phoned to inform me she was running late since she'd been having her hair cut and the appointment had been delayed. She came with wet uncut hair so I found it hard to be too put out. Moreover she talked me through the different aspects of the park, the wild life and gave me a little history of her family and son whose just returned from teaching in Japan. Since apparently I reminded her of him, and I suspect because she was so late, she charged me only twenty dollars for the forty minute ride. 

  The section I was to walk travels through deep valleys along Obi Obi Creek to Konalilla Falls, which is the Aboriginal name for the waterfall meaning rushing water. It was my first ever site of a rainforest and I felt elated and buzzing with anticipation. Before starting I took out my trekking poles, took some photographs of me pointing at my position on the map (which I saw a picture of Simon Armatage doing when hiking the Pennine Way) and set off. Although I was struggling with the weight of the backpack the actual terrain was easy. Compared to walking on Moreton Island it was a joke. Moreover I was enjoying a completely foreign landscape, trees bigger by far than any I've ever seen, roots which stretch out meters wide and others that fall from branches five inches in diameter.

  I wanted to hike through a rainforest ever since we studied them in high school and I always planned to get rich enough to hire a guide and do it. Now that I'm older and more sensible I've dispensed with such responsible precautions. I'd left my plans with my grandparents and the more I walked the more I realised how much the rangers had tamed the track for hikers. At every junction lay a sign post and distance left to the destination. You would truly have to be a imbecile to get lost.

  Both in Israel and in England it was hard to be too far from a town or city. Even if there were dozens of miles between you cities were visible in the distance. Half the time the forest stretch out ten kilometers long but only half a kilometer wide with the town on either side hidden by a line of trees. So when I looked out from the Baroon Lookout it took my breath away. Yes there was the dam in the distance but that was it. The rest was forest and the direction I was going was taking further away from everything I knew. I couldn't stop grinning. 

  The hardest part of the walk was the climb after the falls, the steepness enough to test my fitness and the pain killed ineffective against the relentless weight of my pack. The waterfall I'm afraid was dry, the lack of rain reducing the torrent to a trickle against the bare stone face. A passing couple took a photograph of me nonetheless with me in front of baring my rucksack proudly and pointing my toes in my shoes in at attempt to elongate my legs. Hiking for me seems a lists of first experiences and me wearing shorts is right up there. I'd have to be far from a city or town before wearing a dress or skirt without leggings or short which show my legs above the knee.
  There was a rather dull kilometre walking through a small town, breaking the sense that your far removed and alone. This section in fact had a lot of walkers around it on day trips out with family or friends. A gentlemen I passed walking through the town nodded towards my trekking poles and asked if I was going skiing  I pointed out that I would be the one laughing when the snow started.

  

  I reached camp by four and had little problems setting up the tent. I refilled my water bladder from the water tank and added the water treatment tablets. Setting up my bed and taking out my kindle, ipod and other luxeries and placed them all inside the flap encase of rain. The camp site consists of a single wooden building with a dry toilet and around ten or so small clearings in the wood, each divided from each other by trees, for the tents. The pods have a wooden table and three of four square meters cleared space for the tent. The ground it flat dirt but soft enough to push in the tent begs. 

  There was a slight misshap with the camp stove where I nearly set myself on fire but it was quickly resolved. Far from been scared for myself I was horrified by the absurd thought of setting the whole forest on fire and having to face the rangers afterwards.

  I was asleep by seven but woke again at 12:30 and struggled to get back to sleep. This I must have managed successfully since  when I once more gained consciousness it was 8:30. I'd had the strangest dream that I'd somehow taken a baby kitten into the tent and the mother and other kittens were trying to get it back. In their efforts they ripped the mosquito netting. I finally opened the flap and handed it back. They left and I woke and found the netting torn. I was very put out that my new tent was already damaged. After which I woke up properly to find it very much intact and a wild turkey searching for food outside. I read this dream as my concerns about the wild life and since I was so horrifically ignorant of it I used in my dream the only animal I had any knowledge of- a domestic cat. 

  

Day 2 - Flaxton Walkers' Camp to Ubajee Walkers's Camp - 13.1 Kilometres 
  I woke up energised and relieved to find that, unlike last time, I could not only walk but do so without a limp or walking sticks. Crouching behind my tent in case someone might appear and see me as I changed. Understandably satisfied with myself I packed up and promptly smashed the screen of my kindle. The kindle has been my constant companion in Israel and was a reward for graduating- that said of all the things I might have lost it was the least essential. Which reminds me, if any one actually reads this do not bother buying the overpriced Magellan explorer 110 it is a waste of money. Its a satelite tracking decide, like a tomtom, and it does track you but it shows no walking tracks and yesterday promptly shut itself off and refused to turn on again. Its only use to tell you how far you've walked and help if your lost and want to retract your steps- but with spare batteries it simply weighs more than its worth.
  The track from Flaxton Walkers' Camp slopes down hill, the path quickly becoming much harder to walk on with loose stones and steep drop-offs. Near the top a sign informs walkers that from that point only 'experienced walkers' should proceed. I started grinning again. The tracks decent ends in another waterfall, smaller but wilder than Kondallila Falls. The lack of pedestrians added to its charm. I'd not seen anyone since the day before. It also included a suspension bridge which allowed me to pretend I was in Indiana Jones.
  From the waterfall I continued west, drudging up a steep climb to Mapleton Falls look out. At some point in the thirty of so minutes it took me to reach the look out I found a good rhythm. I was sweating but at no point did I feel the need to stop or even pause. At the top, once through the picnic area, I pulled out my compass and attempt a little navigation. It was navigation in it's simplest form: the car park has a road running through it and I was unsure in which direction to go. The books told me to trust my gut if uncertain, my gut told me to turn left but after consulting the map I turned right.

  The promised rain came and I took out my waterproof coat ready to face it. Since it was raining and the sun had stopped beating down on me for a while I found I drunk much less and the constant worry about water abated. As I made my way through the lower rainforests across Dalicia Road and along the Linda Garrett track I found that I'd collected a companion along the way. A leech had attached itself to my wrist and I completely unconscious of the fact only saw it once it had broken through the skin. It was my first encounter with a leech and I found in my horror and outrage I became three times as English. I demanded out loud to know what the hell it was doing. It did some kind of cart wheel thing, flicking itself along my finger as I attempted to flick it off. The open bite continued to bleed for a while later.  Once the leech attaches itself I later learned, it give you an aesthetic, and then secretes a anticoagulant enzyme into the wound to prevent it from clotting. A friend at work described it very adeptly as a person attempting to drink through a straw and been prevented because of the thickness of the liquid, and therefore waters down the drink to make the process easier and quicker. Because of this my wrist bled for quite some time, the bite mark a few millimetres wide. At the Ubajee I found three more on my shoe and quickly dropped them off before setting up camp. The rain had stopped and the tent was up and meal made by four o'clock.
  Desperate to wash I filled up my mug at the water tank and hiding in the toilet hut rinsed myself off. The tap wouldn't stop dribbling and worried I would waste the entire water supply and climbed down and turned it off at the base. An hour later and I still could not turn it back on. The nearest water supply was nearly three kilometers one way and I'd earlier mixed my remaining water with a orange cordial mix. Unsure of what to do next I spent another fruitless hour attempting to mend the tap again but it was well an truly broken and the only thing my frustrated kick did was make me look around in case a teacher saw. It was clear from my map the nearest water supply was in the Mapleton Day centre back the way I'd walked and in the opposite direction I'd planned to go. On top of this the next days walk was meant to be one of the hardest and I had no assurance that there would be water when I finally got to this further and more remote camp site. I decided to play it safe, get up early and do the extra six kilometres before setting off again along the actual walk.
  That decided I sat down and ate my orange squash flavoured Risotto before going to bed already missing my kindle and wishing I wasn't suck a clouts.

Day 3- Ubajee Walkers' Camp to Mapleton Day centre- 5-6 kilometres round trip
            Ubajee Walkers' Camp to Thilba Thalba Walkers' Camp - 12 kilometres 

  Extracted directly from hikking journal -

'I't just occured to me while writing this that is should be winter and is, in fact, back home. Instead of stuck inside with the heating on full belt I'm sat on a look out in the summer sun. The campsite is the best so far, for a start the tap on the water tank is brand new and working. Like the last two not a sole in site, in fact I haven't seen anyone for the last day and a half, but unlike the other two it has a view over looking the valley and a clearing above which should allow me to star gaze tonight'. I'm sat writing this looking out at the rainforest valley. I can't see a house or any sign of human beings anywhere, just miles of untamed forest. I don't think, unless I'd walked to this spot, I could trully appreciate its beauty. Perhaps its like not enjoying a painting quite as much unless you yourself have painted, your eye isn't tuned in or after trying to play tennis for years you see a professional do it: his movement and skill is more evident since you've seen them before and understand how they break down into little bits.  On the other hand, where I'm sat on the rocky lookout, I seemed to have upset an ants nest and my feet are starting to burn so I'll take this note book back to the picnic area in which are planted two oversized tables that remind me of the giant's town in C.S.Lewis' Silver Chair. I'm quite aware of the truth that this is not actual wilderness, not like the Rockies or areas of the Blue Mountains, but for my second hike its as far out as I dare to go.
  My stuff in spread out drying and my ipod is plugged into the solar panel recharging. I have fresh water which doesn't, unlike the stuff I got from Mapleton Picnic area earlier today, smell like pee. In a few more minutes my chlorine tablets should have finished making it fit to drink and I can start cooking. I have food and everything I need and the thrill of the days walk and where I am is not wearing off. I haven't smiled this much in a while...'

  I woke up early in the morning, around 5:00 and got up knowing I still needed water and only had a mouthful left of the orange squash in my bladder. Took me till 6:00 before leaving, but the day wasn't shaping up to be a hot one and I had the rest of the morning to get to the next camp site. Moreover my rucksack, with two days food supply gone and now no water was starting to be much more manageable. It wasn't till eight that I left the picnic area. The water from the taps was disgusting, distinctly yellow and smelling exactly of what the colour connoted. Unsure of what to do I added extra chlorine tablets and prayed I that it wouldn't make me sick. Ate a porridge breakfast while I attempted to dry my sodden clothing and set back towards Ubajee walkers' camp and the beginning of that days hike.

  As I made my way towards the path I forced myself to make the quick detour to the viewing platform, I did so becuase I felt I should rather than because I wanted to. I was right to do so since I could see from there what I was entering into.  The deep set valley ahead of me ranged for dozens of kilometres in the distance.
  As I began another decent, knowing with dread that it would equal a painful ascent soon after, I passed another sign warning me that only experienced walkers were allowed beyond that point. This cheered me up and adjusting my rucksack started down. My trekking poles saved me a few times but the sign was a little over the top. The path was steep but no actual skill was required to navigate it. It finally flattened at the bottom and turning left I headed towards Gherulla Falls and the eventual mark stone for the end of the walk. It's worth noting that while this is the finish line you will have another two hour walk before you can get in your car or catch a bus.
  I'd tried wearing trousers that day but by the beginning of the climb back up the other side of the valley I gave up. My shorts were smelly and wet with the morning due. I'd attempted to air them overnight but by the morning they were much too wet to wear. Too hot to continue with Cole's own brand trousers I'd cleverly bought instead of the over priced hiking ones I changed back into my damp shorts. To think that the day before yesterday I'd hesitantly crouched behind my tent to chance...today in the middle of the logging track I stripped without a thought. The lack of any other humans for the last twenty or so hours had brought out my inner nudist and later in camp I remained equally brazened walking around quite happily with barely anything on.
   It was about this time a saw my first lizard, a meter and a half long beauty I believe to be called a Monotor Gonna lizard. He was sunbathing on the track just ahead of me, I approached slowly and it crawled along beside me for a while before slipping through the vegetation and out of site. Later I saw another one which startled climbed straight up the nearby tree. They make such a racket that it sounds like a large creature is crashing towards you.

   The climb up to the camp site was the longest so far and I found only by walking very slowly could I make any progress without stopping every ten feet. Five kilometres from Thilba Thalba Walkers' Camp I checked my water supply to find I had barely a cup's worth left. Taking another detour to another look out I found myself looking over what I'd just walked through. This lookout was much more to my taste, no railings or benches, just a rocky edge before the cliff. Laying out my still damp clothes I used the last of my water and made myself a hot chocolate munching another cereal bar in place of my lunch. The view, although similar to the last few, had lost non of its potency and it was only the heat of the sun which made me leave my perch. By this point it was one o'clock and I guessed that I'd be able to get to the camp site before two giving me much of the day to play with.


  The walk was a pleasant one, lasting a bit too long near the end as I grew tired and worried whether the water tank as this camp site would work. As I reached it I went straight to the tank and in relief refilled my bladder and added the tablets even before deciding where to camp. My next problem was that I could not raise my tent, the ultra-lite tent pegs bending the instant I tried to push them into the starched ground. It was impossible. In the end I decided to try to tie the inner tent upright on the wooded tables, only using two pegs at the very end to keep it upright. There didn't seem any danger of rain and I liked the idea of been able to see the sky while sleeping. The only drawback was that ten or so inches near the rear of the tent would be suspended over the grounds between the wooden bench and the ground. This meant I'd have to sleep scrunched up. But it also raised me from the ground meaning I could sit at the entrance of the tent without any fear of creepy crawlies or snakes.

  After writing my journal I made another attempt to wash myself only using a cup of water again in order not to empty the water tank for the next person. The scariest thing about hiking I've found is running out of water. There's been so little rain all the creeks are dry and without the water tanks you could get yourself in very real trouble.
   I made dinner and listening to King Lear took my sleeping bag, my knife and torch the two hundred meters from my tent to the look out. The ants must have gone home so settling down I wait for the stars to come out. It seems to take an eternity and I was horrifically tired even though it was barely half seven. This however is the only camp site where trees haven't blocked my view and I wanted to star gaze looking over the rainforest valley. I lay there for nearly two hours, thinking very little and only moving as parts of me fell asleep.

Day 4-  Thilba Thalba Walkers's Camp to Mapleton Town centre - Aprox. 17 kilometres

      I struggled to sleep all night, my legs kept on cramping and my arm kept on going dead under my head. When I woke up an inch large horse fly had developed an overzealous interest in me and was quickly squatted and dispatched to its maker by my bra. Packing up camp took an eternity. It was near about this time that I realised that yesterday I had in fact come the wrong way. The last section of the walk goes round a circle track and I'd taking the much shorter route to the camp site only travelling a third of the circuit. Wary as I felt I couldn't go home without completing the entire circuit, it would mean I hadn't completed the Sunshine Coast Great Walk, so instead of the 9 kilometres back to the Gheerulla Falls I turned North West. Needing a rhythm I played my way through half a dozen musicals. The creek side might support a variety of bird life but I saw none as my own screeching will have scared most of them away.
  As I climbed down back to the valley floor I was relieved that I'd made yesterdays navigational mistake since the ascent on this side of the valley was considerably steeper and longer than the one I'd endured the day before. The track along the creek became much more obscure but at no point was it lost. The terrain was uneven and never flat making very tiring work. It's beauty was ruined by the lack of rain. At best there were pond size puddles of stagnant water. I'd hoped to swim but there wasn't a chance in hell of me swimming in that. If I'd come during a wetter season I'd be forced to constantly cross running water which would have been much more exciting. As it was I lost any rhythm and ate twice as much as previous days desperate for some energy and increasingly aware of my own body odour  What was worse I knew what was awaiting me just before Ubajee walkers' camp. Over two hundred meters to climb in less than a kilometre and a half, after a ten kilometre trek along the valley floor. I suspected it would take me longer than when I came down it.
  At the base of the hill I once more ran out of water. While inconvenient I knew at least I was heading for home now. It also made a big difference that I knew exactly where I was and what to expect when I got there. The hill was hard but doable. It took me probably only half an hour to climb and another fifteen back to the Ubajee camp site. I dropped in the hope that the tap might have started to work again. Two rangers were there mending it. I asked innocently whether it was broken and when they said yes I smiled and said 'never mind' backing off before they could suspect me of having kicked it. They checked I didn't need any water and after I assured them that I had plenty started off towards town. As I reached the first house I began to look longingly at the garden taps. Resisting the urge to trespass I covered the last five kilometres easily, the roads making the walking mindless. On the way I passed a wonderful garden full off large sculptures made out of recyclable material of kangaroos and crocodiles, soon later came the town. When I reached Mapleton town centre and bought a litre and a half of lemon squash and sitting in the town park drank the lot.
  My lady in the car picked me up and dropped me back at the station where a train was waiting to bring me back to Brisbane. From the city centre I took a bus back home attempting the entire way to keep a meter distance from anyone who might smell me. By the next morning, after a night in my own bed and free access to water taps and fresh clothes, I was ready to go again. Unlike my overnight hike on Morton Island this one has left me more invigorated than exhausted. I think it will be different matter when I need to walk a longer period of time, and my body will struggle, but I am getting fitter and learning from my mistakes. Next time, for a start, I'll be bringing another litre of water in a separate container which I only touch in an emergency. I think water management is the most important thing I need to learn.

  

Moreton Island- 41 Kilometre Over Night Hike

I can hardly walk. I am not as fit as I thought and this small overnight hike has sadly testified to the fact. The plan was to have a gentle stroll over Morton Island, breaking in my beautiful new equipment and getting a sense of what it feels like to walk while carrying a backpack. With my numerous hikes in Israel (the longest been six hours) and my weekend strolls in England (two hours at best) I scoffed at the proposed 18km walk in the guide book and undertook what I thought to be a twenty kilometer improved hike going East on Middle Role from the docking bay at The Wrest on the western shore to the Lagoon camping ground on the Eastern shore. The track would cross the Island before turning up towards Tempest Mount. From there eight kilometres along the Telegraph track connecting to the Lagoon which is a skips throw away from the Eastern coast and the Blue Lagoon camp-site. My plan was flawed in the sense that the twenty kilometers were according to my satalite tracking gadget twenty seven and the terrain for more than half of it was foot deep soft sand making a gentle 4% incline similar to climbing a bloody mountain.
  I should also mention at this point that while I consider myself a pretty competent walker I am still somewhat full figured (over weight) and of average fitness. So while Bear Grylls might have jogged the same walk it in a few hours while munching on a few worms from the side bank and skipping over a passing snake it took me just over ten hours and when I'd finished setting up camp I was using my hiking poles less as balancing tools and more as walking stick.
  Morton Island is a small sand island just off the coast North-East of Brisbane in Queensland, Australia. Its famed for it unpolluted shores, sand dunes, bird life and whale watching. It is only accessible by 4 wheel drives and only 5% is privately owned, the rest is part of the Moreton Island National Park. Basic campsites, with water tanks and the very occasional cold water showers and toilet facility, are spread out along the shore lines providing secluded camping with sea views. These campsites are almost solely frequented by campers who arrived using vehicles and set up camp before walking. This was drawn to my attention on the ferry ride over when I was one of a very few who marched off the ship and down the beach. This is partly by chance, no doubt, but also a clue to the type of walk you are to expect: I don't think I quite realised before just how sandy a sand island. There is beauty but the vegetation is thin and hiking along the 4WD roads there is almost nothing to see but your own shoes sinking into the sand.

  I got off the MISCAT ferry at 10:30 and set straight off North to the Middle Road. At the dock there is a impressing view across the wrecks of the WWII Japanese ships and submarines. The tide was high giving me at times only a meter or so of walking space between the water and the steep rising dunes to my right. Alongside me were a few people carrying boxes of beer, walking the short distance before the Middle Road where they'd get back in their Jeeps. I assumed it was encase the vehicle proved too heavy so close to the shore with passengers  Very quickly however I was alone, and taking out my shiny new trekking poles set about seeing how to use them. I'd read in a book that the poles should fall with the opposite legs. This I tried but my legs were far too quick and I failed to achieve any rhythm. As I turned right into the Middle Road however they soon proved their worth. As mentioned this section of the walk is not meant for hiking, the 4 wheel drives had worked up the road leaving the sand very very soft. It was a solid work out and provided very little opportunity for enjoying the scenery. After only a few hundred meters I was sweating and out of breath. I carried on with the assumption that it would harden the deeper in I got. Oh ignorant child that I am...I don't think I'd have managed it at all without the poles. They might look silly, and I myself thought they were made for ninnies, but once they were out they did not go back in the my pack. Not only did they stabilise me on the sand, I could feel the pounds it  took of my back and the relief it provided for my legs by spreading the work across my entire body.

  It was 6km across to Mount Tempest. Such distances are easily run and wouldn't even have been considered a walk by me but near the end I wasn't sure I could face the next 14 (or as it turned out 21) kilometers. A 4WD would pass once in a while destroying the sought for feeling of wilderness. I ended up feeling like was a ridiculously glad chubby English girl with a pair of silly walking sticks on the side of a road. I sometimes would try to hide the poles behind my back. A few charitable individuals would stop and check on me, asking if I had enough water. A warden also paused and asked if I had everything I needed. I refused the water politely and thanked them as they left.

  As soon as I got off the road the path did get easier but counteracted this small mercy by sloping in a definitely up hill direction. Another walked joined me at this point with a day sack, skipping up the path from the car park a few hundred meters further along the road and overtaking me. I hated him for this alone and attempted to keep up and show off my hiking prowess. As he disappeared in the distance a head of me I gave up and collapsed on a bench for a few minutes. I was half way up now and my efforts were beginning to bare fruit as I enjoyed views over the 35 Kilometer Island, and the glass house mountains in the distance on the mainland. From this point you were able to see no other person and feel finally separate from the business and stresses which usually structure the day. I felt the thrill and daringness of my travels. I met the day hiker at the top and raising my nose at him glanced around and began my decent eager to get on with the walk and conscious that if I wasn't careful I'd have to put up camp in the dark. While I might welcome the challenge in other circumstances it had been raining since I bought my tent and I'd stupidly not even unpacked it to check it had all its parts. I hadn't a clue on how to put it up and in truth couldn't recall ever putting a tent up in my life.
  It was at the the bottom of Mount Tempest that I ran out of water. I'd felt worried about it for a little while and had decided to forgo the planned lunch and snack instead in order not to waste any water in cooking. This cautiousness proved insufficient. I had a two and a half litre bladder which had always been enough when I'd gone on day hikes in Israel. I hadn't realised how much I'd been drinking. This made the last three to four hours very uncomfortable and quite scary since now I was completely alone and quite a long way from any roads. The day hiker didn't appear again after the summit. To confound my discomfort the characters in the audio-book I was listening to seemed to be doing nothing but drinking the thirstier I was becoming.
  The telegraph track was long but the terrain was firmer and inclines while three times as steep than any along the Middle Road were easy. I increased my speed a little and finally had enough breath to enjoy the landscape I was walking through. One area in particular about half way along the Telegraph Track was stunning. A marsh of only a hundred meters in length lay between two sand dunes with such an intensity in colour that I couldn't help but pause to observe it. The coppers, burnt umbers and viridian greens were all so rich yet tonally similar. I could hear my old art lecturer from university talking me through how I might paint it. It was places like this that I thought caused people to be passionate about hiking. To reach this spot they would have had to earn it through the walk, and judging from the emptiness of the track it was a prize enjoyed no more than once a day or week.
  I wished I'd been relaxed enough to enjoy it. Similarly the lagoon I passed, the quick pit stop I made to the look out, deserved a great deal more appreciation. They were stunning but by that point it was nearly five and I was thirsty and a little scared. In England the nearest I got to wilderness was when I couldn't see a car for a few minutes.
  The Lagoon Road finally appeared, the light house on the Islands Northern peak in the distance. When I saw the road I gave myself another break, observing as a munched on my nut mix with growing resentment the jeep tracks across the soft sand which constituted the Lagoon Road. I reached the coast two hours later and looked around for the camp site. The sign informed me that it was another two kilometers along the beach. I passed the beer carriers I'd disembarked with as I entered camp, and asked them if they knew where the water tank was. I'd been walking through camping pods for half an hour by that point without seeing any pumps and I couldn't set up camp until I had. They pointed further along the beach and said it was only another 500 or so meters, kindly offering their help if I couldn't find it.
  I did find it and turning it on drunk half a litre before feeling any shame that I'd neither treated of boiled it first. By this point it was dark and I was in more physical pain than I've ever been in. I could hardly walk any further and was placing a great deal of weight on my poles. Eager to set up camp and sleep I took out my mobile and turning on its torch proceeded to hold it in my mouth as I unrolled the tent. Two black packs fell out as I did so. I had bought a head torch designed for camping but had not found it in my room when packing and was therefore stuck with my mobile. I could hardly see a think. I finally put the correct poles in the correct places, on my second attempt, and searched for the tent pegs. I looked everywhere and couldn't find them. Swearing at myself for not having checked my equipment, at the shitty company for selling me faulty products, trying to convince myself this was all part of the adventure I'd always dreamed of I attempted to stop myself from crying. I tried using my hiking poles to lift the tent, tried tying the tent cords to the nearby tree, use stones to weigh down the sides but all to no avail. I reasoned I would have to simply sleep inside the collapsed tent and attempting to straighten it out on a softer patch of sand pulled it off the tent pegs which it had been covering.The tent was raised and for half an hour I simple lay on the inside floor refusing to move. Finally forcing myself to set up properly I pulled out my inflatable mattress and sleeping bag discovering in the process my head torch hidden in the very bottom of the rucksack where I must have cleverly placed it after I bought it.
  Now that I could see again I checked the tent over and better secured the tent pegs. I'm wasn't hungry although I'd eaten no meal all day. I was still too wound up although at that point I was once again able to laugh at my own wow-full inadequacies. Cooking anyway I boiled the water, struggling with the newly acquired stove and added the instant pasta meal. I kept turning the stove off as I attempted to adjust the temperature. It cooked the food all the same and I felt myself become a little more human as I ate it. After I made myself some hot chocolate and left it to sit while I went to the showers to wash. The water was very cold at first and it burnt the raw skin on the inside of my chafed legs so badly it took several attempts to immerse myself. My feet were in a worse state, both had blisters the size of fifty cents coins and my right ankle was refusing to support my weight without my shoes on. It made sense, I hadn't fallen but the sand wouldn't hallow my feet to tread flat and they'd been twisting continually over the last ten hours. Now that my body had cooled they'd already stiffened.
  Once back in camp, changed and lying in my tent with my kindle on in front of me I tried some of the hot chocolate. This water based, Coles own brand powder rubbish at that point tasted better than any hot chocolate I'd ever tried. I burst into giggles as I drank it, the tension and fear completely gone. Perhaps it was the fact that, even though I'd failed in so many ways, I was just about competent enough to finish the day,  not needing someone else to save me or sleeping in a collapsed tent, but with a luxury and a read before bed time. Before this hike I presumed the biggest challenge waiting for me would be the fear of wild animals and the dark. I'd never slept outside on my own before and there was no one within half a kilometre of me. It proved not to be an issue and by ten o'clock I was soundly asleep.

  I took the coastal route back south to the Middle Road the next day in the hope that the sand would be harder where wet and the terrain flatter and more direct. It was much easier and while I was hobbling the entire way my feet were coping and fresh leggings had lent relief to my legs. I felt at times like the gun slinger in Richard King's 'Dark Tower' series: the beach continued forever with seemingly no end, but since I knew the Middle Road awaited me it was with mixed feelings that I completed the ten kilometres to it's entrance. It took me another three hours or so to cross the island and my legs were sourly displeased with me by the end of it. Once back on the boat I took a seat near the window, in the hope of spying a passing wale, and promptly fell asleep.

  As first experiences go it wasn't promising  There were very few moments of actual enjoyment. I struggled and was frightened for large portions of it. It compounded into me how untrained and unfit I was to do the type of hikes I'd read about in the magazines and books. Yet the moment near the swamp and the thrill of life I felt when drinking the hot chocolate in the tent were of an intensity I'd only felt once or twice before while travelling. I felt ridiculously happy to be as naive and stupid as I am, to be pompous enough to think I could go into the Australian bush alone and complete a hike, however small, across an Island I'd never been to with next to no navigational skills or knowledge on my equipment.